Outside Looking In

Jasmine had expected the job to be awkward, given the tension that had built between her and Elijah the other day. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared her for what happened when Clara arrived earlier than expected.

From the moment Clara stepped through the grand, marble entryway, everything shifted. It wasn’t just the stark contrast between Clara’s sharp, polished demeanor and Jasmine’s worn-out jeans and faded hoodie. It wasn’t even the way Clara’s eyes flicked over Jasmine with barely concealed disdain, as though she had walked in on a stranger in her home. It was the way the air seemed to grow colder, heavier, as if the very space had become hostile.

Jasmine was on her knees, scrubbing the baseboards in the hallway, trying to finish up the last few details before she could leave. She had already finished cleaning the enormous chandelier that hung above the staircase and was moving quickly to get everything done before she left. The last thing she wanted was to be seen. But, of course, Clara came in, exuding a confidence and sophistication that made Jasmine feel smaller than ever.

Clara’s high heels echoed as she crossed the polished floor, and Jasmine tried to focus on the task at hand, keeping her head down. Staying focused. This was just another cleaning job, another paycheck. But as Clara approached, Jasmine could feel her presence like a weight pressing down on her shoulders.

"You're still here?" Clara’s voice was clipped and sharp, as if she couldn't understand why someone as… unimportant as Jasmine was still in her pristine home. "I thought you’d be finished by now." There was an edge to her tone, something condescending, as if Jasmine should have been quicker, more efficient, more… invisible.

Jasmine’s fingers tightened around the cleaning cloth, and she forced herself to look up. "I’m just finishing up, Mrs. Clara," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I’ll be done in just a few minutes."

Clara’s gaze flickered dismissively over her, taking in the sight of Jasmine’s tired expression, the slightly wrinkled hoodie, the hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Jasmine felt as though she were being sized up, judged by someone who was used to power and control.

"You can call me Mrs. Daniels, make sure you're out of here soon," Clara said, her voice colder now. "Dinner is starting soon, and I don’t want any… distractions." The word distractions hung in the air like a veiled insult, and Jasmine’s heart sank. She hadn’t even done anything wrong, but already she was being dismissed as if she were nothing more than an unwelcomed stranger.

Jasmine nodded quickly, not trusting herself to respond. She was used to people like Clara. People who looked down on her, who considered her little more than a cog in their machine of wealth and status. People who believed that money and appearance were the only things that mattered.

But as she stood up to collect her supplies, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

"Clara, there you are. Is everything ready for the dinner party?" Elijah's voice came from behind, soft and casual, but there was a trace of something else in it. Something Jasmine couldn’t quite place. It sounded like a quiet question, almost as though he was uncertain. She wasn’t sure if he was asking Clara or if he was asking the air itself.

Clara turned toward him with an exaggerated smile, the kind that looked like it had been rehearsed in front of a mirror. “Everything’s perfect, darling,” she said, her tone syrupy sweet, though the warmth didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’re just about to wrap things up here, and then we’ll go upstairs and get ready. The maid is just leaving.”

Jasmine tried to slip past them, desperate to escape the tension that was quickly suffocating her. But as she passed by Elijah, something strange happened.

For a brief, fleeting moment, their eyes met, and a jolt of heat shot through her chest. It was the same electricity she had felt earlier, the same undeniable chemistry that had almost pulled her in against her will. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her pulse quicken just for a second, a fraction of a moment. And yet, in that instant, it was as though the world had narrowed to the two of them, alone in the hallway, both of them caught in the quiet current of something unspoken.

But then, before Jasmine could even register what was happening, Clara’s voice broke the moment, cold and sharp. “Girl, leave. Now.”

Jasmine froze. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Clara’s gaze had narrowed, her lips curling into a sneer as her eyes flickered between Elijah and Jasmine. “Elijah, what do you think you are doing?” Her voice was a low hiss, barely contained as she crossed the space between them, stepping toward Elijah with a look of disbelief on her face. “Why the hell are you staring at the help? Would you like to clean with her?”

Jasmine’s body went stiff. She had never seen someone so angry, so suddenly, so completely. Clara was no longer the poised woman Jasmine had seen earlier. She was a tornado, a force of fury that tore through the air taking everything with it.

Elijah’s face turned barren of emotion, his mouth pierced tightly and his glare at Clara could kill. The moment had been so brief, so innocent. Hell, they hadn’t even touched, but the way Clara was reacting made it seem as though Jasmine had just committed some unforgivable sin.

“This is my home. I can look at whoever I...” Elijah started, but Clara interrupted him.

Her voice rising, “Is that so? Well, then look at me for once. We are soon to be married after all."

His eyes sharp as he stared at her and with a low, deep growl, "Not by choice."

Clara’s eyes were filled with venom now. The warmth she had shown earlier had evaporated, replaced with disgust. And Jasmine, standing there in the background, could do nothing but listen and feel her face burn with humiliation.

Jasmine’s heart raced in her chest, but her feet were glued to the floor. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She hadn’t even done anything, she had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now here she was, caught in the middle of a domestic storm that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the tangled mess of emotions between Elijah and Clara.

Clara choked back her rage for a brief moment to keep Jasmine from learning too much, "It is time to get ready for dinner. My parents will be arriving shortly."

“Then you better...” Elijah spoke again, but Clara raised a hand, silencing him before turning toward Jasmine.

“Just. Get. Out.” Clara’s voice was a low, controlled command now. Each word was deliberate. Each syllable dripping with disdain. “I said, I want you to leave. Now.”

Jasmine flinched as Clara’s words hit her like a slap. She had heard people speak to others like that before. Heard the dismissive tone and the derision, but to feel it directed at her, so suddenly, so coldly, felt like a gut punch.

“I… I’m sorry,” Jasmine stammered, trying to gather her composure, trying to collect the fragments of dignity she felt slipping away. “I didn’t mean…”

“I said get out! You're fired.” Clara’s words cut her off, harsh and final. She didn’t even look at Jasmine as she turned to face Elijah, leaving Jasmine standing alone in the vast hallway, feeling the weight of her failure.

Jasmine’s chest tightened. Every fiber of her being wanted to turn and run. To escape the ridicule, the coldness, the sheer weight of the judgment. But instead, she stood there, too stunned to move.

Elijah looked at her, his face a mask of conflict, but his lips remained tight, his jaw set. He didn’t step forward to intervene. He didn’t try to stop Clara or apologize. His silence burned hotter than anything he could have said.

Jasmine blinked back the tears that suddenly stung at her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to let Clara see how much her words had affected her. But everything felt wrong. The weight of her humble existence, the world she was trying to break into, the way Clara had reduced her to nothing. It was all too much.

In the end, the words that lingered in her mind were not Clara’s insults but the realization that this was the world Jasmine was trying to infiltrate: a world where she was not wanted, not needed, not even seen as worthy of a second glance. She was simply a servant, a means to an end. A ghost drifting through a house made of glass and gold.

Without a word, Jasmine turned and walked toward the door. Each step felt heavier than the last, each one a reminder of how out of place she truly was.

The door shut behind her with a soft click, and suddenly, the world outside seemed like a breath of fresh air. Familiar, unpretentious, and, for once, safe. But as Jasmine stood on the sidewalk, the weight of the encounter sank deeper into her chest. She had been humiliated, and more than that, she had been reminded, brutally reminded of the stark divide between her world and theirs.

She wasn’t just a cleaner. She wasn’t just a girl trying to make ends meet. She was someone who, no matter how hard she tried, would always be on the outside looking in.

And that truth stung more than anything Clara had said.