I am slowly getting used to Harry's presence in the house but the adjustments I made before are seemingly undoing themselves in their own accord.  used to his actions, attitude, and the fact that I have to wear a maid's uniform daily. The changes were not really that hard but I was just bummed out of the initial thought that Harry was overall pleasant and always a cheerful guy.

It should've already been a fact that celebrities aren't always who they are onscreen. I was just hoping he was different. Yes, he was kind and thoughtful for the first week, but it was gone on the second.  Harry, who would always talk to Anthony during the afternoon, now preferred to stay inside his room.  Harry, who would engage in small conversations with me during the day, suddenly became quiet and preferred solitude. I don't know what shifted but I hope this is not who he truly was.

Is the food done?

Harry sends me a text.

Yes, Harry. The food's done.

I reply back and place the food on the table. The sound of a record player playing from a band I'm not familiar with emanates from the third floor and it's my signal that Harry just came out of his room. My boss descends down and goes to sit at his usual spot at the small dining table in the kitchen.  Not once since he arrived has he used the main dining area and it puzzles me that he prefers this cramped space over the large and more spacious one.

The guy starts his meal and I turn to drink some water. Secretly, I watch from behind whether he finds the food delicious or not. From where I'm standing in the corner of the kitchen beside the sink, I can see a clear reflection of Harry's side profile in the oven window and his eyes from the glass frame in front of him. A sign that he likes the food is he would stretch his head slightly from side to side while his eyes will crinkle and dimples will pop. When he doesn't like the food, Harry will just sit still and will still smile but no dimples show. Nevertheless, for both occasions, he'll finish the food on his plate.

Today,  sadly, he eats without a word and eyes focused solely on the food. Sighing in silence, I go back to my room. It makes me feel disappointed that for days,  he eats with no emotion. To rub more salt into the wound, I still haven't figured out how to be friends with the guy.

How do I befriend someone so high in society and not fear getting ridiculed by the people surrounding us? Still, my thoughts go back to what tita Tess said before she left. Tita Tess mentioned he was a sad person and I finally agree with that.

Whenever I look at pictures of Harry on the internet and compare it with the guy I see every day, I see everything I've been missing out on for years. From the way he looks at people to the subtle gestures he does when he thinks he's alone, Harry's keeping everything within.

I could see that his pictures exude an aura of confidence and anonymity like he's wearing a colorful and alluring mask to entice you to think of him as a confident guy oozing with happiness and charisma. The Harry I see every day is much more toned down, much more quiet, and much deeper. He still has his mask on but it's painted dark with streaks of bright colors to make you think that everything is okay but when you get closer,  you'll see the small cracks come through.

"Just think of it later, Yari. " I say to myself as I shake my head and rid the thoughts away.  Later,  I'll think of better food to cook for him and find a way to make him smile genuinely. For now, I lay out my clothes on my bed and get ready for my meeting later with the other freelancers.

My phone buzzes and I already know who it is before even checking the screen.

I'm done. Thank you for the meal.

I go outside to see the utensils on the sink while his food scraps are already thrown in the trash bin. The sound of music has also stopped, signaling that Harry's back inside his room.

I turn to clean Harry's dishes and set them up on the rack to dry. After that, I take some portions of the food and cover the rest back. I put the remaining food in the fridge and take the leftovers from last night to concoct a new dish and heat it up in the pan. After heating, I place it on to the table and text Luke and Earl, the security on duty today.

Let's eat!

Two burly guys, one with a shaved head and one with cropped both in their mid-thirties, come inside with their packed lunch and we share our meals together. Since Harry arrived, additional security has been hired inside the property. Four guards are now in charge of security during the day while eight at night. It's been a personal task of mine to invite them to eat with me to make myself feel less lonely and so far, I've succeeded.

"Hmm, I can smell that roast from outside, Yari, " Luke, the guy with a shaved head,  looks at the food in front of us.

"That would go well with the wife's mashed potatoes and ham she made. " Earl adds.

We feast on the food I cooked and the lunch they brought until we've completely emptied all of our plates. Harry has been gracious enough to give all of us, his staff, free meals and includes us in his grocery budget even if we can just buy on our own. He even lets us, his staff, use the utensils inside the kitchen.

After eating and cleaning everything, both wave goodbye to go back to their post while I dry the utensils and place them on the rack. Once done, I get ready to go out. From my daily maid's uniform of white blouse and apron with a black skirt, I keep my change of clothes simple by wearing a shirt, mid-length skirt, and my trusted Chucks. 

Once done, I fix my face with light makeup then tie my hair in a fish braid. Then, I place my laptop and essentials in my satchel.

I will be leaving the house now, Harry. Today is my meeting. I'll get back by seven.

I send Harry a quick text and leave the mansion. Once outside the house, I greet Earl who's walking around the yard.

"Enjoy your day, Yari! " Earl waves at me.

"You too, Earl. Say goodbye to Luke for me." I wave back. Once outside, I get a text.

You don't have to go back that early. Stay out until eight or nine if you want. I'll be going out too. Enjoy your day!

My lips curve upward at his text. He's a very nice employer for him to encourage his employee to go out and enjoy her day. I haven't fully seen who he truly is and I just hope that despite his bad mood this week, he'll get back to his true self. Of course, I'm also happy that he's going out. The guy hasn't left the property ever since he arrived and it was making me worry too.

I hope you enjoy your day too!

I send a quick text and place my phone back in my satchel. My usual go-to for my Sunday free day is Regent's Park and Camden Lock Market. But today, I'm heading to a café at Portobello Road Market where the meeting is set. I've never been to that part of London so today is an adventure.

Riding public transport around here is very fascinating. I've only seen on books and screens the huge double-deck buses, fast monorails, and amazing trams. Now, I get to experience it. Despite the speed and convenience, I usually prefer walking here since my eyes get to feast more on this mish-mash of culture and memories of old and new. I never would've expected England would give me the adventure I never knew I needed.

At a quarter past two, I reach Portobello Road Market. My eyes turn wide and I'm immediately in awe at the place. The whole market is bustling with people walking to and fro the long street and around the brightly colored shops selling various items and delicacies. It's been a habit ever since I was in the Philippines but I hold my bag in front of me among the crowd of people and find my way to the café we're meeting at.

After a lot of inquiring and window shopping side trips, I arrive at the meeting place. It's a quaint café with a metal signboard and a logo of a bean painted on it. Inside, the place exudes the feel of a Mediterranean kitchen with its patterned tiles, wooden tables with metal legs curved in an intricate fashion, and decor that you would think an Italian grandma placed it.

I search for familiar faces until I see a woman at the back of the coffee shop typing away on her laptop while taking a forkful of pasta. Quickly, I walk to her four-seat table and call her name.

"Olive!" I greet. "Good afternoon. "

The woman turns around and gives a warm smile. "Good afternoon, Yari. You're the first one to arrive."

"Am I? That's good." I smile to myself and sit beside her.

Olive manages all the outside contributors, meaning the freelance writers, of The Buzz, the online varied content website I'm working for. She's a square-faced woman in her late twenties with ebony black hair, velvety chocolate skin, and a slender physique thanks to her pilates classes. She's stern but kind and the woman I'm ultimately thankful to since she believed in my skills and hired me.

I was looking up various online jobs until I stumbled upon this one. Writing has always been my passion ever since I can remember. This job for me was like a gift to keep me sane despite the world weighing down on me. What I'm writing here is not necessarily the topic that I like but it keeps me holding on to some semblance of normalcy.

Several minutes pass and my other co-worker arrives.

"Hi Olive, hi Yari. " Ellie greets and sits beside me.

Ellie is a ginger-haired girl a couple of years older than me. She has a round face framed under thick vintage glasses, a pear-shaped body, and a serene aura to match her whole esoteric hippie girl look. When I first met her, she introduced herself to me with a tight hug. Then and there, I knew we would be good friends.

Ellie and I set up our laptops to prepare our updates. It's a quarter before three and the meeting should have started five minutes ago but we are still missing one co-worker. So, we order our food while we wait.

I go up to the counter along with Ellie and look at the menu board. Ellie orders first while I take my time. It's been an acquired habit but I always mentally convert the prices of the things I buy from the British pound to the Philippine peso then compare it to equivalent items in my country. Each time, it never falters to disappoint me at how pricey the food here is.

Ellie ends her order and I reach the front where the cashier looks at me with a smile. I go with the cheapest ice blended drink—vanilla—at regular size and wait alongside Ellie for our order. The barista takes no time in preparing our drinks and we go back to our table where our other co-worker is already sitting on the other side of Olive.

"You never change,  do you?" Ellie jokingly rolls her eyes.

"It's good that you're already here, Dean. " I add as we sit on our chairs.

Dean gives an apologetic smile. 

"Sorry to keep you ladies waiting. Traffic was horrid today." 

Dean is the same age as Ellie and her classmate during their years in university. He's a tall and lean guy with thick brown hair tied in a mini man bun. The guy has a square face, defined features, a sleeve of tattoos,  and a soft smile that goes with his whole stereotypical hipster writer look with a bit of thug in the mix.

"Now that you're all here, let's begin." Olive claps her hand and turns from friendly Olive to business Olive.

The monthly meeting is a way for Olive to get updates from us and ask questions that she can't express online. Since we're basically doing freelance work, not much is required from us compared to those who work full time in the office. Still, our works are monitored for errors and ability to engage readers since The Buzz is a growing company steadily accumulating readers.

One by one, we present a report of our updates and the number of articles we've written. For my job, I mostly write about entertainment that comprises anything and everything concerning celebrities. I'd rather write about culture like Dean or lifestyle like Ellie but this was what I was assigned to. Still, I try to look at the bright side of things which is the fact that I get to learn about the type of entertainment British people like. So far, I've seen a lot of differences.

After my report, the meeting proceeds with Dean. Dean mainly writes about culture ranging from British to European.  He's an amazing writer and I admire his skills and amazing ability to engage people. I'm also extremely awed that he has his growing following in his blog, The Lost Millennial Brit.

Dean ends his report and Ellie presents last. Ellie writes about lifestyle from how to survive in London to picking the right design for your apartment--flat in British. She's an amazing writer thanks to her Creative Writing degree and I always find myself enjoying the articles she's written to the book that she's writing on her own.

The reports end and Olive starts typing again. I take a sip of my drink and wait for her to give her feedback. Olive starts sharing her feedback on my report and I diligently take notes. She's very direct to specify the weak points of my articles and updates while giving very helpful tips and advice. Her constructive criticism and leveled tone of voice don't damper my spirits but only boost them more so that I can improve myself.

The same statements were cascaded to them both and are also soaking it in with profound understanding. Olive has a way of making you do that.

"And despite all those, I'd like to commend you three. You each have buzz-worthy articles especially you, Yari. People loved your article about Harry Styles arriving back in London. I like the twist of giving more depth and meaning behind the mask," Olive smiles, and the two give their congratulations. "Keep doing a good job. I'll make sure that you will write all the info we receive about Harry."

I chuckle at the praise and change the subject. A week ago, I made an article about Harry's arrival in London, and apparently, British girls all over the country liked it. I merely collated all the information given to me by the photographers of the company and added a little bit of my own that doesn't violate my contract. But after sending it to Olive, I did feel guilty and decided that after that one article, if allowed, I would not write more about him since I don't want to break his trust. Right now, I'm just happy that the company is not putting my name on that article.

The meeting concludes with the discussion of the targets for the month and some reminders which we all take note of. Olive heads out first, saying she has Pilates classes to attend. The three of us remain in our seats and continue sipping our drinks.

"So, where are you two heading afterward?" Ellie asks. "Would you fancy going around the market? I've got nothing to do after."

I check my watch and it's already past five in the afternoon.

"I have dinner with my family later at eight but I have free time before that. " Dean sips on the handcrafted drink he ordered.

Should I go out with them or head home? Harry did say I can stay out even until nine in the evening but I don't want to abuse his kindness.

"I can stay until seven. I still have work to do tomorrow." I say as I drain the last bits of my drink.

Ellie claps her hands and grins wide. "All right. Let's get going then!"

With our laptops placed back in our bags, we head out of the café and into the bustling street of Portobello Market. It seems like the number of people from earlier just increased double fold. The three of us melt into the crowd of people and check out the nick-knacks of the place.

"Have you guys been here before?" I ask as we walk.

"I have," Dean replies.

"A couple of times," Ellie adds.

We enter various antique shops and check out the amazing treasures they sell. I gravitate towards a certain vintage camera displayed on the ground and turn to pick it up but large hands meet mine at the same time.

"You take it first," Dean removes his hand.

"No, it's alright. You go first," I try to hand it to him but he refuses. "Thank you. "

I stand up and inspect the vintage camera. It's lightweight and has a good lens with it being designed by a trusted camera company. I check the price tag and see that it's thirty pounds for this. That's a steal! But still, that thirty pounds can be added to help pay our debt.

"You like taking photos too?" Dean inquires after I pass the camera to him.

"A hobby of mine," I say nonchalantly. "The price is really cheap. You should buy the camera so I can borrow it from you. "

"You take photos? " Ellie pops out of nowhere carrying an old tea set. "Can I see? "

Shyly, I take my phone and show them photos of people and still objects I took.

"Wow, these are really good. " Dean whistles.

"Good? They're beautiful! Especially those people doing some tribal dance. " Ellie points out the photo I took of the people dancing in the Dinagyang Festival, a festival in my dad's hometown.

"Now you need this camera more." Dean hands it back to me.

"No, it's alright. I just wanted to look at it. I already have a camera at home." I smile. Truthfully, I sold all my cameras—two DSLRs and one film—so I could pay for my processing fees to go here. "You should buy it."

"Maybe not today," Dean smiles. "I don't have any cash with me and I'm pretty sure that the old chap at the register doesn't accept card. "

I set back down the camera and look at it one last time before we proceed to the others. Once I save enough extra money, I will buy that camera. We proceed to window shop at the other stores until we stop at a shop selling vinyl records. Several people are inside so we include ourselves in the number of people.

I peruse the rows of vinyl records in this small shop and gaze in awe at the vast collection of music. Ellie and Dean seem to be enjoying the place as well so I search through the records while they look around. Vinyl records are not really my thing but I've noticed Harry has a collection of it at home. I want to give one as a token of appreciation for all his kindness and maybe make him smile.

From my memory, he likes listening to either rock or soft music which doesn't help my case at all. I look for artists along with the two genres among the numerous rows until I stop on an artist that I recently come to discover here. His name is James Bay. 

I've listened to James Bay's music recently and all of his songs are really good. I think Harry will like this. So, I immediately get it and check the price which is fifteen pounds. That's quite pricey but I guess it's manageable. I will just have to forego all of the nick-knacks I saw earlier.

As I head up to the cashier, Ellie pops out from my side.

"You have your own turntable at your flat? " Ellie peers at the record I bought.

"Nope. It's a gift to my employer. " I reply. The two know that I work as a housekeeper for a family but they think I have my own flat that I share with other housekeepers.

"That's a really nice gift then." Ellie grins.

We go outside the shop and I check my phone. It's already a quarter to seven.

"I have to go now, Ellie, Dean. It's almost seven."

"Me too," Dean checks his phone. "I still have to change and buy something for our dinner. "

"Alright. My bus is near this side of the market. Is anyone riding with me?" Ellie points straight ahead.

"I am. Didn't bring my car today. " Dean replies.

"I'm not. " I shake my head.

"Alright, we'll see you soon then, love," Ellie gives me a quick hug. "Take care!"

"Take care you two! " I wave goodbye to them both and walk to the opposite side of the market to where the front entrance is.

As I'm walking, I inspect the record that I bought and wipe the dust that has accumulated in it. I head for the bus stop and take my ride leading to the station nearest to Harry's property. It takes no time for me to arrive and I leave to walk the short distance between the two.

Outside the property, I press the intercom beside the small iron gate. After a few seconds, a voice starts speaking.

"Good evening. Who is this?"

"It's Yari." I reply.

"Hey Yari, wait a second. "

The small iron door opens and I am greeted by Suresh, one of the night guards. He's tall, brown-skinned, has a swept-back hairstyle, and big expressive eyes thanks to his Indian heritage.

"Hi, Yari."

"Hey, Suresh. Hi James. " I enter the gate and wave to the other guy inside.

"You just missed Harry. He left a couple of minutes ago," James informs me. "Probably out partying."

"He did? Yeah, he told me he was leaving earlier. "

The three of us exchange pleasantries and engage in small talk for a while before I enter the house. Once inside, I smell a faint hint of male perfume. He's probably going to have a long night with his friends with that strong of a scent. Yet,  I smile at the masculine scent of patchouli and citrus because this is the first time I have smelled the perfume that he is using.

I take my things to my room then wash up and change into more comfortable clothes of pyjama pants and an old school t-shirt before sitting back in my bed.

On my bed, I take the record and pace along the room, playing with it in my hands. How do I give this to him? Should I give it personally or just leave it with a note? Would he think that I'm obsessing over him if I gave this? I hope this doesn't.

It takes me several more minutes until I decide that the best way to give it is to just leave it in front of his door. So, I take a notebook from my bag, tear a piece of paper and write on it. Then, I fold it into four. With the record in one hand and paper on the other, I head up to the third floor and stop in front of his door. I place the record on the floor on the side of the door and read what I wrote earlier.

Thank you for your kindness.

-Yari

I fold the paper once more and set it on top of the record, debating whether it was the right decision or not. Before I overthink it, I close my eyes and breathe then scurry back down. I hope he'll like it.