"You missed a spot."
Daisy Daniels paused mid-scrub.
She gripped the mop. Her knuckles turned pale. She stared at the marble step.
"I cleaned there already," she said quietly.
Nurse Brenda stepped closer. Her white shoes struck the staircase in sharp, unforgiving beats.
"Then clean it again," Nurse Brenda snapped. "Private wing patients pay for perfection. No excuses."
Daisy agreed quietly.
"Yes, ma."
She dipped the mop into the bucket. The water was gray from hours of use. Foam clung to the sides like tired clouds. She wrung the mop slowly and wiped the same step again.
Nurse Brenda stayed behind her.
Watching.
Waiting.
"You cleaners move too slow," she said. "If you lose this job, don't come begging at my office."
Daisy swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
Daisy's stomach growled. She had eaten only bread. Nothing since.
Rent was due in five days.
Her landlord had warned her twice already.
"No payment," he had said, tapping the doorframe, "no grace. I don't run a charity."
Pride had no use here.
Daisy scrubbed harder.
Nurse Brenda sniffed. "And don't forget the corners. Dust hides in corners. Like lazy workers."
"I will clean everything," Daisy said.
"See that you do."
Nurse Brenda walked off. Her footsteps faded into silence.
Daisy finally released her breath.
She wrung the mop harder than needed.
The staircase rose above her. Wide. Polished. Silent.
Private wing.
No crying children. No relatives sleeping on floors. No noise from overcrowded wards.
Money bought silence.
Money bought space.
She climbed slowly, step by step.
Her shoes scraped marble. The soles were thin. She could feel the cold floor biting through them.
Chemicals burned the cuts on her fingers.
She ignored it.
Work first.
Pain later.
Halfway up, she heard footsteps.
Slow.
Unsteady.
She looked up.
An elderly woman was descending alone. One hand clutched the gold rail. Her hospital gown dragged slightly.
No nurse nearby.
No escort.
Policy required supervision.
Daisy hesitated. Should she speak? If Nurse Brenda heard, she would accuse her of interfering.
But something felt wrong.
"Ma'am," Daisy called softly. "Please hold the rail tight."
The woman turned slightly.
Her foot landed wrong.
It slipped.
Her body tilted forward.
The fall began.
Daisy dropped the mop.
The bucket tipped. Dirty water spread across the steps.
She ran upward.
"Ma'am! Stop—"
The woman slipped again.
Balance gone.
Daisy reached her seconds before impact.
She pulled her by the waist.
The force pulled them both down.
They fell.
Daisy twisted mid-fall.
Her back struck the steps.
A sharp pain shot through her spine. She pulled the woman close. Guarded her head.
They landed hard.
Sound vanished.
Then the noise returned.
"Call emergency!"
"Bring a stretcher!"
"What happened here?!"
Doctors rushed out. Nurses followed.
Hands lifted the elderly woman carefully.
But the woman clutched Daisy's sleeve.
Her fingers shook.
She held her tight.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"Daisy."
The woman repeated it. "Daisy."
Doctors placed her on the stretcher.
They rushed her away.
Daisy sat on the floor.
Her back throbbed. Her uniform was soaked.
A nurse pulled her up. "Are you injured?"
"I'm alright," Daisy said. The nurse left.
Daisy resumed mopping..
She set the bucket upright.
She cleaned the wet steps again.
Work did not stop.
Minutes passed.
Worry pulled at her chest.
What if the woman died?
Would the blame be put on her?
What if she lost her job?
She left the mop. Walked toward emergency. A guard stopped her.
"Where are you going?"
"I helped the patient who fell."
"Family only," he said.
"I will wait ."
She sat on a hallway bench.
Machines beeped inside.
Doctors spoke in fast whispers.
She folded her hands.
"God, let her live."
Her shift ended.She stayed. Night deepened.
Staff changed shifts.
Relatives came and left.
Daisy stayed.
Near dawn, a doctor stepped out.
She rushed up. "Doctor, please… the old woman from the stairs… is she alive?"
The doctor looked at her. Tired. Kind.
"She is stable," he said. "No head injury. No internal bleeding."
She exhaled in relief.
"Thank you, sir," she said.
She turned to leave.
A nurse hurried after her.
"She is asking for you."
"For me?"
"She keeps saying your name. Daisy."
Daisy hesitated. "But I am not family."
The nurse smiled faintly. "I guess you are for tonight"
Daisy followed her into the ward.
The ward smelled of antiseptic.
The elderly woman lay against pillows. Oxygen tubes rested under her nose.
Her eyes opened when Daisy came close.
Recognition filled them.
She reached out.
Daisy took her hand.
"You caught me," the woman said weakly.
"Yes, ma."
"You did not run away."
Daisy shook her head in dismay. "I could not."
The woman studied her. "Most people would."
Daisy looked down. "I just did what anyone would do."
The woman smiled faintly. "No. Not anyone."
"Tell me your full name?" she asked.
"Daisy Daniels."
She repeated it slowly. "Daisy… Daniels."
Footsteps gathered outside.
Heavy. Organized.
Security entered first.
Dark suits. Earpieces. Hard eyes.
They checked the room. No one spoke.
Well dressed people followed. Quiet steps. Calm faces.
Doctors stood straight. Nurses lowered their voices.
Power filled the room.
Daisy stepped back. Her wet uniform clung to her skin. Bleach stains marked her sleeves. She rubbed her hands on the cloth.
A tall man walked to the bed.
"Grandmother."
His voice stayed calm.
The old woman smiled. "You came."
"Of course."
He fixed her blanket. Slow. Careful.
Daisy stood near the wall. No one saw her.
The old woman raised her hand. "Wait."
Everyone stopped.
She pointed at Daisy.
"This girl saved me."
Silence filled the room.
Security looked at Daisy. A woman in pearls frowned. A man whispered, "Cleaner."
The old woman spoke again. "I slipped. No nurse. No escort. I would have hit my head. She caught me. She took the fall."
A doctor nodded. "Yes, ma."
The old woman held Daisy's hand. "She covered my head with her body."
Someone gasped.
The tall grandson looked at Daisy once. His face showed nothing. He turned back to the bed.
Daisy looked down.
The old woman frowned. "Did you hear me."
"Yes, grandmother."
"She saved your grandmother's life."
"I heard."
He asked the doctor about scans. About drugs. About discharge.
No one spoke to Daisy.
The old woman did not release her hand.
"What is your name," she asked.
"Daisy Daniels."
"Daisy Daniels," she said. She looked at her family. "Remember that name."
No one replied.
A nurse said, "Visiting time is over."
Family members hugged the old woman. Security moved to the door.
The old woman leaned close. "Come tomorrow."
"I work, ma."
"Come after work."
"Yes, ma."
She let go.
A nurse led Daisy outside.
Nurse Brenda waited in the hall. Her face was tight.
"You caused trouble upstairs," she said.
"No, ma. The patient slipped."
"Pray the family keeps quiet," Nurse Brenda said. "People like them do not forgive mistakes."
"I understand, ma."
"Finish your cleaning."
Daisy went back to the stairs. She picked the mop. She scrubbed the same step.
Her back hurt. Her hands shook.
Another cleaner asked, "Who were those people."
"I do not know."
"They looked rich."
Daisy kept working. "I want no trouble."
Night came. Her shift ended.
She walked home under weak streetlights.
Her room smelled of damp clothes. Her landlord argued outside.
Daisy lay down. Pain ran through her back. She stared at the ceiling.
The old woman's words stayed in her mind.
Remember that name.
Why.
She helped a patient. Nothing more.
Rich people forget poor workers fast.
Tomorrow will look the same.
She closed her eyes.
Across the city, in the private wing, the old woman pushed her blanket aside.
"Call my lawyer," she told the nurse.
The nurse stared. "Now, ma'am."
"Now."
She sat up. Her voice stayed firm.
"I want that girl."
"Which girl."
"The cleaner. The one who caught me."
She spoke each word with care.
"Bring Daisy Daniels to my house. Before anyone stops me."
Outside the door, her grandson stood still.
He heard every word.
His face showed nothing.
His eyes turned cold.
Another poor girl.
Another stranger near his family.
Another problem.
He said nothing.
He walked away.