I woke up to a tray of oatmeal with berries scattered on it and I saw a pink, paper bag beside the tray. When I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, Chike was absent from my side. The pink bag and food must have come from him as a 'thank you' maybe.

I ignored the food and took the bag. It contained a blue, off shoulder dress and a new pair of lingerie. I was glad I wasn't going to repeat my outfit, I didn't want to look like a homeless person beside Chike's mom who had been elegant thus far.

After getting out from the bathroom and wearing the blue dress, I went in search of Chike. He wasn't in his room, I went back to the room I slept in and folded the clothes and undies I wore the day before into the pink bag. We could leave anytime, I was prepared. I found my way around the wing and saw the staircase leading downstairs. I took extra care to memorize my way to Chike's wing the day before, so it was easy for me to find the curved stairs.

The silent housekeeper I never saw but heard of showed herself in a white apron and cap, she looked to be around fifty and she told me where the family was gathered. When I walked outside towards the direction I was shown, I saw Chike with his parents around a table eating breakfast.

"Good morning," I said to them when I got closer.

"This is the beautiful lady my wife has been talking about. I'm Chike's father, hope you slept well?" Chike's dad asked and helped me with a seat.

He wasn't as tall as his son but I could still see some sort of resemblance. They had the same piercing eyes and his head was also full of hair, where his son's was black, his was a mixture of black and grey.

"I did. Thank you," I said and looked at Chike's mom who was buttering a toast. "Thanks for having me," I said to her.

It was obvious Chike took everything on his mom's face apart from the eyes. He must have gotten his height from another member of his family because his mother was of average height.

"You don't have to thank me, my dear. You brought our son home." She looked like she had a great massage session because she had a new glow on her face.

"Hey," I said to Chike, who was beside me.

"Hey," he replied, concentrating on his meal.

I took sandwich from the table and poured myself a glass of milk.

"So, what exactly do you do?" Chike's dad asked.

"I'm a celebrity stylist and a designer."

"And what does my son do for you?" he asked.

"He's one of the models for my clothing line."

"So you stopped singing to start modelling, interesting," he said.

"It is, considering the fact that they earn a lot when they get noticed by exotic brands," I said.

"When, that's the operative word. How old are you, boy?" His voice carried loud and clear like a whiplash.

"Twenty-seven," Chike answered.

"You're too old to be this visionless. You think your mom and I were gallivanting the entire city claiming to be musicians at your age?"

"It's not a claim, I sing," Chike said.

"Pretty well too, if I may add," I said to lighten the tension that was building up.

"If he sings so well, where are the deals he has gotten?" Chike's dad asked.

"I'll get there," Chike said.

"Stop this nonsense, son and join the company. I sent you to school to study something profitable but you chose music. A damn waste."

The bread in my mouth turned to sawdust as I heard Chike's dad talk. I took Chike's hand under the table and squeezed. The air was filled with strain, and I expected Chike's mom to stop the insults that were raining on her son's head but she only nodded and ate her meal. If you judged the scene by her expression, you'd think we were at a fancy tea party. It was an unusual scene, I grew up poor but my parents were at least loving and supporting.

"Do you own the company where you work, my dear?" Chike's mom directed at me.

"Yes, but I was around Chike's age when I found my footing in the fashion industry."

"You got your footing, all this one ever does in fall," Chike's dad muttered under his breath.

I wasn't comfortable at all, they were using my success as a means to tear down their son and I was horrified.

"You distanced yourself from the family, if Mr Obi didn't tell us he saw you at that ball we wouldn't even know you were in the city. Is this the kind of life you want for yourself?" His mom turned to him.

"I've told you he's a bastard, nobody in my generation is like this. I don't know where you got him from, woman," his dad said.

"Everyone in my family is hungry for success so it's not from my side. I think he spent too much time with the nanny as a kid, where else would he have picked up this stupid nonchalant behavior?" his mum replied.

"You have everything anyone could ever ask for. If you're bent on singing meet the Governor, he'll use you for his campaigns."

"I don't want anything to do with your money or connection," Chike finally said. I looked at him and turned to his father who was becoming red, his complexion wasn't hiding how angry he was getting.

"Your arrogance and ineptitude will be the end of you," his dad said. "This is no son of mine," he spat the words out.

No one was eating anymore, and I wanted to disappear. All I heard was hate and more hate.

"It's not too late to come home," his mom said, she was trying to mediate.

I would have appreciated it if she did that earlier. Chike threw his napkin on the table and the chair clattered to the floor as he stood.

"I can't stand both of you. All you ever do is condemn me and you wonder why I'll never accept your help. If I'm no son of yours then you're no parent of mine and that goes for both of you." He pointed at both his parents. "Mom, I expected more from you but you've clearly been brainwashed by this oppressor."

"Do you hear your son?" his dad turned swiftly to look at Chike's mom.

"The bible says, honor your parents so it may be well with you. Do you think speaking to you father like that is God's wish for you?"

"Don't forget the part that says, fathers should not provoke their children. You picked the only part that suits your purpose, I'm not surprised."

"Do you hear this bastard talking back at us."

"I'm not a bastard, I'm your son. I might not have your ideologies but I'm still your son."

"Chike, that's enough," I gently said. I stood and touched his arm.

"I'm leaving this very minute, are you coming along or not?" he asked me.

"I'm sorry for his outburst, he has been under a lot of stress," I said to his parents and ran after Chike as he marched into the house.

He joined me at the middle of the staircase. "I have your things, let's go."

"Okay." I wasn't going to argue.

I couldn't wait to get out of the house, it was lacking of love. It was beautiful and magnificent but cold. I saw Chike's father pointing at us, his lips were moving frantically as we entered the car and drove out of the driveway. I was glad when the gate automatically swung open because I was scared Chike would drive through it if it hadn't. He drove far away from the house before parking the car. He rubbed his face and let out his breath.

"I'm sorry I made you spend the night there," I said.

"It's not your fault, you couldn't have known how awful they are."

"You didn't have to speak to them that way though. You could have just walked out as things got volatile."

"I'm not going to be silent while they fuck with me mentally, I've had enough."

"That was why you had anxiety attack, because you knew this was coming."

"Not really, I think it was the house."

"They are your trigger, not the house."

"My mom was quoting scriptures, how can you be that toxic and support it with the word of God? Unfuckingbelievable." His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Don't think too much about it, you're safe now." I pulled his fingers off the wheel and squeezed.

"Why can't they be supportive of my dreams and choices?" Chike asked.

I didn't know the answer to that so I kept quiet. Chike started the car and we remained silent, we were both lost in our thoughts.

"Do you really have a clothing line?" he asked when we got stuck in traffic.

"Not yet, I'm working on it." I was glad something totally different from what happened earlier on was brought up.

"When is it coming?"

"Soon."

"I don't have to be your pretend model. I can help, like actually model for you."

"You don't have to. I recently just booked models for the fashion weekend."

"Then I can perform."

"There's a DJ. I appreciate it, but I've got this."

"I can attend right?"

"Of course, I'll tell my assistant to send you a ticket."

"What you did for me yesterday night was life-saving. Thanks." He moved the car with the flow of traffic.

"I had no choice."

"We were angry at each other but you still helped me when I needed you."

"You had a right to be mad, I shouldn't have suggested spending the night."

"It's okay, I should have simply stayed away."

"What do your parents do?" I asked

"They own several hotels scattered everywhere. I don't know every last location, it's a lot though." He looked at me and looked back at the road.

"It was you," I said suddenly. Why did it take so long for my brain to process it?

"What was me?" Chike asked. He swerved lanes and we entered a less busy street.

"The invite. Are you related to the Governor?"

"Not really." His hand was on his face again. "He's sort of my god father."

"Oh," I said and didn't ask more questions when his hand moved to his neck almost mimicking the day before anxiety signs.