Michael sat in the living room, half-listening to the news as the TV droned on. From the kitchen, the sizzle of frying yam and the aroma of spicy egg sauce filled the air. Musimbi, his housemaid, was preparing dinner, with a kettle of water already on the stove for tea. Her voice cut through the background noise, "Susanne didn't even tell me she was going out when she left."

Michael frowned, his gaze shifting towards the kitchen doorway. "What about Cryst?" he asked, glancing at his wristwatch. It was already 7 p.m. "I haven't heard from her all day."

Musimbi peeked into the living room, concern etched on her face. "Sir, it's getting late. You might have to eat alone tonight."

"I don't have much of an appetite," Michael muttered, tearing open a small gift package that Musimbi had left on the side table. "Just serve me the tea."

He reached for his phone and dialed Cryst's number, only for it to ring endlessly without an answer. "Stubborn," he cursed under his breath. Trying Susanne's contact, he got the same result. Frustration simmered in his veins as he tossed the phone back onto the couch.

Just then, the landline rang, jolting the quiet house. Musimbi rushed to answer it. "Hello?" she said, her tone lifting with anticipation. "Good evening, sir... Yes, Mr. Michael is home." She held out the receiver, but the line went dead before Michael could take the call.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"It was your father," Musimbi replied. "He said he'll be visiting tomorrow and staying for two days."

Michael's brows shot up, surprise flickering across his face. "Alright then." He dropped the TV remote on the center table and stood. "Clean his room tonight. Make sure everything is in order."

Musimbi hesitated. "But sir, since you're using his room, should I move your things to Madam's room or... another one?"

"Put them in Susanne's room," he replied curtly. His voice trailed off as he turned and walked away.

---

Meanwhile, Grace sat across the living room at the boys quaters, exhaustion pulling at her eyelids. It was already past 9 p.m., and her messages to Susanne had gone unanswered. The movie she had been watching on the extra-large plasma screen ended, casting the room into a heavy silence. She sighed, her fingers swiping across her phone screen as she absentmindedly scrolled through her gallery. Her heart sank when a text notification lit up her screen-just a message from MTN.

She glanced at the Balogun family photo in her gallery. It showed an elderly man with a distinguished presence sitting between Michael and Aunty Funke. A side hug from Cryst completed the picture of a family bonded by love and shared secrets. Her thoughts drifted back to the day Susanne had introduced her to the family. "This is my father-in-law," Susanne had said. "He's the only one in the Balogun family who truly cares about me."

Grace's lips tightened. It seemed so long ago. Now, she wondered if Susanne's arrival would further complicate things. She leaned back in the chair, silently willing her sister would come home soon.

At the same time, Susanne lay on a bed, spoon-fed by her mother, Mrs. Nike. The warmth of the pepper soup did little to alleviate the chills coursing through her. Kingsley hovered nearby, his phone clutched in one hand as he read aloud about the dangers of cold exposure during pregnancy. "This could be a sign of fever," he said with a hint of panic in his voice. "Should I call an ambulance or-"

"No need for that," Susanne whispered, her voice barely audible.

Kingsley's brows knitted together in concern. "It's best if we go to the hospital, Susanne. What if it gets worse?"

"I told you, don't worry." Susanne coughed, clutching her head as though it throbbed in time with her heartbeat. "Go home, Kingsley. You don't need to stay."

"Are you kidding me?" Kingsley snapped. "Look at your mother; she's already stressed out enough. The least I can do is stay and take care of both you and the baby."

Mrs. Nike's eyes narrowed with disapproval. "Kingsley, don't tell me you plan to spend the night here. Your interference has complicated my daughter's life enough already," she said, voice quivering. "Just leave. I don't want anyone from the Balogun family finding you here."

Kingsley turned to Susanne, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please, Ma, I'll be careful. No one will find out. Just let me stay."

Susanne looked up at her mother. "Mum, I know you blame Kingsley for everything, but I'm also at fault. He is the father of this child," she said, her voice cracking. "It may not be what you expected, but for now, let him stay."

Mrs. Nike's mouth tightened into a thin line, but she said nothing more. Kingsley took his chance. "What do you need? I can get it for you."

"Indomie, egg, and tea from the kiosk outside," Susanne requested, her eyes glistening with weariness. "Make it two plates."

"I'll be right back," Kingsley promised, rushing out the door.

---

Grace finally returned home and walked into her room, her movements slow and weary. Her phone never left her hand as she sat before the mirror, waiting for Susanne's call. Musimbi knocked and entered with Michael's duvet, placing it on the bed.

"What's this doing here?" Grace asked, puzzled.

"It's for Mr. Micheal, Ma," Musimbi replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Your father-in-law is coming tomorrow. We can't let him know you and Michael share separate rooms."

"What?" Grace's eyes widened as if the implications of that statement were just sinking in.

Musimbi's smile deepened. "This reminds me of your honeymoon. He stayed only three days back then, didn't he?"

Grace felt a blush creeping up her cheeks as she glanced at the nightwear Musimbi held up for her. "What's that?"

"A new style, Ma," the maid said, grinning. "I thought it might be... suitable."

Grace shook her head, her voice low and defiant. "Put it away."

She stared at the duvet on her bed and then at her reflection in the mirror. Something about this arrangement unsettled her. It felt like a storm was brewing, and she was at the center of it. She checked her phone once more. Still no word from Susanne.

---

Kingsley returned to find Susanne lying back on the bed, looking like a spoiled child. He fed her the Indomie, and fried egg bit by bit, as she sipped on her tea. After washing the plates, he settled next to her, his eyes searching hers.

"I've been thinking about our situation," he began. "Is there a less extreme approach than... getting rid of Micheal?"

Susanne's gaze fixed on him with a detached calmness. "Why don't we relocate abroad?" she suggested.

"Abroad?" Kingsley's tone turned skeptical. "How do you expect us to survive out there? What country are we even talking about? We don't have the resources."

Susanne's expression darkened, the pain in her eyes sharp as a knife. "You still don't understand, do you?" she whispered. "Michael was always my choice because he offered me stability. Something you could never give."

Kingsley clenched his jaw. "Just give me a chance to prove myself."

Susanne leaned forward, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then prove it to me, Kingsley. When the time comes... get rid of him."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence as the clock ticked past midnight. Grace sat in her room, oblivious to the storm brewing just a few rooms away.

She drove into the compound, exhaustion clinging to her like a heavy cloak. It was already late, and she headed straight to her bedroom, slumping into the chair in front of the wall mirror. Her tired eyes glanced at her phone, checking for any missed calls or messages from Susanne. Nothing. She sighed in frustration, her anxiety deepening with each second of silence.

As she sat there, Musimbi entered, carrying a neatly folded duvet. "Madam," she announced cheerfully, "I've brought Mr. Michael's duvet." She draped it over the bed.

Grace frowned, her weariness turning to mild surprise. "Why are you putting that here? And...why haven't you changed, Musimbi? It's past 10 p.m. already."

Musimbi's expression remained calm but worried. "Yes, Ma. I just finished my chores. You should freshen up, too," she suggested, moving towards the closet. "Change into something comfortable for the night." She pulled out a silky nightgown and laid it out on the bed.

Grace scoffed and shook her head. "I'm too tired for a bath, Musimbi," she muttered, placing her phone down with a thud.

"Just try this, Ma," Musimbi insisted, pointing at the gown.

Grace's gaze fell on the garment, her brow furrowing. "What on earth is this?" she said, her tone laced with disgust. The nightwear was more revealing than she had expected, with lace trimmings that left little to the imagination.

"You don't like it?" Musimbi asked innocently. "Maybe this other one-"

"Take it away," Grace cut her off sharply, waving her hand dismissively. Her eyes then darted to the duvet on her bed, realizing for the first time it wasn't hers. "Whose is this, anyway?"

"It's for your husband, Ma. Didn't he tell you?" Musimbi replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your father-in-law will be staying here for a few days. We can't let him find out you and Mr. Michael are sleeping in separate rooms...otherwise, he'll get upset."

Grace's eyes widened in shock. "What?" she breathed, her mind scrambling to process the sudden turn of events.

Musimbi nodded enthusiastically, seemingly unfazed by Grace's distress. "This reminds me of your honeymoon years ago," she reminisced with a nostalgic smile. "Although, that time, he only stayed three days."

"Musimbi, enough," Grace interrupted, but her voice was weaker now, betraying a trace of panic.

The maid ignored her and kept rambling. "Finally, madam, this might be your chance. Didn't you always want a child? Maybe this visit will bring the spark back! I must prepare the room quickly," she said, practically bouncing as she started to arrange the bed.

"Stop it, Musimbi," Grace snapped, but her voice lacked its usual authority. She took a step back, retreating towards the bathroom door. "I'm not the one who's been avoiding... him," she muttered, her voice trailing off as she closed herself inside the bedroom.

Grace leaned against the door, her heart pounding. Had Musimbi been right? Could this visit reignite something between them, or was it all wishful thinking? She didn't have time to ponder further as the vibration of her phone buzzed on the vanity table, catching her attention.

Was it Susanne finally calling back, or was there yet another twist to come? Grace hesitated, her fingers hovering over the screen. Whatever the message was, it could change everything. Or... make things unravel even more.

***

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