I looked at her, pointedly. Anger brewed inside me.

❦︎

~[VICTORIA]~

I was deep into solving equations in Physics that Monday night, and then I almost jerked off my bed, held on to the side of the mattress for my dear life. Why? Because the sudden blare of my ringtone freaked the hell out of me. I made a mental note to change my ringtone from a blaring siren to something calmer, for the sake of my own peace of mind.

Picking up the phone, I peered at the screen and frowned. It was saved as 'LOML', multiple heart emojis accompanied it.

It was strange. I didn't recall saving anyone's number as LOML. Plus, the use of excessive emojis wasn't my thing.

Hesitantly, I accepted the call and pressed the phone against my ear. "Hello?"

"How long does it really take you to pick a call?"

I sighed, shook my head. I should have known it would be none other than Tracy. Explains why she had that suspicious grin while she saved her number.

"What is this you saved your contact as? LOML?"

"Duh!" I could visualize her rolling her eyes like it was the most normal thing in the world. "If I'm not the love of your life, who is?'

"Jesus Christ." I quipped, and I immediately regretted my attempt at making a joke. I cringed. Hard.

"Very funny." She answered dryly. "You better not change that contact name though. It suits me perfectly."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "We'll talk later, I'm busy."

"Let me guess. You're studying." I could hear the lack of interest in her voice. "Is there really nothing else you can do with your free time?"

"I'm only revising a topic. It's not like it's a waste of time." I drawled, trying to concentrate on my book and our conversation at the same time.

"Let's go out," she suddenly offered, "Me and you."

"Where?"

"Remember you owe me a visit to a 3K store?" she reminded me. "Let's go this weekend, on Saturday."

"We'll see."

"Nuh-uh!" she refused. "We're going out, that's final."

"Okay, Mom." I rolled my eyes. "Now, can I get back to studying?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Bye." She ended the call immediately.

Within seconds, I was again engrossed in those equations, murmuring formulas to myself.

And then my ringtone went off again. Luckily, I handled the start better this time.

Maybe it's Tracy...

But looking at my screen, an unknown number was flashing across. Shaking my head, I concluded it was just Tracy calling with another number.

"What do you want again?" I tried but couldn't hide the laughter in my voice.

"What do I want?" The person on the other call asked, laughed.

It wasn't Tracy...

But I remembered that voice, that pattern of laughter. I felt my heart burst with joy and lips stretch into a grin.

"Tshola?"

"Yep," he chuckled. "I've been trying to reach you."

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I deleted all socials, changed my number too. I needed it."

"I figured," he answered softly. "You don't have to apologize when it has to do with your peace."

"Mhmm," I smiled at his response, but I was curious. "How did you get my new number?"

"Got it from your dad, messaged him on Instagram. Was surprised when he didn't actually ignore me." He chuckled, "I was really worried. Couldn't let the 'we lost contact' excuse ruin our friendship."

"I appreciate your effort," I said, sincerely.

"It's nothing, just glad I could reach you," I heard him sigh, and then he asked, "When will we see again?"

I exhaled, the question burdened my mind. "I don't know, I'm not sure I want to be at Abuja anytime soon."

"It's understandable." He said, then all of a sudden he gasped, "I hope nobody is stressing you in SH? If they are, just say it now, I'll be on the next flight to Lagos."

I laughed heartily, shaking my head at his drama. "Nobody stresses me, Tshola. Just a few frowns and sneers here and there."

"Pluck out their eyes." He said it so casually, like he was simply asking me to drink water.

"My goodness, Tshola!" I yelled in incredulity, "Where's this violence coming from?"

"Well, as long as it has to do with you, I'll not take it lightly." His voice was firm, he meant what he said. "Don't let anybody treat less of the queen that you are, okay?"

"Yes sir," I laughed. And then I thought of it, had to ask, "How did you even know that I now attend SH?"

"Whoever handles the school's official Instagram page has not shut up about it since you resumed." He talked dryly, he never liked anything that had to do with SH. "Why though? Of all schools in Lagos, you chose that one."

"It was my dad's choice, he claimed it was the best school here in Lagos."

"Indeed," he scoffed. "I'll show up in Lagos one if these days, I want to see things for myself."

"Why are you acting like an overprotective seniour brother?" I laughed through my question, the guy was exaggerating things already.

He gasped dramatically, and then tsked, "Did I just get brother zoned?"

"Oh, Tshola," I breathed.

"I'm glad I was able to speak to you today," he told me, his voice soft. "Just know I'll be blowing up your phone everyday, okay?"

"As you wish, Mr. Jacobs." I laughed. "Thanks for-"

"TSHOLA ITSEKIRI JACOBS, GET DOWN HERE NOW!" I heard some yell from the other side of the call, sounded like his older sister.

"I need to go now, else sister Rose will kill me. Bye, muah!"

He cut the call and I muttered my own bye to the screen.

It was refreshing, talking with him made me happy. We've been tight friends for as long as I could remember, practically grew up together since our fathers were also childhood friends.

With a satisfied sigh, I dropped my phone and went back to studying.

°°°°°

I was sleeping peacefully until the dryness of my throat forced me to rise from my bed. My frustration grew even more when I saw that the glass jar on my bedside table was already empty. Grudgingly, I lifted myself from the bed and headed out of my room for the kitchen.

I slowed my steps when I heard a muffled voice coming from the basement in whispers... it was Dad's voice. Being as quiet as I could, I peeked in the basement through the slightly opened door.

He was there. Standing by the side of the indoor pool in the basement with his back to the stairs-where I was standing-whispering into the phone that was pressed against his ear. His whispering voice had a stern tone to it but I could barely hear anything he was saying.

One by one, I walked down the short flight of stairs to reduce the distance between us and by the time I got to the last step I could hear him clearly.

"No! you cannot come here! Why do you even want to come here?"

He went silent, listening to whoever it was at the other end of the phone call.

"You really want to put our lives in danger, don't you?" he was doing his best to keep his voice in a whisper, completely unaware that I was right behind him. "You have to stay where you are for the time being. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

And he cut the call, almost flinging his phone into the pool but he held back, muttering curses instead.

Something's wrong...

"Dad, what's wrong?"

He froze once he heard my voice, confirming my suspicion. Or maybe he was just shocked to hear my voice?

"What is the problem, Dad?" I asked again, growing impatient with the way he kept mute with his back still to my face.

He turned around, slowly and I was taken aback to see that he was smiling. I was starting to think that I imagined him yelling angrily at his phone.

"You're here." He scratched his neck-a sign that we was nervous. "Wh-what do you want?"

"I wanted to get water," I pointed backward with my thumb, "And then I heard your voice."

"Oh, I was just talking with..." he scratched his neck again, his eyes looking at everything but me. "...I was talking with an old friend."

"And how are they going to put our lives in danger?" I stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Why can't they come here?"

"You should go get your water and get back in bed." His weak attempt at changing the topic almost made me laugh but I maintained my stern expression. My silence was enough explanation that we both were not going anywhere until he answered my question.

"The pool!" he yelled abruptly. "He always insists on getting in pools even though he doesn't know how to swim. Th-that's why I don't want him here."

"And that put's our lives in danger?"

"He has almost drowned before... years ago... at the beach. I don't want that happening again. If he endangers his life like that... he might not survive this time."

I did not buy it. Not a single thing he said.

I was about to say something when he yawned dramatically, stretching like a cat. "I'm so sleepy I might fall. Goodnight, baby. And make sure you get back in bed on time."

And then he literally ran past me, up the short flight of stairs and disappeared into the kitchen. I stood there, listening to the sound of his footsteps gradually fade.

Making my way out of the basement and into the kitchen, I made the decision not to pry. Despite the fact that I did not believe any word he spat, I concluded that he would tell me if it was my business.

But my mind was still disturbed, my spirit sensed dangers. But I tried to suppress it, giving myself the excuse that I was only overthinking.

°°°°°

~[JASON]~

I finally got my lazy ass out of bed and cleaned up my room.

Cleaner space, clearer mind... or whatever they say.

I was about to pick up a textbook-since I had earlier decided to drown myself in them-when I heard the doorbell ring. I confirmed from the clock that it was forty-five minutes past six, so I concluded that it was Mom.

She had a tired smile on when I opened the front door, must have been from the stress at work. She walked in after I had side stepped, flinging her bag on the couch and taking off her heels immediately. There was also a brown envelope in her hand that I had failed to notice earlier.

"Welcome, Mom." I smiled piteously at her. "Work must have been hectic today."

"You know nothing." She shook her head and dropped on the couch. "Making games is not an easy thing oo."

I shook my head as I laughed, wondering why she dressed so much to make games. Yes, my mother is the Co-founder of the popular Nigerian game making company, DreamKeys.

"You know you can wear more comfortable things to work, right?" I said, frowning at her black, body con dress and her silver heels which was on the floor.

"I'll consider that." She nodded, fidgeting with the envelope in her hand.

"What's in there?"

"I don't know..." she trailed of, inspecting the envelope. "I found it in the mailbox when I came in. I don't feel like opening it though."

"Let me do it then." I made a come-hither motion, walking over to her. "I'll open it."

She hesitantly handed me the envelope, unsurety swam in her grey eyes.

I opened the envelope and brought out a folded, white paper. I shared a worried glance with Mom before slowly unfolding the paper and once I read the title of the content, I regretted volunteering to open the envelope.

I looked at her, pointedly. Anger brewed inside me.

"Chibuike, what is it?" she tensely rose from the couch, her eyes wide in worry. "Why are you looking at me like that? What does it say?" she snatched the paper from my hand and I watched as her face dropped as she read the stupid words that were typed on it.

"So, you are still legally married to that man?" my voice surprisingly came out as a whisper, not doing justice in portraying the anger in me that was increasing by each passing second. "I thought you guys divorced."

"He left!" she screamed as her white face reddened, throwing the papers on the floor. Tears had brimmed at her eyes and it was only a matter of seconds before they came cascading down her cheeks. "Even if I wanted to send divorce papers, where would I have sent them too!?" she wiped her tears from her white-now-red face but new ones were quick to replace them. "And he's just sent them now, so cut me some slack!"

"Then sign them." I told her, trying to hold back my own tears. "Sign them and send them back."

She stared at me and I stared right back at her. She was neither moving nor blinking, only staring at me like I had asked her to run someone over.

"You must have a pen in your bag, so sign the papers, Mom." I pressed.

She finally moved. Blinked and shook her head. "No." she whispered lowly, so low that I thought I only imagined it.

"Huh?"

"I won't sign them." She sniffed. "I don't want to."

"Do you hear yourself, Mom?" I could not believe my ears. It was difficult to understand why she was still holding in to that man. "You don't want to sign them because?"

"I..." she dropped on the couch, planted her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her palms. "I still love that man..." she looked up at me with a sad smile on. "I still love your father, Chibuike."

"Don't call him that." I shook my head profusely. "Ebenezer Udoka is not my father."

"You can't change that." She chuckled grimly.

"He's getting married, Mom. You know that." I crouched down so that we were face to face and rested my hands on her knees. "That's why he has sent these papers. Sign them and let yourself be free."

"Then he can come and say it to my face. He should say it to my face that he really wants to end things. Then I'll sign those papers."

"He ended things a long time ago, Mom. He ended things when he left us two years ago."

"He should come and say it to my face." She was not reasoning with me. "He never said it to my face, he just got up one day and said he was leaving. When he looks me in the eyes and says he wants out, I'll sign those papers."

"He did that when he said he was leaving, Mom-"

"I'm tired, Chibuike. And I have to prepare dinner." She stood up, grabbed her shoes and handbag. "Throw those papers away."

•
•
•

A/N

How far, my people?

Who remembers Tshola? I've randomly mentioned him once.

Anyways, thoughts? theories? Lemme hear them!

I'd have to say, this book is taking off nicely and I'm scared if where it's headed 🙂. We'll cross that bridge when we get there sha.

This is a double update, so scroll and continue 😌.