Prince Ngegwu had fought to have Yvonne attend her mother’s burial. He had also decided to bury her in the private burying space he had bought for himself and his family. Another decision he made was to bury Annabel before Daisy, she was his wife, and had left her country to follow him to a strange country. He also did it to atone for his sins, for he blamed himself for pushing Annabel to take someone’s child. If he had been more supportive during her many miscarriages, she would not have gone to that extreme, and perhaps she would still be alive.
For her mother’s burial, Yvonne had chosen a black lace dress which had a sheer back, and long sleeves that covered the bruises on her arms. Her swollen eyes were covered by dark sunshades, and her bruised legs were covered with panty hose. She looked dark and sad. She walked slowly because she felt pains all over her body, even on her waist where she had been kicked.
The guests who had come to pay their final respects to her mother looked at her warily, they saw her swollen lips which despite been covered with lipstick, still looked swollen and bruised, and they wondered why she had not confessed to her crime yet. Her foster father watched her with pitiful eyes, despite her ensemble, she still looked beautiful, but the light that made her more beautiful was gone. Looking at her now, he was sure that she did not commit the crime for which she was accused. But he could not prove it because he was also confused.
The event planning team had told everyone that after Yvonne baked the cake, the cake was in their custody and no one came near it till it was taken to the garden where the birthday party was held. Also, Raji Lawal’s statement made it hard for anyone to listen to him. Even his money was not able to save Yvonne, for his law firm was advising him to advise Yvonne to plead guilty, for there was no other way. But how could he tell the girl whom he had raised as a daughter to plead guilty to a crime she did not commit. He shook his head vehemently. No way!
Yvonne wobbled to where her mother was laid in state, and knelt down before the casket. Her eyes were dried because she had cried so much that, her lachrymal had refused to produce more tears. Now, she only cried in her heart. Yvonne turned and looked at the guests, she was looking for Femi, but couldn’t find him, also absent was Mira. She turned back to her mother’s corpse. Even in death, she looked perfect. Yvonne wondered why she had same creamy fair skin her mother had, if she was not really her mother. She took her hand and saw that her favorite jewelry, which was the ‘sun and moon’ engagement ring that her father had given her, was resting on her fourth finger. Yvonne kissed it, as her heart broke more. Then her shoulders began to shudder with sobs. She was crying, but no tears were coming out. Her pain was on national television for the whole world to see.
Meanwhile, Femi woke up in the little three bedroom duplex he bought when he fell out with his father. A splitting headache tore at his head and he rubbed his fore-head, trying to ease the pain. Then his hands touched a body, he grabbed it and then bolted up from the bed. He didn’t mind the feeling of hammering in his head, as his eyes stared at Mira’s naked form. She was still sleeping. Femi shook her to wake her up.
Femi: “What the hell are you doing in my bed?” he asked aghast.
Mira: “Really, what kind of question are you asking me this morning?” she fired back.
Femi: “Morning, morning?” he asked confusedly, and then his eyes went to the bedside table, on which a clock stood.
Femi: ‘Yekpa, this is noon. Today is Yvonne’s mom’s burial” he said and jumped out of bed.
But Mira just sighed and went back to sleep. However, Femi was having none of that.
Femi: “I still don’t know what the fuck you are doing in my house, much less my bed. But you better dress up and get out before I throw you out naked” he barked.
Before Mira could reply, the bedroom door burst open and a throng of reporters burst into the room, with their cameras snapping away, taking pictures of the naked duo. Femi grabbed the duvet and covered himself, but the deed was already done.
Femi: “What is the meaning of this, don’t I have a right to privacy anymore?”
Reporter 1: “Are you and Mira now an item?”
Reporter: “Is it because Yvonne Ngegwu is in jail for murder, have you lost hope on her?”
Femi realized then that these were tabloid reporters but they had a huge following and before long the whole country would be looking at his big, long, dick. He was however surprised at Mira’s countenance, she was relaxed and even striking poses.
Femi: “Mira?” he asked quizzically.
Mira: “What? I might as well be the Nigerian Kim Kardashian” she replied him, obviously unperturbed. A disturbing thought formed in Femi’s mind and he hoped he was wrong.
Femi: “Before I count to three, I don’t want to see anybody here, if I do, I am going to unleash my Rottweilers on y’all” he barked in anger.
The reporters didn’t need anyone to tell them that he meant what he said, they scurried off, out of his bedroom.
Femi: “You are included. If I find out that you had anything to do with this, you are finished” he said glaring at Mira, who began to throw on her clothes in a hurry.
Every 10th of May, Mathias took off from work and locked himself in his house where he lived. On this day, he would send all his housekeepers away and have the house to himself. Then he would cry and pray for God to forgive him for his mistakes of the past. They always said a man who was always conscious of his past never progressed. But Mathias had progressed to be a household name in Nigerian justice even though he still held on to the past. This date was the day he set aside to mourn the loss of his girlfriend, who died giving birth to his child. Mathias always felt like it was the many abortion attempts they did, which made the delivery complicated. It was his fault; his girlfriend, Laila had wanted to keep the baby, but he had insisted they abort it. His reason was, he had just finished his compulsory service year and no job was forthcoming. How could he cater for a woman and a child, when he had no money?
He had assuaged his conscience by saying that he did not want any child of his, to suffer lack. However, the child had other plans, and they didn’t include dying. No matter what they did, the child remained, and Laila had rejected D and C. So they had resigned to fate and allowed the child be. But the pregnancy was a troublesome one, and when it was time for delivery, it was like the child wanted to payback the mother for trying to kill it. Laila had labored for two days, with no relent. She had passed out and on the brink of death when the midwife whom Mathias had called to help deliver Laila’s baby, had demanded that she be rushed to the hospital as she could no longer help. The midwife had seen death hovering around Laila, and didn’t want her to die on her hands, as it would be a bad repute.
By the time they got to the hospital, Laila was in coma. Mathias was not even worried that the hospital was a high end one for the rich; he was more worried about his girlfriend. However, everything done to make Laila push her baby out, was futile. So she was operated on. Laila died on the operating table, long before her baby was in the world, squealing her tiny lungs out.
Mathias was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of the television. He always left it on, not to listen to it, but just to have background noise, just so that he could be held to this world, lest his musings of the past and his guilty conscience sent him to the other side of life. He wiped his face with his hand, as a single tear dropped from his eye.
Mathias: “I am so sorry Laila, I took you to an untimely grave” he said, and then his eyes strolled to the television. He stood up abruptly and stared wide eyed at the television screen.
Question: What did Mathias see on the television screen that got him reacting that way, does it have anything to do with Yvonne? Also, do you think Mira had anything to do with the reporters in Femi’s room?
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