SCANDAL ✓

Chapter 012 | Chocolate Trouble-Maker

Hey! Sorry for the lack of uploads. This Author still has exams biting her in the ass. It's a wonder I'm still writing actually. I've come bearing gifts, though! This chapter is one of my favorites to write and I just hope it becomes one of your favorites to read, x.

Two hours, five soliloquies, and three paces later, Shanya was knocking on Paris' front door. The chilly wind was biting at her skin even though she'd worn sweatpants and a rather long sweatshirt, complete with black Jordans. Crickets, mosquitoes, and the subtle croaking of frogs sang about her and she winced. It was most likely ten o'clock at this point. She would've been in bed, sleeping like a newborn babe. This was probably a bad idea. She had absolutely no business here, not this late in the night. He hadn't wanted her help anyway so she would've been better off at home, in her sweet bed, under those cozy blankets.

For a split second, she considered turning back. But upon hearing the weak footsteps approaching from inside the estate, she decided she'd made the right decision in not leaving him to rot.

Paris opened the door a fraction, then a little wider.

"Geez. You look like PMS and the flu had a baby," she remarked, peering at him with open honesty. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips were parched and turning a fine shade of blue, his blue shirt soaked through with sweat and his normally pressed brown hair was tousled and unkempt. As if he'd been tossing and turning in bed all day. His lips moved to say something probably rude but she interrupted him.

"Where's Martha?"

"I'm sending her home. She's making too much of a fuss." Paris drawled impatiently as if every single syllable was a calculated effort. Said fuss-maker appeared behind him, a duffel bag pressed angrily to her enormous bosom, pinning him with a glare that would have sent wild beasts fleeing.

She turned to Shanya, a tiny flicker of relief on her face. Much like how she'd sounded when Shanya had called her an hour earlier to ask after Paris and to let her know she was coming. They might have said all of five sentences to each other for the past eight weeks but Shanya rather liked her, perhaps more than she was willing to admit. It seemed a far cry to hope the feeling was mutual.

"Here," she said, as she brushed past Paris and stood before Shanya on the threshold without so much as a how do you do. "He needs to take two of these before he goes to bed and two of these in the morning." Two white tablets were dumped on Shanya's waiting hands before she could even blink.

With another glare thrown at Paris and a rather cordial look at Shanya, Martha muttered, "Good luck" before strutting off towards the black gate.

Shanya waited until Martha's large frame disappeared behind the iron gate before facing her strong-headed fiancee.

"You won't find me such easy prey."

Paris scoffed, dragging his calloused fingers through his untamed brown curls. "She's known me since I was a toddler, and the only reason she's stayed this long is because she knows when to quit."

Shanya merely breezed past him and headed straight for the kitchen, dumping the contents on her hand on the black counter. Then she reached for her bag and emptied out the supplies she'd brought with her from home.

Paris cursed behind her, grumbling something about God saving him from interfering females. Shanya deliberately refused to pay any heed to him as she expertly arranged her supplies in their order of importance, the Moringa plant being the first. Now she just needed to get honey and a few lemons. As she was already familiar with the place, it wasn't hard for her to find and fish out her targets situated in the cupboard on her immediate right. She reached for the tiny silver pot in the lower cupboard beneath the sink and set it on the stove.