JAGUNLABI✔

CHAPTER ONE

Beep, beep.

The heart monitor beeped periodically, and it increased my anxiety to dangerously higher levels. The persistent sound got on every, single, one of my nerves.

Beep, beep.

I looked around the spacious, luxury, hospital room in Kingston Memorial Hospital, and asked myself why I suddenly felt so claustrophobic. I wondered if I was on the verge of a panic attack, because I could hardly breathe, and I felt as if the walls were caving in on me. The room was silent, with the exception of the heart monitor, that beeped at regular intervals.

He stared at me, for a while, until he suddenly spoke. "Teniola, I love you so much, and I have always believed in you. I-"

I scoffed. "Was that before or after you abandoned us in New York?"

"Teniola, I did all I could to stop that from happening," he replied quietly.

I was not having any of that. "No, you did not. You did not do enough. Mum was traumatized and I was a mess. You left a vacuum in our lives and our hearts. Nobody filled the empty spaces."

He sighed. His eyes drooped and there was what appeared to be a genuine look of anguish and regret on his face but at that moment, it was too late to apologize.

I started pacing, walking from one end of the room to the other. The room was mildly cosy with central heating, but the weather was cold outside, and torrential rain battered the window. It was tastefully furnished, with a twenty inch flat screen television, a walk in closet, and delicate lace curtains, all in shades of purple and gold. Splendor fit for a king.

Mum called me quietly, "Ten-Ten, maybe you should calm down." She often used my childhood nickname to pacify me, so my heart softened slightly, but I was still upset.

"I am calm," I replied.

He sat up slightly, and rested his back against the bedpost. He rubbed a hand over his face, and cleared his throat. His white hair was cut very low, and was a stark contrast to his dark brown, but slightly anaemic skin. Even though he was in bed, his height, square jaw, and muscular frame were prominent. At the age of seventy five, he still had a commanding presence and striking good looks.

Mum walked up to me and squeezed my shoulder. "If you are calm, you should sit down," she said gently.

"Fine!" I grumbled like a toddler, but obliged. Mum gave me a disapproving look, but stroked my hair softly nonetheless. I sat down abruptly in the recliner near the window, and faced him squarely. I rubbed a hand over my face and cleared my throat, before stopping myself sharply. Was I mirroring his actions or did I just resemble him?

My mum went to sit on a stylish, wooden chair by his side. His hand crept closer and closer to hers, until he eventually touched her hand and grasped it. Unsurprisingly, she squeezed it gently and looked at him with red rimmed eyes. Her petite frame looked even smaller, and her Afro hair formed a cute crown around her head. She was wearing a butter yellow kaftan, which complemented her light complexion, and no makeup. She was clearly in a sombre mood, and still very much in love with him.

I was wearing a kaftan too, but mine was pink. My hair was styled in a sleek ponytail, and I had plain black sandals on. Considering that I had his dark complexion, tall, slim stature and had been told on numerous occasions that I was 'a rare beauty' but I was 'too stubborn', I was more like him than I cared to admit.

Mum tapped his hand gently and looked into his eyes. "Oya, Segun, maa soro re lo. Come on Segun, continue talking."

"O se, Yemisi. Thank you, Yemisi." He cleared his throat again, "I won't beat around the bush, I am so sorry for the pain I caused. I left, but I fulfilled my financial obligations, and supported you and your mother to live a comfortable life. I know it's not the same as me being with you, but you were always important to me."