THE INGENUE

PROLOGUE - FIREARM

Tuesday, April 3rd, 5,548 days ago.

Hastily, I strode into the cozy, dimly lit kitchen, the cool tiles underfoot sending a shiver up my spine as I swung open the refrigerator door. The soft glow of the fridge's interior revealed the golden foil-wrapped treasure I was looking for; a single bar of Ferrero Rocher chocolate. I plucked it from the shelf with a delicate anticipation and unwrapped it with a sensuous, almost ceremonial slowness. The scent teased my senses as I took the first bite.

"Mmh!" I couldn't help but moan in delight; as if every bite of Ferrero Rocher was tailor-made for my taste buds.
I turned to the marble counter and glanced at my husband, James. There he sat, a tall, dark, and handsome figure, his eyes transfixed by the glow of his smartphone screen. As he looked up, a faint smile graced his face, his attention momentarily swayed.

"Your daughter, " I began, still munching on my chocolate as I leaned on the kitchen island, "she fell asleep exactly one page and four lines into that Margaret Milne book."

Margaret Milne is an author who has a unique gift for crafting tales that capture young readers' hearts, effortlessly guiding them into the enchanting world of dreams.

He looked at me and smiled. "She must have gotten that from her momma, " he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I laughed, taking the bait. "Oh, come on, now! I like to think I have some influence, too! It's called my soothing bedtime voice."

He raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. "Soothing bedtime voice? More like 'Mom's lullaby featuring off-key singing.'"
I couldn't help but chuckle.  "Hey, it's all part of the charm. Hell, I know we're both proud she didn't inherit your snoring!"

He burst into laughter, realizing I had out-joked him. "Alright, alright. Your bedtime stories are legendary. But let's not forget she chose that book herself, she knew what would knock her out fast."

"Yeah," I giggled.

"Impeccable taste."

"Like her father?" I said, seductively, of course.
He smiled at me and mumbled something matching my energy. I didn't get it because I was lost in his eyes now filled with warmth as he approached to kiss me on the lips. I'm sure all he tasted was the chocolate but he enjoyed it, I guess. He then pulled me into a tight hug, and I could feel his heart racing fast.
"There's something I wanted to show," he said, his voice calm and serious.

"Okay."

Suddenly but with deliberate care, he pulled a gun out of his back pocket, wrapped in a small piece of cloth. The room
immediately felt colder and I pulled myself from his embrace, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and concern.

"For protection," he said.

I turned to lock my gaze at the enigma of the firearm.
"Is that a gun?" It was our daughter, Abang.
James reached for the gun and hid it.
"Abang, upstairs, now!" I said
"But I want milk and..."
"NOW!"

She angrily marched upstairs. I turned to my husband, shaking my head in disappointment.

"You brought a gun to my house?"
"Our house," he retorted, his expression still blunt.
"James—"
"It's for protection!" He reiterated and I felt a knot tightening in my stomach.
"Pro—what are you talking about? We live in the suburbs!"
"So? That doesn't mean that we can't protect ourselves—"
"Jamie, this is a white neighborhood!" I explained.
"And what is that supposed to mean, Mary? Huh? What if someone tries to break into our house at night? Or do you think that doesn't happen in white neighborhoods?" He seemed resolute and I could see the tension in his jaws as he replied, "What do we do then? Call the police and hope they arrive in time. It's my job to protect this family!"

"No, no, no, this is—this is not it!" I protested, shaking my head, "You didn't think it through, Jamie! You did not! I am not going to raise my daughter or my son that's about to come in a house with a gun!"
"And I'm not willing to raise them in a house without one!" He said, his determination unwavering.

"Oh, my God, this is not happening," I muttered to myself, the words escaping my lips in a hushed whisper as I paced the confines of our kitchen.
My mind raced, desperately trying to absorb the whole thing. How did we come to this?

I took in a deep breath and asked him. "Is it registered?"
He hesitated and then, reluctantly shook his head. 
Okay, great.
My voice took on a tone of rage as I bit down my anger.
"You're being reckless!" I pointed out. "What if the police raid this house right now and find an unregistered firearm in your possession? Or you think that doesn't happen in white neighborhoods as well? Do you realize what could happen to you? What could happen to this family?"

He kept quiet. His defiant expression slowly crumbled into one of contemplation. I leaned in closer, my eyes locked on his.
"You're a black man," My voice quivered with fear. "Hell, the only black man with his family in a white neighborhood. You fit the description. What good will you be to me or your kids if they take you away from us? Your mom in Gambella, what will happen to her?"

The small kitchen echoed from the silence. He lowered his gaze in defeat, clearly affected by my words.
He finally spoke after a moment of silence, his voice full of remorse.

"You're right, I messed up. I should've thought this through more carefully. I should've involved you, to begin with, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to put you, Abang, or him in danger." He tenderly placed his hand on my belly.

I nodded.

"I know you didn't. Just make better decisions in the future. We can't afford to lose you." I reached out to hold his hands. "Thank you, for listening to me."
He sighed softly and looked at me. The fear in his eyes mirrored mine.

"Come here." He hugged me tightly. "I promise I'll get rid of it and make sure we're safe."
As we hugged, his regret was palpable. I knew he understood his mistake but I also knew he wouldn't let go of his concerns entirely. I could see that the idea of parting with the gun was hard for him.

"Look, I appreciate that you see the risks now," I began, my voice softer as I pulled my body from his. "But if you still want to keep the gun, I understand. At least, have it registered first and take all the necessary precautions."
He nodded slowly, not sure if I was sure. He looks handsome when he is confused.

"So, you're saying..."
"Yes," I assured him. It was a compromise that eased my worries somewhat, but I knew we had to tread carefully in this situation.

He hugged me again. And kissed me passionately.
After that passionate kiss, we both shared a moment of warmth and closeness, melting away the uncertainty that was looming over us. Our eyes met and a soft smile crept onto his face. "I'm so glad we're in this together."
"Me too," I said with sincerity.

He glanced over at my chocolate on the table and his eyes lit up mischievously. "I need some of this!"
"Uh-uh, don't play with me, nigga." I teased.

He quickly snatched the chocolate and made a run for it, dashing towards the living room.

"You're never catching me, you know!"
"Oh, please! Your fat ass can't run!"
"Hey!" He hates being called fat. "I'm not fat!"

Our playful banter filled the air with laughter, and it was moments like these that made me realize how lucky I was to have him by my side.

I grabbed a frosty glass of milk from the fridge and headed upstairs to Abang's room.