Beneath The Surface

Chapter Four

Laying flat on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, thinking back to what happened few minutes ago. “What is even wrong with Chioma?” I turned, resting on my side.

I picked up my phone to see if she had already texted me to apologize but she didn’t; who was she expecting to apologize first? ME? No way!

     I was not at fault, I was just trying to protect her from that predator that she calls her fiancé.

“Why the fuck is she being difficult?” I sat up, resting on the bed frame, I just couldn’t get comfortable, this bed is so uncomfortable, or maybe it’s my locs?

“Ugh!” I removed my locs from the style it was put in, allowing it to fall.

I was oblivious to the door’s subtle swing, my ears tuned to the internal monologue that consumed me.

But then, a shift in the air, a faint scent of my mom’s signature perfume wafted in, signaling her presence.

As I turned, my mom materialized beside me, her quiet concern etched on her face.

“Fate, what's wrong?” I jolted back, blinking twice, my eyelashes fluttering against each other.

My mind raced - what could I tell her? I looked away, fidgeting with my fingers.

“Umm... nothing's wrong, Mom.” A forced smile crept onto my lips.

Mom tilted her head, her piercing gaze delving deep into my soul. “I know you, Fate. Tell me the truth.”

She placed her palm on my cheek, its’ gentle warmth a soothing balm. Neither soft nor firm, her touch was a perfect balance, masking the turmoil that churned within me.

As she turned, her gaze fell upon the framed photo of us, which I had left on my bed before venturing out.

Her eyes lingered on the happy memory, a faint smile on her lips.

As her eyes returned to mine, I saw a glimmer of nostalgia, a longing for simpler times.

The photo, taken on my first day in a new primary school, seemed to bridge the gap between us.

Her touch, still gentle on my cheek, stirred a mix of emotions: comfort, guilt, and a deep-seated desire to confide in her.

“Okay, fine!” I removed her hand from my cheek, placing it on my lap. Her eyes softened, waiting for me to tell her exactly what happened.

“Chioma and I had an argument.” Her eyebrows shot up, surprise washed over her face like tidal wave.

I'd anticipated her reaction, which was why I'd hesitated to share the news.

She worries excessively, but I understand why – Chioma and I rarely clash. Our last disagreement was ages ago, and even that was just a verbal sparring match.

“What happened?” Her hand clasped together, eyebrows furrowed.

Taking in deep breaths, I narrated exactly what had happened at Chioma’s place, her lips compressed into a thin line as she listened, her eyes never leaving mine.

Her fingers drummed against her thigh. My mom takes Chioma as her own daughter as well, normally, she would have called Chioma over – in order for us to talk. But we are grown ups now and we have things to do.

“Fate,” A soft exhale left her lips, her eyebrows relaxing.

“What you did was not right.” HUH? What did mom just say? My mouth dropped open forming a silent ‘O’.

How can I be wrong? She does not know what she is saying. The light entering the room had faded, leaving only moon light, time had slip away.

Telling her what happened this time around was a wrong idea.