Emmanuel sputtered and choked on his saliva. “W-w-what do you mean M-master F-falade?!” He placed a hand over his chest and steadied his breathing. I think I just had a mini heart attack! He frowned deeply as he watched Niifẹ laugh hysterically, but his expression slowly softened.
Niifẹ placed a hand over his mouth in order to quell his guffaws. “That... was worth... it,” he said in between fits of laughter and held his stomach.
Emmanuel sighed in frustration and sagged his face. “I will go see what is available in the kitchen, Master Falade.”
Niifẹ waved him away, still finding it hard to contain his astonishment. “B-bring me... you...”
Emmanuel froze in shock but shook his shock away. He sighed. Teenagers, he complained internally. Like I wasn’t a teenager last year.
*
The songs of birds filled the dancing air and mingled with the rustling of leaves as Emmanuel pushed Niifẹ through the serene garden, the teenager nibbling on crackers.
“Aaa yu hoin to hav sm?” Niifẹ asked with an occupied mouth.
Emmanuel sighed. “Manners Master Falade and no, thank you. I am quite okay, thank you for asking.”
With a loud crunching gulp, Niifẹ swallowed and proceeded to clean crumbs off his face. “Is my face clean?” He looked up at Emmanuel with a goofy expression.
As usual, Emmanuel sighed then produced a handkerchief from his pocket. Niifẹ watched him closely as he moved to squat before his master, altogether proceeding to wipe off the thousands of crumbs populating Niifẹ’s face.
Emmanuel went up against his rousing feelings as he tried so hard to avoid Niifẹ’s curious—yet daunting—biscuit-coloured eyes.
Not now. He cursed his feelings as he felt a scorch in the core of his heart. Please not now.
“Emma, do you—”
“Emmanuel!” Niifẹ’s mother, Yemoja, called out as she approached the pair, shrouded by the clip-clops of her court shoes.
Emmanuel stood up quickly and Niifẹ cleared his throat.
Yemoja just raised a funny eyebrow. “Emmanuel, may I speak with you?”
“Of course, Lady Falade.”
Niifẹ rubbed his hands together. “Shall I excuse the both of you?”
His mother smiled. “Of course Dear.” She cupped her hand against his face. “Do not move too faraway, because we are expecting visitors sooner or later.”
He nodded. “Yes Ìyá.” It was faint, but he smiled at Emmanuel before wheeling his chair towards the bush of translucent, cup-like, blue flowers—the blue ogin.
Emmanuel held a battered breath as his master’s mother motioned for him to walk with her.
“I know that Niifẹ has informed you about his marriage proposals.”
“Yes Lady Falade.”
Yemoja heaved a sigh and clasped her hands behind her back. “One of his father’s good clients had offered Niifẹ, us in particular, his daughter.” She stopped and looked into Emmanuel’s dull, blue eyes. “I would like you to organize a party”—she shrugged—“something small yet fun. And please send out invitations to all the girls and boys in Philomel.”
Emmanuel blinked. “Sorry to be rude Lady Falade, but... Boys?”
Niifẹ’s mother nodded in assurance. “Yes, boys. His father and I told him to marry who he loves, not who we provide for him.” She waved her hands around as she said, “boys, girls, anyone can marry my son as long as he is happy.”
Emmanuel’s shoulders drooped slyly.
The corners of Mrs. Falade’s lips twitched as she uttered sincerely, “even you.”
Emmanuel froze in shock. “I-I do not under—”
“I know my son,” she said seriously. “And your mother recently spoke to me about your condition.” She raised a hand and gripped Emmanuel’s shoulder firmly. “A price you are willing to pay for my son will not be wasted uselessly. Chances were made for a reason Emmanuel, take it.”
Emmanuel swallowed heavily—his mouth bittersweet—and bowed lowly, the wind brushing through his brown hair. “Thank you Lady Fa—”
“STINKY SOCKS!” Niifẹ yelled grimly as a girl in a gown stood saucily before him, her hands on her waist. “Get away from me!”
Mrs. Falade and Emnanuel watched silently as Niifẹ stared at the girl as a lion would look at decaying meat. They watched as the girl tilted her head and plucked the bundles of flowers in Niifẹ’s hand and sniffed them.
“That’s not the way to talk to your future wife.”
Niifẹ said nothing; he just turned his face robotically towards his mother and Emmanuel and mouthed, “Ìyá.”
YOU ARE READING
Six Centimetres Away From My Heart
Novelle(BxB) - (Short Story) - (Completed) If having the ability to kill people with one touch was a bullet, then the ability to kill with love was a bulletproof bullet. That was Emmanuel's curse. Emmanuel has always had to say no to love, hiding away from...
