"Ralph! Ralph! Are you even paying attention to me?" The weird curtains in our tiny living room made me feel so impatient that I almost screamed. "This is nearly the hundredth time I've called your name, and you're still fixated on that ridiculous game!"
My younger brother, all with awkward limbs and typical teenage rebellion, didn’t glance up from his phone. Sometimes, I seriously questioned if we were from the same family. How could he be so frustratingly unaware I was calling him?
I stomped over to him, positioning myself right in his line of sight. Still, he ignored me. It felt like I had turned invisible—a ghost in my house. Well, I could play that game too.
With a quick move that would impress any thief, I snatched the phone right from his grasp. The look of pure shock on his face was almost worth the chaos that was about to follow.
"What the heck?!" Ralph shouted, his voice cracking in that awkward way only a fifteen-year-old can manage. "How could you do that?"
I couldn’t help but grin. Being the older sister had its advantages. "Of course I can," I replied, my tone oozing with confidence. "Remember, I’m older, so yes, I absolutely can."
Ralph shot me a glare, but we both knew he was outmatched in this debate. It was like watching a tiny dog try to scare a bear. After a moment, he threw his hands up in defeat. "What do you want from me now?" he grumbled, his voice a perfect blend of teenage irritation and reluctant compliance.
I pointed to the top shelf of our old cupboard, the one that always had a hint of mothballs and forgotten dreams. "I need you to grab that box down. It has all the decorations for Dad's surprise birthday party."
Ralph rolled his eyes so dramatically I thought they might get stuck. "Why can’t you just do it yourself?" he asked, a teasing smile creeping onto his face.
I made a face, gesturing exaggeratedly at my small stature. "Because I’m too short to reach that high, obviously."
My brother laughed, clearly entertained by my dilemma.
I folded my arms, attempting to project annoyance, but a smile was creeping in, eager to break free. Despite how much he could irritate me, our playful exchanges were something I cherished.
"Okay, okay," Ralph relented, effortlessly reaching up to grab the box from the top shelf. I accepted it with a grin, my excitement bubbling as I envisioned our plans for Dad’s birthday.
"Thanks a ton!" I exclaimed, already mapping out my grand scheme. "Here’s the plan: we’ll deck out the entire living room, I’ll handle the gift wrapping, and you’re on birthday card duty. At the stroke of midnight, Papa will blow out the candles on the cake, which I’ll be baking, of course."
I was so wrapped up in my excitement that I nearly missed the look of dread that crossed Ralph's face. "Oh no, not this again," he muttered quietly.
I decided to overlook his lack of confidence in my baking abilities. So what if my last cake could have served as a doorstop? This time would be different. It had to be.
As I immersed myself in the decorations, my thoughts drifted to the day’s earlier events. Meeting Violet had been a surprise, to say the least. And then there was that conversation I had overheard—the one about someone marrying Tobi William.
I shook my head, trying to refocus on the task at hand. Right now, Papa's birthday was my main concern.
Hours flew by in a whirlwind of streamers, balloons, and a few creative experiments as Ralph and I turned our living room into a festive paradise. By the time we wrapped up, it was well past midnight, and we were both completely worn out.
"Do you think he’ll like it?" I asked Ralph, suddenly feeling a wave of doubt. We had poured so much effort into this surprise, but what if it fell short?
Ralph scanned the room, a rare smile of genuine delight lighting up his face. "Are you serious? He’s going to adore it, Iris. You nailed it, sis."
His words filled me with warmth, dispelling the doubts that had been lurking in my mind. "We both did well," I corrected him, pulling him into a quick embrace before he could object.
As we stood there, admiring our efforts, I heard the front door creak open. dad was back.
"Quick! Hide!" I whispered urgently to Ralph.
We hurried to our hiding spots just as Papa stepped into the living room. The look of surprise and joy that spread across his face as he took in the decorations made all our efforts worthwhile.
"Surprise!" Ralph and I exclaimed in unison, leaping out from our hiding places.
Dad’s eyes glistened with tears as he enveloped us in a warm hug. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "This is... truly wonderful."
we celebrated late into the night, filled with laughter and nostalgia.
*****************
Following Day
I was in the kitchen, trying to salvage the remnants of my disastrous birthday cake (note to self: baking soda and baking powder are NOT the same), when I caught bits of my parents’ hushed conversation from their bedroom.
"We met Violet today," Mumma said softly.
There was a brief pause before Papa responded, surprised. "Oh? How did that go?"
I crept closer to the door, straining to catch every word.
"She’s pleased," Mumma continued. "She wants us to go to Tobi's party tomorrow. It’s at the Golden Tulip Hotel, celebrating his new business venture."
My heart raced. Tobi's party?
Papa's voice sliced through my swirling thoughts. "Remember, we're meeting Diana and Ned tomorrow evening?"
The names rang a bell—Papa's siblings, if I recall correctly. But why did Mumma's tone suddenly turn icy?
"Of course, I remember," she replied, her voice sharp enough to shatter glass. "Just like I haven't forgotten how they betrayed you and took our mansion."
Wait, what? Mansion? Betrayal? This was all news to me. I leaned in closer to the door, completely forgetting about the cake fiasco.
"Enough, Grecia," Papa retorted, his anger palpable. "They're my family. I've moved on, and you should too."
Mum's reply was swift and resolute. "Move on? After what they did to us? I haven't, and I refuse to."
I heard a shuffle, and then Papa spoke again. "I'll call Violet and let her know we can't make it."
"Before you do that," Mumma interrupted, "there's something else you need to hear."
My heart raced. I sensed what was coming.
"Violet has proposed Iris's hand in marriage... for Tobi."
What???
The silence that followed was suffocating. I could almost feel the shock coming from Papa.
"What?" he finally stammered, his voice a blend of disbelief, and... was that anger I detected?
Mumma's tone was steady, almost rehearsed. "I know this is unexpected, but consider it. Tobi is accomplished, smart, and a great match for her."
I had a strong impulse to walk into the room and introduce myself, to let them know that they could not decide how I would be treated in the future without my consent. Yet, something restrained me. I needed to hear Papa's thoughts first.
"But Iris is still so young," he argued. "She hasn't even begun college yet!"
A wave of appreciation washed over me. At least Papa was in my corner.
However, Mumma wasn't ready to back down. "Violet is willing to wait until she completes her studies. We can just arrange the engagement for now."
I could hear Papa pacing, his footsteps heavy with concern. "She deserves someone closer to her age," he insisted. "Her priority should be her career at this stage."
"That's why Violet wants us to attend the party tomorrow," Mumma replied smoothly. "So Iris and Tobi can meet. Let them make their own choice. We won't pressure her."
I had heard enough. Retreating from the door, I stumbled into the kitchen, my thoughts in a whirlwind. They were genuinely considering this? And even worse, they planned to reveal it at some expensive party.
*******************************
The Arabian Sea opens up into the night off the coast of Mumbai, its hugeness hidden in darkness, with just a faint hint of the city's lights flickering in the distance. A smooth and shiny yacht glides extremely easily across the peaceful waters. In control stands Tobi Ryder, a man in his late twenties, glowing an air of confidence as his sharp, eager well-developed look sweeps across the (line in the distance where the Earth and sky meet), soaking up (like a towel) the peacefulness of the evening. He commands the space around him with quiet authority.
Nearby, a fellow businessman lounges, sipping his drink, happily unaware of the waiting (in a creepy way) danger beneath the surface.
Below the waves, a snorkeler in his thirties moves with calculated, sneaky silence, watching and following the yacht with a steady, strong desire to make a formal decision about something. Suddenly, his heart races as a shadow darts through the water--a shark, its dorsal fin cutting through the sea with upsetting rich beauty.
"Damn it," he whispers, panic gripping him as he changes his course, without hope to escape the animal who hunts and kills others. Yet the shark is unstoppable, closing in with very scary speed. He swims harder, his breaths becoming rushing and upset, but the hope of/future of escape seems depressing and hopeless.
Above him, a rope ladder drops into the water, swaying gently beside the yacht. Without a moment's hesitation, the snorkeler seizes the opportunity, pulling himself up just as the shark's fin breaches the surface behind him. A wave of relief washes over him as his feet find the deck.
But that relief is short-lived.
Before him lies his partner, sprawled on the wooden floor, a dark pool of blood spreading ominously beneath his lifeless form. The snorkeler freezes, his breath hitting his throat.
Tobi, standing a few feet away, looks down at the body, a faint smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.
“Stop staring. He’s been dead for a while. I saved you from that shark,” Tobi remarks, his tone casual and almost indifferent.
The snorkeler's gaze shifts rapidly between the lifeless body and Tobi, a wave of confusion and dread washing over him. Tobi inches forward, his figure looming large, his grin unwavering.
"Who do you think will rescue you from this one?" Tobi taunts, his eyes piercing into the snorkelers.
Panic surges through the snorkeler as Tobi's taunt resonates. His eyes grow wide with fear, realizing he’s ensnared in a perilous game—one that could cost him his life.