CHAPTER TWO: A RING TOO SMALL
1130 Words
Sunday morning sunlight spilled across Prince’s apartment, warming the cream leather couches and gleaming off the polished glass table. Rita moved between the kitchen and dining area, her apron dusted with flour, her fingers glistening with oil. The scent of fried plantain filled the air, mingling with the slow simmer of tomato stew and the aroma of turkey roasting in the oven.
She hummed softly as she stirred the pot, but her thoughts were anything but calm. Every few minutes, her eyes drifted toward the hallway toward the spot where that photograph had once hung. The little boy’s face still haunted her. The dark eyes. The wide smile that looked so much like Prince’s. She hadn’t asked about it again, but the question gnawed at her: Who was that child, and why had Prince dismissed it so quickly?
When Prince appeared in the doorway, sleeves rolled to his elbows and eyes crinkling with admiration, Rita pushed the thought away and forced a smile.
“You’re a natural,” he said, watching her plate the jollof rice.
“Don’t flatter me,” she teased. “I’ve just been trained well.”
“Then remind me to thank whoever trained you,” he shot back with a wink.
Not long after, the doorbell rang. Prince’s friends poured in, three men and two women, stylish and confident, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Rita felt like an outsider at first, smiling politely as inside jokes and stories she couldn’t follow flew around the table. But she moved with quiet grace, offering them chilled wine, arranging their plates, and slipping easily into the role of hostess.
By the time the food was served, the room had softened. The laughter was no longer foreign but inviting, and when they complimented her cooking, she found herself laughing too, the nervousness fading.
Prince leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling. “Tell me honestly,” he teased, “is the food nice?”
His friends responded in unison, voices loud and playful: “It’s sweet!”
Rita blushed, covering her face with her hands as the room erupted in laughter. She thought it was all in good fun until Prince’s chair scraped loudly against the hardwood. He stood abruptly, grinning.
“Then,” he said, “should I go ahead?”
The group chorused, “Yes, go ahead!”
Rita froze, half smiling in confusion. “Go ahead with what?” she whispered.
Before she could process the moment, Prince turned toward her. He lowered himself onto one knee and pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.
The chatter stilled. Phones whipped out. Rita’s breath caught.
“Rita Armstrong,” Prince said, his voice steady and eyes locked on hers. “From the day I met you in New York, I knew I wanted more than just a conversation. You’ve brought light into my life, and I want to spend forever making sure that light never dims. Will you marry me?”
Her heart thundered so loudly she could barely hear the rest. Gasps filled the room. Rita’s hands flew to her mouth as tears blurred her vision.
“Yes,” she choked out. “Yes!”
The room erupted in applause—cheers, claps, even whistles. Prince slipped the ring onto her finger… but it stopped halfway, stuck at her middle joint. Too tight.
A flush of embarrassment flickered across his face, though he quickly masked it with a chuckle. “Ah, I didn’t know your size,” he murmured, kissing her knuckles. “Tomorrow, we’ll change it for one that fits perfectly.”
Rita laughed through her tears, nodding. She didn’t care about the size, she cared about the promise. Still, the detail lodged in her chest like a splinter.
---
That night, after the guests left, the apartment felt eerily quiet. Rita cleaned the kitchen while Prince sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone. She noticed he hadn’t made a single work call since she’d been there. No emails. No conferences. Nothing that suggested the life of a busy executive.
When she finally slid into bed, she whispered, “Prince… you never talk about work. Don’t you have meetings?”
“I took a three-week leave,” he said casually, pulling her close. “I want to make you comfortable. Everything else can wait.”
Rita studied his face, searching for cracks. Three weeks off? For someone of his supposed caliber, it didn’t add up. But when he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Sleep, my queen,” she forced the unease down.
---
The next morning, Prince whisked her out again shopping, sightseeing, meeting more friends. At one point, he even walked her into a law firm, introducing her to a man he called his lawyer.
“This is the woman I’m marrying,” Prince declared proudly, his hand firm on the small of her back.
The lawyer congratulated them warmly, but his eyes lingered a second too long on Prince as though silently questioning him.
By noon, they were at a jewelry store, exchanging the ill-fitting ring for a sparkling diamond band that slid smoothly onto Rita’s finger. She stared at it under the lights, pride and hope swelling in her chest.
But the cracks kept widening.
That evening, she asked again, “Prince, won’t you return to work? Won’t they need you?”
He smiled, sipping his wine slowly. “Actually, I resigned today.”
Her fork clattered against the plate. “Resigned? Just like that?”
“Yes. I’m focusing on my own business now. Agriculture. It’s time I build something bigger.”
His tone was calm, too calm. Rita’s mind swirled. Could anyone truly quit a high-paying job in a matter of hours? No handover? No farewell dinner?
Her instincts screamed, Something isn’t right.
That night, when Prince finally fell asleep, Rita slipped into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear.
“Patrick?” she whispered.
The senior registrar’s voice was groggy but alert. “Rita? Is everything okay?”
“You know Prince, right? You invited him to your wedding. What do you really know about him?”
There was a long pause, followed by a sigh. “Yes, I know him. But not deeply. He moves… differently. Be careful, Rita. Don’t be in a hurry to marry.”
Her lip trembled. Was Patrick jealous, as she’d once suspected? Or was there something darker behind his words?
Back in the bedroom, she slipped under the covers beside Prince. His breathing was steady, his arm draped across her waist, his ring glinting faintly in the dark.
She closed her eyes, but Patrick’s warning echoed in her mind: Be careful, Rita.
And as sleep tugged her under, she couldn’t shake the chilling thought: What if he was right?
- Writer
