Unhidden

Chapter Eight-Jamal

By the time I got home that morning, I already knew my mother was going to question me.

She always did.

The moment I walked through the front door, I saw her sitting in the living room with a cup of tea in her hand.

She looked at me.

Then at my clothes.

Then back at me.

“Good morning, Mom.”

“Good morning.”

I knew that tone.

I sighed internally.

“Where were you?”

“At the office.”

She raised one eyebrow.

“The entire night?”

“Yes.”

“Working?”

“Yes.”

“On what?”

“Mom.”

She smiled.

“I am simply asking.”

“You’re interrogating me.”

“Because you disappear all night and come back looking tired.”

I nearly laughed.

I was tired.

Just not for the reason she thought.

“I had work.”

“Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“With who?”

I almost choked.

“Mom.”

She laughed.

“I’m joking.”

I stared at her.

She wasn’t joking.

Not completely.

She had been asking questions like that for years.

Eventually, I escaped upstairs, changed, and prepared for the family brunch.

Because apparently, having a successful business wasn’t enough.

You also had to sit through family lunches where everyone discussed business, marriage, politics, investments, and everything else that had nothing to do with your personal exhaustion.

The restaurant was one of those places my father loved.

Expensive.

Elegant.

Private.

The kind of restaurant where the staff already knew your family name before you arrived.

We were meeting the Osedebis.

The Osedebi family had been close to ours for years.

They were incredibly wealthy and had built their fortune differently from my family.

Technology.

Infrastructure.

Construction.

And, most importantly, their cement conglomerate.

Their company supplied cement and construction materials across several countries, and their influence in infrastructure development was enormous.

Their family arrived shortly after we did.

Mr. Osedebi came first, followed by his wife and their daughter.

Blessing.

Blessing Akifa Osedebi.

I had known her for years.

She was impossible to forget.

Blessing had always been a strange combination of things.

She could spend thousands of dollars at a club in one night and then show up at eight the next morning in a perfectly tailored suit ready to discuss an infrastructure contract.

She loved parties.

She loved fashion.

She loved expensive cars.

She loved traveling.

But she also worked incredibly hard.

She wasn’t simply a rich man’s daughter.

She was deeply involved in her family’s business and was very serious when it came to work.

“Jamal.”

She smiled when she saw me.

“Blessing.”

She hugged me.

“It’s been forever.”

“Not really.”

“It feels like forever.”

I smiled.

Then we took our seats.

My father sat at the head of the table.

Malik sat beside him.

My mother was beside me.

Across from us sat the Osedebis.

For the next hour, it was business.

Contracts.

Infrastructure.

Technology.

Expansion.

Potential partnerships.

My father and Mr. Osedebi spoke about a major infrastructure project that could potentially involve both families.

Malik contributed several times.

I did too.

It was the kind of conversation I was used to.

Then, somewhere between the second course and dessert, my father looked at me.

“Jamal.”

I looked up.

“Yes, Dad?”

“You remember Blessing.”

I stared at him.

Of course I remembered her.

“Of course.”

“Good.”

He looked between us.

“She has been doing very well with the technology division.”

Blessing smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Carter.”

My father nodded.

“She reminds me of you.”

I almost laughed.

Blessing looked at me.

“Is that a compliment?”

My father smiled.

“Very much so.”

I knew where this was going.

I could feel it.

My mother suddenly became very interested in her tea.

Malik looked down at his plate.

Traitor.

My father continued.

“You two have known each other for years.”

“Yes,” I said carefully.

“Both successful.”

I said nothing.

“Both young.”

Still nothing.

“Both unmarried.”

There it was.

Blessing laughed softly.

“Mr. Carter.”

My father looked pleased.

“What?”

“You’re making this very obvious.”

Everyone laughed except me.

I took a sip of water.

My father simply smiled.

“I am only stating facts.”

I glanced at my mother.

She was smiling.

This was becoming ridiculous.

Eventually, the conversation moved on.

After brunch, Blessing caught up with me before I left.

“Jamal.”

I turned.

“Yeah?”

“My birthday is Saturday.”

“Oh.”

She smiled.

“You should come.”

I hesitated.

“Saturday?”

“Yes.”

She looked directly at me.

“I’d really like you there.”

I smiled politely.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“No.”

She pointed at me.

“You’re coming.”

I laughed.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

She smiled.

“I’m holding you to that.”

Then she walked away.

I watched her for a second before turning back toward my family.

My father was already talking to Mr. Osedebi.

I shook my head.

This family.

On the drive home, Malik sat beside me.

For a few minutes, neither of us said anything.

Then he spoke.

“Did you see the way Blessing invited you?”

I looked at him.

“What about it?”

“She likes you.”

I laughed.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She does.”

“She’s being polite.”

Malik turned toward me.

“Polite?”

“Yes.”

“She specifically told you that she wanted you at her birthday.”

“She’s inviting friends.”

“Then why didn’t she invite me?”

I looked at him.

“Because Tamara was there.”

He paused.

“My wife?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“You’re married.”

“So?”

I laughed.

“So I don’t think she’d invite you personally when Tamara is already there.”

Malik shook his head.

“You’re avoiding the obvious.”

“There is nothing obvious.”

He smiled.

“Jamal.”

“What?”

“She likes you.”

I looked out the window.

“Even if she does, it doesn’t matter.”

He studied me.

Then he laughed.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re twenty-six years old.”

“I know.”

“You’re successful.”

“I know.”

“You’re attractive.”

I looked at him.

“Thank you?”

“And you’re single.”

I sighed.

“Here we go.”

“You need a woman.”

I immediately thought of Andre.

The thought came so quickly that I almost flinched.

His face.

His smile.

His arms around me.

The way he’d looked at me last night.

You’re my baby.

I looked out the window again.

Malik didn’t notice.

Or maybe he did.

“You should really give Blessing a chance.”

I shook my head.

“She deserves someone who actually wants that.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.”

“Why?”

I didn’t answer.

Because how could I explain it?

How could I tell my brother that my heart had already chosen someone?

That I didn’t need to search for a woman because I was already in love?

That the person I wanted was a man?

My brother would never understand.

Maybe one day.

But not today.

He sighed.

“Fine.”

Then he smirked.

“But really, you should tap that.”

I turned toward him.

“Malik!”

He burst out laughing.

“What?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.”

“Please stop.”

He laughed harder.

I shook my head.

My phone vibrated.

I pulled it from my pocket.

One message.

Andre.

My heart immediately softened.

I opened it.

You home yet, baby?

I smiled.

Just like that.

One message.

One person.

And suddenly the entire conversation about Blessing disappeared from my mind.

I typed back.

Almost.

A response came quickly.

Good. Call me when you get home.

I stared at the screen.

Then smiled.

Malik noticed.

He looked at me.

“Who is that?”

I locked my phone.

“No one.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“That’s not a ‘no one’ smile.”

I looked out the window.

“Mind your business.”

He laughed.

But this time, I didn’t.

Because for the first time that day, I wasn’t thinking about Blessing.

I wasn’t thinking about my father’s expectations.

I wasn’t thinking about marriage.

I wasn’t thinking about family legacy.

I was thinking about Andre.

And the fact that, despite everything—

he was still the person I wanted to come home to.