What If It's Real ?
1236 Words
One humid Saturday morning, sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the sitting room, casting long golden beams that danced across the tiled floor. Lara moved with rhythmic precision, vacuuming the rug and dusting every corner like a woman on a mission. Her brows furrowed in focus as she hummed under her breath, her ponytail swinging with each swift movement.
Just then, the slap-slap-slap of flip-flops echoed from the hallway. Lara turned slowly, her expression already brimming with irritation. And there he was—Jimi, in all his laid-back glory, strolling in like a beach tourist, dragging a trail of dust behind him as if he were a human vacuum’s nemesis.
"Mister Jimi," Lara said through gritted teeth, her hands on her hips. "Can you please take off your flip-flops? You're decorating my clean floor with mud tattoos."
Jimi paused mid-stride and looked down at the floor as if noticing his footprints for the first time. "Oh? My bad," he said casually. But instead of removing the flip-flops, he walked to the couch and collapsed onto it like a man returning from war. He then boldly propped both dusty feet on the freshly polished coffee table.
Lara blinked. Then blinked again. “Jimi!” she shrieked, her voice cracking like a whip. “Take your legs off the table now!”
Jimi glanced at her, then slowly looked at his feet on the table. "Oops," he said with exaggerated innocence, tossing a decorative cushion onto the floor for good measure. "Guess I'm not exactly the poster boy for domestic hygiene."
"You’re not even the poster boy for common sense!" Lara fired back, snatching the cushion from the floor and dusting it with visible fury. Her cheeks flushed with frustration, her arms moving in jerky motions.
But Jimi just grinned like a boy who’d discovered how to push every button she had. “I'm just keeping the place lively,” he teased. “Without me, you'd be stuck in a boring vacuum cleaner romance novel.”
“Without you, I’d be sipping juice in peace,” she muttered, but the corners of her lips twitched in spite of herself.
Jimi leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming. “Admit it. You’d miss me.”
Lara snorted. “I’d miss yelling at you. Not the mess.”
“Yelling brings us closer. Think of it as our love language,” he said with mock seriousness.
She chuckled reluctantly and returned to her cleaning, swatting him with the duster as she passed. “You’re a walking disaster.”
“And, I'm proud of it,” he said, reclining dramatically, his hands behind his head like a king on holiday.
They continued their dance—Lara cleaning, Jimi uncleaning—until the smell of sliced fruit and hot toast bread drifted into the room. They settled down at the kitchen table, each nibbling at their snack. Jimi threw an arm around Lara’s shoulder.
She looked at him sideways. “Your arm feels heavy, Mister.”
“Are you calling me fat?” he gasped, feigning offense.
“I’m calling you unnecessary weight,” she said dryly, though she didn’t move away.
Before he could retort, a sharp honk sliced through the air. They both turned toward the gate.
Lara immediately straightened, her face shifting into something more reserved. “That must be my dad,” she said, her voice tighter than before.
Jimi stood, instantly slipping into character. “Showtime,” he murmured, slipping his arm around her waist.
As they walked toward the gate, Lara allowed herself to lean slightly into him. Their steps were in sync, and for a moment, they looked every bit the loving newlyweds.
The gate creaked open to reveal Honorable Adeshina Badmus, a man whose presence always seemed to command silence. He stepped out of his black Mercedes with the same grave dignity of a man accustomed to being obeyed. His eyes swept over them, pausing at the sight of Jimi’s arm around his daughter.
“Good morning, Daddy,” Lara said, offering a warm hug.
“Morning, my dear,” he replied, then turned to Jimi. “Young man. I trust you're taking good care of my daughter.”
“Absolutely, sir,” Jimi said, straightening and flashing a practiced smile. “I treasure her like a national cake.”
Adeshina raised a brow, but eventually smiled faintly. “Let’s have some tea.”
Inside, the three of them sat in a delicate arrangement of tension and conversation. Lara poured the tea while Jimi kept up the charade—speaking politely, complimenting the tea like a trained diplomat, even pretending to care about Adeshina’s recent meeting with the Minister of Urban Planning.
“So, Jimi,” Adeshina asked, his eyes fixed. “How’s married life treating you?”
Jimi’s throat felt a tad dry, but he smiled coolly. “It’s full of surprises, sir. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
Adeshina nodded slowly. “Good.” Then turning to Lara, he said, “I'm glad to see you happy, my daughter. I see peace on your face, and that brings me joy.”
Lara smiled faintly, a flicker of guilt flashing in her eyes.
They continued talking, sipping tea, until Adeshina glanced at his wristwatch and rose to his feet. “I have to leave. But before I go...”
He turned to Lara, his expression suddenly serious. “On Monday, I want you to see my lawyer,” he said in a tone that brokered no argument. “He has documents for you to sign. It’s regarding some of my properties.”
Lara’s heart skipped. “Properties?” she echoed, trying to keep her voice even.
Adeshina nodded. “Yes. Some transfers need to be made. You’ll understand when you get there.”
His words carried weight, but his eyes carried more. Something unspoken lingered in the air—something that sent a chill up Lara’s spine.
“I’ll take care of it, Daddy,” she said softly.
He nodded, patted her shoulder, then gave Jimi a final, probing glance. “Take care of her, son.”
“I will, sir,” Jimi replied with a confident nod, though his heart beat a little faster.
As the car pulled away and the dust settled behind the black tires, Lara remained silent at the gate, watching.
Jimi stepped beside her. “You okay?”
She took a deep breath and turned to him. “My dad wants me to see his lawyer on Monday,” she said slowly. “He mentioned... property documents.”
Jimi raised an eyebrow. “That sounds... significant.”
“It feels like more than just paperwork,” Lara muttered. “It feels like a turning point.”
Then she looked at him, her eyes somber. “Jimi, maybe it’s time we ended the act. I want to break up this charade and start thinking about real life. About who I really am. About what this all means.”
Jimi’s smile faded. For a moment, silence stretched between them.
“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But just so you know… I’m not sure I’ve been pretending all this time.”
Lara’s eyes flickered with surprise, but she said nothing.
The moment passed, but something had shifted. The game was changing. And neither of them knew just how deep the consequences would run.
- Writer
