CHRYSANTHEMUM

CHAPTER 2

THE UNKNOWN NUMBER

Hepzibah sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the message on her phone.

Her mind raced.

How did this person know?

How did they know she had been hiding her talent from her family?

One thing Hepzibah knew for certain was that if her father ever discovered her drawings, he would dismiss them as another one of her foolish dreams. He would call them delusions and remind her that she was wasting her time on things that would never put food on the table.

She had never told him.

She hadn't even told her mother.

Not because she didn't trust her mother, but because Clara could only offer encouragement. Financially, there was little she could do.

Hepzibah swallowed hard.

"Who could possibly be watching me all this while?"

She thought for a moment.

"The only person who knows about this is Shirley."

She hurried to her reading table and began searching through the scattered papers. She checked every sketch, every loose sheet, every page in her worn sketchbook.

Nothing was missing.

They were all intact.

Her fingers had barely left the last sheet when her phone buzzed again.

Hepzibah froze.

Slowly, she picked it up.

Unknown Number:

"Meet me at the town hall by 12 p.m. Don't be late, unless you don't want to make good use of that talent of yours."

Her heart dropped.

This wasn't an ordinary invitation.

It felt like a threat.

Someone knew about her talent.

Someone had been watching her.

And now that person wanted to meet her.

"Perhaps I should go."

She paused.

"No... maybe not."

Her eyes remained fixed on the screen.

What if it's an ambush? What if I'm being played? What if this person wants something from me?

There were too many possibilities.

Too many what-ifs.

Then her eyes returned to the last sentence.

"Unless you don't want to make good use of that talent of yours."

"What do I do?"

After almost an hour of going back and forth with herself, Hepzibah finally made a decision.

She would go.

But she wouldn't go alone.

Shirley would come with her.

With that decision made, she placed her phone beside her pillow and eventually drifted off to sleep.

---

By 6 a.m., Hepzibah was already awake.

She hurried through her chores, washing clothes and helping her mother prepare breakfast so she could be free before noon.

Soon, breakfast was served, and the entire family gathered around the old, chipped wooden dining table.

Beans and pap.

That had been their meal for two days.

The silence at the table was almost unbearable.

Then Mr. Thompson broke it.

"I'll be travelling today."

Mrs. Thompson looked up.

"For how long?" she asked.

"Write down everything you need to run the household until I return."

She hesitated.

"For how long will you be gone?"

"Whenever you see me."

His response came almost immediately.

Mrs. Thompson's expression changed for only a second, but Mr. Thompson noticed.

Of course he did.

He knew exactly what her silence meant.

The dining room fell quiet again.

The only sound was the gentle scraping of spoons against plates.

Then—

"Why are you collecting from my side? This is my side!"

Daryl, the youngest, suddenly yelled.

"It's not your side," Jason shot back. "The food is for both of us, and you're already eating like you're not hungry."

"Who told you I'm abusing it?" Daryl snapped. "I'm just tired of eating beans! We've been eating beans for two days!"

Mrs. Thompson said nothing.

She simply continued eating.

"At least you have something to eat," Greyton muttered. "You should be grateful."

"Like you're enjoying it yourself."

"Daryl."

Mr. Thompson's voice cut through the room.

"Enough. Eat your food."

Daryl immediately lowered his head.

Mr. Thompson then turned his attention to Hepzibah, who had barely spoken since sitting down.

She was thinking about the mysterious message.

Would the person really show up?

What did they want?

And what would happen if her father somehow found out?

"Hepzibah."

She looked up.

"I don't want Shirley coming to this house again."

Her mother's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.

Hepzibah stared at her father.

"But why, Father?"

"Shirley has been nothing but a good friend to me."

Mr. Thompson dropped his spoon.

"If she hadn't gotten admission, you probably wouldn't have thought about going to school."

Hepzibah's chest tightened.

"She's a bad influence, Hepzibah. And that's final."

She stared at him in disbelief.

Then she quietly pushed her chair back.

She couldn't stay there.

Not another minute.

She picked up her plate and left the dining room.

As she walked toward her room, one question kept returning to her mind.

How could a father hate his daughter this much?

Was it simply because she was a girl?

Or was there something else?

Something her parents weren't telling her?

---

Once inside her room, Hepzibah grabbed her phone.

Hepzibah:

"Hello girl, how are you?"

The response came almost immediately.

Shirley:

"I'm good. What's popping, girl?"

Hepzibah:

"You free by 12?"

Shirley:

"I'll see to that. Spill."

Hepzibah hesitated before typing.

Hepzibah:

"An unknown number texted me last night. The person seems to know about my artistic skill and asked me to meet them at the town hall by 12. I'm too scared to go alone."

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Finally—

Shirley:

"My goodness, Zibah! Forward the text. Let me have a look."

Hepzibah immediately forwarded the messages.

A few minutes passed.

Then Shirley replied.

Shirley:

"Seems like an online stalker to me."

Hepzibah:

"You think?"

Shirley:

"Yhhhhh. Or what do you think?"

Hepzibah:

"I don't know what to think."

Shirley:

"No worries, dear. We're gonna find out. I'm with you on this."

Hepzibah smiled faintly.

Hepzibah:

"Alright. Talk to you later. I'll come over to your place first."

Shirley:

"No problem. See yaaaaah."

Hepzibah dropped her phone on the bed.

A few minutes later, she heard the sound of her father's old Mercedes leaving the compound.

For the first time that morning, she breathed freely.

"At least there'll be some peace in this house."

---

A few minutes before noon, Hepzibah was ready to leave.

"Mum, I'm going out. I'll be back shortly."

Her mother looked up from what she was doing.

"And where exactly?"

Hepzibah hesitated.

She hardly ever left the house after completing her chores. Usually, she locked herself in her room until Shirley came around or she was sent on an errand.

"Choir rehearsals."

It was a lie.

She couldn't tell her mother about Shirley—not after her father had just painted her as a bad influence.

And even if her mother kept quiet, one of her brothers could easily mention it when their father returned.

Daryl especially.

"Alright," Clara said. "Be safe and come home immediately after rehearsal."

"No worries, Mum."

"Don't forget to fetch water when you're back," Carl called from somewhere behind her.

Hepzibah turned.

"You leech."

She stormed out.

Her father's constant yelling had done more than create fear in the house.

It had taught her brothers to disrespect her too.

---

By the time Hepzibah and Shirley reached the town hall, they had been waiting for more than ten minutes.

Shirley glanced around.

"Are you sure this person is going to show up?"

"Maybe something came up," Hepzibah said, trying to remain calm. "Let's wait thirty more minutes. If there's no sign of the person, we'll leave."

She glanced at her phone.

Nothing.

Then—

"I'm so sorry I'm late."

A soft feminine voice came from behind them.

Both girls turned.

An elegant young woman stood a few steps away.

She looked calm.

Too calm.

Hepzibah exchanged a confused glance with Shirley.

The woman smiled.

"You might be wondering how I know you."

She took a few steps closer.

"I've been fascinated by your sketches for a while now. I even did a little background check on you."

Hepzibah's stomach tightened.

"My name is Winifred. But you can call me Wini."

The girls introduced themselves.

"I came with my friend," Shirley explained. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Winifred smiled.

"Now, let's get to business."

She looked directly at Hepzibah.

"Like I said, I've been fascinated by your sketches. Especially your fashion designs."

Hepzibah shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you know anything about fashion?"

"No."

The answer came quickly.

"I just get inspiration sometimes and sketch. I mostly do it when I'm bored, stressed... or when I need an escape from reality."

Winifred studied her for a moment.

"You have a very special talent, Hepzibah. And I would love to see you make use of it."

Hepzibah frowned.

"How?"

"I recently discovered that I've become interested in fashion," she admitted. "But I've never really thought about it seriously."

Winifred smiled.

"Have you ever heard of fashion illustration?"

Hepzibah paused.

The term sounded familiar.

"Yes. But I don't really know what it entails."

Winifred nodded.

"It's not far from what you're already doing. Fashion illustrators turn ideas into drawings. A client can describe what they imagine, and you bring that imagination to paper before the outfit is brought to life."

She pointed at Hepzibah.

"And from what I've seen, you already have the hardest part."

"What's that?"

"Talent."

Hepzibah's eyes widened slightly.

Winifred reached into her bag.

"I own a small fashion house nearby. I also train upcoming fashion designers."

She pulled out a flyer.

"I'm currently looking for someone who can help with fashion illustrations. I'm not very good at drawing myself."

She handed the flyer to Hepzibah.

"My time is limited, but if you're interested, call the number on the flyer."

Hepzibah stared at it.

This small piece of paper suddenly felt heavier than it looked.

An opportunity.

A real opportunity.

For the first time, her drawings didn't feel like something she did simply to escape reality.

Maybe they could help her escape it.

"I hope you make the right decision," Winifred said.

She extended her hand.

"Nice meeting you, Hepzibah."

"Nice meeting you too, Miss Winifred."

They shook hands.

Winifred gave the girls one last approving smile before turning away.

Hepzibah watched her leave.

Only when Winifred disappeared from sight did Shirley grab her arm.

"My gosh, Zibah!"

Hepzibah looked at her.

"This is huge!"

"I know."

Her excitement faded almost immediately.

"But I wonder what my dad would say."

Shirley rolled her eyes.

"Then don't tell him."

Hepzibah stared at her.

"You had better start putting yourself first, Zibah. You're not a kid anymore."

"My dad isn't as easygoing as your dad."

"I bet you don't understand."

Shirley sighed.

"Maybe I don't. But I know you can't keep waiting for your father to give you permission to become who you want to be."

Hepzibah looked down at the flyer.

She didn't answer.

"Let's head home," she finally said. "I still need to fetch water."

"Alright. But first, let me buy you ice cream. My uncle came around yesterday and gave me some money."

"Lucky you."

The two girls laughed and started walking toward the ice cream stand.

Neither of them noticed the car parked across the road.

Inside, someone watched Hepzibah carefully.

The person slowly lifted a phone.

Opened the camera.

And took a picture.

Hepzibah never knew that the meeting at the town hall was only the beginning.

And she certainly didn't know that someone else had already begun watching her.

From a distance.