Too late I Am Carrying His Child

Chapter 9 :A Strange Quiet

The ride to the location Angel sent felt oddly comforting. The city lights blurred past the window as the driver navigated through the late-afternoon traffic. Victoria sat quietly, her fingers brushing the hem of her pink gown. Every passing reflection on the window reminded her of the woman she had seen in the mirror earlier — confident, glowing, alive.

She wanted to hold onto that feeling.

Even if it was just for tonight.

When the car finally pulled over, she stepped out — and froze.

The place was stunning. Warm golden lights framed the entrance, twinkling like captured stars. Inside, the air smelled of jasmine and roasted spices, and laughter floated between the tables. The décor was modern but soft — a blend of cream and gold that gave everything a faint sparkle.

Victoria couldn’t help but smile.

“Girl, are you planning to stand there all day, or are you gonna come in?” Angel’s voice broke through the music, light and teasing.

Victoria turned, spotting her friend waving from a corner table. Angel looked radiant, her brown skin glowing under the lights, her curls bouncing as she laughed.

“Wow,” Angel whistled when Victoria finally walked up. “Would you look at this goddess. Pink looks illegal on you.”

Victoria chuckled, sliding into the seat. “You and your exaggerations.”

“I’m serious,” Angel said, eyes wide. “That dress is a whole threat. If you don’t find a man tonight, I swear I’ll disown you.”

Victoria rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

Angel leaned forward, squinting. “But, um… remind me never to let you do your makeup again. Girl, your eyeliner looks like it fought a battle and lost.”

Victoria burst out laughing, swatting her hand. “Shut up!”

“Just saying,” Angel teased. “Good thing you’re naturally pretty. The makeup doesn’t stand a chance.”

They both laughed, and for the first time that day, Victoria felt something loosen in her chest — a little pocket of peace.

When the waiter came, Angel ordered with her usual flair: spicy jollof rice, grilled beef, fried plantain, and mocktails that shimmered like rubies under the light.

As soon as the plates arrived, Victoria forgot everything else.

Food had always been her comfort, her tiny escape. Every bite dulled the ache that had been sitting in her chest since morning. With every chew, the unease about her father, the quiet house, and the unanswered questions melted away.

Angel watched her with a grin. “You and food are a love story of your own.”

Victoria covered her mouth as she laughed. “What can I say? Food doesn’t betray you.”

They ate and talked about work, old memories, and ridiculous stories from college. Angel made her laugh so hard that tears pricked her eyes. For a while, everything felt normal.

Until Angel asked, “So… how’s your dad?”

The question hit like a thunderclap.

Victoria froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.

Speaking of which…

Her father.

The morning’s strange silence replayed in her head — the empty house, his missing keys, the stillness that didn’t feel right.

“I didn’t see him when I woke up,” Victoria said slowly, setting her fork down. “I even tried calling him… but his line isn’t reachable.”

Angel frowned. “Maybe his battery died or he’s just out somewhere. He’s not a child, Vicky.”

Victoria shook her head, unease stirring again. “That’s the thing. He always tells me where he’s going. Always. Even if it’s just to get bread from the store. This is… not like him.”

Her voice trembled on the last words.

Angel reached across the table, touching her hand gently. “Hey. Don’t overthink it. You know your dad. He’s fine. Maybe he just needed some air.”

But Victoria couldn’t shake the chill creeping up her spine. The silence of that morning now felt heavier, darker — like a warning she hadn’t understood.

“What if something happened to him?” she whispered, her throat tightening.

Angel sighed, trying to lighten the mood. “Girl, your dad is your dad, not some baby boo you need to babysit.”

Victoria didn’t smile. Her face said it all — pale, tense, distant.

“Okay, okay,” Angel said, throwing up her hands. “My bad. I shouldn’t have asked. Look at you, you were fine five minutes ago, inhaling three plates of peppered beef, and now you’re about to cry.”

That finally earned a small laugh from Victoria. “You have no idea what it feels like to lose both parents,” she said softly, her voice carrying a fragile kind of pain.

Angel’s expression softened. “I do,” she said quietly. “I lost your mom, too. She was more like a mother to me than anyone else ever was.”

The words hit home. Victoria’s eyes shimmered with emotion, and a faint smile curved her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Anytime,” Angel said. “Now promise me — no more sadness. At least not today.”

Victoria nodded. “No more sadness.”

So they let the moment pass. They talked about work deadlines, joked about their boss’s obsession with colored spreadsheets, and laughed until their sides hurt. For a while, Victoria managed to forget again — to exist in that bubble of laughter and lights and friendship.

But all good things fade eventually.

As the evening stretched on, Angel checked the time. “It’s already 5:37 p.m., girl. You’re not thinking of running off yet, are you?”

Victoria groaned, glancing at her phone. “You know I always leave around this time.”

“Exactly my point,” Angel said, crossing her arms. “You always do. You act like your dad’s waiting at home with a baby monitor.”

Victoria chuckled but looked away. “It’s not that… I just—”

“You just what?” Angel interrupted playfully. “Live like you’re still fifteen? Please. For once, stay a little longer. The night’s still young.”

Angel could be persuasive — dangerously so. Against her better judgment, Victoria stayed. They ordered another round of mocktails, took silly photos, and sang along softly to the background music.

By the time Victoria finally checked her watch again, her heart sank.

“Angel,” she said quickly, “it’s already 6:30. You know how hard it is to get a cab around this time.”

Angel shrugged, taking the last sip of her drink. “Then I’ll take you home myself.”

Victoria blinked. “No, you don’t have to. Your place is in the opposite direction. You’ll waste almost an hour.”

“Do I look like I care?” Angel said with a grin. “I’m twenty-one, not a baby. I can drive however I want, my baby girl.”

Victoria laughed despite her anxiety. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.”

The two friends walked out together, the night air cool against their skin. The parking lot lights cast a silver glow on the cars, and the hum of the city filled the background.

But as Victoria slid into the passenger seat, she couldn’t ignore the unease crawling back up her spine.

Something about the silence of that morning, the missing keys, and her father’s absence felt wrong — deeply wrong.

She stared out the window as Angel started the car, the city lights flickering across her face.

Her reflection in the glass looked the same — calm, composed, beautiful — but inside, her heart was pounding.

Please, Dad… be okay.

The car pulled into the main road, tires humming softly against the asphalt. Angel started humming along to a song on the radio, carefree as ever, but Victoria barely heard it. Her mind was elsewhere — replaying memories, imagining scenarios, clinging to hope.

Because somewhere deep in her gut…

Something told her that tonight wouldn’t end like any other night.