Twist Of My Fate

CHAPTER4

The morning unfolds gradually, from the soft first light of dawn to the abrupt arrival of awareness in the wake of unexpected circumstances.

The day begins quietly, with the first rays of sunlight gently nudging their way through the gaps in the curtains, casting soft beams across the room. Birds outside, chirping their repetitive calls, flit past the window, their reflections momentarily visible on the glass as they fly by.

"Good morning, gorgeous," Mayowa murmured, her voice thick with sleep as she stirred beside me. Her words drew my attention toward her and, in the same breath, to the now fully awake man lying in our bed.

"Good morning, ladies," he said, his tone warm but groggy, as though he was still caught between sleep and reality. He began to speak further, but I cut him off sharply.

"Yeah, yeah, good morning," I interrupted, my voice firm and unyielding. "Take the cash on the table, get dressed, and head out, please." I added, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The man, now wide-eyed and clearly taken aback, seemed to struggle to understand what had just transpired. He stared at me, disbelief washing over his face. "I’m sorry, did something happen while I was asleep?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion and a hint of guilt.

Without skipping a beat, I met his gaze and, this time, my tone grew even more stern. "Can you leave?" I said, pointing firmly toward the door.

He didn’t hesitate, quickly gathering his clothes and dressing with hurried urgency. With a final glance, he walked out the door, my hand still directed toward the exit as a silent command.

Mayowa, unable to contain her amusement, let out a small laugh as she reached up to gently lower my arm. "Vicky!" she said, her voice lighthearted, almost teasing. "You didn’t even let him take a shower before heading out," she continued casually, her eyes locking with mine as she spoke, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

I responded sharply, my words edged with irritation. "You know I don’t like it when they do that."

Mayowa raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by my choice of words. "They? Who?" she asked, trying to piece together the context.

I sighed, my patience thinning, and clarified, "Our one-night stands, of course. I don’t like when they try to familiarize themselves the next day." A long, deliberate hiss escaped me, the sound a mix of frustration and disdain. "It’s annoying," I added, my tone leaving no room for debate.

Mayowa leapt up from the bed, her excitement evident in her wide grin. "Okay, but damn, that boy was so good," she said, her voice animated and full of energy.

I responded without hesitation, as though I had been waiting for the moment to affirm her thoughts. "True," I said, my tone reflecting a shared understanding.

She grinned even wider, her eyes sparkling as she continued, "That thing he did with his waist? Epic." With that, she playfully demonstrated the motion, her enthusiasm infectious.

I couldn't help but smile, the memory of the night flooding back. "A good time was had, I must say," I remarked, my face lit up with a contented smile as I drifted into a moment of reminiscing about everything that had transpired.

As Mayowa stood at the center of the room, lost in thought, she muttered, “I would’ve called him a second time if we didn’t have that rule.” The words hung in the air, laced with a sense of nostalgia.

I, however, wasn’t as willing to entertain the thought for too long. “No second time, please,” I interjected abruptly, my voice cutting through the silence before Mayowa could continue.

Just as the tension between us began to settle, a knock echoed from the door. She stood up quickly and moved towards it. “Ma’am I’m here to tidy up your room,” a voice called out from the other side, the words delivered with an almost rehearsed ease.

I heard the faint sound of the door unlocking, followed by it creaking open. Almost instantly, the subtle rustling of sweeping and the soft shuffle of objects being arranged filled the room. The atmosphere shifted, the mundane task of tidying up grounding me back to reality.

Mayowa stood at the door, her voice echoing through the room as she spoke. “I’m famished.” She closed the door behind her and walked toward me, settling down beside me with a casual ease.

I glanced at my phone to check the time, then looked back up at her. “It’s almost 9 a.m., so breakfast will be here in a bit,” I said, offering her a warm smile as I gently rubbed her chin.

She nodded, her attention momentarily diverted to the screen of her phone as she scrolled through it. “True,” she replied, her tone sharp yet relaxed. “I like how on time the cook always is.”

A casual silence settled between us as we both scrolled through our phones. The only sounds that filled the room were the faint noise of the room being tidied and the soft taps of our fingers on the screens.

Then, a knock echoed from the door, breaking the stillness and drawing our attention away from our devices.

“It’s definitely the cook,” I said, looking over at Mayowa, who had already turned toward me with a curious expression.

Mayowa's face lit up with excitement as she heard the knock. "Finally!" she groaned, almost impatiently, before dashing toward the door. But when she opened it, her expression shifted to one of disappointment, and she almost seemed on the verge of tears.

"Where's the food?" she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

A small voice replied from the threshold. "It’s ready downstairs, but the Oba called and asked me to give Princess Victoria the phone."

Without hesitation, Mayowa rushed to hand me the phone, her concern momentarily forgotten.

"Hello, Victoria," my father’s voice came through the line, heavy with authority.

"Daddy, sorry I missed your calls. I didn’t know it was something pressing," I responded softly

“Come to Benin now. Everyone is dead," he stated flatly before abruptly hanging up.

The line went silent, leaving me staring at the phone in confusion. The words echoed in my mind: Everyone is dead. It was vague—ominous even—and filled me with a growing unease.