Breakfast had just ended and the house staff of the Sanders mansion began clearing the breakfast table. Grandma Janet was the first to leave the dining room.
Immediately she left, Anita could practically feel freedom stretch its arms beside her. She placed her napkin delicately on the table, then leaned back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other, slowly and purposefully. Kelvin was sipping the last of his coffee, dressed in a casual white shirt as it was a Saturday morning. He was scrolling through something on his phone. "Kelvin..." Anita's voice was a soft hum — teasing, playful. She reached across the table and ran a finger lightly over his wrist, just enough to make him glance up. "Hmm?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden sweetness. She gave him a slow smile, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was thinking... maybe we could go out tonight. Just unwind a little. There’s a new lounge Valerie told me about. It’s exclusive, quiet, and not too flashy.” He narrowed his eyes. “A lounge?” She chuckled, feigning innocence. “Okay... maybe not so quiet. It’s a club. But a classy one.” Kelvin sighed, his brows knitting. “Anita…” “I know what you’re going to say,” she cut in quickly, leaning in a bit. “But Grandma Janet won’t even know. She has that church thing tomorrow morning and always sleeps early on Saturday nights. Come on, Kelvin. Just one night. You, me, Tina, Valerie..... just like old times. We’ll be back before midnight.” Kelvin rested his elbow on the table and looked at her with that unreadable gaze. “You want to sneak out of the house with me to go clubbing... while my grandmother is under the same roof?” “Not sneak,” Anita said, lowering her voice, “...just quietly step out. We deserve to breathe a little, don’t we? You’ve been tense lately. I’ve been... surviving on tea and sermons.” He chuckled despite himself but shook his head. “You know this isn’t the time. Not yet. If Grandma ever finds out, our whole plans will be ruined. You'll be thrown out and she'll find me another wife. Or worse, she'll give out the whole properties to charity.” Anita’s lips tightened. She stood up and slowly walked to his side, placing her hand on his shoulder, her fingers brushing his collar. “Kelvin,” she whispered, bending closer, her breath grazing his ear, “I know about that....... but don't you think that if we keep pretending we’re saints forever, we’ll go crazy? You know we’re not built for this life. It's just this once and grandma wouldn't even know. Once she's asleep, we'll leave and return before she even wakes up. We need a breather and I've missed you soooo much” He looked up at her, her face close to his, lips slightly parted, her perfume warm and sweet. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last. Anita smiled and kissed his cheek quickly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” With that, she sauntered out of the room, her heart pounded with excitement. But as Kelvin watched her leave, his heart wasn't as excited as it used to be, as it was supposed to be at the idea of a night out with Anita. ______ Night came, and the house fell into its usual hush. After Grandma Janet had bade them both goodnight with her usual stern warning to “rest well and wake up with virtue,” she retired to her room like clockwork, the door clicking shut with finality. Anita, who had been counting the minutes, immediately sprang into action. She opened her wardrobe, revealing the hidden outfit she had snuck in with Tina’s help — one that wouldn't survive Grandma Janet’s holy glare. Her fingers trembled with excitement as she slipped into the sleek dress, dark and slinky, the fabric hugging her curves like a second skin. She dabbed on perfume, swiped on bold lipstick, and smirked at her reflection in the mirror. The Reverend Mother look was officially buried for the night. She headed to Kelvin’s room, heels in hand, careful not to alert the house staff or creaky floorboards. But when she knocked gently and pushed the door open, the sight that met her was far from what she’d hoped. Kelvin lay on his side, face pale under the glow of a dim lamp, his brow furrowed and his hand clutched to his stomach. “I’m not feeling well,” he muttered before she could even speak. “I’ve got a bad stomach upset. I think it was something I ate.” Disappointment slammed into Anita like a slap. She narrowed her eyes slightly, reading more in his expression than he let on. He was lying. The way his eyes avoided hers, the convenient timing, the way he hadn’t touched the rich dinner served earlier — all of it screamed pretense. But Anita didn’t press it. She knew better than to argue. If Kelvin wanted to play safe for the sake of his precious inheritance, fine. She'd go without him. And so, leaving him groaning under the covers, she slipped out the back gate like a shadow, a rideshare already waiting. By the time she reached the club, her mood had flipped. Tina and Valerie were waiting just inside the pulsing glow of the club entrance, their eyes lighting up at the sight of her. The bass boomed through the walls like a heartbeat, shaking the air. The neon lights painted her in shifting colors — blue, violet, magenta — making her look otherworldly, rebellious, alive. Anita grinned, throwing her arms around them. The club's energy hit her instantly. People moved like waves—sweaty, wild, beautiful. The scent of perfume, alcohol, and freedom mingled in the air. The dance floor heaved with life, and as she stepped into it, she could feel the heavy shell of "Sanders Mansion Anita" cracking apart. This was her kingdom. Valerie handed her a cocktail — bright pink with a sugar rim and a dangerously sweet aroma. “To the return of our queen!” she shouted over the thumping bass. Anita raised her glass and clinked it against Tina’s and Valerie’s. “Long live my reign,” she said, her voice coated in boldness, before tipping the drink back. The liquid was cold, sharp, and exhilarating. The music changed—something fast, flirty, and alive. Tina whooped and dragged her toward the center of the floor. Anita laughed as she followed, her feet moving instinctively. Her hips rolled in rhythm, drawing looks from passing men, the slit of her dress teasing every step. Tina leaned close, yelling through a wicked grin, “You’re glowing, girl! This is the Anita we’ve been missing!” Anita flipped her hair and threw her head back. “She’s back!” "It's a shame Kelvin couldn’t join us," Valerie said as they paused for breath near the bar. "Yeah......he's just being a coward,” Anita scoffed, picking up another drink. “He is scared of being caught by his grandmother and losing his inheritance forever. He faked a stomach ache, though he doesn't know that I'm aware he was lying.” "Can't blame the guy. He wants no mistake made. You need to be careful too,” Tina warned. "If you wanted me to be careful, why did you invite me out tonight?" Anita raised an eyebrow. "Well….. we really missed you, that’s why. But Madame Janet is deep asleep and you’ll go back to the mansion before morning,” Tina said with a grin. "I know. I’ve been dying in that mansion. I really needed this breather,” Anita admitted, letting her shoulders drop. And then the music soared again. They returned to the floor, their bodies in sync, laughter spilling from their lips. Men approached, offering drinks and sly compliments. Anita danced with abandon, letting go of all caution and repression. For once, she wasn’t pretending. She wasn’t playing the future Mrs. Kelvin Sanders. She was just Anita — wild, untamed, and completely alive. _____ But then, Anita got carried away. The night had wrapped around her like silk — warm, thrilling, intoxicating. With the pounding music and the swirl of laughter, time had become a blur. She had planned to leave by midnight, just enough time to return, sleep for a few hours, and be presentable for the early morning church service Grandma Janet insisted on. But midnight came and went. So did 1 a.m., 2 a.m., and 3. It wasn’t until few minutes to 5 a.m. that Valerie, slightly more sober and ever the lookout, clutched Anita’s arm and said urgently, “Girl, you need to go. Now.” Reality hit Anita like a cold slap. Suddenly, the smoky lights and electrifying rhythm were no longer glamorous — they were a trap. She had lost track of everything. And now, she was almost out of time. Panic rising in her throat, Anita grabbed her things, whispered a quick goodbye, and practically dove into a waiting cab. Her breath came in shallow bursts as the city lights whipped past the window, giving way to the quiet opulence of the Sanders estate. Her thoughts raced faster than the car itself. "Please let Grandma still be asleep. Please let her still be asleep." At last, the cab pulled up two streets away. She slipped out silently, heels in hand, and jogged down the narrow lane to the back gate — the same exit she had taken hours ago, cloaked in anticipation and glitter. Now, she was cloaked in anxiety and sweat. Her fingers shook as she unlocked the gate. It creaked slightly — too loud — but no light flicked on, no voice called out. She was in. The Sanders mansion was still blanketed in dawn’s eerie hush. The massive house loomed above her like a stone guardian, and the grand staircase stretched before her like a mountain trail. Anita removed her heels and held them tightly, every step up feeling like a countdown to doom. Her bare feet ached from the dance floor, but fear was stronger than pain. The clock in the hallway chimed. It was 5:45 a.m. Somewhere upstairs, a sound drifted through the silence — a faint, familiar hymn floating from an old radio speaker. Anita’s stomach dropped. It was that song. The soft gospel hymn Grandma Janet always played during her early morning devotions. The one she never skipped. Her “quiet time.” Grandma Janet was already awake. Anita froze halfway up the staircase, every nerve in her body bristling like a wire under pressure. She slowly turned her head toward the upper corridor — the very path she had to walk to reach her room. Her heart thundered in her ears. That corridor passed right by Grandma Janet’s bedroom. And Grandma Janet had intentionally placed her there — for “spiritual monitoring,” as she once said with a knowing look. "You can still make it." Anita told herself. "Move quietly. Stay low. No sound. Just get to the room." Taking a long, shaky breath, she crept forward, her steps featherlight on the cold marble floor. The soft music grew louder as she neared Grandma Janet’s door, and with it, the thudding of her own pulse. She passed the ornate frame, careful not to brush against anything. Then she heard footsteps - slow, steady and deliberate. Anita went rigid. The steps moved inside the room, growing closer to the door. She flattened her back against the wall, clutching her heels against her chest like a child hiding a secret. Her throat went dry. "Don’t breathe. Don’t move." She told herself. The doorknob never turned — but the footsteps stopped. Then came the swish of a robe. The rustle of fabric. Someone was standing just on the other side of the door. And then the voice came — calm, soft, and terrifying in its quiet certainty: "Oh Lord, may my grandson and his intended walk in the ways of righteousness." Anita’s eyes widened. She clamped her lips shut. Her chest felt tight. Grandma Janet was praying — right there — not knowing how close she was to exposing everything. Anita could almost feel her presence through the door, could see the silhouette of that stern, watchful figure in her mind. One sound. One creak. One misplaced breath. And it would all be over. She could already imagine the fallout — the disappointment in Kelvin’s eyes, the accusations from Grandma Janet, the crushing blow to the life she had fought so hard to secure. All for one night. One taste of freedom. A second passed. Then two. Then the footsteps resumed — away from the door. The music dimmed slightly as Grandma Janet walked deeper into her room, possibly toward the prayer altar she kept near the window. This was Anita’s only chance. Barefoot and breathless, she darted forward like a thief in a temple. Her feet skimmed over the tiles, silent but swift. She reached her bedroom door, twisted the handle, and slipped inside, closing it behind her with the softest click imaginable. For a moment, she just stood there - frozen. Then she finally allowed herself to breathe. Collapsing onto her bed, Anita clutched her chest, heart still racing like a hunted animal. Sweat coated her brow, her lungs burned, and the adrenaline had her trembling. That was too close — way too close. The club, the lights, the drinks… it had all felt so easy, so exhilarating. But now, in the hush of morning, with gospel music still faintly playing down the hall, the weight of her choices pressed down like bricks. She stared up at the ceiling, stunned by her own recklessness. And in that moment of breathless silence, Anita whispered a vow to herself: "Next time… I’ll be smarter. I have too much to lose."
