Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

NIKOLAI

“I swear to God, Aevia, this is horror, how on earth am I supposed to like this, how do you even like this?” I grumbled, grabbing the popcorn, holding it close to my chest walking to my couch, in my joggers and white tee, and on my couch, whose face glued to the screen was Hazel, whom I call Aveia because why not?

Her hair tied in a messy bun, on the bridge of her nose sat her double lens glasses because she is just as blind as I am. She was in my joggers and my black tee, looking so small in it yet suits her like it was made for her, holding on to the bowl of Pringles she poured out from my kitchen because popcorn makes her choke.

She shrugged, “Who doesn’t like horror?” She fired, not sparing a single glance at me because she was completely engrossed in the movie, Scream and if I recall, this is the fourth time we are watching this movie and I still cannot bring myself to like it.

“Me!” I fired, sinking into the couch next to her.

“What? You’ve never complained though.” She rasped, finally gazing at me with those almond eyes and her perfectly full lashes.

“Because you enjoy it so much and we barely spend time together, it’s either you’re defending a project or I am out of town to join a cooking contest. I enjoy the little time we spend together like this.” I muttered, tossing the popcorn into my mouth.

Silence.

Her eyes flickered.

She pouted.

“But …you could have at least…ugh..whatever, tell me, what do you want to watch? Let’s see it now!” She handed the remote control to me but I returned it and we kept doing that, laughing until we settled for an old romcom because I love love.

“Uhm, Chef?” I heard a voice, yanking me back to reality. My reality. A married man with a beautiful daughter.

Ugh, what is wrong with you, Nikolai?

Hazel is my best friend. The only woman who knows me like the back of her hand. The only woman who knows the real me. The only woman that know that I prefer strawberries to vanilla, that I would rather wear thin glasses to fat ones, that I love to sing, that I hate pepper and the smell of avocado.

When I saw her again, at her parents’ house, looking like the CEO of a company, elegant, composed, and beautiful as ever, I wanted to pull her into a hug and tell her how much I miss her but that would be just shameless and stupid of me.

“Chef!” The voice came again.

My eyes snapped open, scanning the room until they settled on my sous chef and close friend, Damien, standing by the door, leaning on the frame, arms wrapped around his broad chest while flexing his biceps, eyes squinted at me.

“I have so many things to say but I am going to start with, pick up your damn phone.” He grunted, his eyes scanning me like he was trying to figure out what was going through my damn mind.

Shit.

I leaned and picked up the phone dancing on my table.

But I froze the moment my eyes locked on the screen.

Hazel?

Hazel is …calling me?

Why?

I reached for the phone and answered it.

Clearing my voice, I said, “Hey..”

Silence.

I could hear her breathing at the other end, it was almost as though she was taking in the fact that she called me or something.

I was patient but my mind wouldn’t stop playing different scenarios on reasons behind her call.

“Hi, uhm, so I got a call from Navira school. She said Yvonne didn’t show up and begged me to come, I‘m on my way to the school, I was kind of hoping you could come as well, I have never attended a school event so uhm..” She muffled.

Yvonne.

Of course, she didn’t go.

Why did I assume that she was going to attend?

“I’ll join you,” I said over the phone, taking off my shirt and sliding my jacket on.

“Where are you going?” Damien asked.

“Navira’s school, cover for me and close early,” I said to him, grabbed my car keys, and dashed out before I could even hear his reply.

My hands were on the wheel as I drove.

A part of me saw this coming.

Yvonne is not who you would call a present partner and honestly, I never mind, it wasn’t like our marriage was built on love or anything but I hate it whenever she sees taking care of Navira as a chore.

As I drove into the school, the security guard at the gate waved at me, smiling.

I parked my car and ran to the principal’s office where Hazel texted me she was a while ago.

I gently knocked on the door and stepped in. “Oh, Mr Links, there you are. Your wife and I just finished discussing the program for the event, please join us. Might add, you have a very beautiful wife.” The principal, an elderly woman in her late fifties said with a gentle smile, gesturing for me to sit next to Hazel.

Confusion spread all over my face.

I am pretty sure she said my wife but Yvonne is not here so who is she referring to?

My eyes settled on Hazel, sitting pretty with my daughter between her legs, holding on to Hazel like she was her mother.

“Uhm, Mrs. Links would you like to explain the content to your husband or would you prefer I explain it to him?”

Huh?

What…What the hell is going on?

Why is she calling Hazel, Mrs. Links?