Chapter Forty Five

Having escaped Grandma Janet's wrath hours ago by the skin of her teeth, Anita knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Church service was looming, and if Grandma Janet so much as sensed her exhaustion or suspicion, it would all come crashing down.

She couldn’t survive hours of hymns and sermons—not after a sleepless night of dancing and dodging. Every muscle in her body ached, and her eyes burned behind her lashes. So, she did what she had to do.

A hint from Kelvin’s excuse the night before gave her the perfect idea.

After scrubbing off the last traces of smeared makeup and trading her party dress for soft nightwear, Anita tucked herself into bed and wrapped the blankets tightly around her. She carefully tousled her hair into something messy enough to look like “cramp suffering” and took a few deep breaths to summon the right frail tone.

Then she waited.

The room was still dim, light just beginning to seep in through the curtains, when it came—

Three soft knocks.

Her heart jumped, then quickly steadied. Showtime.

Grandma Janet’s warm, expectant voice followed on cue:

“Anita, dear? It’s almost time to get ready for church.”

Anita pulled the blanket up to her chin, mustering a breathy groan.

“I… I don’t think I can make it this morning, Grandma,” she called out hoarsely, adding a subtle wince to her voice. “My monthly flow just started and the cramps are… killing.”

Silence.

Then came the gentle creak of the door opening.

Grandma Janet entered in a pressed floral scarf and a polished church bag hanging from her elbow, her expression already laced with concern.

“Oh, sweetheart…” she murmured as she stepped in.

Anita curled deeper under the covers like a wounded animal. Her skin glowed with the faint sheen of tiredness, her eyes lowered in mock suffering.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Grandma Janet said softly, placing her bag down and sitting gently at the edge of the bed.

Anita gave a weak nod, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Grandma.”

The older woman smoothed a loose strand of hair off Anita’s forehead, her eyes soft and motherly. “You rest. I’ll have the kitchen bring you some warm herbal tea - very effective. It always helped me in my day.”

“Thank you,” Anita murmured, eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. “I feel so bad missing service.”

“It’s alright,” Grandma Janet said, rising and collecting her things again. “The Lord knows your heart. You stay in bed and take care of yourself. We’ll be praying for you.”

With one last glance of pity and a gentle pat to the blankets, she exited, closing the door softly behind her.

Anita waited a full ten seconds, her breathing tight.

Then, she let out a deep, long sigh of relief.

That was too easy.

She relaxed into the pillows as sunlight pooled across the room. The weight of her heels, the bass of the club, the tension of sneaking in — it all slipped away as her body finally gave in to the comfort of her bed.

She was grateful for the escape. And soon, her eyes fluttered shut.

_____

Kelvin was also dragged to church that morning, quite literally.

Grandma Janet had barged into his room, after she had left Anita's room. She didn’t even let him protest. Not this time.

“No more excuses, Kelvin. The Lord’s house waits for no one,” she said firmly, and before he could roll back under his sheets, she had marched out, leaving him no choice but to follow.

So there he was — sitting stiffly in the front pew, trying not to doze off during the choir’s fifth rendition of a hymn. Every note felt like a hammer to his skull. Every prayer stretched longer than the last.

When he had asked Grandma Janet why Anita wasn’t in church, she responded without suspicion.

“Poor girl,” she had said with a sigh. “She’s battling cramps. It just started this morning. I told her to rest.”

Kelvin rolled his eyes quietly. 'Cramps, huh?'

She was clever — he would give her that. Slipping out of church duty under the umbrella of womanhood’s pain was a move of pure genius. Meanwhile, he sat here suffering the full weight of holy endurance. He wished he had done the same thing too, but he did not expect that grandma Janet would insist on him following her to church. She always allowed him the liberty being at home on Sundays.

When the service finally ended — after what felt like an eternity of preaching, clapping, and sanctified shouting — Kelvin escaped outside before he lost his mind, while Grandma Janet was discussing with the Pastor and some other church members.

He stood beside the sleek black car, hands buried deep in his pockets, the sun brushing the top of his neatly combed hair. Grandma Janet was still inside, while Kelvin remained by the car, waiting for her.

He didn’t mind the quiet. In fact, he needed it. But as he stared blankly across the crowd of worshippers milling about the church courtyard, something shifted in the air. His eyes landed on a figure. And his heart dropped. It was Alice, his ex wife.

She stood a few yards away, her back turned slightly as she flipped through a modest bookstall. Her fingers moved delicately over the covers, her posture relaxed, her presence unassuming. A breeze tugged at the folds of her cream gown, and for a moment, she looked like she had stepped out of a dream.

Kelvin’s breath caught.

She was supposed to be gone — back to the village, to her family, far from the city. So he had thought. But there she was. Still in the city. Still in his orbit. And she was able to knock the breath out of his lungs with nothing more than her presence.

The time away from him hadn’t diminished her. If anything, she seemed even more self-assured. There was a glow to her, a quiet confidence in the way she stood there like she belonged — without needing to belong to anyone.

And just as that raw ache settled in his chest, Daniel appeared from the other side of the stall. He stepped up beside her with the ease of a man who knew her rhythm. His smile was subtle, casual, and Alice’s face lit up in return with something Kelvin had never seen in all their time together.

Their connection was not loud. It wasn’t even dramatic. But it hit him like a wrecking ball.

The way Alice leaned toward Daniel when he spoke… the effortless touch of fingers as he passed her a book… the way her laughter danced in the air and wrapped itself around the man beside her — It stung him.

It was then Kelvin realized something bitter: he had never made her laugh like that, with that kind of warmth and freedom. And that was because he didn't want to. He had seen her as worthless. A piece of trash that was not worth being beside him.

A knot tightened in his throat, and he fought the urge to look away. But he couldn’t. His hands curled into fists in his pockets, his jaw clenched. He had no right to feel what he felt. Not after everything. Not with Anita still at his house. Not after letting Alice go like she meant nothing.

But he did feel it. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Regret.

And then she turned. Alice looked up from the book she was clutching and her eyes locked with his. Just like that, the world slowed.

It was only seconds, but it stretched between them like eternity.

Her gaze wavered. There was recognition in it. Hesitation. And something else — something unreadable that danced behind her calm composure. Then Daniel followed her line of sight and saw him. Their eyes met.

The unspoken war began. It was nothing but a look, but it was charged. Electric. Territorial. Tense.

Daniel didn’t move. He didn’t smile. He simply stood there beside Alice, like he belonged there — and Kelvin hated how natural it looked.

Before anything else could happen, Kimberly's voice broke the tension like a splash of cold water. “Alice! Daniel! Come on, let’s go!”

She emerged from the crowd, cheerful and oblivious, and linked her arm through Alice’s, gently tugging her away. Daniel fell into step beside them, silent and assured.

Alice cast Kelvin one final glance over her shoulder. It wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t warm. It was unreadable. And then she disappeared with her company into the parking lot, into another car, into another world that wasn’t his anymore.

The air rushed back into Kelvin’s lungs. He blinked. The hum of voices returned. Birds chirped overhead. The smell of fresh pastries wafted from a nearby vendor.

But Kelvin was frozen. Rooted in place by the ache of something he could no longer hold. Something he had never truly known how to cherish.

And as Grandma Janet finally approached the car, her heels clicking against the pavement, Kelvin didn’t hear a word she said.

His mind was still with Alice — with the book in her hands, with the man beside her, with the unreadable expression in her eyes. And suddenly, Anita’s absence did not matter. Because he had just known what it felt like when someone else got everything he had carelessly thrown away.

______

The ride back to the mansion was thick with silence.

Grandma Janet filled the quiet with idle chatter from the backseat, commenting on the pastor's sermon and some mother she hadn’t seen in months. But Kelvin barely responded. He gave the occasional nod, eyes trained outside the window, his jaw set. He looked like he was somewhere else entirely.

Even when they got home and the massive front doors of the mansion swung open, Kelvin didn’t wait around. He stepped inside, unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, and headed straight for the kitchen.

Anita was already downstairs, lounging in main sitting rooms, downstairs, flipping lazily through a health magazine. She looked refreshed and glowing, like someone who had truly enjoyed her morning of rest. And of course she dressed appropriately as grandma Janet would prefer. She had seen Kelvin walk past her without a word.

But as soon as grandma Janet entered, Anita greeted her cheerfully.

"You look better now." Grandma Janet smiled, "I'm sure the herbal tea worked really well for you, didn't it?" she asked.

Anita plastered her deceptive smile, "Yes, grandma. It did give me relief. Thank you grandma"

She was lying. The moment one of the kitchen staff had sent the tea to her, she threw it away, into her toliet and flushed it.

"You're welcome, dear" Grandma Janet said, oblivious. "I'll just go to my room and rest a while before having lunch. You enjoy your day"

With that, grandma Janet left.

Then Anita entered the kitchen to meet Kelvin,

having noticed his mood.

“What's the matter, babe? You look.... I don't know.... like you just lost your inheritance” she asked him.

Kelvin ignored the question and moved the water dispenser, filling his glass again and drinking it in slow, controlled sips. Anita watched him, her brows knitting just slightly.

Something was definitely off.

She was expecting him to tease her for skipping church, probably lament about the torture he had gone through at the church and crack a sarcastic line about hymns and all the church goers.

But he said nothing. He was unusually quiet — too quiet. His shoulders were tense, and his expression distant, like his mind had wandered somewhere he didn’t want to go.

She stood and made her way to him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tone breezy.

“Yes, I'm fine,” he muttered, setting down the empty glass.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she added, searching his face.

Kelvin shrugged. “I'm just tired.”

“Church couldn’t have been that draining.”

He gave a short, joyless laugh. “Yet, you found your way out of it.”

Anita tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Did something happen?”

Kelvin met her gaze for a beat too long.

Then he looked away, expression slipping into that emotionless mask she hated — the one that shuts her out.

“No,” he said shortly. “Nothing happened. I'm just exhausted, plus I have some tedious work lined up at the office for me tomorrow.” He sighed, "I'll just go rest. You have fun"

And with that, he brushed past her and disappeared, leaving Anita standing, frowning. She didn’t believe him. He was hiding something. And she wondered what it was.

With a flick of her wrist, she returned to the living room, to her magazine, like nothing had happened — because as far as she was concerned, whatever had rattled Kelvin was his problem, not hers.