042

SHANTEL’S small living room had become a storm center. Her phone lay on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with Charles’s social media posts, yet she hadn’t even touched it in the last five minutes. Instead, she sat cross-legged on the couch, her back hunched, her fingers running through her hair as she hissed for the umpteenth time. The sound was sharp, almost cat-like, as though it could slice through the thick tension that filled the room. She threw her arms over her face, then ripped them down again, her eyes glued to the phone.

“Ughhh!” she hissed, slamming the phone back on the couch. She leaned forward, muttering under her breath. “Why isn’t he answering? Why? Why?”

Her younger sister, Tiana, who had been perched on the arm of the couch with her legs tucked underneath her, finally looked up. She raised one brow, giving Shantel a sidelong glance.

“Don’t tell me Charles is really making you act this way, sis?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm despite the amused smi