CHAPTER THREE- THE PAST

Two weeks had passed since I first laid eyes on Michael. My husband mentioned he was traveling around the country, reconnecting with extended family and childhood friends. I couldn't say I was anything less than relieved. With him gone, the house had settled back into its familiar, gentle rhythm. I was finally enjoying the peaceful atmosphere again, a sense of normalcy I had feared was permanently disrupted.

Given our last explosive encounter, the idea of a normal mother-son relationship was a fantasy. Who was I kidding? He would never see me as a maternal figure not with barely a handful of years between us. I hadn’t signed up for this silent war when I married Kwame, but perhaps it was an inevitable price for the happiness I’d found.

My thoughts were shattered by a familiar, impatient knocking on the bathroom door. “Hurry up, honey, or I’m going to be late for my lecture!”

“I’m almost done! Just a second!” I shouted back, quickly rinsing my face.

I wasn’t attending his class today, but I always accompanied him to his car to see him off. It was a small, unconscious tradition we’d built, a quiet moment of connection before the day pulled us in separate directions. I walked to my closet and selected a simple blue dress sprinkled with a delicate white floral pattern. After grabbing his leather briefcase, I headed to the living room, where he sat engrossed in the morning newspaper.

He glanced up at the sound of my footsteps, his eyes crinkling into a warm smile. “That was quick.”

“I’m The Flash, remember?” I said, tilting my head with a playful smile, falling easily into our old banter.

He chuckled, the sound rich and comforting. “‘Miss Flash.’ How could I forget?” he teased, rising to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me into a brief, solid embrace. “Let’s get going, sweetie.”

I nodded, and we made our way through the hall towards the front door, my hand resting comfortably in the crook of his arm.

Just as the gate motor whirred to life, a voice pierced the morning calm from the driveway.

“The whole Kumasi! The whole Kumasi!”

I groaned internally. Only one person had that particular brand of chaotic energy. My best friend, Nelly, marched through the open gate, chanting the ridiculous nickname she’d bestowed upon me years ago. She froze mid-chant, her dramatic entrance collapsing into wide-eyed mortification as she spotted my husband beside me.

I couldn’t help it, a burst of hearty laughter escaped me. The look on her face was priceless.

Don’t misunderstand me; I loved Nelly with my whole heart. She had been my sister in spirit since senior high school. We’d shared a classroom, then a university course, and an unbreakable bond. Where I was reserved and slow to trust, Nelly was a force of nature,outgoing, hilarious, and capable of befriending a stone wall within minutes.

Even though I was now Mrs. Yeboah, she could never quite shift her view of my husband from ‘Dr. Yeboah, our intimidating lecturer’ to ‘Kwame, Raquel’s sweet partner.’ Her impeccable behavior around him was a performance she hated but couldn’t seem to drop.

“G-good morning, Dr. Yeboah,” she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual, a feeble attempt at damage control.

My husband returned her greeting with amused grace, making polite small talk about her family. I stood beside him, biting the inside of my cheek to stop another laugh from bubbling up. She looked like a schoolgirl who’d just been caught scribbling on a classroom wall.

Finally, Kwame took his briefcase from me, pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, and waved us goodbye before heading to his car.

The moment his car disappeared down the road, I turned to find Nelly glaring at me, her hands on her hips. “You are such a bad friend,” she accused.

I placed a hand over my heart, feigning deep hurt. “Oh, bae, what have I done?”

“Girl, why didn’t you signal me or something? I came in here acting a full clown while your husband was standing right there!” she whined, her dramatic flair returning in full force.

“How was I to know you’d make a mega entrance?” I burst out laughing, the tension of the last two weeks melting away in her familiar presence.

“Don’t give me that. You set me up,” she pouted.

“Girl, drop it. You know I wouldn’t do that to my only ‘bae’ in the world,” I said, looping my arms around her from behind in a backward hug.

“If you weren’t my ‘whole Kumasi,’ I’d still be bored,” she declared, relenting with a grin.

I gave her an appreciative smile. “Nelly, you seriously have to retire that nickname. You gave it to me a decade ago. Time for an upgrade.”

“I am not changing it,” she stated with finality. “Where else can you find a pretty, hot, and classy girl like you in the whole city of Kumasi? Your guess is as good as mine, nowhere. So the name sticks.”

“Hey, stop flirting with me. I’m not gay, you know,” I said, playfully swatting her arm.

“I wish you were,” she shot back with a cackle. “Now, let’s go to your room and catch up. I need the full two-week tea.”

She punctuated her sentence with a light slap on my backside and took off running into the house.

“I’m going to get you for that!” I yelled after her, chasing her up the stairs with playful threats.

I found her collapsed on my king-sized bed, laughing breathlessly. I joined her, our giggles subsiding into comfortable silence as we lay side by side, catching up on the latest  gossip and her new job woes. After a while, I got up, moving to my walk-in closet to show her a new sequined dress I’d bought on a whim.

“Raquel! Come here, quick! You don’t want to miss this!” Nelly’s urgent whisper cut through my thoughts.

I hurried to the window where she was crouched, peering through the slats of the blinds like a spy. “What is it?” I asked, scanning the quiet street below.

“Girl, are you blind?” she whispered, tapping my shoulder insistently. “Can’t you see that specimen standing by the black SUV?”

My eyes followed her pointed finger to a figure leaning against a sleek car. A man in dark, fitted jeans and a simple white t-shirt, one foot propped on the bumper, wires from a headset trailing to his ears. He was looking down at his phone, a picture of casual, unaware elegance. The build was familiar, the broad shoulders, the height, the way he stood with a relaxed arrogance that once made my heart flutter. My mind, conditioned by two weeks of anxious anticipation, leaped to the worst possible conclusion.

Michael.

A cold wave of dread washed over me, freezing the laughter in my throat. The peaceful interlude was over.

“Nelly, be serious. How can you possibly tell he’s hot from this distance?” I managed to say, my voice strangely tight.

“Believe me, I’m practically wearing telescopic lenses that are specially calibrated to spot fine men,” she said, her voice giddy. “Look at the way he stands! The shoulders! Oh, he’s turning…”

We watched, half-hidden, as the man pushed off from the car, closed the door, and began walking with a confident, unhurried stride directly towards our gate. With every step, the details became clearer, and the ice in my veins began to thaw, replaced by a different, more shocking heat. It wasn’t Michael’s sharp, polished handsome-ness. This was a different kind of familiar, a face from a chapter of my life I had tried, and failed, to burn completely.

Nelly vibrated with excitement beside me. “He’s coming here! Do you know him? Is he a neighbor? Oh my God, do you think he’s single?”

I didn’t answer. I was transfixed, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my lips. He was closer now, close enough for me to see the slight smirk that always played on his lips, the way he ran a hand through his cropped hair, a habit I knew all too well.

The blood drained from my face, leaving me lightheaded. It wasn’t relief that flooded me. It was a dizzying, terrifying sense of the past crashing into my present.

“Are you okay?” Nelly’s voice shifted from excitement to concern. She touched my arm. “You just went pale. Is it… is it Michael? Did he come back?”

“I’m… I’m fine,” I managed, forcing a weak smile that felt like a crack in glass. My mind was reeling. What was he doing here? At my house? The coincidence was too brutal, too sharp to be random.

“Well?” she pressed, her eyebrow arched in expectation. “Are you going to tell me who that is? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

My mouth was desert-dry. I watched him push open the front gate, his head lifting as if he could feel our gaze. For a fleeting second, his eyes seemed to scan the front of the house before landing directly on our window. A jolt, electric and painful, shot through me. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips, as if he’d found exactly what he was looking for.

I swallowed hard, the peaceful shatter of my morning now complete. This was a different kind of storm.

“Well,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, laced with a old, forgotten hurt. “That… that is Frank.”

Nelly’s eyes widened in confusion. “Frank? Who’s Frank?”

I turned away from the window, my heart hammering against my ribs with a chaotic, painful rhythm. “Frank,” I repeated, the name tasting like ashes and unfinished business. “My ex.”

And somewhere, the unspoken connection hovered in the air, a dark thread yet to be pulled: the man at the gate, my past, was also the best friend of the man who hated me, my present. And none of us knew it yet.