Jorge stared at the plane ticket in his hand in dread as he stood in front of Sonya's door. He had not had a decent conversation with her since he went to confront her about MJ and Logan. They sorted things out that night, followed by a love-making session, after which Jorge snuck out of the hotel, and then from there on, he ignored her calls and texts.Sonya wanted to know where they stood because she would not spend all her life waiting for him to make a decision about where their relationship was going after the whole MJ saga.MJ was his sister, and Sonya was the love of his life; but despite everything that happened, he needed them both in his life. He loved them both and hoped for them to fix whatever tension was brewing between the two of them, but he knew that it was near impossible; MJ had no friends, and even if she did, they were most likely going to walk out of her life.But Sonya would never walk out of their lives; she would never walk

 Lola did not know what was worse. Her younger sister's depression, her husband's disappearance, Logan Parker's ignorance, or Sonya's unnerving calls and voicemails. It felt as if she carried the weight of the earth on her shoulders.  Shannon was always locked up in her room, and when Lola got the chance to see her; all Shannon did was ramble on about how she shouldn't have been there. On the other hand, her husband was yet to show up after they called him to inform him about his cousin's accident; and as for the said cousin, she did not want anyone to see her at the hospital, and now her entire family was here, demanding for answers.  Then there was Sonya who kept calling in a frenzy. After Logan fired her, she seemed to be on edge; her messages were either filled with threats or desperate cries. She was overly sensitive and emotional, and Lola had enough problems dealing with her own husband's dysfunctional family. A

 The sun rose and set, stars glistened in the sky and disappeared, and days and nights passed, but she remained limp and unconscious on her bed.  Cool air surged around the room as the fan howled heavily on the chair, pointed towards the bed; and a bowl of cold water sat on the headboard.  An older African woman with tanned skin sat at the edge of the bed with a wet cloth clutched in her hand as she glazed down at the pale figure lying on the bed.  MJ laid unconscious on the bed, with a bandage wrapped around her head. Her chest rose as she breathed steadily. She had been changed into a set of printed pyjamas, and half her body was covered in bed sheets.  "What if she never wakes up, Sandra?" A panicked voice asked. "It's been two days."  "Then we will have two funerals." Sandra Cooper answered without missing a heartbeat, and cold silence se

 Black.  The colour of coal.  The colour of night.  The colour of pain. Darkness.  The very same colour that tore them apart. And today, it was the colour she wore right before his memorial service.  She crouched down beside the vanity, staring blankly at the wedding pictures that littered the top. Now that she thought about it, their love story was scandalous; a young, black, Zulu woman who ran off with a white man during the apartheid regime.  Her peers were not happy, the remaining of her family were disappointed. But none of that mattered. She was n love with the man, and he loved her just as equally if not more.  They moved settled in England in 2000 after travelling the world together, and they lived as happily as any people in love did. But it was not all gold; his family despised her

 The first thing that occurred to MJ when she stepped into the room, was how packed it was; and then the first thing she thought when she spoke, was how every single person was looking at her. But the moment her eyes landed on the casket sitting at the podium, everyone and everything else disappeared, and she found her feet taking her to the front.  She stood in front of the casket with her back turned against the crowd, and placed her palm on top. A flash of the murder hit her sight and a gunshot echoed in her ears, causing her to grip the casket for dear life. She closed her eyes and released a sharp breath. "I stood outside this building for more than an hour and stared at the stars, hoping that they hear my call. I stood out there and listened to all of you talk about what a good man Alastair Cooper was. But the truth is, your words mean nothing." A chorus of whispers rose, and people started shifting in their seats; but MJ did not pay atte