Chapter 3: Tea and Tension

Before I could finish, someone interrupted.

At the end of the corridor, Morayo stood leaning against the door.

She covered her face with her wrapper, coughing softly.

"Has Aunty Aisha come back?"

Tunde quickly went forward, took the shawl from the house girl, and draped it over her shoulders.

I hesitated, but for the sake of respect, I followed.

After all, she had raised Bola and Dayo.

Now that she had mentioned me, it would be rude not to acknowledge her.

Her face looked about sixty percent like mine.

Curved brows, soft eyes, but the corners of her eyes drooped a bit, making her look innocent and fragile.

As I came closer, she lowered her gaze and curtsied respectfully.

The house girl beside her held a wooden tray with two cups of steaming tea.

She picked up one cup, but her hand trembled so much that the cup rattled on the tray before it dropped, building a thick tension in the air.

"Aunty, abeg, take small tea."

I didn’t take it, my tone gentle.

"No need for all these formalities. You don’t have to do this; after all, you’re his wife now."

Morayo looked up at me.

The next moment, her hand shook and she dropped the teacup.

White porcelain shattered.

Hot tea splashed over the back of her hand.

She quickly hid her hand in her wrapper, her eyelashes trembling, as if she’d suffered a huge injustice. Her voice broke, and she clutched at my wrapper, pleading, "Is it because I took your place, Aunty? Please, no vex."

Tunde, standing behind her, immediately stepped forward and took her hand.

The fair back of her hand was now red.

"Bring a basin of cold water."

After telling the house staff, he turned to me, his eyes full of anger.

"I never thought you’d become so wicked."

His words were full of sarcasm.

"Yes. You wandered outside for years; if you hadn’t learnt a few tricks, you wouldn’t have survived."

Every word was like a stab.

He pressed on my wounds without mercy.

I gripped my sleeve, staring at him coldly. "I didn’t spill that tea."

The house girl, Ngozi, took the other cup from the tray.

I poured the hot tea at his feet, my voice steady: “That’s enough, Tunde.”

Ngozi gasped, her hand covering her mouth, while my own hands shook just a little, betraying the storm inside me.

He shielded Morayo and dodged, but his clothes were still splashed with tea.

His eyes grew cold, his voice barely holding back his anger. "You’re just being unreasonable."

He turned and led Morayo inside, leaving me standing at the door.

The slam of the door behind them was sharp, echoing through my chest, a reminder that in this house, I had become a stranger.