Chapter 8: crossroads of hearts
Amelia sat cross-legged on her couch, eyes glued to the screen of her phone as she scrolled through the pictures Jake had just sent her. The lighting, the angles, the perfect moment Zackary reached for Nifemi's hand across the table—everything irritated her.
"Jake, this is amazing. I love the angles. You really outdid yourself this time," she said with a crooked smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Jake, the silent but sharp private investigator she had hired, gave a slight nod through the phone. "Thanks, ma'am."
Amelia scoffed. "Honestly, I don't even know what Zack sees in this low-budget girl. I mean, she's not even that pretty. I'm way prettier than her. And short? Please."
Jake paused, his face momentarily betraying disagreement before catching himself.
"So, what did you find out about her?" Amelia pressed, eyes narrowing.
Jake cleared his throat. "Nothing much. She has a routine—gym, coffee shop, then home. Pretty consistent."
Amelia scoffed again. "What a boring life."
"Any past history?" she asked, folding one leg over the other.
"Still working on that, ma'am. I'll update you. I should get going."
"Fine. I'll transfer some money to you. Keep tracking them."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
Just as the call ended, Mrs. Kate entered the room with careful steps.
"Master Franklin is waiting for you outside," she announced.
Amelia rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't get stuck. "Again? Gosh."
Franklin, tall, well-dressed, and charming in his quiet way, stood by the door holding a small gift bag. He smiled the moment he saw her.
"Good morning," he said, voice soft, hopeful.
"What do you want now? Don't they need you in your office or something?"
"I just thought to stop by... give you this," he said, handing her the bag with a warm smile. "How's your morning going?"
"It was going smoothly until you arrived," she snapped. "Gosh, I hate seeing your face. Don't you get it? I don't like guys like you who don't take 'no' for an answer."
Franklin's heart dropped. His smile faded, eyes clouding with hurt. He struggled to keep his voice steady. "I... I'll get going. I didn't mean to ruin your morning. Maybe I'll stop by in the evening."
"Don't come. I mean it."
He walked slowly to his car, sat behind the wheel, and stared blankly at the steering wheel.
"Maybe... maybe it's time to accept the reality," he whispered to himself, then drove off.
Back inside, Mrs. Kate was clearing the table. Amelia gestured lazily at the gift.
"Take that and feed it to the dogs. Or throw it away. I don't care."
Mrs. Kate sighed, her eyes soft with concern. "Amelia, my dear... maybe it's time to reconsider the way you treat young Master Franklin. He's kind, respectful. And maybe... just maybe, if you gave him a—"
"Who do you think you are? My mother?" Amelia cut her off, venom dripping from her voice. "Seems you're getting too comfortable in this house. Stay in your lane. Don't ever cross it again. Got that?"
Mrs. Kate lowered her eyes. She was used to it. She had been Amelia's caregiver since the girl was a toddler, after Amelia's mother passed. There were once times when Amelia would run to her arms crying over a scraped knee, or bring her drawings to show off proudly. But those memories were buried now, deep under layers of coldness.
Still, Mrs. Kate whispered under her breath, "She wasn't always like this."
---
Later that day, Nifemi and Priscilla walked out of school, books clutched in hand, chatting.
"You didn't gist me about your date! How did it go?" Priscilla nudged her.
Nifemi smiled shyly. "It was nice... we ate at this place near the park, he held my hand, we talked a lot. It felt... special."
"Awww, Nifeee! That's so sweet. I swear you're glowing," Priscilla teased.
"Oh please," Nifemi giggled.
"But girl, I'm starving," Priscilla rubbed her stomach.
They entered a nearby restaurant, bright and cozy with warm lighting. A waitress handed them menus.
"Two plates of spaghetti and turkey" Nifemi ordered.
Priscilla added, "And garlic bread ! Don't forget the garlic bread."
As they waited, Priscilla's eyes suddenly caught someone. Her gaze locked onto a young man sitting two tables away—tall, striking, with a calm sadness in his eyes. It was Franklin, unknowingly nursing his disappointment with a quiet drink.
"Hellooo, earth to Pris!" Nifemi waved. "What are you staring at?"
Priscilla blinked. "That fine bobo over there. See as he fresh. I'm going to meet him."
"Ha! Hold on a minute. Don't go and embarrass us. Let guys do the chasing. Don't be desperate. Have some dignity."
"Dignity? What's that? Sounds like a boring soup," Priscilla joked.
Nifemi laughed. "I'm serious . Don't go and embarrass yourself."
"Watch and learn," Priscilla said, standing up confidently.
She walked over to Franklin's table. He looked up, surprised.
"Hi... mind if I sit here?"
He hesitated, unsure. "Um... yeah, sure."
She sat with a warm grin. "I was sitting over there and noticed a fine-looking young man looking moody, like someone just told him pizza is banned nationwide."
Franklin chuckled. "That's a tragedy I wouldn't survive. I'm Franklin."
"I'm Priscilla. Nice to meet you. I promise I'm not as weird as I seem. Only on Thursdays."
He laughed again—harder this time. Something about her boldness and humour felt refreshing.
They talked. About food, about strange hobbies, about how both hated maths in school. And Franklin smiled more in that hour than he had in weeks.
As the conversation wound down, Priscilla leaned in with a mischievous glint. "So... for scientific research purposes only, can I have your number?"
Franklin chuckled. "Science must be proud of you."
They exchanged numbers, both smiling.