Sophie stood silently on the balcony adjacent to the guest bedroom of the double- storey house, her arms folded loosely over the railing as she gazed into the dimly lit night. A soft breeze stirred the air, brushing against her skin, yet her mind was far from the coolness that surrounded her.
She was deep in thought, silently wondering, "Does Annette always return home this late?" It was already past 10 p.m. Supper had long been eaten, the dishes cleared, and little Asta had surrendered to sleep, despite his dramatic efforts to appear energetic and unbothered. The child had spent the entire day immersed in play, Occasionally asking when his auntie would arrive. Eventually, fatigue had overcome his stubbornness, and he drifted off, his tiny form now curled peacefully on the bed.
Yet Sophie remained unsettled. Something about going to bed before the rightful owner of the house returned felt...improper. It gnawed at her- a subtle but persistent discomfort she couldn't ignore. It reminded her, strangely, of those long nights she once spent waiting for the Kinuthia, sitting up in the living room no matter how late he came home, pretending not to care yet never truly able to sleep until she heard the gate creaked open.
Her train of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by the familiar blare of a car horn. She turned instinctively toward the gate, narrowing her eyes in the darkness. As the vehicle slowly rolled into the compound, the headlights casting fleeting shadows across the driveway, she recognized it at once- it was Annette.
Sophie straightened slightly, her gaze following the car until it came to a full stop. A quiet exhale escaped her lips.
So... she's finally home.
A sudden impulse stirred within Sophie- a fleeting but strong urge to head downstairs. Perhaps I could help her with something, she reasoned, stepping quietly away from the balcony. She figured Wamary, the housekeeper, must have already gone to bed, and it felt only to lend a hand if Annette needed it.
As she began descending the staircase, her steps were slow, cautious, yet purposeful. But halfway down, Sophie paused-completely taken aback by the sight that greeted her.
There stood Annette, framed in the warm hallway light. Her figure exuded a raw, effortless strength. Her dreadlocks, typically tied back into a neat ponytail, had slipped slightly, some strands falling loosely around her face and shoulders. She wore a faded, oil-stained apron that clung to the curves of her body, a mark of the gritty hours she had just spent under a vehicle's hood. The heavy-duty boots she wore thudded softly against the tiled floor, coated in a fine layer of dust and grease. Her shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing firm, sinewy arms smudged with black streaks from engine work- hands still bearing faint traces of oil and mechanical grime.
She didn't look worn out, though. If anything, she looked...alive. Capable. Commanding.
Sophie stood frozen for a second, her breath caught somewhere in her chest, Her heart gave a tiny, inexplicable flutter as her eyes followed every detail-every deliberate, confident movement.
"She looks...handsome," Sophie thought, momentarily stunned by the raw magnetism Annette exuded. "Hot, even...in those rugged, work-stained clothes. Like someone who doesn't just survive-but takes charge of their world."
She blinked, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up her neck.
Annette, noticing the hesitation and stunned look on Sophie's face, raised an eyebrow as she unfastened her boots by the doorway. "Is there something on me?" she asked casually, glancing down at her apron and oil-smeared hands. "You look...perplexed."
Sophie snapped out of her daze and quickly cast her eyes downward, embarrassed. "N-nothing," she mumbled, heat rising to her cheeks.
Annette tilted her head slightly. "You're not asleep yet?"
Sophie nodded too quickly. "I was about to. I-I was reading my Bible. Just a few verses before bed."
Even as she said it, Sophie knew she was lying. The worn book had remained untouched on her bedside table all evening. The truth was, she had lingered upstairs restlessly, drawn by an inexplicable pull-waiting, without meaning to wait.
Annette gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement. "Oh. Alright."
Trying to recover from her awkwardness, Sophie quickly added, "Do you need anything? Maybe some dinner? I can warm something up for you...Wamary's already asleep, I assume."
Annette shook her head, untying her apron and folding it over one arm. "Thanks, but already ate. I'm full."
Still standing near the foot of the stairs, Sophie hesitated. She didn't want the conversations to end-not just yet. "Well," she said, her voice a little gentler, "how about a cup of milk? it helps ease fatigue...and it's good for the immune system."
Annette gave her a curious look, half amused, half appreciative. "Milk?"
"Just one cup," Sophie insisted, already turning toward the kitchen. "Warm, You don't have to do anything-I'll prepare it."
There was a beat of silence. Then Annette gave a small, tired chuckle. "You don't give up so easily, do you?"
Sophie smiled, not meeting her eyes. "Not when it comes to health."
Annette, stretching her shoulders wearily, glanced toward Sophie before heading upstairs. I'll just take a quick shower and be right down," she said, her voice faintly hoarse from the day's toil.
Sophie nodded with a gentle smile. "Take your time. I'll get things ready."
As Annette's footsteps receded up the stairs, Sophie moved into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, hesitated, then reached for the bacon. Something warm and savory might do her good, she thought. She pan-fried the slices gently, letting the aroma filled the quiet house, and then arranged them neatly on a small porcelain plate beside the cup of milk. She placed everything on a tray with careful precision and carried it into the dining room.
Annette hadn't come down yet.
Just as Sophie placed the tray on the table, the shrill ring of the house phone pierced the silence. She paused, uncertain. It rang again...and again. Whoever was calling had no intention of giving up. Figuring it might be urgent, Sophie reluctantly reached for the receiver.
"Hello? she said softly. "Who is this?"
There was no response-only a faint breath on the other end. She frowned. "Hello?" she repeated, her voice now tinged with concern.
Then came a voice. Sharp. Cold. Commanding.
"Hello to you. Who are you?"
The tone caught Sophie off guard. Her grip on the receiver tightened.
"I-my name is Sophie. Annette is upstairs. Could you wait a moment? I'll let her know-"
But the voice on the other end cut her off, now simmering with rage. "What are you doing there?" it spat. "Who gave you the right to be in that house?"
Sophie stiffened, her heart beating faster.
"Pardon?"
"I swear, if I find you there-"the voice seethed, "you'll curse the day you were born. I knew you were the reason she hasn't been replying to my messages or answering my calls."
Sophie's breath caught in her throat, stunned by the venom in the voice. Her fingers trembled against the receiver, but before she could form a reply, a soft sound came from behind her.
As Sophie stood there, stunned by the venomous voice on the phone, she turned at the soft sound of approaching footsteps. Annette, now dressed in a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants, her damp dreadlocks loosely tied back, had descended the stairs and paused at the edge of the dining room, her expression unreadable.
Sophie, still holding the receiver, gestured hesitantly.
"You're needed on the phone," she said quietly.
Annette frowned. "By who?"
Sophie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, the irate voice from the phone blared again. "Tell her it's Laura!"
Sophie flinched, the tension in the voice pressing against her chest like weight.
"It's...it's Laura," she said softly, glancing at Annette uncertainly.
Annette's expression changed- her jaw tightened, her eyes darkening. She exhaled sharply through the nose.
"Tell her I'm not in the mood," she said coldly turning away.
Sophie hesitated, her hand still on the phone. She found herself tongue-tied, unsure whether to relay the message. It felt wrong-almost cruel. Isn't that too blunt? she thought. Wouldn't that just make things worse?
Before she could make a decision, Annette spun around, crossed the room briskly, and snatched the receiver from Sophie's hand. With one swift motion, she slammed it back into the cradle.
The silence that followed was louder than the ringing had been.
Annette turned to Sophie, her voice firm, but not raised.
"If you've finished warming the milk," she said with cold finality, "you may go rest."
There was no room for discussion.
Sophie stood motionless for a beat, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Then, without a word, she turned and quietly walked away, the tray of untouched bacon still resting on the dining table behind her.
As Sophie ascended the stairs in silence, her mind whirled with questions. The name still echoed in her ears-Laura. Who was she?
That name alone had shifted the atmosphere in the house like a thunderclap. Annette, usually so composed and indifferent, had stormed the phone into its cradle with an intensity Sophie hadn't seen before. Her eyes had turned cold, her words clipped and sharp-so unlike the calm, self-assured woman she'd started to admire, even envy.
Sophie reached the landing and lingered outside the guest bedroom, her fingers trailing absently along the polished rail. Who is Laura? she wondered again.
Was she a friend? An enemy? A lover? A rival? Was she the reason Annette behind that tension Annette carried in her shoulders? Was she someone from her past-or worse-someone still in her present?
The way the caller had spoken, so full of entitlement and anger...it wasn't casual. No stranger spoke like that. There was possessiveness, accusation...pain.
And the way Annette reacted-like someone hit in the gut by a memory she thought she had buried.
Sophie sighed, her brows slightly furrowed as she entered her room. She peeked at Asta, who was sound asleep, his chest rising and falling gently under the covers. His innocence brought her a brief wave of piece. But the question still lingered like a whisper in the corners of her mind.
Who is Laura? And what history does she hold in Annette's tightly guarded world?