PANDORA’S BOX (pt.2)

“Welcome maa”

Nana Aba helped her mother with her handbag and, they chatted as they lazily strode inside to the house. Mr. Richardson sat at the dining table, finishing the last spoon of Jollof rice on his plate. He particularly smiled when she calmly greeted and, he delightfully welcomed her.

Nana Aba peeked through Katrina’s handbag and, she noticed her palms smeared with, sort of grey dust, whiles at it.

“Oh, maa your bag is dirty papa”, she mentioned, wiping off the cement residue from bottom of the bag.

Katrina eagerly seized the bag from her, guilt-stricken. She shouted at her to try controlling the reach of her overly curious hands. Nana Aba frowned and annoyingly asked when Achiaa, the maid, was returning back to the house.

Katrina intently threw her eyes over to the dining table and interestedly pointed out.

“Did you cook? Ei Nana since when?”, Katrina hilariously teased.

“Ahn Maa paa. I am not Kay oh”, Nana Aba humorously responded as she reached over to clear the dining table.

“I’m sure he’s buying indomie on some street at campus right now”, Mr. Richardson added.

They all instantly burst in laughter.

“Hmm, that girl will come and meet me. She told me the funeral at the village was only for 2 days and, would return this morning”, Katrina complained whiles she pulled a chair and sat beside Mr. Richardson at the dining table.

“Okay. Just small Nana. I’m quite full but I want to taste some too. Since your father ate and is still alive”

Nana amusingly smirked and jovially stormed out of the hall into the kitchen.

“Where were you? It’s almost 10 pm”, He suspiciously glared at her bag and asked.

“Kweku Richardson, what is it again, today? I went to women’s fellowship after work. If you must know, Tsssw”, Katrina blurted; rolling her eyes, her eye-lash extensions fluttering excessively at him.

“Hm! I see”, Kweku expressed and nodding in a somewhat scheming manner whiles, reserving further comments, as they spotted Nana Aba approaching from the kitchen, with a tray of half-filled plate of jollof rice.

 Katrina put on the brightest smile.

“Nana! I don’t want to hear the sound of the Tv, or any sound at that. I’ll be dropping you off much earlier tomorrow”. Kweku loudly conveyed as Nana Aba climbed the stairs up to her room at about 11 pm.

Katrina removed her Fendi watch, laid it on the mirror table and began undoing her brown suit buttons. Kweku robustly pulled her right shoulder from behind, forcefully whirling her body to face his. Her left hand carelessly pushed the watch as she rotated.

“Ah! What is wrong with you?!”, Katrina brittlely exploded.

“Oh, you tell me”

Kweku recklessly grabbed her arm and pressed it tight. She painfully moaned.

“I’ll ask again. And you better not give me bullshit. Where were you today?”

“Er-herh, so, there’s no limit to your insanity? Aow, leave me alone, your hurting me.”

“And I don’t believe you! Tell me now, who is he?”

She struggled to free her arm, throwing it over his face and impatiently removing her wig. She furiously pointed her index finger at his face, almost inch-perfect to touching his eye.

“ Who is who? Kweku, Kweku. You won’t try me today oh, Mister wife b-”

As the words heedlessly ensued from her mouth, her cheeks bore a deep stung from the ripping slap of his palm.

Globules of tears fell from her eyes as she delicately held that side of her face whiles her body impulsively falling on the bed behind her.

Kweku turned to the door, straightly smudging his palm over the bare skin of his head. He closed his eyes, frustrated, took a heavy breath and, swiftly paced to the door mindlessly shutting it behind him.

To be continued…

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