I walked into the house; willing myself not to remember anything but the very second I entered my eyes went to the chandelier.
One would wonder why the chalendier; the answer was simple. My husband used to have the mindset that the chandelier of a house depicts the mood of the house. I always laughed at such a mentality. He was a queer one for sure, always dressed up in his white sparkly coat and white smile.
He used to love chandeliers so much that I soon took after him in his peculiar taste I was still lost in thought staring at the pools of rainbow colors that spun from the chandelier, a sharp cough by my side distracted me and my cold demeanor returned
"Miss Guvan…." I cut him off, disgust clearly written on my face. How dare he address me as a miss. As if to make my point known I raise my diamond ring for him to see.
A sneering look appears on his face as he took no regard of my gesture
"Guvanchi you know your husband is dead and there's nothing you can do about it" his words hit me straight in my heart and tears pooled around my eyes but I couldn't cry not here; I can't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. He stretches his hand to touch me and I slap it off
"Abel you need to stop blabbing and go straight to the point" I replied rolling my eyes
"Guvanchi remember we need to be on good terms" he said as his eyes twinkled with mischief he made a beeline and I followed his stare to see the media and paparazzi all around.
I needed to maintain a good front, Abel was the new financial executive of my company and it would be for the press to get wind of bad affiliations between us.
"Abel like I said earlier you need to stop blabbing and go straight to the point I didn't even invite you here remember"
"You didn't need to, your father.. he pauses and snickers "you ex father in law owes me remember"
Of course I remembered and that was the only reason I was entertaining this fool.
My husband was the only heir of the Black wood family and they had the biggest tech company in the country and so many rivals. My husband never wanted to carry on with the family business but I for one was interested in it.
My father in law and I were practically besties and he left the company in my care to oversee things only few people knew that the company wasn't truly mine as some people thought it had been transferred to me.
I received a disturbing phone call from him earlier
"hello my baby girl" he always called me his baby girl
"Hello Dad" that was our usual greeting even though I had become cold and unapproachable I never gave my father in law attitude we had an understanding relationship; we didn't speak all the time but somehow understood each other
"Allen is coming over, give him the position of the financial executive but I still need you to block him from harnessing any real figures just give him the position as a show doll or something.." he sounded stressed and forced
"Dad.." I was about to protest
"Please do it for my sake I owe his dad"and just like that the line went off. I threw my phone at the wall in frustration, I didn't understand what my father in law owed Allen and his family and this wasn't the first compromise that we had to make for them
Because of what we "owed". And that's was the only reason I was tolerating Allen because of what we owed even though I didn't know what it was but I knew it wasn't money
I responded coldly" Dad owes your father not you, and if you're done excuse me I have somewhere to be" and with that I sashay out of his presence and head towards the big steps as I'm walking up the stairs, and I can't help but notice how beautiful they are. The marble gleams in the morning light, and the intricate carvings on the banister seem to dance with every step. I feel a sense of pride, remembering how much I helped pick out these decorations when I first moved in.
As I reach the top, I turn the corner and collide with someone. I stumble back, apologizing profusely, and look up to see Jasmine, my mother-in-law, staring at me with a mix of confusion and fear.
My heart sinks. Sometimes she recognizes me, and we're okay. Sometimes she doesn't, and it's like I'm the enemy. I brace myself for the anger, the accusations. But instead, she surprises me by throwing her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.
"Be careful of Allen and his family," she whispers, her voice trembling.
I freeze, unsure how to respond. What's she talking about? Before I can ask, her expression changes. Her eyes narrow, and she pushes me away, her face twisted in rage.
"You witch! You killed my son! Get out of here!" she screams, her voice echoing through the halls.
I feel like I've been slapped. The words cut deep, but I've heard them before. I've seen the pain in her eyes, the grief that's consumed her since her son's death. I remember the countless afternoons we spent sipping tea, laughing, and sharing stories. She was my friend, my confidante.
But after the news, she changed. Blamed me for everything. I tried to be patient, to understand her pain, but it's hard when she lashes out every time she sees me.
I take a deep breath, forcing a calm tone. "Jasmine, it's me, Your daughter in law . I'm here for you."
But she's beyond reason now, screaming and pushing me away. I back off, tears pricking at my eyes. I know she's not herself. I know she's hurting.
One day, when her memory comes back, she'll apologize for this. She'll remember the laughter, the friendship, and the love we shared. She'll remember that I loved her son, and that I'm hurting too.
Until then, I'll be here, waiting, and loving her, even when she can't love herself.