Gone Bad (Nigerian Novel) -Editing

Chapter 19: Not So Nice to Meet You

Without a second word, Demilade walks into the living room and I remain frozen as I watch my worst nightmare unfold before my eyes.

Neither boys seem angry and it makes me extra cautious of my speech.

"Hello sir, Funmi is not home," Demilade says coming back to rest on the wall beside me.

He's dangerously close to Isren and the height difference between the two is so minuscule that they both have a domineering presence over each other.

"Actually he-" I begin to explain but a voice shushes me.

"I'm not here for whoever that is. Nimi and I are heading out but it was nice meeting you Mr...?" Isren says in a condescending manner; jealousy showcasing the arrogant mogul side of him I rarely saw.

The jibe sails over Demilade's shoulders, though his face falls and he crosses his arms over his chest.

"You don't say? Nimi did mention that earlier, let me just grab my stuff so she can lock up after me." Demilade replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone. The infamous scowl that I hadn't seen since our school showdown shows its ugly head, and he storms off.

I try to smile but come off looking like I was trying to pass a hard poop instead.

Isren merely gives me a once-over and leaves with a few words. "I'll be waiting in the car."

In the living room, I see Demilade furiously packing his stuff and when I turn to him I see him slipping his phone inside his pocket.

"Happy Birthday Nims," he says like the nickname was poison and throws his gift bag for me to catch.

I cradle it against my chest as I watch him make his way to the front door.

"Demilade please wait le-" I say but his stony gaze silences me.

"Hope I didn't ruin the surprise," he says and I hear a loud bang after.

My heart hiccups in my chest and tears soak the ornamented cardboard pack.

I sniffle as I stick my hand inside and bring out the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen.

He had gifted me a bronze heart-shaped locket. It looks antique, with the beautiful rose engraving possessing silver traces, and I squeeze it in my hand, my mind going back to our many mornings in the library.

One day he had caught me reading a historical fiction novel and teased me all day about the page where the mail order bride received a golden locket from her husband.

More saltwater spills down my cheek at the memory and I rush into the kitchen so I can cover up when I go out to meet Isren, but more because I want to have a clear look at what was inside the locket.

After my ducts are dry and the redness around my eyes subsides I crack it open and see a laminated picture of me glaring with my mouth in a hideous snarl.

I laugh remembering how he had taken the picture during Sunday service much to my annoyance.

Now the image makes my heart squeeze tightly and I stow it away in my floral wallet.

I had messed up. Big time.

....................

The interior of Isrens car is as luxurious as ever but this time we're in a BMW I couldn't name for the life of me.

Personally, I was proud I even recognized a car I had only seen a few times on my TikTok For You Page.

Beside me, Isren mans the vehicle and silence engulfs us till I break it.