Chapter Eight

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Chapter 8

**Damian's POV**

It's dinner time, and everyone has to be logged in by exactly 7:15 pm. Sometimes, we eat as early as 6:35 pm if time permits or if everyone is really hungry.

Today, I’m not sure about my appetite because my mind is fixated on this live football score...

La Liga.

With my iPhone 15 Pro Max, I’m still scrolling to find out who made Chelsea lose 5-0.

Damn it! Someone needs to be held accountable for this!

Ridiculous!!!

Okay, calm down, Damian, and face reality.

I know the rivalry between Chelsea and Man United isn't child's play, but who’s to blame now?

The team or their coach?

I stopped glaring at the match from five minutes ago. An ad for Sporty Bet popped up. Not being a fan of betting, I dismissed it and let out a loud sigh that caught attention in the dining room.

And I guess it did, because...

"Damian?" I was right. Who else but mom? "Are you going to eat your food or your phone?"

"Mom..." I slowly put my phone on the table.

"Where are your table manners, son?" Okay, dad, no one asked you to be the chief judge of the day.

They're all pretending to be nice because of one person, my baby girl Sharon.

If she wasn't here, I'd see people eating, munching, and crunching with their mouths open, showing food mixed with saliva on their tongues.

Sorry if that’s harsh, but that's their real manners.

You should see them eating 'swallow.' Swallow is a term for soft, light foods in my dialect.

It could be cassava: from cassava, we get many nutritious foods. Foods like cassava flakes, commonly known as garri in my country. Garri can be soaked and drunk like cereal or stirred in boiling water to be eaten with soup. It can also be made in a bowl if not stirred in a pot.

From the same cassava, we get asylum, known as starch. It's very sticky and can be yellowish or white.

We also get Santana, fufu, or akpu from cassava.

I could go on, but since I'm not an agriculturist, I’ll just focus on my food before my parents scold me in front of my niece.

By the way, what I’m eating now is one of the foods I mentioned...

Garri, or eba, with my favorite soup, egusi, also known as melon soup.

What makes this soup special is the way my mom cooks it—number one. Plus, the soup is filled with various fish, cow skin, cow tail, shrimp, and crayfish.

Yum yum.

Mom smiled as she saw me digging into my beef. I’m not using cutlery.

To hell with that.

It wastes my time. I like to be the simple Nigerian man that I am.

My dad brought up a topic during dinner. What do you call that? Ugly table manners? No, I was asking mom in my thoughts. Of course, I wouldn’t dare say it out loud unless I wanted my days to be numbered.

Lol.

The rest of my brothers joined the discussion. It was about our goals for today.

"Mine was nice. Didn’t meet up with many people," I said before drinking my freshly squeezed orange juice.

As if he was going to steer the topic into relationships, Darin brought up something to avoid dad's scheme of work talk.

But I could still see the annoyance in his eyes. He really wanted to discuss it, but...

Thanks, Sharon, for changing the topic to your new basic science teacher.

Wink.

Now, we can eat in peace after dodging tonight’s pressure. The least I expect is someone knocking on my bedroom door to discuss something with me, and guess what?

I’m unavailable.

Sleep mode.

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