SPLINTER

1.

MARCUS

ᥫ᭡

"You're late tonight again," Nadine's voice greets me as I walk through the front door. Her tone carries a edge I don't quite like.

Regardless, I decreetly inhale, trying to tame my racing heart beat, while doing my best to keep my composure in tact.

Why the fuck are you sitting in the dark?

Reaching for the switch on the wall behind me, I flick the lights on.

My eyes travel over to her, sitting on the couch in her night gown with a ridiculous-looking puffy bonnet on her head. Her eyes are narrowed, and her nose upturned, her plump lips pressed into a thin line.

I glance at the time on the clock above her head. Nine o'clock pon di dot.

Fuck.

I didn't expect her to be up.

Seems she's been waiting for me.

"I had some late meetings, babes. You know how it is," I reply, loosening my tie and planting a kiss on her cheek.

Nadine's eyes search mine, but she says nothing more.

Her nonchalance makes me nervous.

"What?" I press, sensing, by the look on her face, that she wants to speak her mind but is holding back.

"You always seem to have late meetings these days," she murmurs, standing from the couch. "Why?" Her shoulders are tense, and I can see the frown lines on her forehead, despite her facial expression being neutral.

Without waiting for my answer, she turns and heads towards the kitchen.

Jah Jah...

"I'm sorry, baby. But you know what it's like when it touches peak season at the office," I say, following her into the kitchen.

That's not a complete lie.

I watch as she walks over to the stove and removes the glass lid from the pot.

The aroma of what I presume is dinner fills the room. My mouth waters. I haven't eaten since lunch. I can tell she worked hard on this meal, by the smell alone, and guilt gnaws at me for being late again.

For the third night in a row. As a matter of fact.

Moving behind her, I place my hands on her hips and rest my chin on her shoulder, peering into the pot. "That smells delicious..."

She simply hums. "Well, let's eat before it gets any colder."

"Can I freshen up first?"

"Didn't you do that at the office?"

"Wah? How mi fi do that at the office...?" I chuckle but it's forced.

She probably smelled the perfume.

I hope not.

"Just sit, Marcus, you're already late. Eating before showering for one night won't kill you," she says, placing the plates on the table.

She's pissed. Nah ask.

I can sense the tension behind her tone, so I don't push it.

Instead, I unbuckle my belt and shrug off my shirt, tossing it on the back of an empty chair.

The atmosphere feels heavy as we sit down.

Without much eye contact, Nads passes me the bowl of raw veg. My frown deepens as I take it from her grasp. A so mi know she inna her feelings because usually she woulda plate it fimmi herself.