Replica: Crazy Versus Smart (Nigerian Story)

Chapter 37: Friends

I apologize for going to MIA for 2 weeks. Wattpad tampered with my account, but I got it settled in time. Don't forget to vote and comment on this chapter.

***

The bedroom was a haven of opulence, with plush velvet drapes cascading from the ceiling and a chandelier casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The soft hum of classical music filled the air, mingling with the scent of fresh roses arranged meticulously on the marble-topped dresser. Grace Phillip, now posing as Susanne Balogun, stepped inside. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over her as if she truly belonged in this world of serene luxury. The environment consumed her thoughts. She couldn’t help but blush, mentally.

Musimbi noticed with a mixture of concern and admiration that Susanne had become noticeably slimmer, her beauty more radiant but tinged with an unfamiliar fragility.

“Knock! Knock!” The heels of Musimbi’s fingers tapped against the door.

“Yes, come in,” Grace replied, looking in the direction as Musimbi entered.

“Here are your drugs, madam. Should I help you put it in your wardrobe?”

“Yes, sure,” Grace replied, watching her. She had heard a lot about Musimbi and was flushed to see her.

“Grace will be 22 in June. She should at least grow up. Don’t take what she said to heart, ma?”

“Okay,” Grace replied, looking away. Her eyes darted nervously.

Musimbi paused for a minute. She was unaware that the woman in front of her was not Susanne, but Grace, who was shy and filled with guilt, desperately hoping her true identity would remain hidden. “Madam, you seem to lose weight.”

“Really? It’s possible I’m on a diet and I’m a bit sick right now. I would love to rest for a while.” Grace turned to watch her properly. “I need to be alone to rest properly.”

“Are you sure you are not angry because of what Cryst said? Why are you avoiding others? Are you sick on purpose? What’s the problem?” Musimbi asked, concerned.

“Truth is, I barely slept last night. This headache is killing but I’ve taken medication. I just need to rest. Don’t call me for dinner.”

“Okay, ma,” Musimbi replied with a tight-lipped smile before stepping out of the room.

Grace shut her eyes and exhaled, sitting at the edge of the bed. She took a framed photo of Susanne on the shelf at the bedside. The thought of Susanne came to her mind, and she wondered if was doing okay. A small smile spread across her lips, hoping it would mask the fear gnawing at her insides. Sensing the tension, Grace stepped closer, her voice gentle and reassuring, “Everything will be alright, Grace. Just breathe.”

Micheal was reading the newspaper at the dining table while having his breakfast. He had sliced bread, hot tea, and scrambled eggs. He read about the struggle for power between APC and PDP, the two major ruling parties in Nigeria. The political crises were just a mess, but that wouldn’t stop Micheal from creating the papers. In a blink, Cryst stormed into the living room. She had a beautifully styled Ankara on, and she styled her braided hair in banty knots. She put on heavy make-up and dark shades to match her style. The click-clack of her high heels distracted Micheal, and he faced her direction.

“Where are you going? Can I take you?”

“Don’t bother your head, brother.” She hissed at him sharply. “Just take care of your wife.” Cryst stormed out of the house through the front door while Musimbi brought Micheal’s suitcase from his bedroom, placing it before him on the table.