"It is in these times that we think and reflect upon our lives" The priest began with a tone too melancholic to console the bereaved.
His words were mostly carved out from the scriptures. Nenye's eyes were flooded with tears which she let out occasionally. Seeing Mr Anthony lifeless in the coffin had shaken her to her core.
Michael never spoke to her and never glanced in her direction. She could feel the disgust and hatred he harboured for her even though he hadn't uttered any words
Christine and Chinwendu held each other while each cried, Paul extended his hand to hold Chinwendu and she accepted the gesture, blowing into her handkerchief.
Chinenye could only think of moments shared with the dead man, the laughter, the scolding and advice which bore covert meanings.
Death was truly the end
Chinwendu left her mother's side and moved closer to Nenye. She offered her a smile, linking her hands in Nenye's. A part of her had wished Michael was the one doing that but she knew it was only a hopeless dream.
She had deceived him by not telling him the truth, but how could she when Mr Anthony had made her swear against doing that.
Chinenye sighted one of Chuk's men from afar and noted how he blended in with the guests.
Michael was called upon to read his father's biography and he began almost immediately his eyes trained on the book in his hands.
There was no emotion on his face as he tried his best to read carefully the words inscribed on the book. He also couldn't help his eyes from wandering to where Chinenye sat in her black gown.
The lying tramp still looked beautiful in her mourning attire, that much was evident. How had he not known she was the witch he has been hunting the whole time?
Uncle Paul was seated next to Christine who seemed very much devastated by his father's death. Chinwendu he had caught so many time blowing into the handkerchief in her palms.
He speedily finished the biography and stepped away his gaze honing into the flowers that surrounded his father's coffin.
Majority of the people who graced his father's funeral were unknown to him. Most were business associates, friends, workers and relatives that were reintroduced to him.
Christine, he noticed had stepped closer to Chinenyenwa holding her so close to her chest that he almost yelled for her to stop.
The golddigger was not a victim at all, she was a thief who had warmed her way into his father's life and most especially his will which they were expecting to be read that night. He had been a victim of her wiles.
Uncle Paul etched closer to Michael whispering words into his ears which he nodded to. Chinenyenwa hated that everyone else could speak to him but she couldn't.
She had fallen in love with the man and even though she was hurting from the loss of Mr Anthony she couldn't help but want a certain form of consolation from Michael.
They had become friends and almost lovers. He had taught her to dance and to love again.
"You should talk to him later.. He has been so cold ever since you left" Christine whispered into Nenye's ears as her eyes strayed back to Michael's face. Chinenyenwa swallowed hard not certain she had enough courage to go through with what was asked of her.
"He is not going to listen to me"
"Chinenyenwa what happened is not your fault. Mr Anthony wasn't the type of man who was easily coerced into doing things. Whatever he decided to do for you was for a very important reason, one that I hope we would all discover someday. But Michael's agony and hate is one thing you have to change.
YOU ARE READING
My Father's wife
General Fiction"So how long are we to wait before we hear them tinkle?" He asked with his eyes staring at the black sky,his hands in his pockets. "Not too long, sister Jessica says only the heart hears them" Nenye shut her eyes and stood still with her face upwa...
