Balogun

HABIBAH

         "...Families are made in the heart. The only time family becomes null is when those ties in the heart are cut. If you cut those ties, those people are not your family. If you make those ties, those people are your family. And if you hate those ties, those people will still be your family because whatever you hate will always be with you."
- C. JoyBell C

The dining room was silent as the three people ate, there were no sounds asides from the occasional clang of spoons as they hit the plate.
The room remained silent until the Queen cleared her throat.

"Thank you for joining us today, my Prince." She dropped her spoon on the empty plate and dabbed her glossy lips with the serviette.
"It's always a pleasure whenever you are with us."  She smiled.

Murewa looked up, his head tilted as he silently observed her face

"Son?"
He looked away from Queen Habibah to his father.
"Yes?" he answered tersely, raising a glass of water to his lips.

"Habibah is right," the King said, tearing into the fried chicken in his hands. "You hardly come over to see us."

Murewa narrowed his eyes at his Father.
"See us? Who?"

The King stopped chewing. "Murewa..."

"Bankole," Queen Habibah interrupted, reaching across the table to pat the King's arm gently.

Murewa pushed his chair back. "We see each other enough in the Great Throne Room during meetings. I don't think we have any other thing to talk about other than what we talk about in that room." He rose, slipping his hands into the pocket of his sweats. "Thank you for the food."

"Aren't you staying for dessert?" Queen Habibah blinked up at him. Murewa turned to her again, watching her antics quietly.

"Well, aren't you?" His father echoed, wiping his oily fingers on the napkin lying on the table.

"No," Murewa replied and turned to leave.

"It's because of me." He heard Queen Habibah cry as he got closer to the door. "I don't know what I ever did to him. As long as I am here, you can't ever be close to your son. Just let me go!" She wailed.

Murewa rolled his eyes and turned the knob, the door slipped open.

"Murewa!" He paused at his father's call. "Please have dessert with us. It won't take too much of your time. You can train after that."

Murewa shook his head; his eyes on the hallway leading away from the room and its frustrating occupants.

"Hard pass," he said coolly, unable to feel any iota of remorse. "Sorry."

"Please." His father pleaded, and Murewa sighed. He shouldn't let his dislike for the Queen affect his already rocky relationship with his father. He backtracked into the room, conscious of the Queen's eyes on him as he took his seat at the dining table. He deliberately turned his hard gaze on her and she looked away.

"Desserts," the King said and servants materialized from nowhere, setting covered dome dishes on the table.

The Queen uncovered the first dish and took a bite from the doughnuts. She spat it back with a snarl and the mushy bolus landed on the table between them. Murewa scooted back in irritation.

"Habibah, what is...?" Before the King could complete his sentence, the Queen surged to her feet and landed a slap across the servant's face.
"What is this nonsense?" She asked with annoyance.

Murewa watched the servant cower before the Queen, silent tears streaming down her face.

"Habibah, tell me what's wrong?" The King asked and she turned to him.