Tragedy of the African Cinderella [Black Book3]✔

30.

Lord Huron- in the wind.

"Mr. Woods, do you mind doing the outro?"

Ace stared at nothing in particular for as long as he could remember before uttering, "My name is Ace," he said, his voice almost inaudible, "and that is the story of how I lost my fiancée exactly one year ago,"

April 19th, marked Nora exactly a year in the land of the dead, a year without the view of her pretty face, a year without her smile and placid nature of her voice, a year without her sweetly nagging attitude, a year since he last set eyes on her before shutting the hospital door, a year since he had avoided everyone and everything besides a visit to her grave which owned nothing but her clothes.

On the day she left, it rained cats and dogs like it presently did.
Even I will be mad at myself if I died. Was that a sign?

"Thank you for sharing your story with us Mr. Woods," Mrs. Sterns, the fellowship coordinator appreciated.

His mum had forced him to join the fellowship eight months ago with the impression of making him speak if not to someone then people who have similar perturbing issues, an act which wasn't effective till date when he felt like something or someone pulled out words from his mouth. Was that another sign?

The fellowship was over for the day but no one seemed to have made a step since it still rained but him. He needed to be alone so he covered his low hair with his hood and sauntered down the hall both hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie where he played with the only item which made him feel a lot more closer to her.

Nora's remains returned to her homeland as her father wished where it was buried close to her mum's. It was an event he couldn't miss for anything in the world as it kept his memory engraved with the last of her: she was in a dress he wanted to see her in though not in a circumstance as such. He recalled her eyes glistening when he bought the dress and denied to put it on because it was so expensive.

I'll only put this dress on in my grave or wedding reception, whichever comes first.

It's only then he realized she intentionally meant every word she said but on some occasions, he was ignorant and on others, he simply denied adding up the pieces.

A car horned only then had Ace realized that it drizzled. He had been too absorbed to see the rain had declined. Upon eye contact, he saw his dad masked in distress and exhaustion as it had been precisely one year ago; a mirror image of his son. Perhaps there was a bond they shared after all.

"I'm sorry I'm late. The weather didn't help."

"It's ok." Ace strode to the car like it was a sunny day, "thanks."

"For?" His dad started the engine.

"Everything."

His father smiled, it was fragile and faint, almost not noticeable. "You don't have to. It's the least I can do to make up."

Ever since Nora's departure, he and his dad had ignited sluggish footing at first but as time sped, a glow was what it had become. He was always there: he drove him to her grave every weekend, to the fellowship, and even to the barbershop. He seeded reassuring and soothing words to him day and night, sometimes, he will ditch work when Ace appeared all beaten up. He meticulously listened to the adventures Ace narrated of Nora and himself and hugged him when he needed it and even when he didn't. Perhaps to make it up for lost times?

She promised she was going to see him through the process just like he promised he was going to try but sadly, she didn't make it up to hers or did she?

I'll be by your side even if I'm not next to you.

They'd arrived at their destination with the rain seizing entirely. He set on his journey to Nora's new home or rather, the remains he buried of her in the city's graveyard; the clothes she had on during their journey, his pair boxers she tended to fall in love with, and a pair of tattered flip flops she left in his car the first day a story began.