Olumide crossed the living room into the kitchen. Nothing had changed since the housewarming incident. The red cabinet still dominated the kitchen contrasting with the blue colour scheme in the living room. He strolled, noting areas he would have to repaint.
The television on the other side of the kitchen would have to go. He couldn’t imagine that any buyer would want the television and the stools in the kitchen. He walked to the marble island counter and ran his fingers across it. It was weird that he could count the number of time he had slept in this house on his fingers but the weight of the memories it brought and the pain they inflicted could last three lifetimes.
He turned to the right. Huge red and white cabinets were hosted over the marble counter top where the gas cooker and plate rack lay. The red fridge in the corner was the hardest thing to find.
He sighed, slipping his hands in his pocket. Romola would have loved it. She would have spent all her day in this kitchen, if she wanted. He was sure of it. Even if he didn’t seem to know her that well.
Olumide paused at the spot where they had kissed. Everything about this kitchen was tainted by her presence, even though she had only stood here for a few minutes. He sat on one of the high stools.
He’d wanted everything perfect for her. To be perfect for her. For that brief moment when they’d entered the house arm-in-arm, he’d felt something. Purpose. Complete.
Everything had felt so right then. He had his own house and a girl he loved. He shook his head. A girl he thought he loved. He could not love a façade. She was like a shadow. The light had shone where she stood and she disappeared, wrenching his heart along with her.
He dragged his feet across the floor. He’d left the country after that night at the hotel. His lips stretched in a smile that failed to touch his soul. He had built this house to get away from Muyi’s house. To be his own man. To break free from the chains of Muyi’s ghosts. But the memories of Romola had chased him back to Muyi’s house, when he returned, and back to the grips of his parents.
He dialled his sister’s number. She picked on the third ring.
“Who is it?” A gruff male voice answered.
Olumide put the phone away from his ears and stared at his phone screen. This was his sister’s number.
“nnnn” From the background, he heard a scuffle.
“What are you doing with my phone?”
“Who is this ‘sweet one?”
“That is my brother.”
It was silent for a few seconds before his sister spoke. “Hello Mide. Have yout thought about what we discussed?”
“Yeah, I said I was ready to sell the house.”
“Not that. I meant Yetunde."
“I’m ready to sell the house.”
“Did you repaint the kitchen?”
She would see it soon.
“Mide, have you repainted it?”
“It’s fine the way it is.”
“It is hideous! It doesn’t fit with the rest of the colours in the house. I mean, a red kitchen in a house of white and blue paint and dark brown furniture.”
“I’m not changing the kitchen.” Olumide insisted.
And he wasn’t marrying Yetunde.
Author's Note:
I found time to edit yerstwrday. Trying to respond to comments but network isn't good so Wattpad is showing an error message.
Thank you all for the well wishes. ❤️❤️❤️
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Scars (Romola 2)
Romance"Then maybe you should have stayed in schoool. Instead of trying to be an elevated secretary and teaching me my Job." - - - - - Beyond managing Iya Tobi's store and pursing a shadow of an education, Romola's plate is full. It's been two years since...
