Chapter 1 - The Taste of a LieClara tasted the food.
For three seconds, she said nothing.
Then her eyes widened.
Maxwell watched her carefully from the other side of the table.
“Well?”
Clara swallowed.
“This is actually good.”
Maxwell laughed.
“Actually?”
“Yes. Don't let the compliment enter your head.”
She took another spoonful.
Then another.
“This is really good.”
Maxwell smiled and sat down.
For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the clinking of spoons against plates.
It felt strangely peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Outside, through the thin curtains, the compound was quiet.
Then there was a knock on the gate.
Clara stopped eating.
Maxwell looked toward the window.
Another knock.
Three sharp taps.
Clara lowered her spoon.
“Who is that?”
“I don't know.”
The knock came again.
This time, Maxwell stood.
“Stay here.”
He walked toward the door.
Clara followed him.
“Maxwell, don't open it yet.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
She whispered.
“The landlady.”
They both stood silently.
A shadow moved across the window.
Then a woman's voice came from outside.
“Mr. Maxwell?”
Maxwell's face tightened.
It was the landlady.
“Mr. Maxwell, I forgot something.”
Clara looked at him.
“She was waiting outside earlier.”
“I know.”
The landlady knocked again.
“I can hear someone inside.”
Maxwell took a breath.
He opened the door halfway.
“Good evening, ma.”
She smiled.
“I left my purse somewhere near this gate.”
Maxwell looked at the ground.
“I haven't seen it.”
She tilted her head.
“Oh.”
Then she sniffed.
“Jollof rice?”
Maxwell smiled.
“Yes, ma.”
“You people are enjoying yourselves.”
Clara stepped forward.
“Good evening, ma.”
The landlady looked at her.
“Ah, madam has arrived.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you might be late tonight.”
Clara smiled politely.
“Work was busy.”
The landlady nodded slowly.
“I understand.”
Her eyes moved into the room.
Then to the dining table.
Then to Maxwell.
“You cooked?”
“Yes, ma.”
The woman laughed.
“God bless you.”
She looked at Clara.
“Your husband is really trying.”
Clara laughed.
“He is.”
The landlady's smile became wider.
But her eyes remained cold.
She eventually stepped back.
“Alright. Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thank you, ma.”
Maxwell closed the door.
The moment it clicked shut, Clara exhaled.
“That woman wasn't looking for a purse.”
“I know.”
“She was checking on us.”
“I know.”
Clara returned to the table.
“But why?”
Maxwell sat down.
“I don't know.”
Clara frowned.
“You do know.”
He looked at her.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Whenever something happens, you say you don't know. But your face tells another story.”
Maxwell remained silent.
Clara pointed her spoon at him.
“You are hiding something.”
“I am protecting something.”
“What?”
“My peace.”
She stared at him.
Then she continued eating.
“Fine.”
But her mind was no longer on the food.
Neither was Maxwell's.
Later that night, after Clara went to bed, Maxwell remained awake.
He sat in the small sitting room with the lights off.
His phone was on the table.
No caller ID.
He stared at it.
Then it rang.
Maxwell picked it up.
“Hello?”
A man's voice answered.
“Mr. Maxwell Onochie?”
Maxwell froze.
“Who is this?”
“You don't know me.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“I saw your workshop today.”
Maxwell's heart skipped.
“What about it?”
“You should be careful about who enters your premises.”
Maxwell stood.
“What are you talking about?”
The man lowered his voice.
“They are looking for you.”
“Who?”
Silence.
“Who is looking for me?”
The man answered one sentence.
“The people you ran away from.”
The call ended.
Maxwell stared at the screen.
His breathing became slow.
Behind him, a floorboard creaked.
He turned.
Clara was standing at the hallway.
“You're awake.”
Maxwell quickly put the phone away.
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“Who called?”
“Nobody important.”
Clara folded her arms.
“Maxwell.”
He said nothing.
She stared at him for a long moment.
Then she whispered.
“That number…”
She pointed at the phone.
“I've seen it before.”
Maxwell's eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
Clara's face changed.
“It was on my father's old contact list.”
Maxwell stopped breathing.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
Clara looked frightened.
“And my father died seven years ago.”
Silence filled the room.
Maxwell slowly picked up the phone again.
The number was already gone.
And then the lights suddenly went off.
Both of them turned toward the window.
Outside, a car engine started.
Someone had been sitting in the darkness across the road.
May you like
Watching their house.
And now they were driving away.
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