Chapter 2: A CRUEL AWAKENING

A CRUEL AWAKENING

Stella stared after him, confusion swirling in her mind like a storm. This wasn’t the Richard she knew. The Richard she had waited for. The Richard who once promised her a lifetime of love. "Richard," she called softly, almost pleading, but her voice was lost in the noise of the room. He didn’t even turn.

"Mother!" Richard exclaimed suddenly, his face lighting up as he rushed to embrace his mother. His warmth and joy felt like a cruel contrast to the icy indifference he had shown Stella moments earlier.

"My son, my darling son!" his mother exclaimed, her thick Igbo accent dripping with affection. "I missed you! But don’t tell me you’ve missed me—you’ve been enjoying yourself abroad too much to think of us," she teased, laughing.

They shared a laugh, a moment so sweet it made Stella’s chest ache. She watched from her distant seat as Richard turned to the gathered guests.

"Thank you all for coming to celebrate my return to Nigeria," Richard began, his voice strong and commanding. "I’m so grateful for this warm welcome. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves. But before we dive into the festivities, let’s have dinner. There’s nothing I’ve missed more than good Nigerian food."

His words filled the room with applause and laughter. But for Stella, they felt hollow—because none of them were for her.

From the far end of the dining table, she studied him, hoping to find some trace of the man she loved. But Richard didn’t even glance her way. Across the table, Patricia sat near him, laughing at his every word, her hand resting a little too comfortably on the table next to his. Stella's stomach churned.

"What’s going on here?" she thought bitterly. Patricia, who was supposed to be her best friend, was suddenly too close for comfort. Her laughter was too loud, her smile too wide.

Stella tried to swallow her unease. "I’ll let her have her moment," she thought. "But she’ll never know Richard the way I do. She’s just excited, that’s all."

Dinner passed in a blur. Richard’s mother and siblings filled the room with chatter, the clinking of cutlery against plates adding to the noise. Stella tried to keep a smile on her face, even as her heart sank deeper with each passing moment.

When the meal ended, Stella rose quickly, eager to help clear the table. "Let me help you, Ma," she offered to Richard’s mother.

"Ah, thank you, my daughter," she said warmly. "But could you help with the plates from the living room instead?"

"Of course," Stella replied, eager to stay useful.

But before she could leave, Richard spoke up. His voice was sharp, his tone cruel. "Let her do it, Mom. That’s what she’s really good at."

The words cut through her like a blade. She froze, unsure how to respond. But then she laughed awkwardly, pretending it was a joke, even though the sting was real.

As the party buzzed around her, Stella kept herself busy, cleaning every corner of the house. But deep inside, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that she didn’t belong. No matter how much effort she put in, she felt like an outsider among the glamorous guests.

Later, she spotted Richard in the kitchen. Her heart fluttered—this was her chance. Finally, they could talk.

"Richard," she said softly, stepping closer. "I missed you."

She reached out to hug him, but he stepped back, his expression darkening.

"What’s wrong with you?" he snapped. "Are you trying to get me stained with oil?"

The venom in his voice startled her. She blinked, taking a step back. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—"

"You’ve been acting strange toward me all night," she continued, her voice trembling. "What did I do? If I’ve hurt you, please tell me. I don’t understand..."

Richard cut her off with a cold glare. "I’m not happy to see you. In fact, I don’t even know who invited you here."

The words struck her like a physical blow.

"Richard, what are you saying?" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

He smirked, his gaze sweeping over her. "And look at you—dressed like some maid at a high-class event. It’s embarrassing."

"What? This dress... you bought this for me," she stammered, her voice breaking. "You said you loved it..."

Richard scoffed. "Stella, it’s time to let go of old things. There’s a reason they’re in the past. Move on. I have."

His words weren’t just about the dress—they were about her. Her heart shattered as the realization sank in.

Before she could respond, Richard brushed past her, heading back to the living room. He grabbed a glass of wine and tapped it with a fork, commanding the room’s attention.

"Everyone, may I have your attention?" he called out. The guests fell silent, all eyes on him.

Stella followed him, her hands trembling, her mind racing.

"Mom," Richard began, a smile tugging at his lips. "Remember I told you I was coming back to get my wife?"

Stella’s breath hitched. Her heart soared for a brief moment—until he said the next words.

"Well, I’d like to officially introduce you to my one and only... Patricia."

The room erupted into applause, but all Stella could hear was the sound of her heart breaking. She stood frozen, staring at Richard and Patricia as they beamed at each other, their hands entwined.

The world seemed to blur, the noise of the party fading into the background. All Stella could feel was the weight of betrayal crushing her chest. Her knees felt weak, but she held herself steady.

"This can’t be real," she whispered to herself, tears streaming silently down her face. But it was.

Richard had moved on—and he had chosen Patricia.