Mrs Brown had always prided herself on reading between the lines, but lately, every word from Mr Brown felt like a riddle she couldn't solve. The misunderstanding between them was growing like an unchecked fire, consuming every ounce of trust. Tonight was no different.
"Angela is just my secretary, Olivia. How many times do I have to say it?" Mr Brown sighed, rubbing his temples. "We were discussing the quarterly reports. That’s it."
Mrs Brown crossed her arms, her emerald green dress shimmering under the chandelier's light. "And yet, you conveniently forgot to mention you were alone in the car with her. Why is that, Mark?"
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I can’t keep explaining myself to someone who refuses to believe me."
She turned on her heels. "Omah! Bring me a glass of red wine."
"Yes, ma’am," Omah responded, swiftly moving through the grand dining room.
Omah was the quiet observer in the Brown's mansion. At 31, she had worked for them for five years, her caramel skin and unbraided natural hair a contrast to the polished, extravagant world she served. She had seen every storm that passed through this house, but tonight, something felt different.
"Prepare Nelly's things. She’s staying at her grandmother’s for the weekend," Mrs. Brown instructed, taking a long sip of wine. "Mark’s birthday is on Friday. We’ll be celebrating it here. It’s going to be a wild one."
Her tone carried an edge that made Omah uneasy. "Alright, ma'am."
She walked toward fourteen year old Nelly’s room wondering why Nelly should be absent on her father's birthday, her footsteps soft against the polished wooden floors. As she reached down to retrieve Nelly’s suitcase, something caught her eye, a pregnancy test strip, lying just beside the trash can.
Her fingers hesitated before picking it up. The bold, undeniable lines stared back at her. A sharp breath caught in her throat. Nelly? No… she’s too young.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Quickly, she slid the strip into the band of her bra and knocked on the door.
"Come in!" Nelly’s voice was sharp, irritated.
Omah entered, her eyes scanning the girl’s face. She looked the same, young, annoyed, beautiful like her mother but with the silent sadness of her father.
"Your mother asked me to pack for you," Omah said gently, opening the wardrobe. "What would you like to take?"
"Why am I even going?" Nelly huffed. "She never asks me what I want. Are you coming along, Mrs Omah?" She flopped onto the bed. "Please come with me."
Omah hesitated. "I don’t know, sweetheart. But let’s pack, okay?"
Nelly helped select clothes while Omah packed. As she zipped up the suitcase, something slipped out—a second pregnancy test.
Omah’s chest tightened. Another one? Her mind spun. Was Nelly truly pregnant, or was someone else in this house hiding a secret?
The girl showed no reaction, as if she hadn’t noticed. Omah, however, felt the weight of a decision pressing down on her, should she tell Mrs. Brown or confront Nelly or keep this to herself?
By the time the car left the mansion, rain clouds gathered overhead. Omah watched from the window, the unease in her chest growing. Lightning cracked, illuminating the sky, followed by a downpour that quickly turned into a storm.
Then, the phone rang.
Omah rushed to answer. The voice on the other end was urgent. "There’s been an accident. They’re at St. Vincent’s Hospital."
Her breath hitched. She grabbed her coat and ran into the night, the rain drenching her within seconds. By the time she reached the hospital, she found Mr Brown sitting beside Mrs Brown, his hand gently stroking her hair as she lay unconscious. A cup of coffee rested beside him, untouched, the steam curling like a fading memory.
Nelly was in the intensive care unit.
The doctor approached, his face solemn. "Mr Brown, we were able to stabilize her. But… she was three months along. She lost the baby."
Silence fell over the room like a heavy fog. Mrs Brown stirred, her eyes fluttering open. The moment she saw Omah, she whispered, "Did you know?"
Omah swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
Mrs Brown’s face crumpled. "My little girl…" Her voice broke. "I failed her."
Guilt seeped through every word, every tear. Mr Brown gripped his wife's hand, his own face lined with regret. "We both did. We were so caught up in our own battles that we forgot the one person who needed us the most."
Hours passed before Nelly was wheeled into the room. Omah rushed to her side, holding her hand. "I’m so sorry," she whispered.
Nelly gave a weak smile. "I just… I just wanted to feel loved."
Mr Brown sank to his knees beside the bed, his hands trembling as he took his daughter’s. "I’m sorry, baby. I should have been a better father. I promise, from now on, I will be."
Mrs Brown kissed Nelly’s forehead, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. "Me too, sweetheart. Me too."
By the time they returned home, the mansion no longer felt like just a house, it was a home, finally mended. Mr Brown’s birthday wasn’t the grand affair Mrs Brown had planned. Instead, it was something far more meaningful: a reunion.
That night, as the rain finally ceased and the stars peeked through the clouds, Mr Brown knelt before his wife. "Olivia, I have made mistakes. I haven't been the man you deserved. But if you’ll have me, I want to start over."
Mrs Brown’s lips trembled as she cupped his face. "We both need to be better. For Nelly. For us."
In the quiet of their embrace, love returned to the Brown's household, not in grand gestures, but in understanding, in listening, in simply being there.
As Omah stood by the window, she sipped a cup of coffee, watching the night sky. The full moon was partially eclipsed, casting a mysterious glow over the world below. She felt something unfamiliar stir within her as she wondered. Perhaps, just perhaps, love could truly heal even the deepest wounds.
