Chapter 197 066
THE hallway buzzed with the usual mid-morning chaos. Lockers slammed shut in uneven rhythm, sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor, and laughter bounced off the walls in sharp bursts. Students moved in clusters, some rushing to beat the bell, others lingering for just a few extra seconds of gossip.
Hazel stood stiffly by her locker, the metal door swung open before her. She shoved her Literature textbook inside with more force than necessary. The clang echoed louder than she intended.
Amaka, who had been leaning casually against the locker beside hers, raised a brow.
“Easy, warrior princess. That locker didn’t offend you.”
Hazel exhaled sharply, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“You won’t understand.”
Amaka straightened immediately.
“Try me.”
Hazel hesitated, glancing down the hallway as if to confirm no one was listening. She lowered her voice slightly.
“Moving to the boarding section of this school is exhilarating.”
Amaka blinked.
“I can understand.”
“Boarding. My mom's decision” Hazel repeated the words like it tasted bitter. “Full-time.”
“Especially with the fact that you were already here as a day student. But why the sudden switch though?”
Hazel’s jaw tightened.
“Because of Charles.”
Amaka’s eyes widened.
“Her fiancé?”
“Yes.” Hazel snapped her locker shut and leaned back against it, folding her arms. “Apparently, it would be ‘better’ for everyone if I stayed on campus.”
Amaka tilted her head, confused.
“Better how?”
Hazel laughed dryly.
“That is exactly what I asked. She said it would help me focus more on school. That I would ‘benefit from the discipline.’”
“And you don’t believe that?”
Hazel gave her a look.
“You know what this is? It’s rearranging the house for him. Making space. Making things convenient. And I’m the easiest piece to move. I have always been the detective.”
Amaka’s expression softened.
“Hazel…”
“I have already spent two weeks in boarding as part of the ‘adjustment.’ Two weeks, Amaka.” Her voice dropped, frustration bubbling beneath every word. “Do you know what it’s like?”
Amaka shook her head slowly.
“It is awful. The waking up at 5 a.m. to that horrible bell. The cold water because someone used up the hot one. The matron inspecting your locker like she is searching for cqontraband. No privacy. Zero.”
She gestured animatedly as she spoke, her anger rising with every sentence.
“And the girls?” she continued. “They stare at me like I committed a crime. Some of them actually asked if I was being punished.”
“Punished?” Amaka frowned.
“Yes! Because apparently when someone switches from day to boarding mid-term, it is either bad grades, bad behavior, or family drama.”
Amaka winced.
“Teenagers can be brutal.”
“One girl even whispered that maybe my mom couldn’t ‘handle’ me at home anymore.” Hazel’s voice cracked slightly before she quickly masked it with irritation. “As if I’m some kind of problem.”
Amaka reached out and squeezed her arm gently.
“You are not.”
Hazel sighed, staring down at the floor tiles.
“I know that. But it feels like I’m being… relocated.”
“That is dramatic,” Amaka said gently.
Hazel shot her a look.
“Okay, maybe not dramatic,” Amaka corrected quickly. “But have you told your mom how you feel? Like properly told her?”
“I tried.” Hazel’s shoulders slumped slightly. “She just said it is temporary. That I will understand one day.”
“And do you think it is really about Charles?”
Hazel didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Amaka studied her friend carefully.
“Do you not like him?”
“No,” Hazel snapped.
“Okay, slow down,” Amaka was forced to say.
“I'm surprised you are asking this. You of all people should know I hate him. He is just too desperate for my liking,” Hazel folded her arms, frowning.
“Okay. Hate is a strong word, my dear. You can say ‘dislike’,” Amaka corrected.
Hazel rolled her eyes.
“Whatever. It all boils down to same thing.”
Amaka didn’t need further clarification.
There was a brief silence between them as students brushed past.
“I just hate that everyone thinks I’m in boarding because I messed up,” Hazel muttered. “Even some teachers look at me differently.”
“You are overthinking that part,” Amaka said firmly. “Teachers have too much on their plates to create conspiracy theories about you.”
Hazel gave a weak smile.
“And for the record,” Amaka continued, “boarding isn’t a punishment. It’s just… different.”
“It’s prison with uniforms.”
Amaka laughed.
“You are so dramatic.”
“I miss my room. My music. My space. My brothers,” Hazel’s voice softened again. “I miss home. I miss sneaking to my dad's at evenings.”
Amaka leaned her head slightly against the locker.
“Well, you are not alone here. And you still have me. Besides, you will be returning to that ‘home’ weekends, right?”
Hazel’s lips curved faintly.
“Obviously.”
The warning bell rang suddenly, sharp and commanding.
Students groaned collectively as the hallway shifted into motion again.
“That is us,” Amaka said, quickly grabbing her Biology textbook.
Hazel pulled her own books from her bag and adjusted them against her chest.
“Break hour?” Amaka asked.
“Definitely,” Hazel replied. “I will need to rant again.”
Amaka grinned.
“I will bring snacks. Emotional support snacks.”
Hazel finally laughed, the tension easing just a little.
They walked in opposite directions down the hallway, blending into the stream of uniforms and chatter.
As they parted ways, Hazel glanced back once, her expression thoughtful.
Boarding section or not, at least she wasn’t facing it completely alone.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
The house was wrapped in deep silence, the kind that only came after midnight. The hum of the refrigerator filled the air softly, accompanied by the faint ticking of the wall clock. A single pendant light hung above the dining table, casting a warm glow over Valentine and the two laptops open before him.
Spreadsheets occupied one screen; architectural drawings filled the other. His sleeves were rolled up, his screen glasses perched low on his nose as his fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard.
From the hallway, soft footsteps padded toward the kitchen.
Mrs. Harlow, wrapped in a light robe, yawned as she approached the counter, reaching for a glass. She paused mid-motion when her eyes caught the glow from the dining area.
She blinked.
“Valentine?”
He didn’t hear her at first.
She walked closer, concern knitting her brows.
“Valentine, please tell me you just woke a few minutes ago and decided to work?” she asked.
Valentine glanced up at her, slightly startled, then laughed.
“Ah! Mommy. I wish,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t slept.”
Mrs. Harlow’s eyes widened.
“You haven’t—” She looked at the wall clock. “It is past three in the morning!”
He shrugged lightly.
“I lost track of time.”
“You lost track of four to five hours?” she whispered sharply.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching.
“It didn’t feel that long.”
Mrs. Harlow abandoned the glass of water entirely and pulled out the chair beside him, sitting down with a sigh.
“Valentine Crimson,” she said, folding her arms. “When we finished dinner, you said you would just ‘check something small’ before going to bed.”
He smiled sheepishly.
“It started as something small.”
“And I told you not to sleep late.”
“I remember.”
“And when I was going to bed, you were right here.”
“Yes.”
“And now I wake up, and you are still right here.” She gestured at him dramatically. “Exactly where I left you.”
He chuckled.
“Consistency is a virtue.”
She swatted his arm lightly.
“Don’t joke with me.”
Valentine softened.
“Mom, I’m fine. I promise.”
“You always say that.” Her voice lowered. “You work too hard these days.”
He glanced at the screens, then back at her.
“It is just this new contract. The clients are demanding. I need everything airtight before the presentation.”
“And that cannot wait till morning?”
He hesitated.
“Morning is already here.”
Mrs. Harlow sighed deeply, studying his face.
“You look tired.”
“I feel alive,” he countered playfully.
“You look like a raccoon.”
He burst into laughter.
“That is harsh.”
“It is motherly honesty.”
He shook his head, smiling.
For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence. The bond between them was easy, unforced. She reached out and gently adjusted his collar, a habit she had never outgrown.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “you have always been like this. Even as a child. If you start something, you must finish it that very day.”
He nodded.
“I don’t like unfinished business.”
“Hmmm.” She studied him carefully. “Speaking of unfinished business…”
He raised a brow.
“That sounds suspicious.”
She smiled knowingly.
“What about the other business in your life?”
He pretended confusion.
“Other business?”
“Yes. The one that makes you randomly smile at your phone.”
Valentine laughed under his breath.
“Ah. That one.”
“So there is one,” she said quickly, eyes lighting up.
He leaned back, folding his arms.
“Mom…”
She gasped softly.
“You have a girl.”
He shook his head, laughing.
“Why are you excited like this?”
“Because you hardly talk about women,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You work, you come home, you work again. I was beginning to worry.”
He smiled.
“There is no need to worry.”
“So there is someone,” she pressed gently.
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
Mrs. Harlow’s face softened immediately. “Oh.”
“It’s… early,” he added quickly. “Nothing dramatic.”
“Does she know she is early?” she teased.
He laughed again.
“We are taking things slow.”
Mrs. Harlow rested her chin on her palm.
“What is her name?”
He hesitated.
“Valentine?”
“I’m just waiting for the right time to bring her home,” he admitted.
Her expression shifted from teasing to tender.
“You are serious about her?”
He nodded once.
“I don’t bring just anyone home, you know that.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.
“I do.”
He exhaled softly.
“She is… different.”
“In a good way?”
“In a very good way.”
Mrs. Harlow smiled knowingly.
“That explains the glow.”
“Glow?”
“Yes. The glow you pretend is from your laptop screen.”
He shook his head in amusement.
“You are too observant.”
“That is my job.” She squeezed his hand again. “When will I meet her?”
“Soon,” he said quietly. “I just want things to settle first.”
She nodded.
“Take your time. But don’t take forever.”
He grinned. “I won’t.”
She stood slowly, brushing down her robe.
“Now, as much as I want to sit here and interrogate you further, you need sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m serious, Valentine.”
He closed one laptop halfway.
“I will wrap this up in thirty minutes.”
She gave him a look.
“Forty-five,” he amended.
She sighed but smiled.
“I’m holding you to that.”
As she turned to head back for the kitchen, she paused.
“And Valentine?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“I’m happy for you.”
He smiled softly. “Thank you.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, finished with taking the water and disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone again under the warm light.
Valentine glanced at his phone resting beside the laptop. A notification blinked softly on the screen.
He picked it up, his lips curving slightly before setting it back down.
Then he turned to his work, but this time, with a quieter, lighter expression.