7: The Dinner: Unexpected encounter

The tables were set, and I made sure everything was arranged as expected while we awaited his arrival.

Jumia seemed more excited as he glanced at his little wristwatch at intervals. I shot him a playful stare and continued with what I was doing while he sat in the living room, waiting for his guest.

Shortly after, I heard a car horn at the entrance and suspected that his guest had arrived. His “Uncle Nice” had finally arrived. I assigned the remaining duties to the maid and hurried upstairs to change into something more decent and casual. I didn't want to appear undressed or unkempt before this fellow. I anticipated he was as nice as Jumia praised, even though I felt a little restrained about the whole issue. 

“Just a thank you for being nice to my son out there when he was in danger, wouldn't be a bad step” I assured myself, walking up the stairs. I wanted Jumia to be proud, as always, to have a classy mum by his side.

Once in the bedroom, I quickly changed into a red crop top and a pair of palazzo pants that perfectly matched the top I had chosen. After putting on my clothes, I rushed to the mirror to adjust and brush my hair, tying it into a bun before freshening up my face a little.

Once I was done and certain I looked perfect for the occasion, I stormed out of the room and hurried down the stairs toward the living room. On getting to the living room, I noticed no one was there. I stood still for a while, I could hear Jumia's voice coming from the dining area. I let out a soft smile as I walked over.

He couldn't even wait for me to welcome his guest before taking him straight to the dining area. He must have really liked this "Uncle Nice"; and that wasn’t good. Liking a stranger you barely knew? What if he was a spy or, worse, a bad person just pretending to be nice?

“Jimmy,” I called out from the living room.

“Mum, I'm over here” he replied excitedly. I walked over towards the dinning.

“Mummy, come meet Uncle Nice!” Jumia beamed as he saw me approaching. The man sitting opposite him, with his back facing me, rose to his feet.

He turned to greet me.

"Nice to..." Our gaze met.

"You?" I yelled, and he jolted almost immediately, startled to see me; or better of, pretending as if he hadn't expected this encounter, putting on a false expression.

"What are you doing in my house?" I asked abruptly.

"Mum, you know him?" Jumia asked, and I gasped before meeting his gaze.

"Go upstairs to your room. I have something to discuss with him."

"But Mum, he…"

"To your room now," I ordered, and he sluggishly ran up the stairs without glancing back. His feets hit hard on the floor, making a loud sound. Feeling extremely downcast in his expression as I watched him, I felt I had been a little too harsh on him. He was only a child and wouldn’t understand certain things yet.

Once I was certain he was far enough, I turned to Liam, who stood right before me, obviously at a loss for words as he glared at me like he had just seen a ghost or something.

"Isn’t it enough that you embarrassed yourself the other day at the ceremony? Yet, you still had the guts to show up at my house? And to think you even tried to involve yourself in my son's life? How pathetic. Now, get out of my house this minute!" I barked, my voice raised just enough to ensure Jumia wouldn’t hear any of my words.

"Olivia, I am deeply sorry for everything. But believe me when I say I never knew he was your son," he tried to explain, but my anger only intensified. He dared to look me in the eye and lie?

"Liar! You bloody liar! I don't need your explanation. Just leave this minute, or I will call security on you!" I snapped, feeling increasingly filled with rage.

I never expected to see him around me; not for a second, let alone showing up at my house. He was such a shameless asshole. After everything he did to me in the past? Not a chance!

"Get out!" I snapped again, my voice echoing through the entire space.

He moved forward, trying to take hold of my hands, but I forcefully yanked them away. My eyes darkened, my eyebrows raised in pure annoyance.

"I said out!"

He moved, taking about four steps toward the door before turning to face me, his expression sorrowful. But I refused to let any of his practiced antics affect me. The Liam I knew was a cheat; a selfish, lying scumbag. He could never truly be sorry, let alone remorseful. Especially not to me. The same person he had despised and left in the cold arms of death four years ago?

He was only here to learn more about Jumia, to plant his poisonous stings in my son's life; the very one I had spent the last four years cherishing. Not a chance!

"I am sorry a thousand times. Please, forgive me," he pleaded, but I ignored his silly words, moving toward the door and opening it myself.

“Out,” I ordered once again.

"I will go, but first, I need an honest answer. Is he my son?"

My heart quickened. After all, that had been his true intention all along. I knew better than to let him come close to us. I remained poised, my expression cold and unyielding.

"He is in no way related to you, and you must never come near him again if you know what’s best for you," I snapped, pointing toward the door with my slender fingers. "He has a father, and that father isn’t you."

I slammed the door shut behind him.

Once he was gone, I heaved a sigh of relief, my hands clutched to my chest to ease the pressure that had been caged inside me. After a few seconds, I felt a little relieved, turning and walking back to the living room.

Why would he even pretend to be nice to Jumia, when it was obvious he had come with bad intentions? I reached for the couch and sat down, closing my eyes in deep reflection, trying to erase every trace of him from my mind.

He always found a way to come back, but he had no idea what awaited him if he dared to show up in my son’s life again. I prayed earnestly never to see him again after the ceremony, but it seemed he had chosen to keep crossing my path. This time, however, he had made the wrong move. If he ever comes near me or my son again, I will make sure he pays dearly for it; a thousand times over.

How shameless could abusive men be? I scoffed, the painful memories of four years ago came rushing back, hardening my heart.

A tap on my shoulder startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned to meet Jumia’s sorrowful gaze.

"I'm sorry, son, but I know him from the past, and he isn’t a good person," I consoled him, pulling him closer into my arms.

"But, Mum, he was good to me yesterday," he protested, a slight frown forming on his tiny, curved face.

"That’s because he’s a bad person, and bad people pretend to be good so they can get close to good people. Once they do, they carry out their evil intentions. You understand that, right?"

He nodded.

"That’s good. Never allow him anywhere near you. If he tries, scream as loud as you can and report to me immediately, alright?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Also, never let any strangers near you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mum, but…" His voice trailed off as he met my gaze.

"What’s wrong?"

He lowered his head. "I… I heard him ask if I was his son. Mum, am I…?"

"Were you eavesdropping?" I cut in.

Jumia had always loved James as his father because James had been there for him since birth, and I wanted things to stay that way, no matter what connection Liam tried to establish, although I wouldn't let that happen.

Taking a deep breath, I cupped Jumia’s chin in my hands, reassuring him of what he already knew.

"Uncle James will be with us tomorrow, and he will still remain your daddy. Or, don’t you like him anymore?" I asked, locking eyes with his bright, innocent gaze.

"I like him," he mumbled, then suddenly perked up. "I want Uncle to bring me the new teddy bear he promised when he comes!" he chimed excitedly, his face lighting up.

"Alright, done!" I assured him, running my fingers through his hair, a playful glint on my face and he giggled.

Still, my heart remained troubled by his earlier question.