Chapter 2: Chapter 1
"Wake up, Ria. The sun is already up," Gladys called, her voice ascending the staircase to gently rouse her daughter. By 9 am, the kitchen buzzed with activity, Gladys at its core, crafting a breakfast to nourish and delight.
Rays of sunlight poured through the window, warming Gladys' face—a soothing contrast to the kettle's steam. Errant beads of sweat traced her cheek, hastily wiped away with a flour-dusted hand.
Since Ria's fifth birthday plea for pancakes, this morning ritual had become sacred. Gladys would wake at dawn's first light for her devotion, followed by quiet reflection. She'd then dress with care, her makeup applied with the precision her mother had taught her, a tradition now passed to Ria.
With her morning routine complete, and the sun a golden orb in the sky, Gladys would make her way to the kitchen.
"Good morning, mother," came Ria's sleepy greeting, her hands brushing away sleep as she descended the creaking stairs.
"Morning, my love," Gladys replied, her smile as inviting as the pancakes ready to sizzle in the pan. "Breakfast is nearly ready. Why don't you freshen up while I add the final touches?" she suggested, the batter awaiting its transformation.
"Okay, mom," Ria answered, her smile a reflection of her mother's as she climbed back upstairs, the stairs creaking their age-old song.
Their home was modest, with creaking stairs and a door on rusty hinges, but it was their haven of happiness. Gladys, the epitome of a caring mother, ensured Ria's life was draped in comfort, gifting her new dresses weekly and freeing her from chores, except for making her bed.
Ria, eager to make her mother proud, diligently completed her studies and assignments, earning the home teacher's praise.
Once breakfast was ready, Gladys set the old table with a white embroidered cloth, arranging the honey-coated pancakes and hot chocolate with precision. Satisfied, she washed her hands, hung her apron on the kitchen door hook, and ascended the stairs.
Now all that remained was to get Ria ready and prepare for her visitor.
The thought made her sigh.
The sound of the tap ceasing marked Ria's finished bath. Gladys entered the storeroom beside Ria's room, selecting a green collared gown with red and yellow embroidered flowers—a market treasure to surprise Ria. Confident the dress was ready, she approached Ria's room, where her daughter sat waiting for her beauty touch.
Gladys watched as Ria sat on the stool before the mirror, a towel wrapped around her head, her little finger combing through her damp hair in an attempt to dry it. A tug at her heartstrings, Gladys' heart swelled with love for her daughter, yet her eyes betrayed the pain of wishing she could provide the best life Ria truly deserved.
She deserved better; he owed her that.
"Is that a new dress?" Ria's voice pierced through the emotional fog enveloping Gladys, who approached her daughter, offering the dress. "Yes, dear, it was a good deal, and I thought you'd like it," she replied, taking the towel to dry Ria's hair.
"I love it, Mama, it's beautiful," Ria beamed, and Gladys returned the smile. "I knew you would. Now, sit up straight while I comb your hair. You need to hurry before your teacher arrives," she urged, collecting the dress and dropping it on the bed.
"Mamaaa…" Ria's voice trailed, "I told you Ms. Fletcher isn't coming today. She said she was going to see the doctor. Did you forget?" she inquired, turning to face her mother.
"Good Lord, she did mention that," Gladys responded, a hint of worry crossing her face. "It must have slipped my mind," she added.
"Today is free, so after breakfast, we should go to the garden and plant the new flowers. Ms. Fletcher gave me some new seeds," Ria suggested, as her mother continued to comb her hair.
"That would be lovely, love, but I have a visitor coming over today," Gladys replied, fashioning Ria's hair into a ponytail. "There, all done. Now put on your dress and come down for breakfast before it gets cold," she instructed, gathering the dirty laundry from her daughter's room.
Ria retrieved the dress from her bed where her mother had left it and began to dress. "Who's coming, Mama?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Gladys' heart skipped a beat at the question, one she always dreaded. Why did Ms. Fletcher have to be absent today, of all days? The classes had always been the perfect distraction for Ria and a chance for Gladys to converse freely with that man. Now, what was she to do?
"Oh, it's Uncle John," she replied, then headed to the laundry room.
Lies.
Ria slipped into the dress, its fabric whispering against her skin. "Uncle John?" she echoed, a frown creasing her brow. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him.
"Yes" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ria nodded, her thoughts drifting to the garden and the seeds waiting to be planted. "Maybe Uncle John can help us in the garden," she mused, her innocence in sharp contrast to the weight of Gladys' secrets
Gladys forced a smile. "Perhaps," she replied, knowing well that the garden was the least of her concerns.
When would she stop? How many lies must she tell before Ria discovers the truth?
But it wasn't entirely false. John was indeed visiting, but he wasn't her uncle. Dropping the laundry basket and sorting the clothes, Gladys let out a heavy sigh.
It had to be today.
He had promised in their letters that they would resolve everything upon meeting. Not for her sake, but for Ria's. Her daughter deserved a comfortable life, and Gladys was determined to ensure he provided it.
"Now go have breakfast," Gladys said, stroking her hand through Ria's ponytail. "I'll join you soon, and then we'll plant those flowers afterwards," she added with a reassuring smile.
How she loved her daughter.
With a content smile on her face, Ria happily went to the kitchen, where the table had already been set. While she sat enjoying the delicious meal her mother had prepared, Gladys was upstairs getting ready for her visitor, John.
Standing before the mirror, Gladys started by combing her hair, after which she applied light makeup to her face. She then rummaged through her lipsticks, unsure of which shade to apply. She always made sure she looked appealing to John—he was a classic man, but he loved when she looked pretty.
They had met four years ago, while she had gone to the library to get books for Ria's classes. He had been seated on the brown sofa close to the reception, obviously there to see someone. She had entered, barely noticing him, but that wasn't the case for John. He had been struck by her appearance and had made his first move by inquiring about her from the librarian and when she would visit; thereafter, he would always come on the same day she was to visit the library. Their encounter had not taken much time as John was a forward man and approached her to strike up a conversation, and from there, they had both found solace in each other. He was a wealthy man with a lucrative business running his own printing press. He was a respected and well-known figure, and Gladys had been full of joy and happiness when he had asked her to be his wife.
Despite their happy engagement, John welcomed the news of Ria and promised to treat her as his own. All was set, and they only needed to visit Gladys' family to finalize, and Gladys would be married, and Ria would have a father.
She had sent a letter to the master of the family house asking for permission; he had taken days before the reply finally came. He had asked for her to come to the house for a chat. Deeply displeased by the idea, she had forced herself to the house from which she had been cast away.
The ring of the doorbell drew Gladys from her bouts of reminiscence to the reality of the day; someone was at the door.
John!
With a smile, she picked the nude-colored lipstick and applied it to her soft, plump lips, and brushed her hands through her hair to straighten it. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, her green gown clinging to her with such finesse; she was ready. With that, she dashed out of the room, down to the sitting room, a big warm smile across her face as she descended the stairs. Upon arriving at the sitting room, she stood still, struck with shock. Her initial joy faded into instant fear and horror; for standing in front of her wasn't John, whom she was expecting, but rather the master from her family home, the man who had ruined her life, instigated her banishment, and deprived her child of the love of a father, and who had allegedly promised to stay away from her daughter. This master now stood in front of the door with Ria, hands on the knob, facing him with a puzzled look on her face.
"Who are you?" she asked a simple question addressed to a stranger.
"Oh, don't you know who I am?" the man answered, a sinister smile on his face. And then, with a hoarse voice sending shivers down Gladys' bones, he asked, "Isn't that a bad way to treat your…"
"Derek!!" Gladys shouted, interrupting the man and startling young Ria.
The devil sure knows how to steal joy.
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