It was not until the early hours of the morning, just before I left, that he came back, holding a crumpled bag in his hands.
Seeing the large suitcases by the door, he looked at me in surprise. "Where are you going?"
I answered calmly, without a hint of emotion. "Back to my hometown."
I expected at least a few questions, maybe even a touch of concern. However, all he did was nod and hand me the bag.
"I was loud the other day... don’t be angry."
I had seen that bag on Stella’s WhatsApp Status the day before, tossed carelessly next to a discarded Hermès bag.
I did not even spare him a glance, simply replying, "Put it on the table."
He mistook my indifference for acceptance, sighing in relief before continuing. "Are you leaving today? If you are, then you need to reschedule. You and I are going to meet some clients at noon."
I responded calmly, "Socializing? Isn’t that Stella’s job as your secretary?"
His face hardened at my words, his tone suddenly stiffening.
"Stella got gastroenteritis from eating your mother’s cake, so she can’t drink."
"It’s all your mother’s fault. You need to make up for her sins."
I looked at him steadily, choosing not to challenge the absurdity of his words.