The kitchen smelled like onions and hot palm oil. It was barely 6:00 in the morning and the big house on the hill was completely still.
Roselene stood over the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand, but she was not stirring anything.
She was just standing there, her shoulders shaking, tears falling slowly from her chin into the bubbling pot below.
She did not hear the soft footsteps behind her. She had no idea she was no longer alone.
Derek Oi walked into the kitchen in his robe looking for water. He was a large man, well-built with gray beginning to touch his temples.
Everyone in the city knew his name. His construction company had built bridges, hospitals, and entire housing estates across the region.
He was not a man who visited his own kitchen. He had staff for everything.
Ma, but he had woken in the night unable to sleep and had come downstairs himself in the dark.
He stopped the moment he saw her back shaking. His hand rested on the edge of the door frame.
He stood very still and watched. Roselene cried the way a person cries when they are trying not to be caught.
Small sounds pressed tightly together. Shoulders moving in a controlled rhythm, head down low. Her hand still held the spoon, but she had forgotten it was there.
Tears fell into the soup one by one. He cleared his throat. Roselene spun around so fast the wooden spoon flew from her hand and cracked against the tile floor.
Her eyes were wide and red and completely wet. She grabbed the spoon quickly and pressed her wrist hard across her face.
She said she was sorry in a voice that broke on the last word. Uh she turned back toward the stove and adjusted the flame, pretending to be busy.
Dererick pulled out the stool and sat down slowly. “What happened?” He asked. Roselene shook her head.
