Chapter Thirty-Six

Having carefully selected their meaningful works of art, Stella and Night paid for the paintings, knowing they were taking home more than just images on canvas; they were carrying stories and emotions that would inspire them. Exchanging glances, their smiles widened as they stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against their skin. They carefully placed the paintings in the back seat of the car, ensuring they would be safe for the journey. With the artwork settled, Stella eased into the passenger seat while Night took the wheel, steering them towards one of Asokoro's finest restaurants, renowned for its modern fusion cuisine.

The faint sound of piano music greeted them as they approached the restaurant. Inside, dim lights flickered softly against polished wood and deep velvet seating. The low murmur of voices, punctuated by the clinking of glasses, created an atmosphere of quiet elegance. The air was warm, filled with the inviting scent of spices and freshly cooked dishes.

A waiter dressed in a black suit led them to a corner table with a stunning view of the glittering city skyline, the lights outside casting a beautiful glow.

Stella took in the subtle details around her, the golden frames of artwork on the walls and the meticulous arrangement of silverware on the tables. 'This place is stunning,' she whispered, as though afraid to break the peaceful harmony of the room.

Night's eyes lit up as she flipped through the menu, scanning it as if browsing an art collection. 'Even the dishes sound like pieces of art,' she said with a soft laugh. She tapped her finger on the page. 'What are you thinking of having?'

Stella paused in thought before deciding on pepper soup with fresh fish, its spicy warmth balanced by tender chunks of yam, and a glass of chilled palm wine to complement the dish. Night, mindful of her pregnancy, chose ofe nsala—white soup with goat meat paired with a small portion of pounded yam. She added a chilled glass of zobo to complement her meal.

As they waited, they chatted happily about the art they'd just bought from the gallery. 'I'm still thinking about that painting you bought,' Night said, her eyes sparkling. 'It really captures so much: class, love, and vulnerability. Will you hang it in your living room?'

Stella nodded thoughtfully. 'I think so. It feels like a piece that should spark conversation. What about yours? That tenement painting is so peaceful.'

Night smiled softly. 'I'm thinking of hanging it in my study. There's something about it that reminds me of my childhood, the warmth, the sense of togetherness. It's grounding, and I think I'll want it close when I'm working.'

Their meals arrived, each plate artfully presented. The pepper soup's fragrant steam rose, filling the space between them, while the ofe nsala gleamed with rich broth and tender goat meat.

Night tore a small piece of pounded yam, her fingers skillfully shaping it into a smooth ball before dipping it into the steaming soup. She put it into her mouth, savouring the rich, comforting flavour with a satisfied hum. 'Mmm,' she murmured, her eyes sparkling. She reached for another piece but paused mid-motion, the yam still in her fingers. 'So, about Peter… are you still mad at him?'

Stella sighed, the brief sparkle in her eyes dimming. 'A little.'

Night raised an eyebrow, sensing the hesitation. 'You sound like you've completely forgiven him. I guess you've forgiven him in your heart, but you just need time to say it.'

A faint smile tugged at Stella's lips, but she looked down, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. 'I am…'

Night nodded, reaching for her glass of zobo. 'Scared of what? What people will think?'

Stella froze mid-motion, her finger halting on the smooth edge of the glass. Her shoulders stiffened, and she stared at the cloudy white liquid as if searching for answers. 'I don't care about what people will say. It's just…' Her voice cracked, barely audible above the faint clinking of a spoon at a nearby table.

Night leaned forward, her gaze soft but probing. 'You feel betrayed because he didn't tell you he was the CEO?' She sipped her drink, her eyes never leaving Stella's face.

Stella's lips parted, but no words came out. She clenched her hands in her lap, her knuckles pressing tight against her skin. Finally, she muttered, 'I deserved to have known the truth from the beginning…'

Night set her glass down with a quiet thud and reached across the table, gently taking Stella's hand in hers. 'Maybe you should get answers. But the Peter that I know didn't hide that to mock or ridicule. He did that to protect you. If you want to know the truth, you could start by asking Sir Chinedu. I guess he would have complete answers, or at least some of them.'

'I still need a little time…'

'Stella, Peter's been waiting for you for so long. He's longing for your love, like a flower yearning for the sun's warmth. Don't hold back, let it flow. Your hearts were meant to dance together; it's time to embrace the love that's been waiting to bloom.

As they finished their meal, Night chose a lighter dessert to satisfy her cravings: a shared bowl of fresh fruit salad with sweet pawpaw, pineapple, and watermelon, drizzled with honey and garnished with mint leaves. It was refreshing yet satisfying, the perfect balance after the richness of their meal.