Little White Lies

Hannah's POV

There comes a time in every girl's life when she must defend her honour. For me, that day was today.

"Let me get this straight, Mummy. You think Hwan and I are dating?" I asked in confusion, just as Hwan dropped a plate in shock. Luckily, it didn't break but he was visibly flabbergasted at the accusation.

"Yes, dear. I'm no fool," my mother replied smugly. "He's the reason you rejected Tobi's proposal, right? Why else would he be cooking breakfast for you and spending the night at your apartment?"

"You told her you spent the night here?" I angrily yelled at the still-confused Hwan. "You fool!"

"Young lady, that's no way to talk to your boyfriend!" my mom's Nigerian accent took over. "Hwan, I apologize for my daughter's rude behaviour."

"Janet, I think you're misunderstanding the relationship between your daughter and me. We're not dating."

My mom gave us both a questioning expression. "I don't understand. If you two aren't dating, then why did you spend the night together?"

The kitchen fell silent, neither one of us knowing what to say.

"Please don't tell me you two are just fucking? You rejected Tobi and humiliated me because you want to spread your legs?"

My soul left my body at that, Hwan also struggling not to cringe at her choice of words. Leave it to moms to make everything awkward.

It suddenly dawned on me that I didn't have a good excuse for Hwan being here. We were barely acquaintances much less friends, so there was no logical explanation I could possibly give that wouldn't upset my mother.

If I told her the truth, she'd get mad like a true Nigerian mom. Also, there was no way she could ever know that I got drunk when I was alone at night. She'd freak out and send me back to Nigeria.

So, honesty was out the window.

The safest bet was to go with what she was saying. If I agreed that Hwan was my boyfriend, his spending the night at my place wouldn't be an issue. That way, my mother wouldn't think I was some kind of deviant skank and have my ass deported.

Heck, she would even be glad I'm in a relationship and get off my back with the whole marriage thing.

I'd basically be killing two birds with one stone.

Weighing my options, I groaned internally at the obvious choice, feeling nauseous. This was definitely not how I envisioned my Sunday to go when I woke up this morning.

"Will one of you answer me?" my mom yelled impatiently, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Are two of you just having casual sex-"

"Mom!"

Before she repeated her cringe-worthy accusation, I cut her off. Running my fingers through my hair, I let out a defeated sigh.

"You're right. Hwan is my boyfriend."

"Yeah," Hwan agreed with a nod. "Miss Oba and I are just – wait, what did you just say?"

Internally groaning at his idiocy, I gave him the 'play along' look. "I can't keep hiding it from my mom, Hwan. I don't want to hide our love anymore."

"What?"

Both Hwan and my mother simultaneously gave me a confused stare.

"Hwan and I are in love, Mom," I said dreamily, pointedly glaring at the boy. "I didn't think you and Daddy would approve of me being with a foreigner. But I can't keep running from the truth. I love him and he loves me, right?"

Laying a lot of emphasis on that last part, I prayed to every deity that Hwan would get the gist of what I was doing. For a full-grown adult, the man was obnoxiously slow.

Thankfully, he finally did.

"Yes, Janet," Hwan awkwardly stuttered, avoiding the older lady's eyes. "I love your daughter very much. And it would mean the world to me if you would approve of our relationship."

Impressed by his acting, I nodded in approval. Wrapping my arm around his, I rested my head on his shoulder in a bid to make our fib more convincing. He seemed to tense up at this, as I felt his body stiffen beneath my grip.

Of course, Hwan was bothered by physical contact. He was such an innocent man-child.

Obviously touched, my mom pulled both of us into a hug. "Sweetie, you should never hide things from your parents. Hwan is such a lovely boy, we both would've approved. Whatever made you think we wouldn't?"

"I don't know," I feigned emotion, wiping a fake tear. "You and Dad seemed bent on me marrying a Nigerian. All the suitors you've liked are Nigerian."

"Of course not, Sweetie. Your father and I just want to see you happy. And finally, get some grandkids too."

Chuckling at that last part, I pulled away from the hug, Hwan following suit beside me. A lone tear trickled down my mother's cheek as she cupped both our faces in her hands.

"You two look beautiful together. I pray God blesses your relationship."

We both whispered a soft 'Amen', sneaking knowing looks at each other. If only my poor mother knew of our sinful actions, she'd leave the dear Lord out of this.

Smiling widely, my mom took out her phone which had been buzzing in her pocket this entire time. Glancing at the screen, she gasped in horror.

"Dear God, I'm late for my meeting!"

Immediately dashing out of the kitchen, she grabbed her coat from the living room. "I'll come by tomorrow, dear. See you both soon!"

"Bye!" we both called out as the front door slammed shut.

At last, my mother is gone. Crisis averted.

Relieved, I crashed into the kitchen chair and hastily grabbed one of the plates of pancakes. I was halfway done gobbling down the first one when I felt Hwan staring at me.

Annoyed, I raised a brow at him. "What?"

"Why did you lie?"

With an eye roll, I contemplated the better option between ignoring him or glaring and then ignoring him. Feeling kind, I went with the first option.

"Answer me, Miss Oba."

Silence.

"Miss Oba!"

More silence.

"I'm going to tell your mom you lied!"

That caught my attention. "I'll make sure you don't live to see the next sunrise if you do."

"If you don't want me to tell the truth, at least tell me why I'm lying."

With a sigh, I explained my dilemma to him – the whole African mom thing, the pressure to get married and the embarrassing casual sex allegation.

"Let me get this straight. You lied to your mom because you don't want her to think you're a slut and so that she won't pressure you to get married?"

"Yup," I responded, popping the 'p'.

"Wow. I didn't realize marriage was such a big deal in Africa."

"Marriage is the biggest deal in Africa. Especially for women."

We fell into an uncomfortable silence after that, and I tried my best to not let my uneasiness show. This was arguably our first real conversation, and neither of us seemed entirely fond of the other.

It was painfully awkward.

Fidgeting nervously, he chose to break the silence with a question.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. That doesn't mean I'll answer it."

Rolling his eyes, he proceeded to ask anyway. "Who exactly are you? I mean, you're clearly no commoner to afford a place like this."

"I suppose that question wasn't entirely stupid," I scoffed, finishing the last of my food. "If you're so curious then Google me."

Tossing my plate in the sink, I strutted out of the kitchen, making sure to give him a side-eye before leaving.

-

Hwan's POV

As soon as she left the kitchen, I pulled out my phone and looked up her name. A Wikipedia page popped up first, and her picture was clearly displayed there.

My jaws dropped as I read about her, not believing I was in the same house as such an influential person – princess, child rights advocate and multibillionaire?

I had to be dreaming.

That would explain her lavish condo, though. And her arrogant attitude. And her flawless skin.

Actually, it explained pretty much everything.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I went into the living room where she was sat watching a random sitcom. She glanced up at me with a bored expression, clearly unimpressed by my timid demeanor.

"You look like you're about to take a shit. Did my credentials scare you that much?"

Simply shaking my head in response, I'm not quite sure how to address her. She was really an actual princess. Like real life royalty.

Rolling her eyes at my awkwardness, she tossed a bunch of keys at me which I clumsily caught. I gave her an inquisitive look to which she passively responded.

"The keys to your friend's car. I drove it here, right?"

Again, I chose to nod instead of actually speaking.

"Call him over to come get it. Then you can both leave."

Her gaze returned back to the TV, clearly done with me. Quickly, I went to do as she asked and soon enough, James was on his way. Returning back to the living room, I settled on the sofa furthest from her. She noticed this and her face contorted into a frown.

"What's wrong with you, boy?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed," I answered honestly. "I can't believe you're a real princess. It's quite a shocker."

"Why is it so hard to believe? Did you think all princesses were a bunch of blonde, white girls?"

"No! Of course not! I just find it strange that I'm talking with the princess of Afi Kingdom. I mean your net worth is literally the economy of a small country!"

She laughed at that part, and for whatever reason it made me feel good. It was strange seeing her do anything more than scowl or glare, so I appreciated the moment of pleasure.

"I suppose that's true. I have been considering buying a small island lately. Not like you'd care, though."

"Why would I care about whatever madness you waste your money on?"

"A tropical island is definitely not a waste of money, boy. It's luxury at its finest."

"Is it?" I say unsurely, "I find it hard to consider such a ghastly waste of money 'luxury'. If I had that kind of money I'd do something more productive and empowering with it. Something that would benefit whole communities and enrich tons of lives. Adding value to people is the ultimate luxury."

Her eyes were trained on me as I finished speaking, and there was a very obvious tension in the air. Her expression was unreadable and I wasn't sure if it was threatening or calculative.

Trying to lighten the mood, I cracked a smile.

"But at the end of the day, nobody can pass up having a hot tub, right?"

"Yeah," she weakly responded, going back to watching her show.

Feeling like an idiot, I quietly sunk into my chair.

Why did I have to make it seem like she was inconsiderate? I should've just said buying an island was cool. Or better yet I should've shut up. Now she probably hated me more than before.

Cue the awkward silence.

After what felt like an eternity, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Checking the ID, I let out a relieved sigh as I read James' name. Standing up, I gathered myself together.

"Your Majesty, my friend is here to take his car. I'll be leaving now."

The princess didn't cast me even a slight glance, focusing instead on the TV screen. "Go then."

Quietly turning to leave, I felt a little disappointed that she didn't even say goodbye. I guess I really upset her.

"One more thing, Hwan," she called out as I walked out the door. "You can call me Hannah."

My head instantly snapped back to look at her, but I found she was not looking at me still. With a chuckle, I exited her apartment and made my way to the elevator.

For some reason I was yet to understand, I couldn't stop grinning like an idiot. Maybe all those sugary pancakes were getting to me.

But I had a gut feeling that my racing heart had more to do with a certain chocolate-skinned girl than any sugar rush.

Good thing, I'd always loved chocolate.