Mr. Edward

' Yes and instead of him apologizing, he bumped into me, asking me unnecessary questions Who does he think he is? A prince? Well, I am a princess also ". She shouted and it was when the words left that she gasped. She had spilled their cover, her dad and hers, in that shade of anger.

Her eyes locked with those of Mr. Edward. She had said what she was forbidden to say in the years they stayed undercover and now somehow, that look in his eyes, made her understand that rather than him thinking outside and finding her words sweet and of confidence, he pondered on them as though they had an underlying meaning. His furrowed brows furrowed even more.

Diva caressed her brows and sought in her mind a better way of explaining her words, and if she could not find one, she could always say her dad calls her a Princess. Come to think of It, it was better said like that.

' I know. I always told your mother that Diva fitted you than Sophia and that you should be called by that in your Kingdom '. He smiled and turned the ignition.

Diva looked at him, her eyes wide-eyed at the words he had said. Mr. Edward knew she was a Princess. She picked up that comic part where she rubbed her eyes severally to be sure that she was not seeing things, but was in her reality.

' You.... '. She started, trying to form the words in her mouth but he was looking ahead on the road with his hands on the steering as he drove, highlighting the way in front of him.

It was then that she came to notice the time of the day. Her time in the detention had turned the hour hand even faster as when she stepped into the room, it was still bright and now, the night had fallen. Few cars were seen on the road.

Diva pulled her sleeves up, to tap on her watch next. She was surprised at the way the day. On her watch, it flashed 7:30 pm, so, apparently, they had spent more than an hour and two even in the detention room.

' The time in the detention room always seems to go faster '. She heard him speak and peeked at him to see him looking at her through the rear mirror. ' The Principal told me including the parents that came to pick their wards '. She heard him say. He must have seen the scrutiny on her face to know that she was confused as to how he knew she was in detention.

' You... '. She tried to say but his words came at her after.

' Don't worry I am not telling your father any of this. Let's get safe parking and then we can discuss. Trust me '.

' What of the driver? '.

' Today is his leave off. He's gone to see his family '.

Diva leaned back in his seat and sighed. So the butler knew about her background. Who else did?. Who could she trust exactly?

Soon, she heard the engine switching off and the car turned immobile. In the rear mirror, Mr. Edward was looking at her.

' Your mother, Olivia was my younger sister '. And so the conversation about the butler's identity started with her adjusting herself in her seat to listen intently. '— Olivia and I grew up as the only surviving children of your grandparents. We were of a tight bond. Always seen together. Dressing together and living our little lives in every peaceful way '.

Mr. Edward sighed and went through the most tragedic memory lane he could go. He has always avoided this path but today, he thought it better for her to know.

**

In a house with peeling paints, lines running up from the ground to the top, and railings of about four feet, a thin pillar stood, demarcating the railings. The flooring of plastered cement had potholes that piled sands. The two steep stairs into the house were of bad shape too as they seemed to have been sawed in the middle, almost vertically splitting it in two. The feeling of the wall was rough like little stones added in much quantity. The protection of the house, a long iron gate of 3ft wide in breadth and 7ft long, stood at the entrance of the house.

Inside the house, and past the little square of a sitting room, into the pressing space of the kitchen, two children, a boy of eight years and a girl of five bent their upper bodies, pressing their hands on their knees, as they watched and almost entered the soap their mother was cooking on the coal stove.

As the woman stirred the soup and plastered a little on her palm to taste, she saw her little ones looking at her with embiggened eyes. Seeing them being so cute, she burst out in laughter as she couldn't control it anymore. As she laughed the children looked at each with the utmost confusion.