Behind Her Smile - Season 1 - Episode 2

5 years ago

Behind Her Smile - Season 1 - Episode 2

Miriam stayed back in the kitchen, feigning oblivion of the Prince’s return. Although the Queen’s shout out had made Miriam freeze, she let her immobility last only for a moment. Shrugging, she went back to work. She shook her head disappointedly at her friends’ giddiness. She couldn’t blame them though. Who wouldn’t be eager to see the Prince who’d been away for years?

Sighing with frustration, Miriam tossed her rag
to the corner and made for the servant’s quarters. The day had been quite hectic and she needed a break, but as she neared the living room, the cheering from outside interrupted her footsteps.

She gripped a pillar and peeked through the curtains. A crowd of men, women and children streaked in through the gate, singing welcoming songs as they marched toward the Prince’s car.

They screamed at the top of their voices as a
guard advanced to the car and tugged at the door. Bowing, he held open the door for the Prince to step out. As though a whistle had been blown, everyone else bowed before the Prince.

The Prince stepped out of the car, his head held high in a kingly pride. Miriam craned her neck to have a better view. She had been right to think he’d grown into a fine young man.
Even though Miriam and the Prince had been
friends in the past, she almost didn’t recognize him. The hair on his head, almost an afro, glittered like coal. His complexion, now many shades lighter, made him no different from those British men who often visited the palace. But this fine young man was no foreigner. This was Michael Jaja, the prince of Ikemba.

Michael smiled and waved at the crowd who had gathered to welcome him. “Thank you all. I have missed this place so much ”

“Michael my son,” Queen Jaja said, her voice standing out among the cluster of voices. “Welcome home. Come and give your mother a hug.”

Michael turned toward his mother, but before his gaze fell on her, the window caught his eye.

Gasping, Miriam ducked away from his sight. She pressed her hand to her chest, leading her pacing heart back to normalcy.

The Prince had seen her. Or had he? Although she craved another sneak peek to find out if he still stared in her direction, she turned away from the living room.

She sauntered to her room and plopped down on the bed she shared with Amara. There she sat, motionless, her chest heaving as she reminisced over the bond she’d shared with Michael in the past.

The commotion outside grew louder by the second. Miriam knew she was supposed to be out there, welcoming the Prince. It was one of her duties as a palace maid, but she just couldn’t handle being there.

“Wow,” Ella said. Miriam raised her head and found Ella and Amara waltzing into the room.

How long had she been lost in thoughts?
“The Prince has always been handsome,” Ella said. “But I never thought he would be this charming.”

“He’s been working out too,” Amara said. “Did you see his muscles? They were almost bursting out of his shirt.”
“What are you girls doing here?” Chioma asked, standing in the threshold.

“We came to call Miriam,” Ella said.

“I have come to call her myself,” Chioma said.

“It seems she needs a personal invitation.”
“Sorry. I had a headache, so I came here to
rest.” Miriam looked away from Chioma.

She always did that when she lied. How could she join them outside when the only thing on her mind was avoiding the Prince at all costs?

“When everybody is busy welcoming the Prince?” Chioma asked.

“I said I have a headache,” Miriam said. “I’m
not feeling well, please.”

“Okay,” Chioma said. “That’s what you’ll tell the Queen.

You think she hasn’t noticed your absence? If you like your job and want to keep it, you better go out there and do what you’re being paid for.”

Miriam sighed. She knew she was fighting a
hopeless war. She trailed after Chioma, Ella and Amara as they walked out of the house. While the three maids joined the crowd in cheering and dancing, Miriam stood like a statue, her eyes locked on the Prince who had his back to her. Standing behind Amara, she stared at him, praying he didn’t turn around. She couldn’t handle him locking eyes with her right now.

Queen Jaja stood behind her son as he crowded the entrance door. The smile on her face had faded, her excitement replaced with a feeling that could only be fear. With a heart full of prayer, she watched her son step into the house.

A fierce wind whirled around him, rippling his
clothing and wrapping him with a ghastly cold. He swayed backward, losing his footing, but the Queen was quick to grip his arms. She knew why this was happening, and the knowledge that things might go wrong filled her with untold fear.

‘Oh heavens,’ she prayed silently.

‘Please don’t let anything happen to my son ‘