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Added: Nov 10
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My instagram Love - Season 1 - Episode 31
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Source: coolval



Shift the spotlight to Francesca’s point of view:
One week. 06:17 AM.


Another day to pay a visit to my careless fiancé in the good for nothing hospital where he was admitted since the night of his accident.

In all honesty, Tunde was a complete moron for doing what he did that landed him in his present condition at the hospital, and that’s a basic fact. We had a minor argument that could’ve been settled in no time if he had only calmed down, swallowed his pride and apologized for his wrongdoing, but his gigantic ego wouldn’t let him think clearly. Instead, he stormed out of the house as usual and got himself into big trouble. A costly mistake that he would wish he could change if he could only erase the past. A stupid mistake that would cost him his health, his limb and destabilize our already unstable relationship.
We were in the typical stage of ‘from frying pan to fire’, due to one party’s stubbornness and carelessness. In spite of all this mess he’d gotten us into, there was practically no one else he could rely on but me and his sweet little daughter, since his actual immediate family were late and he was the only surviving son who was left. Somehow, his siblings had died at a very tender age which left him devastated and lonely. No parents, no siblings, no help from his relatives and his former friends whom he trusted with his very own life! He absolutely had nothing but faith and determination which paved the way for his divine success and greatness in no time. Undoubtedly, Tunde was a genius whose intellect baffles almost everyone he crosses paths with all the time, but he could also be a pain in the arse sometimes.




All the same, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. No human being is perfect, this I knew so well. All I could do was to tolerate his bad habits and cope with his imperfections if I were to be his lawfully wedded wife in a few weeks time.
Yawning tiredly, I got out of bed, stretched my torso, drank a cup of water from the fridge, eased myself in the bathroom, came back to the room and knelt down to say a quick prayer to my God. After doing that, I got back on my feet, yawned again and stood in front of the dressing table in Alice’s room, observing my face in the small mirror which was hers. My early morning face looked quite terrible. I could’ve argued I wasn’t the one standing in front of the mirror because my hair was too rough, my eyes looked soggy, my nose was scrunched for no reason, and my lips were so dry beyond belief. I looked like an old ogre who happened to be trapped in a big castle with a huge red dragon, waiting hopelessly for a prince charming to come to my rescue for a very long time.
I shook my head and looked back at the bed which I had just gotten out of, scratching my itching hair rigorously. Alice was nowhere to be seen. I could remember sharing the same bed with her for the night because she was so scared of sleeping alone ever since her father’s accident took place, but now she was not in sight, which was quite a surprise to me because the day was a pleasant Saturday, and the time was only 6:26 AM.
‘Where could she be?’ I wondered, stepping out of her room, still scratching my hair like a drug addict who was high on cocaine. I had barely even walked up to the passageway when I saw her sitting on the staircase, crying quietly, again. I stopped scratching my hair, rolled my eyes, closed them, opened them back and sighed. I should’ve known she would be sitting somewhere in the house doing the same thing she was fond of doing since she heard the awful news about her father’s situation. She must’ve heard my footsteps or my loud sigh because she looked back on impulse and saw me staring back at her, then she covered her face with her palms, stood up and stormed down the stairs without even saying a word to me. I couldn’t possibly expect her to greet me in such pitiful condition, so I scampered after her until I was able to catch up with her and held her back so that she wouldn’t run any farther than she already had.

“Alice, what’s wrong?” I mouthed at once, still holding her small hand while she continued trying to break loose from my grasp. “What’s going on, girl?”
“Leave me alone.” Alice complained, pulling her hand and scratching mine with her other free hand in a rather desperate manner. “I don’t feel like talking to you.”
I raised an eyebrow, confused. “Why not?”
“Nothing.” The 7-year-old girl said to me, acting so stubborn like an uncultured foreign child. “I just don’t want to!”
“Alice, I feel like there’s something you’re not really telling me here.” I said, ignoring her unusual attitude which I was sure was not coming from her tender mind at all. “Can we just sit down and talk, please?”
“No, ma.”
“Alice, come on.” I persuaded her softly, releasing my firm grip from her hand so that she could feel comfortable with me.

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