Late morning sunlight slanted through the lace curtains of Star's room, illuminating the soft hum of her laptop as she typed furiously. Lines of code scrolled across the screen, the glow reflecting in her determined eyes. She barely noticed when Mandume paused outside her window, wine glass in hand, studying her with gentle concern.
"Hey," he said, pushing the window open. "Aren't you coming downstairs? We're—"
"Coming to where?" Star glanced up, startled, then forced a smile. "I've got an assignment to finish."
Mandume comes into the room, set the wine and two glasses on her desk, then slipped around behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She tensed for a moment before relaxing into his embrace, the warmth comforting.
"Are you upset?" he whispered, fingertips brushing her belly. "Is the baby kicking?"
Star's cheeks flushed. "Just focused on work," she murmured.
He leaned closer. "What module is it—programming?"
"Yeah," she sighed, half-smiling.
"I'm impressed," he said softly. "You make it look easy."
Star closed her eyes for a moment. I wish this feeling could last forever, she thought, but the thought escaped her lips.
"What?" Mandume asked, confusion knitting his brow.
"Oh—never mind," she blushed, turning back to the screen. "Go! You guys have fun."
"By the way," Mandume added, voice low. "Has that private number called again?"
Star shook her head. "No. It's stopped."
"Good," he said firmly. "If anyone tries to hurt you, they're hurting me too."
"All right." She gave a curt nod, and Mandume kissed her forehead before slipping away. Star watched him go, an involuntary smile tugging at her lips.
Down the hall, Mandume knocked on Olivia's door. Inside, Bonita was curled up on the bed, books open but unread.
"I thought you'd bring Star," Bonita teased when Mandume entered.
"She's studying," he replied, his tone gentle.
"Oh… I'll just have one glass," Bonita said, gesturing to the wine.
Olivia looked up. "Because Star's not here?"
Bonita laughed. "I have homework, too."
Mandume turned to Olivia. "Are you still going to school?"
Olivia shook her head. "They offered me a home-school option—I submit my work online, then sit for the exams regionally."
Bonita whistled. "That's new to me. Your dad's connections at work?"
Olivia shrugged. "He handled it."
Mandume studied her for a moment. "How's your dad now, after the divorce?"
"Better," she said, voice catching. "He took a trip to Dubai."
Mandume nodded.
Olivia chuckled upset "Divorce…" She paused, then changed the subject. "Do you still have the friendship bracelet I made you?"
Mandume's face fell. "Um...uh", then sips in the wine
"He threw it away when you left," Bonita says
Mandume frowned. "I was angry… I didn't know what else to do."
Olivia blinked back tears. "You meant so much to me, Mendu. I'll never leave you again. That's my promise."
Bonita cleared her throat. "I'm off. Don't miss me too much."
Mandume raised his glass. "To new beginnings."
They clinked glasses. Bonita hurried out, and Mandume started to follow her—until Olivia intercepted him.
"Mandume…" she whispered.
He stopped. She took his hand in hers. "I'm sorry—about everything."
He squeezed her hand gently. "That was the past. We're moving forward. Friends?"
Olivia nodded, relief flooding her features.
Olivia smile faded at the unspoken words. His heart belongs to someone else. But she hid her pain behind a courteous nod.
The next morning, Star stepped into the backyard and knelt beside the living flowers Christine had entrusted to her care.
"Good morning, beautiful," she crooned, gently brushing each petal. "Keep blooming—for Mr. Davids' sake."
She crossed herself. "God, protect him today."
She rose, breathing in the crisp air, then swept inside to gather her things. Mandume and Bonita drove her to school; Olivia remained at home with Christine.
That afternoon, Star slipped into the Electronics Lab and headed straight for the course superviso's office. He was nowhere to be found. She drummed her fingers on the desk, watching trophies and blue-ribbon circuits line the shelves. On a whim, she snapped a photo of her group's project display—her specialty in electrical design.
Her gaze landed on a small voice recorder perched precariously on a low shelf. Curious, she picked it up… and it slipped, clattering beneath the desk. When she bent to retrieve it, she discovered a printed sheet tucked underneath: her test and project marks—every single one altered to failing grades.
Her heart pounded. "What on earth?" she whispered.
She rifled through the records. A test she'd aced at 90% now bore a 40%. Her project—her pride—listed as 'F'. The rest of the class's marks remained untouched.
Fury and fear clenched her chest. What's happening here?
She glanced at her watch. Her appointment with the supervisor had been an hour ago. Where is he?
Hunting for answers, she pressed the recorder's button. It sprang to life, playing six recent files in order. Then crackled with Maria's voice, smooth and conspiratorial.
"…and then she'll get 29% on the group project," Maria whispered. "I'll make sure he fails her."
Star froze, shock anchoring her to the spot. The next file was the supervisor's deep voice: "Understood. She'll never suspect us."
Star stumbled back, heart hammering. She snapped the recorder off and fled the office.
Moments later, the door opened behind her.
"She was here," said Supervisor James, voice cold. "I hope our plan works."
Star pressed her hand to her mouth, trembling with betrayal and resolve.
The walls have ears—and so does your enemy.