CHAPTER TWO: "Mon épouse !"

If she had to retrace the thread, Hailley suppose it started on an ordinary morning.

There was nothing dramatic about their beginning, because they were both strangers who had known each other for six years, but both were to busy to notice the other. He worked as a bus driver. He worked in an All-through school barely ten minutes away from her home.

 Hailley’s home stood along the familiar road that the school bus followed every morning and afternoon — modest, open, and deeply woven into the life of the neighborhood.

It was a four-bedroom house, simple but steady, its walls softened by years of sun and dust. The compound had no fence, so the yard flowed directly into the street. Nothing separated their home from the outside world. People passing by could greet whoever was seated on the veranda. Children sometimes cut across the front yard without hesitation. Life brushed closely against their doorstep.

Inside, the house was full.

Two parlours shaped its rhythm. The front parlour was for visitors — neat chairs arranged carefully, curtains drawn just right, everything kept in order as if always prepared for company. The second parlour, deeper inside, carried the warmth of everyday life. That was where the family gathered in the evenings, where television sounds mixed with conversation, where siblings argued and laughed, where tired bodies sank into sofas after long days.

The kitchen was rarely quiet. It carried the comforting scent of spices, warm oil, and simmering meals. In the mornings, it was alive with urgency — cupboard doors opening, spoons clinking against cups, her mother giving instructions while stirring a pot.

The house had two bathrooms, practical and constantly in use, because in a home filled with parents and siblings, privacy was a luxury negotiated daily.

Right beside the house — almost attached to it — stood her mother’s small cosmetic store.

It wasn’t large, but it was colorful.

Shelves lined the walls, holding lotions, body creams, perfumes, lip glosses, powders, hair extensions, and small beauty accessories neatly arranged in rows. The faint scent of perfume drifted outside whenever the door was open, blending with the dusty street air. Brightly colored product packaging made the small shop glow, especially in the late afternoon light.

There was no fence dividing the store from the house, just nine to ten steps away from each other. Business and family life existed side by side. Women from the neighborhood stopped by to ask about new creams. Young girls came to admire lipsticks they hoped to buy someday. Coins clinked softly into a container. Conversations about beauty, marriage, and daily struggles flowed easily.

And every day, the school bus passed directly in front of the house.

The sound of its engine would approach from a distance — steady, recognizable. It would slow down near the compound to pick up children nearby, tires crunching lightly against the roadside gravel.

Sometimes she would be in the yard. Sometimes near her mother’s cosmetic shelves. Sometimes inside the parlour by the window.

She never bothered about the sound or busy activity of the school bus, but she had counted their number in her boredom, recognizing a few regular bus drivers, but never paying attention to them.

The bus always moved on.

They were both strangers before then, each person busy with their affairs, even if she had passed beside him, she wouldn't have looked his way, neither would he. He would have walked away in composure, looking through his phone. On the other hand she had always been cold and nonchalant about her sorrounding, minding her life. She shuffled between school and her internship location, never free to let her mind or eyes wander arround. All that mattered was her studies, which made her life busy but fulfilling with the company of friends and class mates. A moment of freedom was an immense luxery for her, but she never wasting a single moment to wander outside.

She was a member of that warm home, but people could barely trace her presence amongst her parents other five children. Her elder brother was very sociable, her junior sister loved to explore and make friends arround her, while their fourth sister was as quiet as her, likely even more silent. Then when it came to the two youngest siblings, who wouldn't know about their naughty parade in the neighborhood.

Hailley's life had been quiet and peaceful without worries, but everything eventually ceased when she finally graduated from university and found it difficult to get a job.

Before the job came, Hailley carried frustration quietly — the kind that settles deep and refuses to leave.

Each morning felt heavier than the last. She would wake up in a house already alive with movement — her mother opening the cosmetic store, her siblings preparing for school, her father stepping out with purpose — and she would feel suspended in between. Not a student anymore. Not yet employed. Just present.

People began to ask questions.

“Any news?”

“Have you found something yet?”

“You’re still at home?”

They were simple questions, but each one pressed against her pride. She had certificates. She had hope. She had sent applications. She had waited for calls that never came. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, while her confidence began to thin like fabric worn too often.

She helped her mother in the cosmetic shop sometimes, arranging lotions and perfumes, smiling at customers — but inside, she felt restless. She didn’t want to remain in the shadow of her family’s work. She wanted something that was hers. Something that made her step out of the house with intention.

There were evenings when she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if she had overestimated herself. If perhaps she wasn’t as capable as she believed. The worst part wasn’t laziness — it was the waiting. The feeling of being stuck while the world kept moving.

Then her aunty stepped in.

Her mother’s sister, who worked as a cook in the school canteen, had been observing quietly. She saw Hailey’s discouragement. Saw the way her laughter had grown thinner. And one day, casually but decisively, she said she would speak to the school administration.

It wasn’t a grand promise. It was simple. “I will talk to them.”

Hailley didn’t allow herself to hope too much. She had already been disappointed before.

But when the news came — that there was an opening for a cashier in the staff canteen — something inside her ignited.

A job. A real job. A position with responsibility.

The day she was told she had been accepted, she could hardly contain her joy. She felt chosen, seen, validated. The weight she had been carrying loosened instantly. She would finally have her own income. Her own routine. Her own space in the world outside her home.

She thanked her aunty repeatedly, almost shyly, almost tearfully. Gratitude filled her in waves. It wasn’t just employment — it was dignity restored.

She prepared for her first day with nervous excitement. New clothes carefully ironed. Hair neatly done. Heart beating with anticipation.

She didn’t know that in that same school compound, a primary school bus driver named Stephan had already been working for some time.

She didn’t know their paths would cross daily.

At that moment, all she knew was relief.

Relief that she would no longer wake up feeling useless. Relief that she had somewhere to go each morning. Relief that her life was finally beginning to move.

She stepped into the school gates thinking she was simply starting a job. She had no idea she was stepping into something much more complicated.

School hadn't reopened yet after a whole summer holiday, the gates of the school hadn't reopened yet. It was a weekend morning when her aunty walked into the door of their home asking for a favour from her. The school canteen had been left unattended for quite long, dust had without doubt settled on chairs and kitchen utensils. Her aunty had been incharged of the cleaning every year with her other colleague, but due to an urgency she might not make it for the cleaning.

Hailley had been sent hurriedly — by her aunty, who had left hurriedly after leaving the a bunch of keys she reckoned should be the canteen's keys. Hailley lowered her eyes and looked at the ice cold keys, recalling her aunty's last word before she stepped out of the door. “Just clean the canteen today,” her aunty had said, “I’ll take care of everything else when I return.”

Hailley arrived infront of the canteen,with no broom in hand, her aunt said everything was available in school for her own use. She was dressed cassually in a pair of black regular fit jeans, paired with a simple black t-shirt that slightly hugged her body. On her feet she cassually wore a pair of flip flops to make cleaning easier. Her long black hair was tied into a cassual but neat bun. It wasn't the first time she had done the cleaning job, because it was a daily routine at home so she quickly organized the chairs scattered arround.

She then picked the broom and started methodically, sweeping and wiping, trying to lose herself in the task. The smell of polish mixed with the lingering scent of breakfast meals from before. Time moved slowly. She didn’t expect anyone else — until the colleague’s daughter arrived later in the morning, bright and cheerful, bringing life back to the otherwise silent canteen.

"Good morning, you're Hailey William right?" The young girls crisp voice brought Hailley out of her concentration.

Standing by the door was a girl closer to her age but she wasn't quite sure, because she wasn't good at making these sorts of discernement. The girl had a cheerful smile, shoulder length hair, with a light makeup accentuating her delicate features.

The girl was cheerful, her laughter bubbling as she stepped inside, brushing a lock of shoulder-length hair behind her ear. She moved wshoulder-length that seemed to carry warmth into the otherwise empty canteen, her energy contagious.

"Hi Hailley, I'm Lila James, nice to meet you." Lila extended her hands towards her with a cheerful smile, which Hailley didn't hesitate to take into hers.

"Hailley William."

As Lila’s hand lingered in hers, Hailley felt a small warmth travel up her arm. Lila… she thought, letting the name roll quietly in her mind. It suits her. Light, cheerful, effortless… like she belongs in the sun. Her shoulder-length hair, the way she smiles, even the way her laugh carries — it all fits the name perfectly.

The world around them seemed to soften, the hum of the empty canteen fading into the background. Hailley’s gaze stayed on Lila’s face, and in that brief, suspended moment, the name became more than just a label. It felt like a small glimpse into who she was — delicate, bright, impossible to overlook, and somehow already impossible to forget.

Even as they let go of each other’s hands, Hailley returned to her occupation without any thought. She had always been an introvert. If no one spoke to her, she wouldn't care about them either. She just wanted to accomplish her task and leave as soon as possible Thinking about the translation work she had left at home, Hailey hastened a little more while Lila left for God knows where.

While she was half way done with her wiping of tables, the doors of the canteen opened and she instinctively raised her sweaty face to look at that direction.

And then, she saw him.

Stephan Smith

He was moving through the canteen with the ease of someone who knew the rhythm of the school but was never part of its formal order. The first thing she noticed was the calm in his presence — steady, unobtrusive, but impossible to ignore. Perhaps it was the way he adjusted a chair, the way his gaze swept the room in casual observation, while speaking on phone with calm and composure.

Her gaze briefly swept on him before she quietly lowered her head to continue with her cleaning, as if no one had just walked in. He didn't seem to have noticed that there was someone at the corner, unintentionally hidden behind, because he took a sit by the window and continued his conversation on phone.

Hailley had wiped every table, before she realised it, she was standing in front of him, looking at his lowered head on his phone, she frowned.

'Why is this guy here, can't he see I'm cleaning?' She was annoyed that someone was in her way, but she didn't speak, she skipped to the other table. Unknown to her he raised his head and looked at her direction with a hint of surprise, as if not expecting her presence.

 Hailley didn't notice how his eyes held a quiet attentiveness, as if he could see the minutiae of her actions without judgment. Stephan noticed how she moved with care, how even she seemed precise and deliberate in her task with familiarity. Her nonchalant gaze focused on cleaning, completely ignoring the additional individual.

'Is she trying to ignore my presence.' He thought to himself, finding it rather intriguing, but he didn't comment either.

He knew her, at least he had brushed past her a few times but never exchanged a word with her. She always seemed to be rushing somewhere, never interacting much with others .When he had walked in here, he hadn't much looked at her direction because he confirmed to himself the only person present was Lila whom he had spotted outside from a distance.

After a brief glance, he withdrew his gaze and continued to play with his phone, not saying a word, no one spoke. However, Hailley felt a little pressured to find herself in an isolated room with an unknown man.

By the time the colleague’s daughter returned, Hailley felt a strange mix of relief and curiosity. The canteen, so often just her aunty’s domain or a workplace of routine, had shifted subtly — it had become a place of possibility.

"Ah, you're almost done?" Lila jogged towards her and carefully looked arround.

"There's not much left here, you had done most of the work. I'm very sorry for the delay Hailley, you can leave the rest to me, Hailley." Lila said, snatching the rag from Hailley, which she gladly let go.

"Then I'll have to trouble you with the rest." Hailley was glad to be relieved of her duties, while Lila felt a little guilty, Hailley had done most of the job.

"I don't think it's any trouble for this lazy girl?" A cello like voice from behind reminded Hailley of that manly presence she had tried so much to ignore.

Hailley felt the subtle shift in space as he stood behind Lila. She glanced up and saw him — tall, steady, left hand relaxed clenching a phone at his side, while his other hand loosely held his bag strap. His posture was plain, unassuming, almost careful, as if he didn’t want to draw attention. His eyes briefly swept the room, polite but distant, and his presence felt calm, neither intrusive nor particularly striking.

Her first impression of him was simple: ordinary, composed, a quiet background to the bright energy of Lila. Nothing about him stirred her curiosity — at least, not yet.

"Stephan Smith, how could you say something like that about me, you're horrible." Lila jokingly rage brought an almost unoticeable smile in her eyes, but his composure was still calm and cassual.

"How horrible could it be, we're not in a horror movie." He replied sarcastically, neither annoying nor jokingly, like a fact that couldn't be denied. He didn't bicker with the cheerful and sunny Lila, countering her words with cassual remarks that only exasperated the other. From their interaction, Hailley could deduce they weren't unfamiliar to each.

Regardless, she didn't care.

"I'll be leaving then." She walked away, neither looking back not her steps faltering, leaving behind what ever scene went on in her absence.

"Why are you even here...? " Lila's voice echoed behind before she had closed the floor to ceiling glass door. She looked arround the quite school campus imagining what it would look like on school reopening.

"Mon épouse !"

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