I was overwhelmed with emotion when Stella stepped onto the porch in her whimsical wedding dress. I had watched Stella her entire life, but I had never seen her look as beautiful as she did that day.
“Mama, what do you think?” she asked.
Her mother beamed, hands clasped over her mouth. “My angel, you look lovely,” Mama said, fighting back tears of joy.
“In a few weeks, I’ll be walking down the aisle. I wish Papa were here to see this,” Stella said softly as her mother moved closer to embrace her.
It all happened in this home. I watched it happen.
Just yesterday, Stella was playing on this grassy plain. I saw her learn how to ride a bicycle with Papa beside her. I saw Papa mow the lawn with toddler Stella strapped to his back.
Papa loved Stella deeply. She was the first child they had after many years of trying to conceive. Stella came after fifteen years of marriage, and three years later they were blessed with a boy, Troy.
Stella had a loving childhood.
I remember her tenth birthday. Her parents invited the entire neighborhood. There was barbecue, magic tricks, a bouncing castle, it felt more like a carnival. The neighbors talked about it for weeks, and children dreamed of having a Stella-themed birthday party.
Stella’s prom was celebrated in full regalia. She wore a purple princess dress and insisted on going with her dad.
Stella’s father was overwhelmed with joy. At first, he declined because he didn’t want to embarrass her, but Stella would have chosen embarrassment again and again if she had known it would be the last dance she would ever share with Papa.
Shortly after that, Papa passed away.
I do not know the details of his death, but I remember someone walking up to the door to break the news. For weeks, no one came outside the house.
Then, after two months, I saw Troy leave with a suitcase. He was going to stay with cousins for a while.
Then I saw a boy.
Every day, I watched him climb the steps until the day I finally saw Stella come outside again, then Mama after her. Slowly, routines returned to something close to normal.
Instead of Papa mowing the lawn, a middle-aged man came once a week to do it.
Now Stella was getting married.
On Friday, Stella invited Kris over. Stella had met Kris at a bar, and soon they became close friends, at least that was what I gathered from the conversations I overheard on the porch.
“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Kris said carefully, “but are you sure you want to marry him?”
“When Papa died, he was the one who pulled me out of depression,” Stella replied. “I was drowning, but he helped me through it.”
“He shouted at you the other day. And a few days ago, you told me he threatened to slap you. Does Mama know about this? Troy?”
“Mama is happy for me. I don’t want to break her heart. Troy is busy with school and exams, I don’t want to bother anyone. I think it’s just a phase that will pass. Vincent is very kind when you get to know him. Don’t worry, Kris.”
It was unusual for Stella to come home late, but that night I saw her return around 3 a.m.
She slammed the car door of the man I assumed was Vincent and shouted that the wedding was over and that he should never text her again.
As she hurried toward the house, I saw Vincent race after her in fury.
“You can’t call this off! Come back, I’m talking to you!”
He grabbed her arm. Their voices crashed over each other in angry shouts.
Then Vincent pushed Stella.
She fell hard against the staircase, her head striking the edge.
Silence.
Vincent called her name, but she did not respond.
Panicked, he ran back to his car and sped away.
The commotion woke Mama. She rushed outside only to find Stella lying motionless, blood pooling beneath her head.
“Oh no! Somebody call an ambulance!” she screamed.
The ambulance arrived quickly. Stella was in critical condition.
Later, the police came to take statements.
“Did you see what happened?” one officer asked Mama.
“No,” she replied shakily. “I only heard screaming. I didn’t think it came from here until I heard what sounded like Stella.”
The officer wrote everything down and looked around carefully, searching for any angle from which a witness might have seen the incident.
But he found none.
The view to where it happened was blocked by a huge tree.
I was the tree.
Ah…Vincent went free ke?!
🥰