Star's heart pounded as she listened from the shadows, her mind racing with what she had just overheard. Bonita and Maria's conversation wasn't just an ordinary family dispute—it was a sinister plot, one that threatened everything she had started to build in this house. They weren't just plotting against her—they were plotting against her child. The baby she had yet to truly understand, but was already fiercely protective of.
"Jesus! These people are evil," Star muttered under her breath, stepping away from the door and hurrying downstairs. "No, no. Star, don't be scared. But why are they planning to kill me? Or my baby?" Her voice shook slightly as she voiced her fears. "I need to find out."
She was startled, but not shaken. Her suspicions had always lingered about Maria, and now Bonita was undeniably involved in this web of lies and treachery. It made sense now—the way they looked at her, the way their words hinted at something darker.
Bonita and Maria approached the door, and Star quickly moved away, careful not to be seen. But they didn't get a chance to question her. Before they could close the door behind them, Tiffanie appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Ah, hey, it's me... you're being called downstairs. Dinner's getting cold... come on." Tiffanie said, her tone casual but her eyes darting suspiciously from Maria to Bonita.
Bonita shot her a glance, narrowing her eyes. "Why are we using the dining table today anyway?"
Maria's response was quick, though there was an undertone of irritation in her voice. "Because Star suggested it, and Mandume said it's like it's not even my house anymore."
Bonita's lips curled into a sarcastic smile, but she said nothing, and the three of them made their way downstairs to join the others.
Mandume was already seated at the table, his chair pulled closer to Star's side. She hadn't expected it, but it felt right. He was there, and somehow, everything seemed more grounded—more family-like. Tiffanie, however, wasn't as pleased. Star could feel her gaze burning into her back, filled with jealousy.
"You see, Mom?" Mandume said, his voice warm as he gestured around the table. "Now we feel just like family because of Star."
Maria, who had been silent until then, sighed deeply, her expression far away. "Hmm, of course, it just reminds me of David... He would be here, joking around with the food."
Star glanced at her, wondering about the weight behind those words. She couldn't help but feel like Maria was hiding something—something more than just her bitterness about David's absence.
Bonita, looking unusually interested, turned toward Star. "So, tell us about your family, Star. Your dad…"
Mandume's eyes locked onto Bonita's, and he shot her a sharp look, a silent warning that didn't go unnoticed by Star. She knew he didn't want her to speak about her past—not now, not in front of everyone.
But Bonita wasn't deterred. "What? I just want to know."
Star didn't hesitate, though. She met Bonita's gaze with the same intensity. "I lived with my mom and dad until I was ten. They always fought. My father... he argued about every single mistake he saw in the house. He never liked me, and I have no problem with it." Her voice trembled slightly, but she steadied herself. "Mom got used to the fighting, accepted it as her fate. But things took a wild turn when I got pregnant. I found out my dad wasn't even my real father—he had twins somewhere else."
She paused, feeling the sting of that memory, the one that had pushed her to the edge and ultimately out of her own home.
"I got kicked out after that. Pushed down the stairs, and that's how I ended up here." Star's eyes never left Bonita's, as if daring her to react.
Bonita nodded slowly, a faint expression of understanding—or was it pity?—flitting across her face.
Mandume, who had been holding Star's hand throughout her explanation, squeezed it gently. His touch was comforting, but also grounding.
Star sighed deeply before adding, "Now you know. And since I've been watching my parents fight my entire life, I'm not scared of anything in this world—not even death." Her words were deliberate as she looked directly at Maria.
Mandume's expression shifted to one of confusion. "No, Star, you're not dying—not while I'm alive."
Star smiled softly at him. "Hmm, Mendu, it was a joke."
After dinner, Star couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at her. She needed some space, some air. The weight of the conversation she had just had, and everything that had been said, sat heavily on her chest.
She stepped outside, hoping the cool air would clear her head. The stars above were as familiar as ever—her constant companions.
"So, are you stalking me now?" Star muttered, gazing up at the stars. "When I was in Goreangab, you were there. And now I'm in Wanahenda... you're still here. What's up with that?" She chuckled bitterly. "You see this life, eeh? I thought my family was the worst, but this family's got its own level of messed-up. I don't know what I did to them, but they're planning to kill me... But I'm not scared, though. I'm not. And I know I won't die. I'm here to find Mom. But why do they want to kill me? I didn't do anything to them. I need to find out."
Her thoughts were heavy, but she kept her focus. "Mom, where are you? Don't worry... I'll come get you. My promise stands."
As she stood there, lost in her thoughts, she felt the warmth of a jacket drape over her shoulders. She turned to find Mandume standing beside her, his face soft with concern.
"What are you doing out here? It's cold," he said, sitting next to her.
Star smiled weakly, her gaze returning to the stars. "Yeah, just watching the stars. I like them, you know? Whenever my parents fought, I used to go outside and just watch the stars. Now, I miss them... I miss their fights."
Mandume shifted closer to her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But you'll meet your mom soon. I called Rudra... He said we should send their pictures and numbers for tracing."
"Who's Rudra?" Star asked, intrigued.
"The private detective I told you about," Mandume explained.
"Oh, yeah... I remember. I'll send you their pictures. Mom doesn't have a phone, only Tomas," Star said.
"Don't worry," Mandume reassured her. "Your mom will be found soon."
Star shook her head. "Mendu, I'm fine. I'm not worrying too much."
"That's my girl," Mandume smiled at her.
"So, you like watching stars, huh?" he asked after a moment.
"Yep," Star replied. "They give light and show me the way forward. It's because of them that I've endured my parents' everyday fights for ten years."
Mandume smiled, his eyes softening. "Wow, I like your spirit."
Star pointed to one of the stars. "Look at that one. He's my best friend. He's always where I am. It's like we communicate, you know? Even when my world is dark, he always shines. Seeing him gives me light."
Mandume gazed at her with something more than admiration—something deeper.
"Yeah," he said softly, "it's beautiful... just like you."
Star laughed, her mood lifting slightly. She playfully nudged Mandume. "You're just an idiot."
She leaned on his shoulder, and they both sat there in silence, watching the stars.
Back inside, Bonita paced her room, her mind racing with worry. She couldn't let Star remain a threat—not while Mandume was in love with her.
Tiffanie, noticing Bonita's distress, leaned against the doorframe. "Hey girl, what's up with you?"
"We've got to take care of Star," Bonita said, her voice sharp with urgency.
Tiffanie rolled her eyes. "Ah, every time it's 'Star, Star, Star!' Let me study, jaare."
Bonita was unwavering. "We have to get rid of her. Mandume's in love with her."
Tiffanie's head snapped up. "What?!"
Bonita nodded, her face grim. "Mom knows too. Star is a threat to her. We can't let her stay here."
Tiffanie stood, her posture stiffening. "What are you saying? We're going to do something about it?"
Bonita extended her hand, a look of determination in her eyes. "Are you in or not?"
Tiffanie didn't hesitate. "Of course, anything that has to do with Mandume, I'm automatically involved."
"Come on, then," Bonita said, her voice cold and calculated. "Let's go talk to Mom."
And together, they headed to Maria's room, their minds set on what needed to be done.
The webs of deceit were tightening.