Whispers In Time

Emily raised the salon mirror, allowing her client to inspect the back of her newly styled hair. The client appeared uncertain about the style, tilting her head from left to right while examining it critically. The room fell into complete silence, as if a pin dropping could be heard. Fifteen apprentices held their breath, anticipating harsh criticism for their work.

"Well... turn it to the left and let's see... okay... raise it a little higher... let it come down a bit... okay, I think it's fine," the client finally said, offering a smile as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Sighs of relief filled the room as Emily lowered the mirror and carefully removed the towel from the client's shoulders. "Well, this hairstyle doesn't look bad at all," the client admitted, glancing at her image once more. She seemed pleased with the style, picked up her handbag, and pulled out a white envelope. After opening it, she placed a crisp one hundred cedi note on the trolley.

"That's for your lunch," she said, nodding at Emily. Emily gratefully picked up the money and muttered her appreciation for the generous tip. The client then retrieved another crisp one hundred cedi note to pay for the service. "Keep the change," she added when Emily tried to hand over the difference.

Just then, another lady entered the salon. "Oh, Lovelace, you're here," the client greeted the newcomer warmly. "Emily has done a good job for me, as usual. By the way, can she come over to my house to do my hair and pedicure on weekends? Driving here through the congested traffic is becoming too stressful for me. Besides, even when I come here, she can't give me her full attention because other clients keep walking in and distracting her."

"Of course, Emily will be delighted to provide home services, I'm sure, Mrs. Adams," Lovelace replied readily. The other girls in the salon winced with apprehension. Despite Lovelace having chosen Emily for the job, they understood the nightmarish experience that awaited her at Mrs. Adams' home. Emily, however, smiled politely when Lovelace turned to her for confirmation.

"Yes, Madam, I'll be glad to do so," Emily assured the client. As Mrs. Adams and Lovelace discussed the details of the upcoming home service, the other salon workers retreated to the back room to chat. "Poor Emily," one of the girls whispered. "I don't envy her at all."

"She's the only person who can take that kind of treatment from Mrs. Adams," another girl added. "She's the most difficult client we've ever had in this salon. Have you noticed that even Madam Lovelace avoids styling her hair when she comes in?"

The girls chuckled, recalling the first day Mrs. Gloria Adams arrived in a sleek Toyota Corolla. She exuded wealth, adorned with jewels, and moved gracefully, as if dancing to a tune only she could hear. Emily instinctively opened the door for her, and all the girls stood as she entered.

"Good afternoon, ladies. Can I have my hair styled?" Mrs. Adams inquired, scanning the salon.

"Yes, Madam," the girls chorused. "I don't need a wash, just a styling. Can you do it in thirty minutes?" Lovelace checked the salon clock; it was fifteen minutes to one. "Yes, we can style your hair within thirty minutes," Lovelace assured her as she prepared a chair.

Mrs. Adams settled in the chair, and Lovelace, the salon owner, offered to attend to her personally. The salon workers held back, clearly intimidated by her sophistication.

In her haste to please the client and save time, Lovelace grabbed her trolley, stocked with lotions, rollers, and various hair products, and immediately began working on Mrs. Adams' hair. An apprentice draped a towel around the client's shoulders, and Lovelace picked a lotion, skillfully spraying it onto Mrs. Adams' hair.

Suddenly, a furious voice shattered the salon's silence. "What was that?" Mrs. Adams screeched. "Why? It's styling lotion," Lovelace replied, checking the plastic bottle in her hand to ensure she hadn't made a mistake.

"Hold it!" Mrs. Adams ordered, raising her hand. "Don't you think it's courteous to ask me first if I want to use your salon hair products?" Lovelace appeared flustered, and the other girls exchanged horrified looks. Despite Lovelace's reputation as a skilled beautician, the unexpected outburst had clearly taken her off guard. "I'm so, so sorry, Madam," Lovelace stammered, returning the offending lotion to the trolley. As she did, she noticed the salon towel around Mrs. Adams' shoulders. "Would you like me to use our salon towel?" Lovelace asked, while one of the girls tried to discreetly remove the towel.

"Remove that thing!" Mrs. Adams exclaimed, as if the towel had suddenly become repulsive.

Amid this commotion, a burly man entered the salon, pushing a white plastic trolley. The girls gaped in amazement at the four-tiered white plastic trolley, loaded with an electric kettle, a large water bottle, sparkling white towels, hair lotions, creams, mirrors, combs, brushes, pins, and hair rollers. Lovelace and her girls watched in silence as Mrs. Adams selected the items she needed and placed them on a rack attached to the trolley.

Lovelace pursed her lips, feeling overwhelmed as she gazed at her new client. "Would you please get to work? Remember we don't have all day to stand around and stare!" Mrs. Adams reminded her, pushing her to begin.

Lovelace struggled to regain control of her emotions, moving forward to drape the new sparkling white towel around Mrs. Adams' shoulders. She worked as briskly as possible, with the customer wearing a smug expression as she waited for the results of Lovelace's efforts.

Throughout the session, Mrs. Adams continued to voice her concerns. "That's too tight; can you loosen it up a bit? Remove the pin! It's pricking my scalp!" Her complaints persisted until Lovelace thought she had executed a perfect hairstyle. However, Mrs. Adams abruptly seized the comb and began combing out every strand of her hair, her face twisted with anger as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

"Maybe I should have done this myself," she fumed. "I was deceived that yours is the best salon in this community. If this is the best service I can get from the so-called best salon, I wonder what service the others will offer!"

Lovelace felt mortified and was about to respond angrily when Emily stepped in to prevent a confrontation. "Madam, may I help you?" She offered, taking the comb gently but firmly from Mrs. Adams and expertly combing her long, silky hair. Mrs. Adams was momentarily stunned as Emily worked confidently. Silence fell over the salon as Emily completed the task and held out the mirror for Mrs. Adams.

To everyone's surprise, Mrs. Adams slowly turned from left to right and back, her stern face revealing the faintest hint of a smile. "You certainly have what it takes," Mrs. Adams acknowledged. "Are you her employee?"

"Yes, Madam," Emily replied as she began to step away.

"What's your name?" Mrs. Adams inquired. "Emily, Madam," she replied.

Mrs. Adams stood up, placed a crisp two hundred cedi note on the table, and then walked out without requesting her bill, paying more than four times the usual fee. As soon as she exited the salon, the burly man entered and wheeled the trolley out. Lovelace watched with a scowl, and the girls quickly disappeared into the inner room. Later, they learned that their demanding client was Gloria Adams, the Deputy Minister for Tourism, whose husband was the Minister for Roads and Highways. This information only further intimidated them, making them nervous whenever she called.

Mrs. Adams' second visit was no less unsettling, and Lovelace initially kept her distance. However, over time, Lovelace began to warm up to her when she realized that Mrs. Adams had elevated the salon's profile in the community by choosing Premier Beauty Salon. Week after week, Mrs. Adams scolded, lectured, and guided Emily through every service, from hair styling to nail care and facials. Emily remained calm under the harshest criticism, maintaining her poise and responding with a constant, professional smile.

As weeks turned into months, Mrs. Adams gradually reduced her sharp critiques and began to accept Emily's work. Emily, in turn, remained professional and accommodating. Eventually, Mrs. Adams decided to opt for home services, citing interruptions at the salon. "Emily keeps shuttling between me and other customers, and that cannot be," she insisted. "I'll expect her at my residence at eight in the morning. The driver, Donald, will pick her up in front of the salon."

After Mrs. Adams left, the girls looked at Emily with sympathetic glances. "Poor Emily!" was their silent message.

"I'll pray for you," Diana, one of the girls, whispered. "When I go to church, I'll ask Pastor Smith to pray for you."

"Emily should bring her own floor to walk on when she goes for home service, as I doubt she'll be allowed to step on Mrs. Adams' carpet," another girl joked.

With Saturday just days away, Emily felt anxious about the upcoming home service but put on a brave face. At home, however, she prayed fervently, asking God to grant her favor with Mrs. Adams. She prayed repeatedly until a sense of peace finally settled over her, replacing her initial apprehension.

"You will keep in perfect peace, he whose mind is stayed on thee," she recited scripture to encourage herself.

"She'll make it," Lovelace told herself, thinking about the new arrangement with Mrs. Adams. The client had offered more than ten times the expected fee, and she was sending her most experienced worker for the job.

"Emily will make it," Lovelace reassured herself repeatedly, considering the financial gain and the challenge awaiting the affable but reserved Emily.

The morning sun illuminated the sky, casting a brilliant radiance upon the world below. At Premier Beauty Salon, series of activities went on with enthusiasm. The girls, dressed in their weekend attire of white T-shirts and blue jeans, moved energetically to the rhythm of praise songs, expressing gratitude for the new day. Emily, the salon's senior worker, led them in their customary morning devotion, where one of the girls beseeched the heavens for Emily's success in dealing with their challenging client, Mrs. Adams.

"Oh, dear Lord, You know how difficult Mrs. Adams can be. Nothing seems to satisfy her, and we fear things may get worse when Emily goes to her house. Please, grant our sister Emily Your favor as she embarks on her work at Mrs. Adams' residence this morning," she prayed. The collective "Amen! Amen!" that followed underscored their collective apprehension.

After the prayer, each girl diligently tackled her assigned tasks. Some dusted and cleaned, while others swept, mopped, and meticulously ironed fresh towels. Emily, as the senior member, ensured the salon's preparations flowed seamlessly.

Once satisfied that all assignments had met their standards, Emily examined the contents of her beauty case, packed the night before. She suspected she might not require all the items she had meticulously packed, but she believed it prudent to be well-prepared for any eventuality. After cross-referencing her list with the contents of the case, she snapped it shut and, picking it up from the table, bid farewell to her colleagues.

"See you later, girls!" She waved as she exited the salon's door.

"Jesus is Lord!" Diana, the next in seniority to Emily, waved back, echoing the sentiment of the salon.

Emily didn't have to wait long; within minutes, Mrs. Adams' driver arrived. "Good morning, Mr. Donald," Emily greeted the driver as she settled into the passenger seat beside him.

"Good morning, my good lady," Donald replied, his face adorned with a welcoming smile. "How is my lovely lady this morning?"

"I'm doing fine, thank you," Emily replied. "Where are we headed?"

"We're off to Everton, the official residence of the Minister for Roads and Highways," Donald answered. "As you might already know, Mr. Adams recently assumed office as Minister, so the family had to relocate from North Down, their previous residence, to Everton."

"I see," Emily replied, gaining insight into Mrs. Adams' decision to visit Premier Beauty Salon. "Madam seems to hold you in high regard."

Donald dropped a subtle hint, "She speaks highly of you."

"I appreciate that," Emily responded graciously.

As the white mansion came into view, Emily glanced around, recognizing the location from previous visits. Premier Beauty Salon had several customers in this upscale neighborhood. She stepped out of the car after they passed through the massive metal gates, and Donald pointed to a specific door.

"Madam will receive you in that room," he informed her before driving off.

As Emily approached the door, a nearby dog barked, startling her. A baritone voice reassured her, "Don't be alarmed. Warrior is just welcoming you."

She turned to see a young man restraining a German shepherd on a leash. The dog continued to bark, causing Emily to close her eyes in fear.

"She won't harm you," the young man assured her, moving closer to open the door. As Warrior sniffed at Emily's jeans, she screamed and clung tightly to the young man.

He laughed heartily. "All Warrior does is to bark and not bite," he reassured her, leading her into the room.

Once inside, Emily realized she was in an elegant setting. One part of the room had been transformed into a salon, adorned with top-of-the-line equipment, including a foot bath. Emily couldn't help but wonder why Mrs. Adams chose to visit their salon when her home was so well-equipped.

Without hesitation, Emily proceeded to the sink and thoroughly washed her hands with soap and water. However, as she reached for one of the white towels on the shelf, Mrs. Adams halted her.

"Don't you think it's best to first understand what I expect of you?" Mrs. Adams, with her characteristic cold and stern tone, questioned Emily, who responded with an embarrassed smile.

"I apologize, Madam," Emily muttered sincerely. "You're right; I should have asked for guidance."

Mrs. Adams softened as she observed Emily, who looked radiant in her white salon T-shirt and blue jeans. She couldn't help but notice Emily's flawless skin and figure, aspects she hadn't fully appreciated before.

"Follow me," Mrs. Adams instructed, and Emily obediently complied. They entered what appeared to be the family dining room. Emily felt perplexed, as she had come to work, not to dine. She sensed that Mrs. Adams aimed at disconcerting her, but she was determined not to be daunted by the challenge. From her experience, clients like Mrs. Adams often tried to assert dominance.

The mansion itself was intimidating, with its grand halls, polished surfaces, glittering chandeliers, and antique furnishings. Emily surmised that the smaller dining room, adorned with rich plush curtains and contrasting dark blue walls, was where the minister hosted guests and held banquets.

"You may take a seat," Mrs. Adams offered.

"Thank you, Madam," Emily replied, taking a chair opposite her hostess. Mrs. Adams said grace before beginning her meal.

Emily examined the options and opted for cornflakes, pouring herself warm milk. She noticed an array of bread types but settled for plain cornflakes, eating in silence.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" Mrs. Adams offered. "It's my favorite."

"Thank you, Madam," Emily replied, selecting a croissant and spreading butter on it. She couldn't help but notice Mrs. Adams observing her every move.

"You continue to surprise me, Emily," Mrs. Adams remarked. "Now, tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to know, Madam?" Emily inquired politely.

Mrs. Adams scrutinized Emily, impressed by her self-confidence. The initial verbal exchange hadn't rattled her at all. Emily smiled, her dimples deepening as she did. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon, and she wore delicate earrings. Her bright and clear eyes exuded innocence, and her relaxed demeanor as she spoke about herself exuding confidence.

Mrs. Adams couldn't fathom how someone with a basic education could possess such refined speech and manners. She was eager to learn more about this young woman.

"I'm Emily Akua Dua, and I reside in Abuakwa with my aunt, her husband, and my cousin," Emily began. "I come from Techiman in the Ashanti region."

"Since you live with your aunt in Accra, I assume your parents, if they're alive, still reside in Techiman. Is that correct?" Mrs. Adams inquired.

"Yes, Madam," Emily confirmed.

"Did you attend primary school in Techiman?" Mrs. Adams asked.

"No, Madam," Emily replied. "I've lived with my aunt since childhood, and I attended school in Accra."

"Are you a primary school graduate?" Mrs. Adams questioned.

"No, Madam," Emily answered. "After completing my primary education, I attended Accra Girls' High School."

Mrs. Adams was taken aback by this revelation. "You attended Accra Girls' High School?" she asked with surprise.

"Yes, Madam," Emily replied. "However, after completing senior high school, my aunt informed me that she couldn't afford to sponsor my tertiary education. So, I decided to learn a trade and save up to further my education on my own when I have enough funds."

Mrs. Adams couldn't hide her bewilderment. "This doesn't make sense," she observed. "If your aunt could sponsor your education at Accra Girls', which is a prestigious school, why couldn't she support your university education?"

"Well, Madam, Auntie Ama, the aunt I live with, didn't sponsor my secondary education," Emily clarified. "My aunt from Germany, Auntie Favor, initially sponsored my education, but she lost her job later, and we couldn't afford to continue funding my university education, even though I had the grades."

Mrs. Adams was rendered speechless. Her heart had warmed to Emily, and she decided she wanted to help this young woman.

"I like you, Emily," Mrs. Adams said sincerely. "We'll talk more."

Afterward, Emily focused on her work, washing and styling Mrs. Adams' hair and tending to her nails. By nine o'clock, her work was complete.

"Stephen, could you give Emily a ride back to her salon?" Mrs. Adams asked as her son entered the room. "Donald is at Mrs. Hope's place and won't return for a while."

"It's my pleasure, Mom," Stephen replied. "Which car should I use from the garage?"

"Take the Toyota," Mrs. Adams suggested. "And please return promptly; I have a ten o'clock appointment."

"Consider it done, Mom," Stephen assured her.

"Thank you, Madam," Emily said as she prepared to leave. "I'll stop by after church service tomorrow as you requested."

As she joined Stephen in the courtyard, she couldn't help but ask about Warrior. Stephen burst into laughter, and Mrs. Adams observed her son with a frown. He opened the car door for Emily, who climbed in, and he firmly closed it behind her before taking his seat behind the wheel. Emily laughed at something Stephen said, and they drove away, leaving Mrs. Adams deep in thought.

For several minutes, she stood rooted to the spot, reflecting on the encounter and the young woman who had surprised her in so many ways.

Stephen parked his car in front of Premier Beauty Salon at 9:20 a.m. "What time do you usually close from work?" he inquired. Emily flashed a warm smile. "I don't have a fixed closing time. I wrap up when the last customer leaves."

"Really?" Stephen exclaimed raising an eyebrow, looking surprised. "That sounds pretty unfair."

Emily grabbed her beauty case and stepped out of the car. "Call me when you're ready to leave," Stephen suggested. "Let me have your phone number."

During their short time together in the car, Stephen had enjoyed Emily's company immensely. From the moment she clung to him in fear of Warrior to their pleasant conversation during the drive, he felt at ease with her. To his surprise, he had found himself sharing a lot about his life. "I've been in the country for just about ten months, and it's been an exciting experience," he shared. "I work for High Avenue, and I absolutely love it."

Emily listened attentively, asking insightful questions that encouraged Stephen to talk more about himself. "What do you do at High Avenue?" she inquired.

"I'm a public relations executive, specializing in human resource development," Stephen explained. "I'm a people person, which is why I offer back rides!"

Emily burst into genuine laughter, and Stephen couldn't help but warm up to her. "Enough about me," he said, trying to shift the conversation from himself. "Tell me about your work."

"I specialize in making women look and feel good," Emily replied. "I enhance the beauty of those with less-than-average looks, make average women look beautiful, and even transform beautiful ladies into stunning ones. I'm a people person, and I'm not afraid to ride on the back of others when necessary."

Their laughter filled the car as they continued their conversation. Stephen decided he wanted to see Emily again and spontaneously offered to pick her up after work, even though she mentioned having an appointment with his mother the next day after church. Stephen jotted down Emily's phone number in his diary.

As they pulled up near Premier Beauty Salon, Stephen knew he wanted to spend more time with Emily. This decision was made on a whim, but he was determined to follow through.

As they said their goodbyes and Emily stepped out of the car, Lovelace, the salon's owner, watched from the glass door. She observed Emily laughing and leaving the car. Emily waved as Stephen drove away.

Once Emily entered the salon, she noticed the displeased look on Lovelace's face. Several customers occupied the salon, preventing the employees from chatting freely. Emily's coworkers hoped that Lovelace would inquire about her recent visit to Mrs. Adams's house, but she remained silent.

Diana, one of her coworkers, scrutinized Emily's face, searching for any sign of her emotions. However, Emily's face remained unreadable. Emily was known to smile, whether she was happy, hurt, or embarrassed, making it challenging to gauge her feelings by her facial expressions.

One customer, eager to get Emily's attention, called out, "Emily, please come and check my hair. I've been sitting under this dryer for ages! It's scorching in here!"

Emily washed her hands promptly and began tending to the customers one by one. Within minutes, most of the clients were requesting her services.

"Lovelace, Emily is Godsent to this salon," one of the clients complimented the owner. "She's so polite and accommodating."

"Absolutely," another client chimed in. "She's skilled and always makes me feel comfortable."

"I drive all the way here just because of her," a third client explained. "I live in Opeibea, where there are countless beauty salons, but Emily styles my hair exactly as I like it."

As the clients praised Emily, Lovelace excused herself and went to the backyard. She returned with towels and attended to some tasks outside. When she reentered the salon, only three clients remained.

"Emily!" Lovelace called out.

"Yes, Madam!" Emily responded, rushing over.

"I heard you went to Mrs. Addo's house three days ago for work," Lovelace stated.

"Yes, Madam," Emily confirmed. "She called the salon, requesting home service and wanted me to come immediately. I asked Hannah to inform you when you arrived."

"I see. How much did she pay?" Lovelace inquired.

"Fifty Ghana cedis, Madam," Emily replied.

"Why is there no record of it in the cash book?" Lovelace asked.

"It was recorded, Madam," Emily stated as she checked the records. To her surprise, the transaction she had recorded was missing, replaced by a different entry. She realized that what she had written was erased with a correction fluid.

"Madam, someone erased what I had written," Emily pointed out.

"Are you challenging me?" Lovelace snapped angrily.

"I'm just stating a fact, Madam," Emily replied firmly. "I'm not dishonest, and everyone here can vouch for my honesty. Even when clients call me for weekend services, I record the transactions when I can collect the money during my off hours."

The salon fell silent. Emily had never spoken with such passion before. She was typically reserved and friendly, even when Lovelace berated her in front of clients. Her coworkers were left speechless.

"Well, I've decided you should leave the salon and go home on a two-week suspension, starting now!" Lovelace shouted in anger.

"Lovelace, please reconsider," one of the clients interjected. "You should review your records."

"Get out!" Lovelace screeched. "Do you want to harm your own business?"

The client attempted to reason with Lovelace, highlighting Emily's value to the salon. However, Lovelace was resolute in her decision. In the end, Emily grabbed her handbag and left the salon. She stood by the roadside, waiting for a bus, feeling dejected.

A car pulled up beside her, and a woman inside asked, "Where are you headed?"

Emily recognized the woman as one of the clients present when Lovelace had driven her out of the salon. "I'm going to Opeibea," Emily replied.

"Let me give you a ride home," the woman offered. "I live in Opeibea too. Can you come to my place to do my hair every weekend? Here's my card. Call me on Friday."

Grateful, Emily accepted the offer and, upon arrival, the woman even gave her some money. "You'll succeed in your profession because you have the skills. Don't be discouraged," the woman encouraged. "Lovelace was jealous of you. We all noticed her mistreatment because she felt threatened by your talent."

When Emily reached home, her cousin Maame was the only one there.

"I've been suspended from work," Emily announced as she slumped onto the sofa.

"What happened?" Maame inquired, and Emily explained the situation briefly.

"I've never trusted that woman. She seems insincere and threatened by you," Maame observed. "You're too confident to be just an employee there. So, what's your plan now?"

"I'm not sure yet," Emily replied. "I didn't expect to be suspended, so I need some time to plan my next steps. But one thing's for sure; I'm going to bed right now."

Upon entering their shared bedroom, Emily was shocked to find it in disarray. The room that had been neat when she left was now chaotic. Maame, her cousin and her aunt's only daughter, was back home for the weekend from her private university. Despite Emily being older, she continued to serve her cousin, washing her clothes, cooking for her, and tending to her needs.

As they grew up, Emily always felt like the servant in their home. In her early days in the Narh's household, she was frequently beaten for frowning or showing any signs of anger when scolded. Over time, she learned to smile, even through the pain. When her uncle punished her, he expected her to remain silent. Emily would do her best to suppress her cries as tears flowed down her cheeks, lest she faced further consequences. Her attempts to escape back to her parents had been futile; her mother always sent her back, believing it was the best place for her.

"Emily, you are safer at your aunt's place. Techiman is not a place for young people like you," her mother would say. "Mother, I do all the work in the house. I would wake up at four in the morning and sweep the house, clean everywhere, cook the food, fetch water and ensure that breakfast is ready before everyone wakes up. Maame would sleep until six in the morning, and I would have to fetch water for her to bath. When anything gets missing, they would beat me. When anything gets spoilt, I'm accused wrongly. I'm not happy over there Mother; they treat me like a slave. The fish they give me is too small to the extent that Maame would give me some of hers," she would tell her mother. "I understand how you feel my Dear, however it's safer for you to be with your aunt," her mother would say.

In the end she was sent back to her aunt's house and the last time she was sent back, she had decided not to go back to her parents again. She concluded that they didn't love her and decided to forget about going back to them.

Emily's heartache eventually led her to find solace in God. She loved her Sunday school teacher, Auntie Okaibea, who offered her guidance and taught her how to pray. Auntie Okaibea provided emotional support and became a mother figure to Emily. As they spent time together, she imparted valuable life lessons, helping Emily cope with life's challenges. Emily's weary smile eventually evolved into one of sincerity, even in times of hardship.

Sighing with weariness, Emily decided to tidy up the room instead of falling asleep as planned. Just as she was about to fall onto her bed, Maame walked in.

"Wow!" Maame exclaimed. "That's my Emily! Can you make some rice with chicken stew for me? I'm starving."

Dragging herself to the kitchen, Emily began preparing the meal for her cousin. As she cooked, she considered her options. She had been working towards opening her own salon, had purchased equipment, and talked to a potential landlord. She decided to contact James, a fellow church member who owned several shops, to discuss renting a space.

After setting the table for Maame, Emily finally retired to bed. Her phone rang just as she settled in.

"Are you still at work?" Stephen's voice came through.

Emily glanced at the clock; it was now a quarter past nine. "No, I'm at home," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I'm sorry I didn't call you as planned."

"Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?" Stephen asked with concern.

"Not right now," Emily replied. "I have a meeting with your mother tomorrow after church. Maybe we can talk then."

"What are you up to at the moment?" Stephen inquired.

"I'm in bed," Emily admitted. "I was just about to fall asleep when you called."

"In that case, I won't keep you awake. Good night," Stephen said.

"Good night," Emily replied, ending the call.

Stephen felt deflated. He had hoped to chat with her, share his day, and tell her about his adventures. However, it seemed Emily didn't want to talk. He had expected her to object when he mentioned not wanting to keep her awake, but she simply said, "Good night." He sensed her boredom and wondered if she truly enjoyed talking to him.

Anger welled up in Stephen, and he turned on the television, spending the evening alone. It was a long night ahead, and he hadn't made any alternate plans because he had hoped to spend it with Emily.