Warren left for home right after dropping me off at the train station. He had received a call from home and said it was urgent. He looked worried. I noticed how his expression changed when he read the caller ID. I noticed how he walked off into another direction and attended the call from a fair distance. I noticed how he was raising his voice and furrowing his brows. I couldn't tell what he was saying. I noticed how he hung up and walked back over to where I stood, looking everywhere but at me. He wished me all the best and said he had to go home since it was an emergency. With that, he was gone. I didn't bother to question him. I figured it wasn't the right time or place. Plus, I had other things to worry about.

The ride back home wasn't anything extraordinary. It was like every other ride I'd taken. I spent my time listening to music and staring out the window. The seat beside me was vacant again. I was thankful. I would occasionally think about Warren. I would think about what could have possibly made him that upset at the station. Before I knew it, I was at my stop.

Instead of taking a cab, dad had offered to pick me up instead. I was grateful for this. I was unaware, however, that he would be showing up alongside Aunt Delancey in her Bentley. This was one of the many cars she owned. This was partly why I found it difficult to believe that Aunt Delancey required my father to raise the baby. Money wasn't an issue for her. She had it all. Maybe she just didn't want to raise it alone. I decided not to throw a fit upon noticing her. Her stomach had grown an enormous amount. 

Dad hopped out from the passenger side as soon as he saw me and took my suitcase from me before giving me a pat on the shoulder, "You actually made it."

"What, you thought I'd bail last minute?" I questioned, following him as he loaded the bag into the boot of the car before helping me get into the backseat. The car smelled like roses. He made his way back into the passenger side and I cleared my throat awkwardly, now in the presence of my father and his new future wife who happened to be my dead mother's sister. 

Aunt Delancey looked at me from the rearview mirror. I shifted uncomfortably. 

"Thanks for coming," she said. "Means a lot to your father.. and me."

I was unsure as to whether she was being genuine or not. However, witnessing Aunt Delancey being anything but cruel was startling. I found it difficult to believe that this wasn't just an act she was putting up in front of my father. I still found myself being weary and cautious around her. I said nothing. I just nodded. Upon being met with silence, she cleared her throat and reached her hand out towards me, placing something in my hand before retracting. 

I looked down. 

"Candy?"

"That's your favourite, isn't it?" she questioned, analyzing her surroundings before heading for the main road. 

"How did you know?" I questioned, taken aback. Even dad didn't know what my favourite candy was, and there was no way my mother could've told her because I was ninety-nine percent sure I hadn't crawled out from my mother holding my favourite candy in hand. Yes, this was the more reasonable explanation and not the fact that my mother quite literally passed away an hour or two after my birth. 

"I've seen you indulging in these a few times," she admitted. "It's my favourite too. I have a bowl of these back at home."

When I think of home, I think of the small house my dad and I live in. The house that has a single bathroom that my dad and I are forced to share. The house which nobody would spare a second glance. But, when Aunt Delancey spoke of home, she spoke of her three-storey mansion. She spoke of her home that has a separate underground garage for all her luxurious cars. I wondered why she had left behind such an expensive home for our house that resembled an anthill next to hers. Dad said it was because Francis hadn't finished moving his things out of her place and she didn't feel safe going back there. They said the two of them would move back in to the mansion once their marriage ceremony was over. I wondered what would happen to our house.

I stared out the window silently. 

"What are you going to name the baby?" I questioned after a decent amount of time had passed. 

"We were planning on naming him Mpho," dad began. "As in 'gift'."

"Mpho," I parroted. "I like it."

Juno and Mpho.

Perhaps I could get used to this.