They darted worried glances at each other as they ate in silence. To think that while he was here worrying himself to death last night and wondering what might have happened to her or where she might be, she was somewhere having fun and probably being fucked, made him madder than he thought possible. Now seeing her sitting complacently, and carrying on as if nothing happened was more than he could take.
He scratched his hair irritably as he tried to force a morsel of food down his throat. He was mad, madder than he has ever been all his entire life and the fact that she did not feel any remorse or cared to explain her whereabouts last night was more than he could take. "So, where were you last night?" he blurted out finally.
She didn’t say anything.
"I'm talking to you, Emilia."
"Sorry. What was that again?" 
"Where were you last night?"
"Is that question for you or for me?"
"Look, Emilia, I am the head of this family and I demand an explanation to your whereabouts last night."
"Oh, so it is now that you know you are the head of the family?" she scoffed. "A man that can't shoulder his responsibilities, is he man enough?"
"Whatever. I still need an explanation."
"Explanation?" she raised her brows. "Well, I was at Kingskarl."
The skin around his eyes narrowed. "Kingskarl? Why? What for?"
"To catch fun, of course." 
He opened his mouth to say something, but the words would not come. Could it be true that she spent the night at Kingskarl? If so, with who? There must be more to this than meets the ordinary eyes, he thought, losing his appetite immediately. He pushed the food away, stood up and left the dinner table. For several minutes, he stood in the terrace, staring into the dark night. For reasons yet unknown to him, moonlight at Donhill estate that evening had such an unearthly brilliance and translucence. The starlit night, a molten sheet of silver on which the moon and the stars hung on was too beautiful to be real.
The moon was bright as it rose higher and higher into the jeweled sky, too big and beautiful as if splashed there by a painter's brush. The air was cool but windless and he smelled the pungent scent of the tropical air as it gently caressed his face. At the dimly lit corridor of the gardener's cabin, a Yoruba girl practiced a native song and dance.
He drank in the beauty of the moonlight night and felt the pain that goes with such beauty, especially when the heart is so keenly tuned to pain. Could a woman, especially, one's first love and wife be so utterly unscrupulous and brazenly outrageous and could a woman be so unfeeling and unthinking? For the umpteenth time, her words echoed through his sub consciousness and nearly drove him mad.
‘If you must know, I was at Kingskarl.'
Kingskarl? Is it not reputed to be one of the most notorious nightclubs in town and strictly for the rich, fun loving and spoilt folks? Who must have introduced her to the club? Unable to take it anymore, he ambled into the garden and sat on the soft, luscious grass. He tried to absorb the beauty and tranquility of the night and appreciate the moonlight that shone through the inter-lock of tree branches, but he couldn’t. The beauty of the stars at nights never ceases to amaze him, but he found it could not assuage his feelings.
                               ***
           The night was dark with scarcely a star in the sky. It was so dark that the trees and palms trees looked like a mass of moving clouds. He groped about in the dark until he found a young frangipani tree and sat down on one of its low burghs. 
He was hungry and tired, but he could not help it. He looked at the time again and sighed. It was getting close to 9 pm, and Emilia wasn’t home yet. As usual, she has gone to help Captain Onyerubi Jnr., a man she introduced to him as a distant uncle she met through her father recently in one of his numerous unclassified business deals. It has been the story ever since she met him. If she was not helping him out in one of his numerous parties, she was accompanying him to one rally, luncheon, housewarming or the other.
The sound of a car driving up the narrow path jolted him. He stood up and tiptoed towards the flower hedge and watched as the car pulled up in front of the house. The driver turned off the headlamps, leaving the engine and parking lights running. Few minutes later, the occupants got out and stood talking beside the car. He tiptoed closer, the flowers hiding him. Peering closely, he saw Captain in a gleaming white Agbada, holding Emilia's hand. He was pulling her to him, trying to kiss her. And Emilia - a happy, laughing Emilia - was resisting him but wanting him as well.
He stood paralyzed.
Could she be having an affair with Captain, while passing him off as a distant uncle? He felt a rush of bile and was nearly tempted to smash his big, fat head against the bonnet of his car, but he resisted the urge. What if it was an innocent friendship? He'll look like a fool. Besides, he can't afford to make an enmity with someone who could probably be a mentor.
Dejectedly, he tiptoed back to the frangipani tree and sat down. For minutes, he wondered where they were heading to and how he got himself into the quagmire. He didn't know how long he sat there, but all he knew was that when he stood up to go back to the house, Captain was gone.