From his shadow to his darkness. Story of a downfall. Willem Ngouane

I wasn’t helping myself by becoming an accomplice to the falseness, my silence had me guilty, and Christian’s naivety was the harshest punishment among everything. The worst of all was that I became his favorite confidant subsequently in the same period, which was understandable since I was the only one who knew his romance with his intern. I had to suffer long minutes every day whenever he comes to pay a visit; his love stories were torture, every single detail was as violent as a stabbed wound in my heart. It was so agonizing to see a pure soul, a straightforward person like him enjoying a love affair in which he wasn’t told of everything. Plus, he was embellishing the whole thing like an innocent child, narrating to me, his pleasant moments with his love, picturing Caroline as a one of those Disney movie characters like Snow White. Spending time with him became excruciating moments.

      I was crying my pain in silence, displaying a fake enchantment toward his love affair not to discourage him. Sometimes, the guilt would push me a mile away from reporting him everything despite the consequences and the disastrous depression that could follow, but fortunately, even in these periods of weakness, I was still able to restrain myself and not provoke a disaster in that young man’s mentality. Why kill his dream and his first love affair without having facts? Even though the restaurant scene was scheming, for me, it wasn’t enough flagrant, so, to prevent myself from what could be a misjudgment, it was better to gather further information before making final conclusions.

      So extreme vigilance was a necessity, I decided to pay much attention to the suspect’s moves by spying on them like a soviet agent during the cold war. Not only Christian’s love for Caroline was my motivation, my own convictions were seriously engaged in this matter, I needed to legitimate back my opinion on mister minister in other to have the assurance of all his value again. The risk of regretting my effort in past discussions and debates with colleagues whenever they accused him of infidelity was also seriously tormenting me. Spying on them was the best way to calm my consciousness, but also to continue to protest every time ones would denigrate his truthfulness.

      As if they were aware of my curiosity, they were barely together in the same place and never alone. As for that restaurant where everything started, I expected to see them back there every single day during the week, but couldn’t see any trace of them throughout my spying activities, under-covered like a professional private detective as I was. So I started to have hope, I started to believe that what happened a week ago was in fact entirely innocent and that my imagination had just been corrupted by all these past gossip.

      But just a few days later, an encounter came to destroy all my hopes.

      I was particularly tired that day, a huge fatigue almost got me sick, so after finishing working I decided to go back home earlier than usual. Once darted out of my office, the pain increases, my skinny body became heavy to move, I was now dreaming on Indian carpet’s help to carry me up to my car. My gait was a clear proof of my muscular tiredness as people were seeing me limping, struggling to walk with my entire mass concentrated on my foot. As if my soul was not suffering enough in this physical pain, subsequently I also had to face mental trouble after seeing Caroline and Christian heading out of the building happily like roses in spring time, almost flirting in public but still conscious enough not to hold hands like every passionate lover normally supposed to do. Guiltiness was consuming my flesh as gangrene, destroying me like lupus, devastating my bones and my heart in their most hidden cells, I was feeling bad, I was sorry to witness a love affair apparently so pleasant to see but full of lies and secrets. I can’t even remember how I managed to get to the garage, but sometimes later I was in my car, seated on his sweet and juicy sit that welcome me so gently once I open the door and tenderize me with an agreeable feeling. Hopefully the parking was still empty, so I had to go out before congestion begins. Two minutes later I drive off the building without a glance back, happy to go away from this white collar’s stressful universe. I never needed my wife tenderness that much and eventually I could expect her to be home, so I accelerated my car with the pleasant idea of her company in mind. But after remembering that traffic jam was supposed to be congested at this hour of the day my excitation just collapse. Even after the first yard I knew that it would be difficult to escape from the traffic despite his apparent fluidity. So when I saw group of car turning back I perceived the emergency of change direction fast to prevent myself of being stuck in a long queue of car for long hours. I followed them and choose to pass through a shortcut just before the Saint Eloi venue, the road wasn’t easily practicable but I could count on the power of my car and his capability to drive through any kind of road as stated on the publicity that caught my attention and push me to buy it. Just like me a long line of vehicles decided to escapade through this small quarter road with resident’s shocked looks, so unused to see this kind of huge traffic in this muddy street. I reached the Debanje Square fifteen minute after leaving the office, knowing that through the normal road it would have taken me hours, this alley was indeed a judicious solution. But not everybody was happy like me and the others people behind me who made that choice, as I was driving I saw a sad group of people parked at a junction, waiting impatiently taxis which were rare and barely present at this area because of the colossal traffic jam that was always occurring at that time of the day. Among these unfortunates, a particularly face caught my attention by leaving me a déjà-vu impression, this beautiful visage looked familiar, these small pretty eyes similar to Asiatic girls’ ones, this dark complexion: of course it was Christine!