₦airaland Forum

Vulcanheph:
You know I'm right.

We'll see

TheEnygma:
Nice one.... Following you bumper to fender

Welcome aboard

Ibunkun1:
No shaking mama, we dey your back

Thanks for understanding.

repogirl:
My apologies once again, kindly give me till tomorrow evening to complete the chapter. Thanks.

We're sitting patiently

Hello Readers,
I'd meant to post the next chapter this evening but I won't be able to meet up as a result of circumstances beyond my control.

Kindly give me until our next posting day, which is next Tuesday to sort the next chapter out.

repogirl:
Hello Readers,
I'd meant to post the next chapter this evening but I won't be able to meet up as a result of circumstances beyond my control.

Kindly give me until our next posting day, which is next Tuesday to sort the next chapter out.

No wahala
Take your time ma'am

Chapter 4 conclusion

Ezinne had felt an overwhelming sense of relief when she'd received Rachel's text earlier that morning that she would be returning home for a month-long break from culinary school. Although Rachel sometimes managed a short weekend visit, it had been over a month since her last trip home, and the house had felt emptier with every passing day.

Ezinne hadn’t realized just how much her friend’s presence meant until Rachel left for school. The new staff Mofe had hired were polite and efficient, always quick with soft greetings and steady in their work. But their quiet professionalism only reminded her of what was missing. None of them could fill the silence Rachel used to light up with her teasing jokes, easy chatter, or sudden bursts of laughter that carried through the rooms. She sorely missed her gist partner, the one she could talk to about anything and everything, the one who turned ordinary evenings into something bright. Without Rachel, the house ran smoothly, but her days felt stretched thin, missing that warmth only a true friend could bring.

Maybe Rachel could help her understand what was happening with Azora. Lately, Ezinne’s worry had only deepened. Her daughter, who was once so eager to run into her arms after school and pour out every detail of her day, now seemed to hold back. Their cheerful talks about homework, friends, and even the little jokes that used to fill their evenings had thinned out into short replies. Each word felt careful, almost forced, as though Azora no longer knew how to be open with her.

This sudden distance confused Ezinne. She replayed their conversations in her mind, searching for where things had gone wrong. The warm bond they once shared now felt thin and stretched, as though an invisible wall stood between them.

Hoping to draw her out, Ezinne had locked the gaming room. It had been meant as a gentle punishment, a way to make Azora notice and perhaps ask questions. She’d thought her baby would come running to complain or even sulk, giving Ezinne a chance to open the door to a deeper talk. But Azora had said nothing. Day after day, she walked past the locked door in silence, her steps heavy, her voice quiet.

The silence cut at Ezinne more than any words could. Was Azora upset with her? Did she blame her for Mofe leaving so suddenly? Ezinne remembered the night before his sudden departure, the fight that had shaken the house right after their evening dinner. Azora had heard and asked her about it the next day. Ezinne had eplained, thinking the truth would help her understand, but now she wondered if she had said too much or perhaps, not enough. Mofe’s sudden departure the next day hadn’t helped. Perhaps in her daughter’s young heart, the blame had landed at her feet.

She longed to reach out, to pull Azora close and beg her to speak. But she feared pressing too hard, afraid that even her love might push the child further away.

Mofe, still in America, had begun calling more often over the past month. Yet no matter how many times the phone rang, Ezinne felt no pull to speak with him. Whenever he asked for her, she slipped easily into polite excuses, the words coming almost by instinct.

She marveled at his audacity. The memory of that night in her bed still stung. She had let her guard down, allowing herself to speak of wounds she usually kept buried. He had listened so intently, his silence making her believe he truly understood. And when the weight of their emotions had grown too heavy, neither of them had resisted. They had reached for each other, their grief and longing spilling into a brief, unplanned closeness.

It hadn’t been just about desire. It had been about two people who had carried too much pain for too long, finding comfort where they least expected it. She had thought that moment mattered, that it had tied him to her in a way words could not. But then he was gone, without explanation, just a vague note. And now, from across the ocean, he acted as though he could call and simply move on from it.

She saw no need for a conversation with him. If he was truly concerned about the center, there were capable hands he could lean on, like the manager, the Principal, and the staff he had employed before leaving. Her preference was simple, he could speak with Azora.

But even that carried its own ache. Sometimes, from down the hallway, she would catch the sound of her daughter’s gleeful laughter, light and happy, blending with Mofe’s deep, warm voice on the line. And each time, she felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

For years, she had been the focus of Azora’s attention, their bond had been unchallenged, and their world untouched. Now, piece by piece, it seemed that fondness was shifting to Mofe. Although she reminded herself that it was a natural transition, the sting of it lingered, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.

The knock came, steady and polite, each tap carrying a firmness that left no doubt who it was. Anthony, the Principal. She had been expecting him earlier to discuss something important.

“Come in,” Ezinne called, keeping her voice steady and composed. With Maureen, her receptionist, having closed for the day, it was just she and Anthony in the administrative office.

The door opened with a soft click, and she listened as Anthony stepped inside. She could tell by the measured sound of his shoes against the tiled floor, the slight pause as he closed the door behind him. His presence filled the room in that assured, professional way she had grown used to.

“Hello, Ms. Ezinne. How are you today?” His voice carried the respectful warmth she always appreciated.

“I’m doing well, thank you, Anthony. Please, have a seat,” she replied, gesturing toward the chair opposite her desk, which had witnessed countless discussions.

The chair creaked softly as he settled into it, his jacket brushing against the armrest.There was a stillness about him, the kind that told her his attention was fixed fully on her.

“I wanted to check on the progress of the website we’ve been developing,” she said, adjusting the tinted glasses shielding her eyes. They were her quiet armor, a way of keeping others from reading too much into what she couldn’t show.


“It’s progressing beautifully,” Anthony replied, his voice lifting with an enthusiasm that was hard to miss. “The firm Mr. Johnson recommended has gone above our expectations. I just met with the designer, and he shared a preliminary layout that looks very promising. He assured me the final version would be ready within two weeks. Once it’s complete, we’ll begin uploading articles, announcements, and upcoming events to keep the site fresh and engaging.”

Ezinne nodded slowly, her fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood of her desk as she absorbed his words. “That sounds encouraging. Once it’s done, I’d like us to run a test, especially to confirm it is fully accessible for visually impaired users. It’s important that everyone can move through it with ease.”

“Absolutely,” Anthony said, his tone firm with sincerity. She heard no hesitation in his voice, only genuine resolve. “That’s a vital step, and I’ll make sure you’re carried along at every stage.”

“Thank you, Anthony. That’s all I needed for now. I’ll be heading home,” she concluded, starting to put her things together.

“Excuse me, Madam,” Anthony began, his voice carrying a slight tremor. “There’s something I’ve been wondering. It might be random, and maybe it’s not even my place to ask, but…”

Ezinne tilted her head, catching the unease in his tone. “Oh? What’s on your mind, Anthony?” she asked, curiosity stirring at his hesitance.

“Is Mr. Johnson related to you?” Anthony asked carefully. “He seems so invested in the school. He calls often—I just spoke with him now. Is he an investor? I know his company supports us, but it feels like there’s more to it.” His words came with a kind of cautious curiosity, like he was afraid of overstepping but couldn’t hold the question back.

Ezinne was caught off guard for a moment, though she understood why he’d wonder. “Oh no, he’s not an investor,” she replied, shaking her head lightly, though her expression stayed composed. “He’s a donor who cares about what we’re building here.” She didn’t add the rest, that he was also her daughter’s father. That part stayed folded away in silence.

“Wow, that’s generous of him,” Anthony said, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Yeah, generous,” Ezinne echoed softly, her tone carrying the faintest trace of irony. A generous pain in her @ss, more like.

Anthony went quiet for a second, then his voice grew warm. “You’re doing amazing work here, Madam. Helping people find their footing again after losing their sight—it’s really admirable. You deserve to be recognized for it.”

Ezinne chuckled, the sound gentle, touched by his sincerity. “Thank you, Anthony. But I don’t need an award for something I love. Helping people, especially children, gives my life a sense of purpose. That’s enough for me.”

“Oh, I’ve been wondering how you became the executive director of the centre.” Anthony asked, leaning forward a little, his curiosity sincere.
Ezinne paused, letting the question sink in.

“Well,” she began softly, “after I lost my sight, my doctor referred me here. That period of my life was… heavy. I felt like everything I knew had slipped away, like I was standing in the middle of a dark room with no door out.” She smiled faintly at the memory, not of the pain, but of what came after. “Then I met Rachel and her mother, Mrs. Douglas, who founded the place. They welcomed me with such kindness, showing me that blindness didn’t mean the end of living. Slowly, I began to find myself again. A few months later, I knew I wanted to do the same for others. That’s really how I ended up here.”

She was grateful and blessed to have met both women and proud of herself for keeping the place going till now.

Anthony’s eyes softened. “That’s such an inspiring story. Honestly, it deserves its own section on the website, something like About the Founder. People need to hear it.”

Ezinne tilted her head thoughtfully. “That’s a wonderful idea. Now that Rachel is around, I’ll ask her to write something about her mom. She’ll capture it beautifully.”

Anthony smiled, encouraged. “Are you and Rachel close?”

“We are,” Ezinne said warmly, her affection for Rachel softening her voice. “How about you join us for dinner on Sunday evening? Rachel would
love to meet you.”

Anthony shifted in his seat, his tone carrying hesitation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“It’s not an intrusion, it’s an invitation,” she cut in gently, smiling at her own choice of words. “Rachel is very dear to me. She’s not only my friend but also my support and business partner. And she’s training to be a chef, she loves cooking for guests. We’d be delighted to have you.”

“Well, if you put it that way, how can I say no?” Anthony replied, his voice lightening, the smile audible.

“Perfect. Sunday evening it is, I’ll send the details of my home address to you.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he answered, sounding more at ease, as though he’d just been welcomed into a space he wasn’t sure he belonged.

Ezinne reached for her walking stick resting against the desk, her fingers closing around it as she prepared to leave. “If that’s all, I should get going. I’ve got plans tonight.”

“A date or something?” he teased.

The suddenness of the question caught her off guard. She let out a soft laugh, the kind that slipped easily when she wasn’t expecting it. Anthony chuckled too, enjoying her reaction. Collecting herself, she said, “No, nothing like that. It’s Rachel, she just got back after being away.”

“But why the laugh?” he pressed lightly. “It’s not strange to think you might be going on a date.”

“If you say so,” she replied, her tone shy, not wanting to give away more than necessary.

He paused, then spoke more deliberately, his words careful but edged with sincerity. “You’re still young, Madam. And if I can be so forward, you’re a very beautiful woman. Some might even say… hot. You run this wonderful place with so much strength, and honestly, any man would be lucky to have your attention.”

Her breath caught. The smile that had been lingering on her lips faltered, replaced by a wave of sudden self-consciousness. Compliments were not new, yet they always felt complicated. She hadn’t seen her reflection in years. Sometimes she wondered if she still looked like the woman she once remembered, or if time had changed her beyond what her mind could hold. To hear a man speak of her with that kind of admiration, both warmed and unsettled her.

“Thank you, Tony,” she said softly, steadying her voice. “That’s kind of you. I should gather my things now, I need to pick my daughter up from a friend’s place.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, as though afraid he had overstepped. Then, more earnestly: “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I was only being honest. You are special, and what you’re doing here, for these children, is remarkable. I thought you should hear that.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, listening to the sound of his chair scraping back. His shoes clicked against the tiled floor, moving toward the door.

He paused just before opening it. “So… I’ll see you Sunday evening?”

“Sure. Of course.”

The door closed with a soft click, and Ezinne let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. What just happened? she wondered, her heart still unsettled. Had the principal just crossed the boundary into something more personal?

She tried to push the thought away. Maybe it was nothing, just words of admiration. But the way he’d said them lingered, stirring questions she didn’t want to answer. He was her employee. This shouldn’t feel like anything else.

Shaking her head, she forced a small smile. At least Rachel was back. Maybe she could help make sense of all this, help her untangle the knots of uncertainty forming inside her.

Ezinne gathered her bag and cane, letting the familiar feel of both ground her. It was time to go home.
******

Okay, so I was able to conclude the previous chapter, after all. Expect the Chapter 5 post on Tuesday. Thanks.

repogirl:
Okay, so I was able to conclude the previous chapter, after all. Expect the Chapter 5 post on Tuesday. Thanks.

Its good to read this again after a very long time. @repogirl welcome back!

Antony never sabi anything , na 2 by 2 mofe go use for him head

Ibunkun1:
Antony never sabi anything , na 2 by 2 more go use for him head

🤣🤣

donkelz:
Its good to read this again after a very long time. @repogirl welcome back!

Thanks 🙏🏽

Who's ready?

New Chapter drops at 9pm!

repogirl:
Who's ready?

New Chapter drops at 9pm!

present!!!!!!

repogirl:
Who's ready?

New Chapter drops at 9pm!

Caantttttttt waiiiit

Present Day


Mofe adjusted the brim of his face cap and planted his tee carefully in the soft earth. He had always liked the quiet of the golf course. The steady rhythm of swings, the way conversations seemed more honest when paced between shots. But today, even the calm air felt heavy on his shoulders, like it knew the restlessness gnawing at him.

Ezinne hadn’t point blank refused to answer any of his calls. Each time, the silence on the other end of the line had stretched longer than he cared to admit. He told himself he didn’t blame her. How could he? If their places were reversed, he wouldn’t have picked up either.

That night in her room still haunted him, the way her lips had felt beneath his, soft and unguarded, the warmth of her body pressing close, and then the shameful truth of his cowardice. He had run, leaving her to make sense of something he himself could barely explain. If their roles were reversed, he would have been furious too. She'd been vulnerable with her pain and he'd run from her.

But Azora, his daughter, was another matter entirely.

When he’d run from Ezinne, he’d also run from Azora, and he should never have done that to her. He might have thought he’d been doing the right thing at the time by creating some space between himself and Ezinne but instead of pulling a vanishing act, he should have talked directly to them about his need to return to the United States. Azora couldn’t become collateral damage as a result of the conflict between her parents. No matter how much he stumbled, she deserved more than half-measures and excuses.

Their daily phone calls had become a lifeline, little bursts of laughter and routine he hadn’t known he craved until he began looking forward to them. And she had started to expect it too. If he was late to call, she would scold him in that bossy little way of hers, her voice sharp with a childish mix of hurt and demand. He secretly loved it. It meant she counted on him.

Every evening, no matter how heavy the day had been, Mofe made sure to steal a few minutes for Azora. It had started simply as just quick check-ins so she wouldn’t forget the sound of his voice. But now, those calls had become a ritual, something they both clung to.

She always came on the line full of stories, her little voice tumbling over itself with excitement, what she ate for lunch, what new word she had learned, which classmate annoyed her that day. Sometimes she even made him listen to her sing, off-key but full of joy. He would close his eyes, lean back in his chair, and let her voice wash over him.

It grounded him in a way nothing else did. No boardroom victory, no business deal had ever filled him with that quiet, pure contentment. With her, there were no masks, no power plays—just laughter and innocence.

Those moments left him whole in a way he didn’t think possible. No matter how restless or conflicted he felt about Ezinne, about the life he had abandoned, the sound of his daughter’s voice tied him to something real. Something worth fighting for.

Maybe that was why the weight in his chest had grown heavier these past weeks, and why he had asked Williams to meet him on the golf course. The company was steady, yes, but his life wasn’t. He couldn’t keep straddling two worlds, showing up halfway for both. Something had to give.

William, his business partner and Chief of Operations for his company, strolled up beside him, tall frame relaxed, golf club resting across his shoulder.

“You’ve been a ghost lately, MJ,” he said, his voice carrying the familiar mix of humor and concern. “I almost thought you’d retired without telling me.”

Mofe gave a faint smile, more out of politeness than truth, and set his ball. He swung once, a clean arc, the ball soaring before dipping neatly onto the fairway. He watched it roll, then exhaled slowly. For a brief second, he imagined Azora chasing it down the green with the kind of laughter only children carried. He had missed too many of those laughs already.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said quietly.

They began walking down the course, shoes crunching against the short grass. The breeze tugged at Mofe’s shirt, and he tightened his grip on the club, as though holding onto something steady.

“I need to return to Nigeria and I plan to stay for a while,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’ve got family matters I need to attend to, and honestly, I'm not sure how long I'll need to be away.”

William shot him a glance. “And the company?”

“That’s the problem, Will.” Mofe’s throat tightened around the words. “I’ve been thinking maybe I should step back. Temporarily. Let someone else handle things until I… until I sort myself out.”

They paused at the next tee box. William’s brows furrowed as he lined up his shot, his swing powerful but slightly off, the ball veering left. He cursed softly, then turned to Mofe. “Step back? You sound like you’re considering retirement. Or worse .. selling.”

The word stung, sharp and final, and Mofe shook his head quickly. “No. Not yet. I’m not done, I just need to be with my family for a while.” His chest ached as he said it, because though he meant it, part of him wondered how long he could keep juggling two worlds, his legacy in America and the family he’d failed in Nigeria. He pictured Ezinne’s face, the guarded way she looked at him now, and behind her, Azora’s small hand curled into hers. He had given them reasons not to trust him, but how much longer would he be allowed to try?

William studied him for a long moment. “I figured your absence was because of… well, maybe you were just ready to let go.”

Mofe let out a humorless chuckle. “I’m not letting go. I can’t. Our company is still young, and there's much work to be done. But…” His voice dipped, reluctant, the confession scraping raw. “Eve and I ended things.” The words were bitter on his tongue, but freeing too. “And I recently found out I had unfinished business back home. I don’t know if I can keep running things here while being away for months.”

As silence stretched, Mofe found his mind drifting back, not to Nigeria this time, but to the first time he’d met William in graduate school. Back then, he’d been brash, sure of his brilliance but half-drowning in ambition. William had been the steady one, the anchor, the man who had chosen to stick by him anyway. They had survived study groups that stretched till dawn, shared cheap takeouts on nights they were too broke for anything else, and argued endlessly over strategies that would later become the backbone of their company.

When the first investors had turned their backs, it had been William who refused to let him quit. When Mofe had considered folding their startup in the early days, William had been the one dragging him back into the ring, insisting they could push through. Stubborn, loyal, and unyielding. William had believed in him long before the rest of the world had.

If there was anyone on earth Mofe could trust, it was this man standing beside him now. Part of his success ..no, a large part was owed to William’s faith.

William set his club down and crossed his arms, his expression softening. “Listen. Don’t talk about stepping down, not even temporarily. No one can run this company better than you. I’ll handle the board. I’ll keep you updated daily if I have to. You focus on what you need to do.”

The firmness in his tone was like an anchor, steadying Mofe in the storm of uncertainty. He swallowed, a quiet gratitude settling in his chest.

“You’ve always had my back, Will, I sincerely appreciate that.”

“That’s never going to change,” William said simply, patting his shoulder. “We’ve built too much together to start breaking it apart now.”

They moved on to the next hole, the silence between them no longer heavy but carrying an unspoken bond. Mofe’s steps felt a little lighter, though the weight of his decision still pressed against him.

The greens stretched wide before him, but in his mind he saw Azora’s small frame running toward him, Ezinne’s eyes narrowing in cautious distance. That was the course he really needed to walk now—the harder one, the one with no map, where each step could either close the gap or push them further away.
********

Ezinne sat at the edge of her bed, headphones pressed over her ears as the robotic voice of her text-to-speech software read out the lesson notes she had been working on for her students. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, pausing now and then to correct a phrase or insert a point. It was her routine, her way of keeping order in a world where sight no longer guided her.

She was halfway through drafting a section when she heard a hesitant knock. Ezinne pulled the headphones down to her neck and turned her head toward the sound.

“Come in,” she said gently.

The door creaked open, and Azora’s soft footsteps padded across the floor, slow at first as though she wasn’t sure she was welcome.

“Mummy,” she said softly.

Ezinne tilted her head. “hey baby, you’re still awake?”

“Yes, I just finished my call with Uncle Mofe.”

At once, Ezinne’s chest tightened. She kept her expression even, though she felt a ripple of something she didn’t want to name. “Oh? That’s good,” she replied, patting the bed beside her. “Come and sit.”

Azora slid onto the bed, tucking her legs beneath her. For a moment, she was quiet, and Ezinne returned her hands to the braille slate, waiting. Then Azora spoke, voice hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if it was a secret she was allowed to share.

“Uncle Mofe… he always tells me to give you a hug for him.”

The words caught Ezinne off guard. She froze a little, her breath stilled. “He… he says that?”

“Yes,” Azora leaned forward, her tone firmer this time. “Every time we talk, before we end, he says, ‘Give your mum a hug for me.’ But… I never told you.”

Ezinne’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Heat crept up her neck, and she folded her hands in her lap to steady herself. Of all the things that Mofe could have said, of all the messages he might have chosen to pass along, why that? A hug. Something so simple, yet so intimate.

She cleared her throat, forcing composure. “And why are you telling me now?”

Azora shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought… maybe you’d want to know.”

Ezinne pressed her palms together. Want? No, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to feel this sudden, bewildering crack in the walls she had built around herself. For weeks, she had kept her guard up, especially since he’d left abruptly, leaving her and Azora balancing on a strained silence. Now, with one innocent confession, her daughter had undone the distance she’d worked so hard to create.

She exhaled slowly. “Azora…”

But before she could finish, the girl continued.

“Mummy… I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it, my love?”

“You remember… the evening before Uncle Mofe left? When you two were shouting in the dinning room?”

Ezinne’s lips pressed together. The memory was sharp, unwanted. “Azora, you shouldn’t have—”

“I couldn’t help it,” Azora rushed in, almost guilty. “I was listening, and I heard when you said something like he was … he was in ..dul .. indulging me or something”

Ezinne’s breath hitched. She hadn’t known Azora had overheard so much. Her mind traveled back to the sharp words, the tension, the way her voice had broken in frustration.

Exhaling slowly, she reached for her daughter’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Yes, I said that. And I want you to understand why.” Her voice softened into the careful patience of a teacher. “Discipline is very important in life, Azora. Just because Uncle Mofe loves you very much doesn’t mean he can give you everything you want. That’s not real love—it’s… giving you things you’re not ready for.”

Azora tilted her head. “Like the phone?”

“Exactly. He was ready to get you a phone, but you aren't ready for that responsibility. Phones come with distractions, with choices that you need to be old enough to handle. I wasn’t trying to be harsh, baby. I was only trying to protect you.”

She straightened, her tone firm but gentle. “You’re growing, Azora, and I need you to understand something important. Love doesn’t mean saying yes to everything. It means protecting you, guiding you—even if you don’t like it sometimes.”

Azora grew quiet, worrying at her lower lip the way she always did when something sat heavy on her mind. Silence stretched between them, and Ezinne could almost feel Azora weighing her words. Then, in that fearless way only children had, she asked, “Mummy… how did you and Uncle Mofe meet?”

Ezinne’s lips curved faintly, a smile that was soft yet marked with pain, and memories she hadn’t called for drifted back, unravelling in her chest. “We were neighbors, and coursemates back in the university for a few years, then we later became friends,” she said slowly, her fingers brushing over the edge of the blanket as though touching the past. “Very close friends. Then he left to further his studies abroad.”

Azora lowered her voice, almost whispering. “Did you guys… date?”

There was a pause, the kind where Ezinne’s throat felt too tight to let words pass. Finally, she let the truth out, bare and steady. “Yes.”

Azora shifted closer, her small body pressing against her mother’s arm. “Then why are you always fighting?” she asked, blunt and unshaken. “If you loved each other, why do you fight so much?”

Ezinne’s chest squeezed at the question. She reached out carefully until her hand found Azora’s and held it, warm and gentle. “It’s okay to disagree on things sometimes, Azora,” she said softly. “Even with people we care about. Adults don’t always see the same way. And sometimes, the ones closest to us are the ones we clash with the most. What matters is the respect underneath.”

Azora tilted her head, unsatisfied. “Are you two getting back together? Like… as a couple?”

The question struck Ezinne like an arrow. For a long moment, she sat still, lips parted but no words escaping. Her heart ached with an honesty she couldn’t voice aloud. At last, she forced a smile, one her daughter couldn’t see but could hear in the tremble of her breath. “Things are not that simple anymore, baby. Life took us in different directions.”

There was a pause, then Azora said softly, “But why? You sound different when you talk about him.”

Ezinne froze. Sound different. Did she? Had her daughter picked up on the tremor she herself tried so hard to bury? She forced out a laugh, light but fragile. “You children notice too much.”

Azora leaned into her, and Ezinne heard the smile in her voice as she said, “Maybe that’s because you adults hide too much.”

The words lingered in the room like a truth Ezinne had no strength to argue with. She pulled Azora closer, wrapping an arm around her, and for a while they sat in silence, until Azora’s small voice came again, hesitant, almost afraid. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

Ezinne’s chest tightened until she could barely breathe. Every part of her wanted to say no, to shut the door firmly against the hope she still carried. But she couldn’t lie—not to Azora, and not to herself. Somewhere deep inside, she knew with frightening certainty that Mofe would return. No matter how much she wished he wouldn’t.

“Yes,” she whispered finally, her voice fragile but sure. “Yes, he will.”

Azora smiled, satisfied, and nestled against her side. Ezinne held her daughter close, her heart aching with the quiet knowledge that Mofe was a storm she could not stop from circling back, no matter how far she tried to run.

Ezinne sat quietly after Azora had returned to her room. The silence was heavy, so heavy that her own thoughts seemed to echo inside it. He always asks me to give you a hug for him.

Azora’s words wouldn’t leave her. They circled in her mind, soft yet sharp, like a whisper she couldn’t shut out.

It troubled her more than she wanted to admit. What was Mofe trying to do, sending hugs through their daughter? It seemed harmless, almost sweet, but why did Ezinne feel it was meant to break her guard?

When Azora had mentioned it to her, something warm had touched her heart, and that warmth scared her. Because it wasn’t just a hug, it was the meaning behind them. Mofe was finding ways to slip back into her life, slowly, carefully, and he was doing it through Azora, the one place she had no defense.

Her chest tightened as another thought pushed forward, one she had tried to push away for weeks.

What did his fiancée think of all this? Of Azora. Of her.

To find out the man you were marrying had a daughter with his ex, how did a woman live with that? Did she even know? And if she knew, had she swallowed her hurt quietly, pretending it didn’t matter? Or did she wonder every night if her place in his life was as firm as she believed?
Did the woman know about the bedtime calls? The way Mofe always made time every single evening to speak with Azora before she slept. He made no excuses, and missed no nights. He had built it into his life like a rule, something even distance or work couldn’t shake.

If the woman knew this—really knew it—how could she not feel the weight of it? How could she not see that something in him still reached for a past he had never fully left behind?

Ezinne pressed her lips together, wishing she could throw the thoughts away. He had chosen another woman. He had moved on. That should have been enough to free her. Enough to remind her that her own heart had no business aching.

Yet it ached anyway. Because the thought of him loving someone else, of him giving away the parts of himself she once held, burned in a way she didn’t want to name.

She even caught herself wondering what the woman must be like. What kind of person she was. What it took for Mofe to choose her. Did he love her more than he had ever loved Ezinne? The answer twisted in her like a knife. She hated that it mattered to her, and she hated that it hurt. Because no matter how carefully she guarded herself, no matter how hard she tried to hold on to suspicion and anger, there was still a part of her that stirred at the thought of him. A wound inside her that had never fully healed. One that broke open too easily, with nothing more than the thought of his voice or the echo of a hug he had sent through their daughter.

And that truth frightened her more than anything else.

******

Next Chapter on Friday Evening.

Thank you...

jupitre:
Thank you...

You're welcome

Gracias

Hmmm

Vulcanheph:
I guess we'll Soon get to see how Azora was conceived... 😜😂

Repogirl come give me beer ... . I was right.

Very interesting read ...

Vulcanheph:
Repogirl come give me beer ... . I was right.

Lol, I'd advice you wait for the next chapter to be sure

Dear Readers,

Kindly expect the next chapter tomorrow. My apologies pls.

repogirl:
Dear Readers,

Kindly expect the next chapter tomorrow. My apologies pls.

Interesting read so far,Kudos for ur effort

repogirl:
Dear Readers,

Kindly expect the next chapter tomorrow. My apologies pls.

Alright

Present Day

The rich, savory aroma drifting from the kitchen made Ezinne’s stomach growl. Rachel had to be preparing something special for their Sunday dinner, because the smell was so tempting that it had chased away the concentration she needed for the audiobook she'd been listening to. She sighed, pulling off her headphones. There was no use fighting it, hunger had won.

Anthony would be joining them, as he had been doing for a while now whenever Rachel was home from culinary school. The first dinner with him had been surprisingly warm and easy, and since then Rachel had insisted he come by more often. He enjoyed the food, Rachel enjoyed showing off her skills, and Ezinne… she had to admit she enjoyed the company too. Their conversations about the centre always left her with fresh ideas and new energy.

Azora, however, wouldn’t be at the table that evening. She was at Dara’s house for a sleepover. Things between she and her daughter had fully settled now, and Ezinne had allowed her some access to the gaming room with some rules. The new rule was simple: chores and assignments first, then a maximum of three hours in there.

With Mofe gone, Azora was respecting her authority again, and Ezinne hoped he stayed away a little longer. Although a father figure was essential in a child's life, stability was even more crucial, and if she and Mofe couldn’t get along, or if he kept vanishing for long periods, the only thing they’d offer the girl was confusion.

Yet he still called every single day, without fail. The thought still unsettled Ezinne and she knew it was only a matter of time before her daughter began to suspect that Mofe was something more than “just a close family friend.” Azora was already asking questions and Ezinne was afraid someday soon, she’d ask the one question that she wasn't sure how to answer.

With that bitter thought tucked tightly inside, she grabbed her cane and stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind her. She hadn’t gone far when one of the staff approached her briskly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing faintly against the marble floor.

Good evening, madam. Kindly allow me to assist you?”

It was Tope’s voice. He was one of the many staff who always seemed to hover close by her door. Ezinne hadn’t asked them to, but she suspected they were intentionally stationed around her, waiting for a chance to step in. Sometimes it felt as if they thought she was too fragile to take care of herself.

She wasn’t. Her room was on the ground floor, so there was no danger of her falling down stairs, and after almost two months of living here, she knew the layout of the house well enough. She was blind, yes, but she was not helpless.

“I’m very capable of making my way safely to the kitchen by myself,” she replied calmly.

“Alright then. I hope you wouldn’t mind me walking you there in that case?” he persisted

The way he said it, more as a statement than a question, told her it wasn’t worth debating. Still, she sighed. In truth, she was grateful for the staff in the house. They were respectful and kind, and sometimes their presence helped keep the loneliness away.

“You know I can find the kitchen perfectly well by myself, don’t you?” she asked lightly.

“Yes, ma,” he said, his tone humble. “I’m only here to provide a little assistance if you need it.”

“I’ll be fine, Tope. You can find something else to do.”

He went quiet, but she could feel his unease in the silence. He wanted to argue, yet he didn’t want to disrespect her.

And then—

“Ezinne, just allow the man to do his job, will you?”

Her whole body froze. The voice. The one she hadn’t expected to hear.

She turned sharply in its direction, her heart skipping. “Mofe?” she whispered, the name barely leaving her lips.

She had heard footsteps earlier and the faint sound of a door closing, but she had assumed it was just one of the staff. She had not imagined it would be him.

Hi, Ezinne.” His voice was calm, steady, and too real to be a trick of her mind.

“Good day, sir. Welcome back,” Tope said politely.

Mofe answered him, but Ezinne barely caught the words. All she heard was the slow, sure sound of his footsteps .. the firm tap of his shoes against the floor as he drew closer. Then, without warning, she felt herself pulled into a hug.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. Just the casual weight of his arm draping around her shoulder, tugging her against him. But because she hadn’t expected it, her body jolted in surprise.

“You look well, Ezinne,” he said, his tone so easy, so cordial, as though he hadn’t noticed her little jump.

“Yeah… err… thanks,” she stammered, her senses betraying her. His scent was warm, masculine, mixed with the faint spice of cologne, wrapping around her, and she shifted slightly to the side, trying to breathe, trying to steady herself. Yet, his arm remained heavy and sure over her shoulders.

“Thanks, I can take it from here,” Mofe said to Tope, and though she didn’t see Tope leave, she felt his absence like a door closing behind her. She wanted to call him back, to keep the buffer, but her lips stayed pressed shut.

“I spoke to Azora earlier,” Mofe continued, his tone conversational. “Called my driver to come pick me up and found out she was in the car. She mentioned she’s sleeping over at a friend’s place.”

“Yes,” Ezinne answered, her voice clipped, and inside her, panic twisted. Azora. He’d called and spoken to Azora already? He was reaching into her life again without permission. The thought sent a cold rage racing through her veins.

“By the scents I perceive, Rachel must be here?” he asked lightly.

“Yes,” Ezinne replied. Outwardly calm, but inside she was reeling. Why was he so relaxed? Why could she hear him smiling as if he hadn't just disappeared on them for weeks?
“I better drop in then and let her know she has an extra mouth for dinner. This smells too good to pass up. I wouldn’t miss tonight’s meal for anything.”

She opened her mouth to protest but wasn't sure what to say. That he wasn't welcome? That he couldn't just appear and disappear whenever he felt like it? But her words stumbled. “I was on my way to the kitchen myself, but —”

Before she could finish, his large hand slipped over hers. It was warm, solid, commanding and gave no room for reluctance.

Her breath caught, and the contact with him burned into her skin, her body betraying her by refusing to pull away.

“I’ll also need to speak to Mrs. Flora,” he said easily, “about preparing the guest suite for me.”

Ezinne’s head snapped up, panic flashing. “You’re sleeping over tonight?”

“No.” His voice was firm, unyielding. “I’ve decided to move in.”

The words slammed into her like a door crashing shut. Suddenly air was scarce, and she couldn't breathe. All she felt was the ground tilting under her feet and the unsettling realization that he was back.

*****



Mofe knew Ezinne had a million and one questions to ask him, it had been obvious since the moment he surprised her with his sudden return. He also had plenty of his own, starting with why the principal of her establishment, Mr Anthony, was sitting at his table, eating his food. Ezinne might live in the house, but it was still his house since he’d bought it. The house, the dining chair Anthony was sitting on, and the meal in front of him had all been paid for by him. Yet somehow, Mofe was the one who felt like an intruder.

All through dinner, he kept his eyes on the man, noting the way Anthony and Ezinne spoke so easily, too easily. He seemed like a decent enough fellow, but that wasn’t nearly enough to justify being invited to dinner—at her table. His table.

How many times had this man been here? How close had they really gotten since he’d been away? The thought burned in Mofe’s chest. Had Anthony ever spent the night? The possibility twisted painfully inside him. His mind betrayed him with memories of Ezinne’s former manager, that parasite, Emeka, who had used her under the guise of concern. Was history repeating itself right under his nose?

It hadn’t been up to six months since Ezinne had ended that relationship, and now she was entertaining another employee? A dull ache pressed against his ribs, half anger, half fear. Was she that lonely, that desperate? Was every man around her a potential stand-in for what she craved? He hated the direction of his thoughts, hated the images they conjured.

No. He told himself he was exaggerating. They weren’t sleeping together… not yet. But Ezinne was beautiful, single, and men weren’t blind, not even the ones who worked for her. And Ezinne, God help her, had a way of blurring lines. She was passionate, reckless in ways she didn’t even realize. He remembered too vividly the night before he had run off, the way she’d clung to him, kissed him like he was the only thing she needed to breathe. Did she do that with any man who lingered long enough? Or was it only him she lost her guard with?

The thought soothed and enraged him all at once.

She was free, he knew that. Free to give herself to whoever she pleased. But she should have known better than to play with fire under her own roof, especially with someone she worked with.

“Are you enjoying the meal, Mofe?” Rachel asked, breaking into his storm of thoughts. “You’ve been awfully quiet since dinner began.”

The moment he’d discovered they were hosting a guest, and that the guest was Anthony of all people, his mood had soured beyond repair. He forced a smile.

“You know your meals are always great, Rachel. You should consider starting your own restaurant.”

Rachel chuckled. “Yeah right. No need for flattery, Johnson, just tell me that you enjoyed the food, that’s all I need to hear.”
Before Mofe could retort, Anthony cut in smoothly, “Truly, Ms Rachel. Everything I’ve tasted so far has been exquisite. The world needs to taste this.”

Mofe’s jaw tightened. The man’s tone was warm, complimentary, and too damn familiar.

Rachel laughed, delighted. “You’re even worse than Johnson. Anyway, thank you. I still have a few weeks of training to go, and then I’ll consider my options.”

“How’s that going, by the way? Culinary school?” Mofe asked quickly, his voice a touch sharper than he intended.

“Really good. I’ve learnt so much already,” Rachel replied. “I’m really grateful for the opportunity.

“Any plans when you’re done? Do you have an idea what your next move will be?” he pressed, leaning forward, anything to shift the conversation away from Anthony.

“Considering my options. Not sure yet, but I’ll come up with something. Right now, I just want to learn.”

“So, you’ll be heading back by the end of the week?” Mofe asked.

“Yes, I will. But I should be back home at the end of next month. We’ll be on break by then. Will you be in Nigeria till then? Your movement is quite unpredictable,” Rachel replied, her tone light but her eyes sharp, suspicious.

Mofe didn’t miss it. He knew what she was implying, she hadn’t forgotten how he’d fled the last time she’d asked him to hang around for Ezinne. He didn’t blame her; he would have been suspicious too.

“I’ll be here for a very long while,” he said, holding her gaze steadily from across the table.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Ezinne shifting uncomfortably in her seat. That small, almost imperceptible movement was all the confirmation he needed, she wasn’t thrilled about his sudden return, and even less so about him moving back into the house. They needed to talk soon, he told himself. For Azora’s sake, they had to put their differences aside and find a way to function as a team.

But then, his mind’s voice whispered cruelly: And is that really all you want?

His gaze drifted to Ezinne. How was it possible for her to look so effortlessly beautiful, even now, sitting stiffly in her plain yellow caftan? The simple fabric clung loosely, yet somehow only emphasized the softness beneath. His mind betrayed him, flashing back to the kiss they had shared months ago, the feel of her body pressed against his. She was a drug he could never seem to wean himself off.

He forced his eyes away, only to notice Anthony staring at her too. The man’s expression was polite enough, but Mofe didn’t miss the quiet admiration in his eyes. Something hot and ugly twisted in his chest.

“So, Mr. Anthony,” Mofe said, his voice deliberately breaking the man’s gaze from Ezinne. “How’s your experience working at the centre so far?”

Anthony straightened, caught off guard but quick to recover. “It’s been a very good experience so far. The work we’re doing here with these kids is so important, and I’m just happy to be a part of it. I actually have an idea I wanted to run by you, Ezinne,” he added, turning back toward her. “Some inter-school activities. Quizzes, debates, contests—things that would motivate the students. We could award gifts, post the coverage on the website. It would be great for the kids as the term is rounding up.”

“I think it’s a very good idea, Anthony,” Ezinne said, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “We’ve never had any of those with other schools before.”

Her smile at him made Mofe’s jaw tighten. He kept his face impassive but the irritation burned.

“I’m guessing you’d need sponsors,” he said coolly.

“Yes, sir,” Anthony replied with a hopeful nod. “That would help greatly. Maybe some of your contacts can assist?”

Mofe let a beat of silence stretch before he replied. “My contacts are doing quite a lot already,” he said flatly. “I’d suggest you find others who might bankroll your little event.”

Anthony blinked, visibly thrown, but recovered quickly. “Of course, sir. I only thought—”

“Yes, I know what you thought.” Mofe cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But it’s standard practice to draft a proposal and source sponsorships independently. I’d recommend you do that instead of assuming.”

The table went quiet. Anthony shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. Ezinne glanced in his direction, her brow faintly furrowed, while Rachel bit her lip like she was holding back a comment.

“I’m sure if you put together a solid proposal,” Mofe continued, his tone smooth but firm, “you’ll find plenty of brands willing to sponsor such a… worthy cause.”

He ended the conversation by pushing his plate aside and turning deliberately to Rachel.

“Exquisite cooking,” he said warmly, ignoring the looks on Ezinne and Anthony’s faces. “Your sweet and sour fish was superb, and I’ve eaten in some of the best restaurants in the world. Truly, Rachel, you should consider opening a restaurant. I might even have a contact or two willing to partner with you.”

Rachel looked startled, her eyes flickering briefly to Ezinne and Anthony before returning to Mofe. She gave him a small, polite smile, but he could tell she wasn’t fooled. She saw through his pettiness.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said simply, her tone neutral.

Mofe leaned back in his chair, satisfied enough. Petty? Maybe. But Anthony needed to know where the lines were drawn. And if Ezinne was bothered by his methods… well, at least it meant she still felt something.

After dinner was done, the staff cleared the dishes and an awkward heaviness settled around the table. Anthony tried to keep up small talk with Rachel, throwing in little jokes here and there, but Mofe barely responded, offering clipped replies that made the silence grow louder.

“Yes, I suppose,” he muttered when Anthony asked if he had enjoyed the roasted chicken.

“That’s debatable,” he said flatly when Anthony praised the wine.

Even when Rachel tried to smooth things over, Mofe’s smile was tight, his words short, and his tone far from welcoming.

Anthony, sensing the tension, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well… I should probably get going,” he said after a pause, forcing a polite smile. “I’ve got some commitments tomorrow, so I’d better not stay too late.”

Mofe leaned back, arms folded, biting back the satisfaction that rushed through him at the man’s retreat. “That’s wise,” he replied dryly.

“Wouldn’t want to keep you from… whatever keeps you so busy on Sundays.” The jab was subtle, but deliberate, and Mofe didn’t miss the way Anthony’s smile faltered.

Rachel, the ever-gracious host, protested lightly. “Oh, Tony, don’t rush off. You know you’re always welcome here.”

Anthony shook his head quickly, eyes darting between Rachel and Mofe. “No, no, really. It’s fine. Another time, perhaps.”

Mofe’s lips twitched in what could barely pass for a smile. “Yes… perhaps,” he said, almost daring Anthony to linger. But the man didn’t take the bait.

As for Ezinne, she sat quietly the entire time, her hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes lowered as though she wasn’t even in the room. That silence needled Mofe far more than Anthony’s presence. Her zombielike calm, her refusal to look at him, to acknowledge him, made him feel like more of an ass than he already knew he was. He wanted her angry, anger at least meant fire, meant she cared. But this stillness? This silence? It was unbearable.

When Anthony finally excused himself properly, Rachel walking him to the door, Mofe’s chest loosened a little. He was all too glad to be seeing the man’s back.

Ezinne rose soon after, her voice soft but cold. “I will also be retiring early tonight. Thanks for the meal.” She didn’t even glance his way, and it cut deeper than if she had spat at him.

But he wasn’t going to let her slip away.

“I was hoping we could talk privately, Ezinne,” Mofe said, pushing his chair back and following her, his tone lighter than the storm building inside him.

“It’s been a tiring day,” she replied, not slowing, not looking at him. “Whatever you wish to discuss can wait till tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“No, Ezinne, it can’t.” His hand reached gently but firmly for her arm, his touch both a plea and a demand. “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick.”

She froze, glancing up at him through her dark glasses, her face giving nothing away.

Mofe, forcing himself to soften, glanced briefly at Rachel who had just returned. “Thanks once again Rachel, I sincerely enjoyed dinner,” he said politely, before leading Ezinne away.

Inside, his thoughts churned. She had every right to be pissed with him, he knew, especially after the moment they’d had in her bed. She’d been vulnerable with him, and then he’d suddenly disappeared. If someone had done that to him, he would have burned with rage. And now here she was, punishing him not with words, but with silence. A silence he couldn’t break, yet one he was determined to fight through, because losing her, truly losing her, was something he could not accept.


****

Next post on Tuesday evening.

He didn't have to be mean though..
Anyways..
Thanks for this

jupitre:
He didn't have to be mean though..
Anyways..
Thanks for this

; D you dey tell that one to a jealous man. Ezinne go do her own back , Antony go find his live interest for front