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“It’s fine if you believe I have some hidden agenda. But this device .. thousands of dollars went into developing it, all to make your life easier. And what do you say? That you never begged me? That you don’t need it? You aren’t punishing me, Ezinne. The only ones who’ll suffer from your stubbornness are you… and our daughter. God, you’re so damn infuriating!”

Ezinne flinched at the force in his voice, her shoulders drawing in as though the words had struck her. But she held her ground, refusing to retreat even as her lips trembled.

His chest heaved as though the words had burned through him. For a moment it looked as if he might go on, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop, afraid that if he spoke another word, he might say something he couldn’t take back.

With a sharp, angry movement, he stalked to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it shut behind him so hard the frame rattled.

Downstairs, Rachel sat curled on the living room couch, a magazine lying forgotten in her lap. She looked up the second she heard his heavy footsteps. One glance at his storm-dark face made her eyes narrow, concern flickering across her features as she pushed the magazine aside.

“Mofe, what is it? What happened?” she asked, rising quickly to her feet. Her hands hovered in front of her as though she wanted to steady him but thought better of it.

“Nothing happened,” he bit out, his voice sharp as he waved a hand in the air. He paced a few steps, then stopped abruptly.

“She’s so stubborn she’d rather burn everything to the ground than meet me halfway. She’s convinced I’m the enemy, that I’m up to something shady. All I want is to make things easier for her.” His voice cracked with frustration before he turned on his heel toward the door. “Please make her see reason. I’m leaving.”

Rachel’s brows shot up, her eyes following him as he strode past. “Leaving? You mean… back to the States?” she asked, her voice catching.

“Hell no.” He let out a bitter laugh, sharp and humorless. “No such luck for her. She’s stuck with me. No matter how infuriating she gets, I’ll keep coming back. I'm not going anywhere. And sooner or later…” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “…she’s going to have to accept that.”

Rachel stepped closer, her voice softer, “You should have told her about the medical results,” she said gently. “She needs to know.”

He turned towards her, “did you see how she reacted back there?” he demanded, “if I tell her now that I met with her doctor and went through her records, that will be the end of everything. Rachel, I have to do this delicately. Right now is not the time, trust me.” His voice grew hoarse, the anger still simmering. “Besides, I’m so angry I can barely keep it together as it is. Just… let me leave, calm down, and come back tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll be ready to face more of her fire then.”

Rachel studied him, her head tilting slightly as she weighed his words. Then she gave a slow, reluctant nod. “Alright. Good night, Mofe. Hopefully by morning, tempers will have cooled, and we can all approach this logically.”

He let out a long breath, some of the fight slipping from his frame. His shoulders eased, if only slightly. “Thanks, Rachel,” he murmured, giving her a faint nod before turning toward the door, his steps heavy as he finally left the room.
*****

Ezinne remained in the study after Mofe’s departure. She'd taken a seat on the edge of the couch, her hands curled tightly in her lap. At last, she had caught a glimpse of the Mofe she remembered, the one who couldn’t keep his calm forever. He had finally shown her what he truly thought of her, and the thought made her lips tighten. She was infuriating, was she?
Good.

A small, grim smile touched her face. At least she’d gotten him to drop the act. She had pushed him hard enough to make him snap, and that felt like a victory. Did he really think she was foolish enough to believe in his sudden change of attitude?

Did he think toys and fancy gadgets could buy her trust? That she would open the door and let him blindside her when she least expected it? The problem with smart people, she thought bitterly, was that they always assumed everyone else was stupid. If Mofe believed she was dumb, then he had a rude awakening waiting for him.

The sharp sound of the door swinging open broke her thoughts. Rachel’s hurried footsteps came across the floor.

“What the hell did you do, Ezinne? Mofe walked out of here pissed to hell,” Rachel demanded.

“And why should I, or even you, care if he’s pissed?” Ezinne shot back, her chin lifting. “What has he given you to turn you over to his side? Why are you defending him? You’re supposed to be my friend!”

Rachel let out a sharp breath, her hands gesturing in frustration though Ezinne couldn’t see it. “Oh please, Ezinne! It’s because I’m your friend that I’m doing this. That man came back contrite, sorry for what he did in the past. I can see it clearly. He clearly wants to mend things with you.”

Ezinne gave a dry laugh. “So, you’ve let him fool you too?”

“No.” Rachel’s voice softened, though there was a firmness beneath it. “Ezinne, sorry to say this, but I’m the one with the vision here. I see what you don’t. He’s trying, just give him a chance.”

Ezinne’s brows knitted. She turned her head toward Rachel, ready to fire back, when Rachel suddenly moved. The scrape of wood against the floor told Ezinne she had gone to pick something up.

“Look,” Rachel said. She came back, her footsteps steady, and gently placed something into Ezinne’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Ezinne asked sharply, her fingers closing around the object. It was cool and smooth and felt like firm plastic.

Rachel didn’t answer. Instead, she guided Ezinne’s thumb to a raised surface. The familiar bumps met her skin, braille.

Her touch lingered, and Ezinne felt the indentations form the words: on/off.

Before she could ask further, a female voice chimed out from the device

“Hello, welcome new user. I'm E-zinne, could you tell me your name for registration purposes?”

“Whoa!” Rachel laughed, “it's even named after you”
Ezinne hid her own surprise carefully as she replied, trying to sound unimpressed. “It's E-Zin, not Ezinne, calm down.”

“It's your name, obviously,” Rachel said, doubling down.

“Sorry, I didn't get that?” The computer voice responded. “Kindly give me a name to register the user profile.”

“Ezinne,” Rachel supplied.

“Hello Ezinne, nice to meet you. I’m E-zinne, your assistant. How may I help you at this time?” the device replied in a clear female voice.

“What’s the time, E-zinnne?” Rachel asked quickly.

“It’s 11:35 p.m., Ezinne. Would you like to know anything else?”

“Can you set an alarm for 6 a.m. tomorrow? I need to wake up early for work.”

“Sure. Alarm set for 6 a.m. Monday. Would you like the alarm to repeat every weekday and weekend?”

“Only weekdays.”

“Done. May I help you with anything else?”

Rachel lifted the device and pointed it toward the desk in the study. “What is this object, E-zinne?”

“It’s a brown oak desk, Ezinne.”

Rachel crouched a little and moved the device toward Ezinne’s feet. “How about this?”

“You’re wearing comfy white slip-ons, Ezinne. Would you love to purchase a similar pair?”

“Not at the moment, E-zinne. What are the things you can do for me as my assistant?”

“I can do a whole lot, Ezinne. I can plan your day, alert you to important emails and messages. I'll work so much more efficiently if you paired me with your mobile device.”

Before Rachel could continue, Ezinne frowned. “That’s enough, Rachel. I understand what you’re doing. It’s a smart device, but I’m not using it. It wants to pair with my mobile device already.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” the E-zinne interrupted, “are you having a conversation with someone else, Ezinne?”

Ezinne let out a short breath, her fingers sliding across the device until she found the braille indentation she had pressed earlier. With a firm tap, the device went silent again.

Rachel opened her mouth, sounding like she was still in awe, “Ezinne, this device is—”

“I can’t accept it, Rachel.” Ezinne said firmly.

“What? Why? Just give me a good reason,” Rachel asked, and Ezinne heard both surprise and disapproval in her voice.

“I don’t trust him, Rachel, Is that good enough for you?” Ezinne replied with a tired sigh.

Rachel shifted closer to her on the couch, her voice low but steady. “Ezinne, I won’t let him hurt you, I promise. I’m watching him like a hawk. Even if you don’t trust him, can you at least trust me?”

Ezinne sat in silence for a moment, her hands restless on her lap. Then she straightened, asking, “so I guess I'll I need to start the registration process again since it thinks you’re Ezinne because you registered for me.”
Rachel hesitated, then placed the device back into her hand.

Ezinne’s fingertips traced over the smooth surface until they brushed against the raised dots of the braille button once again. She pressed it firmly, and the device chimed back to life. The sound was sharp in the quiet study, a tone that made her tilt her head slightly, her ears tuned to every shift in its pitch.

“Hello, welcome back, Ezinne.”

"That's not Ezinne,” she said clearly, her voice calm. “I’d like to register my voice as the real Ezinne?”

“Voice mismatch detected,” The soft, mechanical tone of the assistant filled the room. “Current voice pattern does not match. Please confirm identity.”

Ezinne drew a breath, her lips tightening before she spoke again. “This is Ezinne, I want my voice and profile registered again.”

“Okay, I'm setting up a new user profile for Ezinne, and deleting the previous one.”

There was a short pause, followed by, “For security purposes, please place your index finger on the scanner. It's on the front part of the device. The device will buzz when it registers your finger print.”

Ezinne stretched her index finger as instructed until she felt a smooth patch on the device, where it was described and it buzzed instantly, making her jump and Rachel laugh.

“Identity confirmed. Voice registration in progress.”
The words settled in the room, carrying a quiet finality. A faint electronic beep followed shortly after.

“Hello Ezinne, your voice has been registered successfully. How may I help you at this time?”

“I don't need your help at this time. It's almost bedtime for me.”

“Oh that's great. Would you like me to set an alarm for your morning wake up time?”

“Yes, set an alarm for six am,” Ezinne instructed.

“Done,” the assistant responded a second later. “Now, if it's fine with you, I'll remain on standby. Call me if you need me.”

“Wooow,” Rachel sounded impressed. “I know you said he was smart, but I would never have imagined he was so smart he could build something like this in just a few months.”

“Yes, that’s Mofe,” Ezinne said quietly. “An all-round genius. There’s nothing he can’t figure out once he sets his mind to it.”

Rachel sighed, “Ezinne, can you just … give him a tiny chance?”

Ezinne shook her head, “Rachel, Mofe is a very clever man, and he can't be trusted. The best way to deal with him is to stay hostile and keep him at arm’s length.”

“But at what cost, Ezinne?” Rachel pressed. “This is your child’s father. Azora is already growing so attached to him. If you treat him like this, she’ll start to see you as the problem. What if that’s his plan? To be the agreeable one so you come off as the difficult one? Have you thought about that?”

Ezinne stiled as she considered Rachel’s words. There was some truth in them.

“I’m not saying that’s his strategy,” Rachel continued, softer now, “but if it is, then you’re playing this wrong.”

Ezinne nodded slowly. “You may have a point, Rachel. You just may have a point.”

“So, be accommodating,” Rachel urged gently, “at least whenever your daughter is around, or he's around.”

“It’s going to be so hard, Rachel. He just annoys me so much.” Ezinne confessed, with a frown.

Rachel smiled, tilting her head. “I know. But you can manage it, for your baby’s sake.”

Ezinne’s lips pressed together. She thought for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Okay. If he wants a truce, I’ll give him his truce.”

“Good.” Relief washed through Rachel’s tone.
Ezinne nodded, before asking, “Now, can I finally go to bed?”
*******”


Next post, next Wednesday

Your storytelling is captivating—each update leaves me eager for the next chapter!. Kudos for your effort

Lovely update as usual

sal1974:
Your storytelling is captivating—each update leaves me eager for the next chapter!. Kudos for your effort

Thank you

repogirl:
“It’s

*******”

Next post, next Wednesday

Wednesday is here

Lol

Present Day


Mofe walked up to the house the next morning with a heavy feeling in his chest. After their fight the night before, he was sure he would be met with more anger and even colder silence. He braced himself as he stepped through the front door, already preparing for the tension.
But to his complete surprise, the scene in the dining room was peaceful.

Ezinne was sitting at the table, already dressed for work in a crisp, professional outfit. Azora was beside her, happily eating a bowl of cereal. The smell of toast and tea filled the air. It was so normal, so calm, that for a moment, Mofe just stood there, confused.

As soon as Azora heard him, she jumped up from her chair and ran over, wrapping her arms around him in a tight, welcoming hug. "Uncle MJ!"

He hugged her back, his eyes cautiously moving to Ezinne. He walked slowly toward the table, unsure of what to expect.

"Hello Mofe, good morning," Ezinne said. Her voice was calm and steady.

Mofe was so shocked he couldn't reply. This was the last thing he had expected.

"Would you care for breakfast?" she added, gestming toward the spread of food on the table.

"Err... I... I already had something at the hotel," he finally managed to say, his words stumbling over each other.

Azora looked up at him, her face full of disappointment. "Why did you have to eat at the hotel?" she asked. "When you could have joined us. Could you come earlier tomorrow?"

Mofe shifted uncomfortably. "Umm," he hesitated, searching for the right words.

The truth was, he preferred to eat at the hotel to avoid any awkwardness. He hated the thought of Azora seeing the strained silence or sharp words that often passed between him and her mother. He wanted to protect her from that. Having breakfast alone seemed a small price to pay to keep her world feeling safe and happy. But he couldn't say that out loud, not in front of both of them.

So he just stood there, caught in the middle of the very normalcy he had been avoiding, wondering what Ezinne's calm demeanor truly meant.
“Azora is right. You should join us,” Ezinne said, her voice calm and measured.

Mofe’s head snapped toward her so fast he felt a twinge in his neck. He stared, completely thrown by her composed invitation. Her hands rested peacefully on the table, her breakfast plate neatly arranged before her. This wasn't the angry, guarded woman he'd faced yesterday.

“Err, I don’t think that would be a good idea…” he began, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Why not, Mofe?” The question came from Rachel as she swept into the room, balancing a steaming tray of fluffy, golden scrambled eggs. The rich, savory aroma filled the air, and Mofe’s stomach clenched with immediate regret for the rushed hotel breakfast he’d already eaten.

"I… usually just…" he stammered, running a hand through his hair as he searched for a believable excuse that wouldn't reveal the real reason, his desire to avoid uncomfortable silence in front of their daughter.

"Are you a noisy eater?" Azora suddenly piped up, her small voice cutting through his hesitation. The question was so innocent and unexpected that it broke the lingering tension. A wave of laughter swept the table, and Mofe was astonished to see Ezinne’s shoulders shake with quiet mirth, a genuine smile touching her lips.

Mofe felt his own tension ease, a real smile forming on his face for the first time that morning. "Do I look like a noisy eater, AZ?"

Azora dissolved into giggles, covering her mouth with one hand. "It's not usually written on the face, Uncle Mofe," she managed between laughs. "Mom says noisy eaters are very distracting at the table. She says it's like dining with a herd of hungry hippos!"

"I agree with her," Mofe said, playing along while leaning casually against the dinning chair. "And to answer your question .. no, I'm not a noisy eater. I'll make sure to join you for breakfast whenever I can make it."

Azora’s face lit up with a brilliant smile, but it soon faded as she remembered something, her small brows drawing together. "You still haven't given me the gifts you brought for me," she said, her tone shifting to mild accusation. "You said you would bring them after school yesterday, but you never showed up."

Mofe’s expression softened with genuine regret. He moved closer and knelt beside her chair, bringing himself to her eye level. "Yeah, I'm so sorry about that, sweetheart. I was tied up with an important work call that ran much longer than I expected. But I’ll be there to pick you up today, I promise."

Azora looked at him, her head tilted as she studied his face for any sign of doubt. Her eyes, so much like his, seemed to search his soul.

"I promise, AZ," he said, raising his right hand as if taking a solemn oath. "I’m not going into the office today. I’ve cleared my entire schedule, and I’m at your service today, my lady." He gave a playful, formal bow from his kneeling position.

Her mood lifted instantly, sunshine returning to her features. "Does this mean we can play Roblox after I get back from school?" she asked, bouncing slightly in her chair with excitement.

"Ye—" Mofe started to agree immediately, but Ezinne gently interrupted, her voice calm but firm.

"After your homework is done, of course," she said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation though her expression remained soft.

"Of course," Mofe nodded seriously, then caught Azora's eye and gave her a quick, secret wink that promised fun would follow once responsibilities were met. The shared moment felt strangely natural, like a familiar rhythm he hadn't realized he remembered.
Rachel pulled out a wooden chair, its legs scraping softly against the tiled floor, and settled in at the dining table. Mofe, however, remained standing. He leaned against the high back of one of the dining chairs, folding his arms and simply soaking in the rare, peaceful atmosphere. The low murmur of morning conversation, the clink of cutlery, and the warm smell of food created a scene he had barely dared to imagine. This is what it could be like, he thought, a real family breakfast. The normality of it was both comforting and painful.

The moment also brought a pang of guilt. He knew he needed to apologize to Ezinne for losing his temper the night before. He couldn't fix the past ten years, but he could start by mending the mistakes he was making now.

As this thought crossed his mind, he instinctively turned toward Rachel. He found her already staring at him, her expression thoughtful. Slightly confused, he held her gaze, and she responded by tilting her head meaningfully to the side, directing his attention elsewhere.

He followed her silent cue and his eyes landed on the sleek, modern smart cane leaning against Ezinne's chair. His breath caught slightly. It was right there, in the heart of their morning routine, not hidden away in a closet. He hadn't even noticed it when he walked in.

He turned back to Rachel, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. She answered with a small, knowing smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. A wave of curiosity washed over him. What happened after I left last night? Something had clearly shifted in Ezinne's attitude.

Just then, Ezinne spoke, breaking into his thoughts. "Azora, kindly run upstairs and get my things along with yours, please."

"Okay, Mum!" Azora chirped, eagerly hopping off her chair and dashing out of the room, her footsteps echoing on the staircase.

Seizing the moment of privacy, Mofe cleared his throat gently. "So, Ezinne," he began, keeping his tone casual and light. "I need to apologise for losing my temper last night. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I was quite out of it myself.” She responded quietly.
Great, now that their apologies were out of the way, he asked, “Any feedback so far on the smart cane?"

Ezinne turned her head slightly in his direction. "It's manageable, the assistant works quite well. I'm just not sure how I can make calls with it, though."

"To make calls, you'll need to pair it with your phone first," Mofe explained, moving a bit closer. "Once that's done, you just say, 'Hey E-zinne,' and it will—"

"Yes, Mofe?" the device's computerized voice responded immediately.

A cold dread washed over him. *Oh no.* "I wasn't talking to you, E-zinne," he said to the cane, his mind racing. During development, he'd created an administrator profile to test the device's security protocols. He was supposed to have deleted it before giving the cane to her. How could he have forgotten something so important?

"Okay, that's fine," the device replied cheerfully.

The breakfast table had gone completely silent. Ezinne's head was tilted, her expression shifting from confusion to deep suspicion. "You... you also have a profile on this device?" she asked, her voice cold and sharp.

*Shit.*

"Yes, but only from when I was testing it," he said quickly, trying to keep his voice calm. "I forgot to clear its memory, but I can do that right now—"

"You know what?" Ezinne cut him off, her voice trembling with anger. "Don't worry about it. I don't need this thing anymore. You can just take it back with you."

Mofe and Rachel exchanged a worried glance across the table. The peaceful morning atmosphere had shattered in an instant.

"What? Why?" Mofe asked, stepping closer.

Ezinne ignored him, turning toward Rachel. "Rachel, kindly ask one of the staff to bring me my old cane."

"Ezinne, what is it?" Mofe pressed, his stomach tightening. "What's wrong?"

"Everything is wrong!" she snapped, pushing her chair back from the table. "I knew I never should have accepted this thing. You must think I'm a fool. You're using this to monitor me, aren't you? That's why your profile is still on it. I bet you're the administrator and you can access all my data from your phone."

"Ezinne, it doesn't work that way, for crying out loud!" Mofe said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He could see the trust he'd been carefully rebuilding crumbling before his eyes. "Okay, just wait a second. Let me show you."

He turned to the cane on the floor beside her chair. "Hey E-zinne?"

The device lit up immediately. "Hi Mofe, how may I help you?"

"Access Ezinne’s user profile, and give me the details of her schedule today," Mofe instructed the device, his voice firm.

"Sorry, that profile can only be accessed by Ezinne," the smart cane responded politely.

He turned back toward Ezinne, relief evident in his posture. "See? I don't have access to your information unless you explicitly grant it to me."

Rachel, who had been watching the entire exchange with held breath, finally allowed her shoulders to relax slightly.

Ezinne’s rigid stance softened, but her voice remained firm. "Kindly wipe your profile off right this minute."

Mofe nodded, turning back to the device. "E-zinne, permanently delete my profile, all data saved by me, and all my access privileges. Retain only Ezinne's user profile."

“Processing... Mofe’s profile and access have been permanently deleted.”

“Hi E-zinne,” Mofe tested. The device remained silent. He looked at Ezinne. "Now you ask if there are any other profiles on the device."

“Hi E-zinne,” Ezinne said.

“Yes, Ezinne. How can I assist you?” the device replied.

“Are there any other user profiles apart from mine on your device?”

“No others, Ezinne. Would you like to know anything else?”

“That's all for now.”

A heavy silence filled the room before Rachel broke it with an exaggerated exhale. “Phew! Glad that's over.” She fanned her face with her hand. “The fireworks between you two, gosh! My heart can’t take it.”

The sound of Azora’s light footsteps coming down the stairs prevented any further discussion.

Mofe quickly moved to the foot of the stairs and gently took the bags from her. “Are we all ready to leave now?” he asked, his voice still a bit unsteady from the confrontation.

“Yes,” Ezinne said. She picked up the smart cane, and as her hand made contact, the device activated.

“Walking mode activated,” the voice prompted.

Mofe stepped back, watching as the cane’s audio guidance seamlessly directed Ezinne’s path around the dining table and toward the doorway. It was a profound moment—he was seeing his creation truly help her.

“Mummy, your cane's really cool,” Azora chirped, falling into step beside her mother. “It tells you where everything is and where to go.”

“You can thank your Dad for it,” Ezinne replied, her voice calm and natural. “He designed it specially for me. It’s one of a kind.”

Mofe, who was following a few steps behind, froze mid-stride. His breath caught in his chest. Did she just…?

“Really, Dad? You did that?” Azora asked, turning her bright, impressed gaze toward him.

The word "Dad," spoken so casually by both of them, hit him with the force of a physical blow. He was so stunned he could barely form a sentence. “Err.. y..y..yeah, I did,” he finally stammered out. “It's called the E-Zin walking stick. Specially designed for your mom.”

Ahead of him, Ezinne stopped walking for just a second. A slight pause was the only sign that she had registered what he’d said—that she understood he had named the device after her. She didn't turn around or say a word, but Mofe knew, with absolute certainty, that she knew. After that brief, telling hesitation, she simply resumed her walk to the front door, leaving Mofe’s world feeling permanently shifted.
Rachel caught Mofe's eye, her lips twitching as she tried to hold back a smile. She gave him a small, encouraging nod, acknowledging the significance of the moment.

"So, Mummy is the only person in the whole world who has it?" Azora asked, her voice filled with wonder as they stepped out onto the sunny porch.

"Yes, she is," Mofe confirmed, taking his daughter's small hand in his. He chose not to mention his longer-term hope, which was to eventually convince Ezinne's approval for his company produce more of the canes. He had, he realized, technically lied when he'd earlier said he had no plans to commercialize the technology. However, he would never move forward without her full approval. The device bore her name, after all, so in every way that mattered, it was hers. And he knew she would want others to also benefit from something that helped so well with her daily tasks. It honestly wasn't about the money for him, he had more than enough money. He was more concerned with using his technology to positively impact humanity.

For now, a profound sense of relief and happiness settled over him. She was finally using the cane. The morning's near-disaster had been averted. His next goal was to introduce her to one of Techbit's advanced, discreet Bluetooth earpieces, which would sync seamlessly with the E-Zin. He could only hope she wouldn't bite his head off for that, too. He had nearly lost her trust minutes ago because of his own carelessness; he wouldn't make that mistake again.
****************

Present Day


Mofe walked up to the house the next morning with a heavy feeling in his chest. After their fight the night before, he was sure he would be met with more anger and even colder silence. He braced himself as he stepped through the front door, already preparing for the tension.
But to his complete surprise, the scene in the dining room was peaceful.

Ezinne was sitting at the table, already dressed for work in a crisp, professional outfit. Azora was beside her, happily eating a bowl of cereal. The smell of toast and tea filled the air. It was so normal, so calm, that for a moment, Mofe just stood there, confused.

As soon as Azora heard him, she jumped up from her chair and ran over, wrapping her arms around him in a tight, welcoming hug. "Uncle MJ!"

He hugged her back, his eyes cautiously moving to Ezinne. He walked slowly toward the table, unsure of what to expect.

"Hello Mofe, good morning," Ezinne said. Her voice was calm and steady.

Mofe was so shocked he couldn't reply. This was the last thing he had expected.

"Would you care for breakfast?" she added, gesturing toward the spread of food on the table.

"Err... I... I already had something at the hotel," he finally managed to say, his words stumbling over each other.

Azora looked up at him, her face full of disappointment. "Why did you have to eat at the hotel?" she asked. "When you could have joined us. Could you come earlier tomorrow?"

Mofe shifted uncomfortably. "Umm," he hesitated, searching for the right words.

The truth was, he preferred to eat at the hotel to avoid any awkwardness. He hated the thought of Azora seeing the strained silence or sharp words that often passed between him and her mother. He wanted to protect her from that. Having breakfast alone seemed a small price to pay to keep her world feeling safe and happy. But he couldn't say that out loud, not in front of both of them.

So he just stood there, caught in the middle of the very normalcy he had been avoiding, wondering what Ezinne's calm demeanor truly meant.
“Azora is right. You should join us,” Ezinne said, her voice calm and measured.

Mofe’s head snapped toward her so fast he felt a twinge in his neck. He stared, completely thrown by her composed invitation. Her hands rested peacefully on the table, her breakfast plate neatly arranged before her. This wasn't the angry, guarded woman he'd faced yesterday.

“Err, I don’t think that would be a good idea…” he began, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Why not, Mofe?” The question came from Rachel as she swept into the room, balancing a steaming tray of fluffy, golden scrambled eggs. The rich, savory aroma filled the air, and Mofe’s stomach clenched with immediate regret for the rushed hotel breakfast he’d already eaten.

"I… usually just…" he stammered, running a hand through his hair as he searched for a believable excuse that wouldn't reveal the real reason, his desire to avoid uncomfortable silence in front of their daughter.

"Are you a noisy eater?" Azora suddenly piped up, her small voice cutting through his hesitation. The question was so innocent and unexpected that it broke the lingering tension. A wave of laughter swept the table, and Mofe was astonished to see Ezinne’s shoulders shake with quiet mirth, a genuine smile touching her lips.

Mofe felt his own tension ease, a real smile forming on his face for the first time that morning. "Do I look like a noisy eater, AZ?"

Azora dissolved into giggles, covering her mouth with one hand. "It's not usually written on the face, Uncle Mofe," she managed between laughs. "Mom says noisy eaters are very distracting at the table. She says it's like dining with a herd of hungry hippos!"

"I agree with her," Mofe said, playing along while leaning casually against the dinning chair. "And to answer your question .. no, I'm not a noisy eater. I'll make sure to join you for breakfast whenever I can make it."

Azora’s face lit up with a brilliant smile, but it soon faded as she remembered something, her small brows drawing together. "You still haven't given me the gifts you brought for me," she said, her tone shifting to mild accusation. "You said you would bring them after school yesterday, but you never showed up."

Mofe’s expression softened with genuine regret. He moved closer and knelt beside her chair, bringing himself to her eye level. "Yeah, I'm so sorry about that, sweetheart. I was tied up with an important work call that ran much longer than I expected. But I’ll be there to pick you up today, I promise."

Azora looked at him, her head tilted as she studied his face for any sign of doubt. Her eyes, so much like his, seemed to search his soul.

"I promise, AZ," he said, raising his right hand as if taking a solemn oath. "I’m not going into the office today. I’ve cleared my entire schedule, and I’m at your service today, my lady." He gave a playful, formal bow from his kneeling position.

Her mood lifted instantly, sunshine returning to her features. "Does this mean we can play Roblox after I get back from school?" she asked, bouncing slightly in her chair with excitement.

"Ye—" Mofe started to agree immediately, but Ezinne gently interrupted, her voice calm but firm.

"After your homework is done, of course," she said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation though her expression remained soft.

"Of course," Mofe nodded seriously, then caught Azora's eye and gave her a quick, secret wink that promised fun would follow once responsibilities were met. The shared moment felt strangely natural, like a familiar rhythm he hadn't realized he remembered.
Rachel pulled out a wooden chair, its legs scraping softly against the tiled floor, and settled in at the dining table. Mofe, however, remained standing. He leaned against the high back of one of the dining chairs, folding his arms and simply soaking in the rare, peaceful atmosphere. The low murmur of morning conversation, the clink of cutlery, and the warm smell of food created a scene he had barely dared to imagine. This is what it could be like, he thought, a real family breakfast. The normality of it was both comforting and painful.

The moment also brought a pang of guilt. He knew he needed to apologize to Ezinne for losing his temper the night before. He couldn't fix the past ten years, but he could start by mending the mistakes he was making now.

As this thought crossed his mind, he instinctively turned toward Rachel. He found her already staring at him, her expression thoughtful. Slightly confused, he held her gaze, and she responded by tilting her head meaningfully to the side, directing his attention elsewhere.

He followed her silent cue and his eyes landed on the sleek, modern smart cane leaning against Ezinne's chair. His breath caught slightly. It was right there, in the heart of their morning routine, not hidden away in a closet. He hadn't even noticed it when he walked in.

He turned back to Rachel, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. She answered with a small, knowing smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. A wave of curiosity washed over him. What happened after I left last night? Something had clearly shifted in Ezinne's attitude.

Just then, Ezinne spoke, breaking into his thoughts. "Azora, kindly run upstairs and get my things along with yours, please."

"Okay, Mum!" Azora chirped, eagerly hopping off her chair and dashing out of the room, her footsteps echoing on the staircase.

Seizing the moment of privacy, Mofe cleared his throat gently. "So, Ezinne," he began, keeping his tone casual and light. "I need to apologise for losing my temper last night. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I was quite out of it myself.” She responded quietly.
Great, now that their apologies were out of the way, he asked, “Any feedback so far on the smart cane?"

Ezinne turned her head slightly in his direction. "It's manageable, the assistant works quite well. I'm just not sure how I can make calls with it, though."

"To make calls, you'll need to pair it with your phone first," Mofe explained, moving a bit closer. "Once that's done, you just say, 'Hey E-zinne,' and it will—"

"Yes, Mofe?" the device's computerized voice responded immediately.

A cold dread washed over him. "I wasn't talking to you, E-zinne," he said to the cane, his mind racing. During development, he'd created an administrator profile to test the device's security protocols. He was supposed to have deleted it before giving the cane to her. How could he have forgotten something so important?

"Okay, that's fine," the device replied cheerfully.

The breakfast table had gone completely silent. Ezinne's head was tilted, her expression shifting from confusion to deep suspicion. "You... you also have a profile on this device?" she asked, her voice cold and sharp.

'shit!'

"Yes, but only from when I was testing it," he said quickly, trying to keep his voice calm. "I forgot to clear its memory, but I can do that right now—"

"You know what?" Ezinne cut him off, her voice trembling with anger. "Don't worry about it. I don't need this thing anymore. You can just take it back with you."

Mofe and Rachel exchanged a worried glance across the table. The peaceful morning atmosphere had shattered in an instant.

"What? Why?" Mofe asked, stepping closer.

Ezinne ignored him, turning toward Rachel. "Rachel, kindly ask one of the staff to bring me my old cane."

"Ezinne, what is it?" Mofe pressed, his stomach tightening. "What's wrong?"

"Everything is wrong!" she snapped, pushing her chair back from the table. "I knew I never should have accepted this thing. You must think I'm a fool. You're using this to monitor me, aren't you? That's why your profile is still on it. I bet you're the administrator and you can access all my data from your phone."

"Ezinne, it doesn't work that way, for crying out loud!" Mofe said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He could see the trust he'd been carefully rebuilding crumbling before his eyes. "Okay, just wait a second. Let me show you."

He turned to the cane on the floor beside her chair. "Hey E-zinne?"

The device lit up immediately. "Hi Mofe, how may I help you?"

"Access Ezinne’s user profile, and give me the details of her schedule today," Mofe instructed the device, his voice firm.

"Sorry, that profile can only be accessed by Ezinne," the smart cane responded politely.

He turned back toward Ezinne, relief evident in his posture. "See? I don't have access to your information unless you explicitly grant it to me."

Rachel, who had been watching the entire exchange with held breath, finally allowed her shoulders to relax slightly.

Ezinne’s rigid stance softened, but her voice remained firm. "Kindly wipe your profile off right this minute."

Mofe nodded, turning back to the device. "E-zinne, permanently delete my profile, all data saved by me, and all my access privileges. Retain only Ezinne's user profile."

“Processing... Mofe’s profile and access have been permanently deleted.”

“Hi E-zinne,” Mofe tested. The device remained silent. He looked at Ezinne. "Now you ask if there are any other profiles on the device."

“Hi E-zinne,” Ezinne said.

“Yes, Ezinne. How can I assist you?” the device replied.

“Are there any other user profiles apart from mine on your device?”

“No others, Ezinne. Would you like to know anything else?”

“That's all for now.”

A heavy silence filled the room before Rachel broke it with an exaggerated exhale. “Phew! Glad that's over.” She fanned her face with her hand. “The fireworks between you two, gosh! My heart can’t take it.”

The sound of Azora’s light footsteps coming down the stairs prevented any further discussion.

Mofe quickly moved to the foot of the stairs and gently took the bags from her. “Are we all ready to leave now?” he asked, his voice still a bit unsteady from the confrontation.

“Yes,” Ezinne said. She picked up the smart cane, and as her hand made contact, the device activated.

“Walking mode activated,” the voice prompted.

Mofe stepped back, watching as the cane’s audio guidance seamlessly directed Ezinne’s path around the dining table and toward the doorway. It was a profound moment—he was seeing his creation truly help her.

“Mummy, your cane's really cool,” Azora chirped, falling into step beside her mother. “It tells you where everything is and where to go.”

“You can thank your Dad for it,” Ezinne replied, her voice calm and natural. “He designed it specially for me. It’s one of a kind.”

Mofe, who was following a few steps behind, froze mid-stride. His breath caught in his chest. Did she just…?

“Really, Dad? You did that?” Azora asked, turning her bright, impressed gaze toward him.

The word "Dad," spoken so casually by both of them, hit him with the force of a physical blow. He was so stunned he could barely form a sentence. “Err.. y..y..yeah, I did,” he finally stammered out. “It's called the E-Zin walking stick. Specially designed for your mom.”

Ahead of him, Ezinne stopped walking for just a second. A slight pause was the only sign that she had registered what he’d said—that she understood he had named the device after her. She didn't turn around or say a word, but Mofe knew, with absolute certainty, that she knew. After that brief, telling hesitation, she simply resumed her walk to the front door, leaving Mofe’s world feeling permanently shifted.

Rachel caught Mofe's eye, her lips twitching as she tried to hold back a smile. She gave him a small, encouraging nod, acknowledging the significance of the moment.

"So, Mummy is the only person in the whole world who has it?" Azora asked, her voice filled with wonder as they stepped out onto the sunny porch.

"Yes, she is," Mofe confirmed, taking his daughter's small hand in his. He chose not to mention his longer-term hope, which was to eventually convince Ezinne's approval for his company produce more of the canes. He had, he realized, technically lied when he'd earlier said he had no plans to commercialize the technology. However, he would never move forward without her full approval.

The device bore her name, after all, so in every way that mattered, it was hers. And he knew she would want others to also benefit from something that helped so well with her daily tasks. It honestly wasn't about the money for him, he had more than enough money. He was more concerned with using his technology to positively impact humanity.

For now, a profound sense of relief and happiness settled over him. She was finally using the cane. The morning's near-disaster had been averted.

His next goal was to introduce her to one of Techbit's advanced, discreet Bluetooth earpieces, which would sync seamlessly with the E-Zin. He could only hope she wouldn't bite his head off for that, too. He had nearly lost her trust minutes ago because of his own carelessness, he wouldn't make that mistake again.
****************


Final part of the chapter will be posted tomorrow evening.

This is progress....
Thanks repo

.

Nairaland bot has been banning me and removing my posts since last night. I'm not sure why that is happening. Any suggestions?

Mofe sat at a simple desk in what was now his makeshift office. The room still smelled faintly of fresh paint and sawdust. It was a small, rectangular space with white walls in the newly renovated block of The centre for the visually impaired.
Morning light filtered through the large window, softened by the beige curtains that had only been hung a few hours earlier. They were plain and functional, just like the rest of the furniture, a sturdy desk where his computer notebook sat, a comfortable leather chair for him, and two simpler chairs for visitors. A brand-new filing cabinet stood in one corner, its metallic surface still gleaming.
It was a clean, efficient space, but it felt temporary. For Mofe, it was perfect. It was a foothold, a place from which he could quietly rebuild the world he envisioned for himself and his family.
He’d just stood up and was putting on his shirt jacket, preparing to walk to the admin block for his meeting with Ezinne and Anthony, when his phone began vibrating on the sparse desk. He glanced at the screen, expecting a reminder for the appointment. Instead, he saw an unknown number with a +44 country code—the United Kingdom.

His brow furrowed in curiosity. He wasn’t expecting a call from anyone he knew in the UK. After a brief hesitation, he swiped to answer. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was smooth, familiar in a way that sent an immediate, cold jolt down his spine. "Mofe? Is that you, my boy?"

Every muscle in Mofe's body tensed. He hadn't heard that voice in over a decade, but he would recognize it anywhere. It was his uncle, his late father’s brother, Chief Babatunde Johnson. The man who had swooped in after his father's sudden death, seamlessly taking control of the family empire and leaving a young Mofe as a burden on Aunt Moni. The man who had written him off, dismissing him as a worthless boy with no future.

A hot, familiar anger surged through him, so potent it tightened his grip on the phone, his knuckles turning white. The polished, temporary office around him seemed to fade, replaced by the old, bitter memories of powerlessness and betrayal.

"What do you want?" Mofe's voice was low, a controlled whisper that barely contained the storm of emotions raging within him.
“Mofe, is that how you speak to your elder?” Uncle Tunde’s voice was still smooth, but a slight edge had crept in. “I am calling to talk to my nephew. To talk as family.”

“I have no family on that side,” Mofe bit out, the words sharp and final. He could feel the old wound, long scarred over, splitting open anew.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Mofe, my boy, there is a proverb our people know well, ‘When the elders stretch out a hand in peace, it is the hardest wood they must bend.’ I am trying to bend that wood.”

Mofe’s laugh was short and humorless. He leaned forward, bracing his free hand on the cool surface of the new desk. “I’m not interested in your proverbs or your peace. I only distrust people who want peace after they know they have lost the fight. Where was this hand when I was a boy, left with nothing? Where was this ‘family’ when I needed it? You can remain gone, as far as I am concerned. You made your choice a long time ago.”

“Mofe…” His uncle’s voice softened, the tone shifting to one Mofe had never heard from him before, contrite. “I am sorry.”

The apology, decades too late, landed not as a balm but as an insult. It was too easy. It cost the old man nothing.

“Don’t,” Mofe cut him off, his voice dangerously quiet. “Do not ever call this number again.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He ended the call, dropping the phone onto the desk as if it had burned him. The serene atmosphere of the new office was now thick with the ghosts of his past. His heart hammered in his chest, the old rage a familiar, toxic fire in his veins.

His first coherent thought was of Aunt Moni. She was the only one who could have given Tunde this number. He loved his aunt, she was the only mother he had truly known, but this was a betrayal of a boundary he had made very clear.

He snatched the phone back up, his thumb hovering over her contact. She was going to get a piece of his mind. No one, not even her, got to decide who he forgave.
The sharp knock on the door was tentative, pulling Mofe from his storm of thoughts. Before he could answer, the door eased open, and Ezinne stood there, her brows furrowed behind her shaded glasses, and her head tilted slightly.

“Is everything alright?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t filled with deep concern, but it was more than mere politeness. “I heard you… speaking with someone.” She paused for a beat. “Is this a good time for our meeting?”

Mofe took a deep breath, consciously forcing the tension from his shoulders. The ghost of his uncle’s voice still echoed in his mind, but he shoved it aside.

“Yes, of course. I was just about to walk to your office,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt, wondering how much Ezinne had heard.

“I needed to stretch my legs, so Anthony and I decided to come to you. He went back to get his phone and should be here soon,” she replied, stepping fully into the room and letting the door swing shut behind her.

She paused, her head tilting slightly as if taking in the space. "How's your makeshift office?" Ezinne asked.

Once again, Mofe was taken aback. The question was so ordinary, so… domestic. It wasn't about logistics or arguments or Azora. It was about him. Did she genuinely care if he was comfortable in this small, temporary room, or was this just politeness, a careful neutrality for the sake of their new, fragile truce?

He studied her for a moment, searching her expression for any hint of irony or sarcasm, but found none. "Well… it will do," he said, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. "I'm just glad I have somewhere to work from whenever I'm here. Please have a seat, Ezinne," He offered, his voice softer now as he settled back into his own chair.

"Alright," she replied. She unfolded the smart cane and extended it forward. The tip made a soft tap as it found the leg of the visitor's chair. In one smooth, confident movement, she guided herself into the seat, then folded the cane and leaned it against the desk, right where she could easily reach it again. The simple action showed she was already getting used to the device he had made for her. He noticed the small, wireless earphones in her ears and understood she was listening to the assistant's voice guiding her.

A quiet moment settled between them. It was less tense than before, but the air still hummed with unspoken words and old wounds. It was the quiet of a temporary ceasefire, where both sides are still watching, waiting.

"The renovations in this block are nearly complete," Ezinne said, breaking the silence. Her tone was professional, a safe topic. "The contractors finished the plumbing in the new washrooms yesterday. It's a significant upgrade from the old facilities."

Mofe nodded, grateful for the neutral ground. "I saw the report. The tactile flooring has also been installed in the main hallway. It should make navigation much easier for the students."

"It will," she agreed. "We're planning to run orientation sessions once the final inspection is done. It’s necessary that everyone becomes familiar with the new changes." She paused, then added, "The noise was a bit much last week, but the end result is worth it."

"I'm glad to hear it," Mofe replied. "And the new Braille printers for the computer lab? Have they arrived?"

"Next week," Ezinne confirmed. "Along with the updated screen-reading software. Anthony has been pushing for that for months."

Before Mofe could respond, a brisk knock sounded at the door. It opened to reveal Anthony, phone in hand, a slightly breathless smile on his annoyingly handsome face. He looked, as always, like he’d just stepped out of a magazine for ambitious young professionals. He couldn't have been older than his mid-thirties, and he carried himself with an easy confidence that Mofe found instantly grating. His suit was impeccably tailored, and he had one of those classically symmetrical faces that seemed designed to make people, especially women, instinctively trust him.

"Apologies for the delay!" Anthony said, stepping inside. "I forgot my phone in the office. I trust I haven't missed much?" He looked between the two of them, his gaze lingering a moment too long on Ezinne before he took the seat beside her.

"Not at all," Mofe replied, shifting smoothly into a professional tone. "We were just talking about the renovations. Since you're both here, I have a suggestion I thought I should run by you. What would you think about organizing a full eye check-up for everyone at the center, both staff, students and anyone else interested? It could be a great health initiative."

Anthony's face lit up immediately. "Well! That's a brilliant idea, sir!"

But Mofe's attention was fixed on Ezinne, who had gone unusually quiet. She simply nodded slowly, her face giving nothing away.

Anthony began excitedly outlining plans. "We could partner with a good hospital, make it a proper health day, maybe even get some positive media attention for the center—"

Mofe barely heard him. He was too busy watching Ezinne's silence, which felt louder than Anthony's enthusiasm. Was she just being thoughtful, or could she somehow sense his real motive? Could she tell this sudden interest in eye health wasn't completely selfless?

"Ezinne," he finally cut in gently. "You've been quiet. What do you think?"

She turned her head toward his voice. "It's a good idea," she said, her voice practical and calm. "It's something I've been considering for the students myself for a while now."

Though she agreed, Mofe felt a knot form in his stomach. Her calm support felt like a silent judgment. She wanted this for the children's wellbeing, while he was using it as cover for something else.

The truth weighed heavily on him. This whole health initiative was just a show to hide what he'd already done. He’d already sent her medical records to a specialist without her knowledge. This public event would make any treatment they "found" seem like a lucky discovery, not the result of his betrayal.

He felt terrible. Seeing Ezinne sitting there, trusting his suggestion, made his deception feel even worse. But he pushed the guilt down. In his mind, her stubbornness and distrust left him no choice. If this was the only way to get her the help she needed but refused to seek, then he would play the villain.

"Two weeks should be enough time to organize this," Mofe stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "I'll make sure it happens."

Anthony's smile faded, and Ezinne frowned slightly. "Mofe, that's too soon," she said calmly but firmly. "There are too many details to arrange … logistics, permissions, coordinating with a hospital..."

"It's fine," he interrupted, then softened his tone. "I'll handle everything. Consider it done. Besides, exams and holidays are coming up soon, and I don't want this to interfere with that schedule. Thanks for your suggestions, Anthony, feel free to let me know anything else you come up with."

An awkward silence filled the room. The meeting was clearly over. Anthony stood and turned to Ezinne. "Should I walk you back to your office?"

"No, thank you, Anthony," she replied, tilting her head toward him. "I still need to speak with Mofe."

Anthony nodded, curiosity flashing in his eyes before he said goodbye and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

The air in the office suddenly felt thick and heavy. Mofe watched Ezinne, his guilt now mixed with nervousness about why she'd asked to stay behind. The moment they were alone, the atmosphere shifted from professional to deeply personal. Ezinne didn't move from her chair, but turned more directly toward Mofe.

"The cane," she began, her voice softer now. "I paired it with my phone earlier. It's... working even better than I expected. Thank you."

Mofe, who had been preparing for an argument, was surprised by her gratitude. "You don't need to thank me, Ezinne," he said, his voice gentle. "I'm here to do whatever I can to make your life easier."

He saw her posture tighten slightly. "Why?" That single word carried ten years of suspicion and pain.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he answered, though the words felt inadequate.

Ezinne was quiet for a long moment, as if considering his response. When she spoke again, her voice was clear and deliberate, setting a firm boundary. "I've decided I'll try to work with you. For Azora's sake. I want her to see us as .. a team, as you suggested before, or at least not as enemies." She paused, letting the condition hang between them. "This doesn't mean I trust you."

She leaned forward slightly, her focus intensifying, and her next words were a low, firm warning. "But if you're up to any shady business, Mofe Johnson, if I even suspect one of your schemes, this truce is over. For good. Do you understand?"

It was both an offer of peace and a clear line in the sand. She was giving him the chance he wanted, but entirely on her terms, protected by her well-earned distrust.

"I understand," Mofe said, looking directly at her as he accepted the terms of their fragile new peace.
Ezinne stood, her movements sure as her hand found the smart cane. “Good. Then we understand each other.” She didn’t wait for a reply, turning toward the door with the same quiet determination that had always defined her.

Mofe remained seated long after she left, the ghost of her warning echoing in the still room. No shady shit. The wellness check-up, the very project meant to help her, was another one of his shady ideas. He had to find a way to give her back her sight without losing what little ground he’d just gained, and this was it. The clock was ticking, and the price of failure was higher than ever.
*******

Hurray! My account is back to normal. I guess someone somewhere did something about it. Or maybe it miraculously started behaving itself by itself. Eitherway, we're back on track.
Kindly join me next Wednesday for the next chapter. Thanks for reading.

jupitre:
This is progress....
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You're welcome

Interesting updates as usual
Thank you….

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Interesting updates as usual
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repogirl:
Hurray! My account is back to normal. I guess someone somewhere did something about it. Or maybe it miraculously started behaving itself by itself. Eitherway, we're back on track.
Kindly join me next Wednesday for the next chapter. Thanks for reading.

Can't wait for it...
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Thank you repo
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Mhizdebs:
Thank you repo
I always look forward to all episodes...

Thanks, I'm glad.

Just got here now.

Saw the post the first day you began but couldn't read them till I started few days ago as I'm sure as always that it will be a great read and something as great as this requires time to digest in and enjoy.

Thanks Repogirl, it was such a great and enjoyable read. I'll surely stick around as always.

kingphilip:
Just got here now.

Saw the post the first day you began but couldn't read them till I started few days ago as I'm sure as always that it will be a great read and something as great as this requires time to digest in and enjoy.

Thanks Repogirl, it was such a great and enjoyable read. I'll surely stick around as always.

Thanks so much for this, your feedback keeps me going. Glad you're enjoying the story.

My apologies, dear readers. I couldn't meet up with yesterday's post. The second part of Chapter 13 should be ready by tomorrow evening, thanks for reading.

repogirl:
My apologies, dear readers. I couldn't meet up with yesterday's post. The second part of Chapter 13 should be ready by tomorrow evening, thanks for reading.

Kudos for your effort,and waiting eagerly for the next installment

Present Day

"Uncle Mofe, are you ready for the next round? It's about to start!" Azora asked, her voice buzzing with excitement from where she sat at her PC. "This time we have to dress our avatars better. Your last outfits were weird. Do better this time, Uncle MJ."

"Do better?" Mofe retorted, not looking up from his phone as he navigated the game's menu. "I'll have you know that the Afro hair and platform heels with extra flared pants were all the rage in the 80s. It was a classic look, not some... mini skirt."

"Well, nobody in the game thought so," she shot back, giggling as she did, "look, the votes are in. You came dead last."

Mofe chuckled, shaking his head in mock defeat. Before he could form a reply, she shouted, "The new theme is 'dark coquette'! Are you ready?"

They were playing Dress to Impress on Roblox, and Mofe had a sinking feeling he was losing his self proclaimed reputation as “the master gamer.”

“Yes, I’m ready,” he said, trying to sound confident as he cracked his knuckles dramatically. “I’ll dark this coquette to the absolute max.”

Azora gave him a long, doubtful look, one brow raised as she shook her head at his theatrics.

"You know what," she said, her tone suddenly gracious, like a queen offering a pardon. "Let's just duo. We can be twin dark coquettes. You just follow me around and wear exactly what I'm wearing. It'll be easier."

"Okay," Mofe agreed immediately, a wave of relief washing over him. He wasn't going to argue with that. It saved him the trouble of racking his brain for the perfect combination of a lacy top, a velvet skirt, and platform boots. He didn't even know which category half the clothing items were in. Navigating the virtual boutique and deciding on a full outfit within the six-minute time limit was a huge challenge, but somehow, Azora did it effortlessly every single time, often with minutes to spare. He was perfectly happy to be her fashion clone if it meant saving his gamer pride.

“Uncle Mofe,” Azora sighed dramatically, “why are you still bald? You haven’t even picked a hairstyle yet!”

“I’m going for a minimalist aesthetic,” he said, frantically scrolling through the options in the virtual hair salon. “Bald is bold. You’ll see.”

“Yeah,” she muttered under her breath, “boldly losing again.”

Mofe tried to navigate back to the clothing rack, but navigating the controls on the phone was proving quite tedious. Every time he clicked “black jacket,” his avatar ended up in a glittery pink crop top.

“Who designs these menus?” he grumbled. “I swear they move things around just to confuse adults.”

Azora burst into giggles. “Uncle Mofe, it's not that difficult. You literally have a computer science degree!”

“That’s coding, not coquetting!” he protested. “Totally different skill set.”

She just shook her head, laughing so hard, she forgot her character for a while. “You’re so lucky you have me, Uncle Mofe. Without me, you’d be a fashion disaster every round.”

He grinned, stealing a quick glance at her. Her laughter filled the room, and in that moment, he didn’t care if he came last again. Losing had never felt so good.

Just as Mofe finally found the black jacket and managed to make his avatar look at least halfway decent, he saw that he had just ten seconds left before they would be on the runway.

“Ha! See?” he declared triumphantly, spinning his avatar like a fashion icon. “Who’s bald now?”

Azora glanced at his screen and burst into giggles. “You’re still bald, Uncle Mofe. But at least now you’re bald with style.”

Before he could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and one of the household staff peeked in. “Sir, Madam Rachel is about to leave. Miss Ezinne is accompanying her.”

Mofe’s eyes widened. “Ah! of course.” He turned to Azora, pointing dramatically like a general on a battlefield. “Alright, runway model. I’ll be right back. I need to bid aunty Rach farewell.”

Azora crossed her arms, all smug. “No problem. I’ll control the game since we’re a duo. I've got this.”

Dear Readers,

So I was banned after the most recent post late last night. There's still quite a few more posts coming this morning. This chapter is a lengthy one. Hope my bot nemesis will allow me post everything without acting up.

Thanks for reading.

sal1974:
Kudos for your effort,and waiting eagerly for the next installment

❤️, thank you.

Azora crossed her arms, all smug. “No problem. I’ll control the game since we’re a duo. I've got this.”

He chuckled, lightly rubbed her shoulder, and rushed out.

Mofe took the stairs two at a time and reached the driveway just in time to see Ezinne standing beside the car with her white cane lightly touching the ground. Rachel was already halfway inside the back seat, wearing her full chef uniform like a TV chef about to film a cooking show.

“Wait, wait .. were you really going to leave without saying goodbye to me, Rachel?” Mofe called, slightly out of breath as he jogged toward them.

Rachel arched a brow at him. “Are you five years old Mofe? Do you need Aunt Rachel's hug before she leaves for the month?”

“No, I’m practical,” he teased, stepping closer to Ezinne. He gently touched her elbow so she’d know he was there before guiding her hand to the car door, silently relishing the smooth feel of her skin. “I can’t just let a top chef-in-training go off without promising to return with some coconut cake.”

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, now you've confessed what you really want. It's coconut cake that had you running out of the house like that? Too bad because we are done with baking. Now, we’re on poultry.”

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “So… no coconut cake?”

“No cake.”

“Then don’t come back,” he told her, “we have standards in this house.”

“Yeah right,” she replied, laughing and shaking her head.

Ezinne lowered herself carefully into the back seat, folding her cane and placing it beside her, choosing to ignore Mofe and Rachel's playful banter. There was a quiet awareness in the way she turned slightly toward his voice.

“You and Azora will be fine before I return?” She asked.

“Yes, we'll be fine,” he said lightly, hands tucked in his pockets as if to make everything sound easy. “she has already packed her overnight bag. She's done with home work so we'll be playing games till Dara comes to pick her up.”

Ezinne gave a small nod. “Alright.”

“Good. And Rachel,” he tilted his head toward her, “try not to burn down the kitchen.”

Rachel scoffed. “Ha ha. Very funny, Mofe.”

He stepped back as the driver started the car. “See you in a few weeks, Rachel, and if cake somehow happens, don’t be stingy.”

Rachel waved him off with a laugh as the car rolled away.

Ezinne didn’t say anything else, but he caught the slight tilt of her head in acknowledgment before she faced forward.

Mofe stood there for a second, watching the taillights disappear down the drive, then exhaled and headed back inside. Upstairs, a certain little fashion queen was no doubt already stealing the spotlight.

****



When Mofe walked back into the gaming room, he expected to find Azora on the virtual runway, still strutting and posing like a tiny dark coquette fashion queen.

Instead, she was perched on the edge of the beanbag, face glued to the screen with a completely different game flashing in neon colors.

“Wait…” He blinked. “Where’s my catwalk? Where’s my winning strut?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes like a seasoned gamer. “We came third, Uncle Mofe.”

“Third?” He clutched his chest dramatically. “Third? We were robbed.”

“Exactly!” she declared, spinning back to her screen. “They rigged the votes. There’s no way my outfit lost to a giant pink chicken in fishnets.”

He tried not to laugh. “A pink chicken in fishnets?”

“Yeah,” she muttered bitterly. “Anyway, I’ve moved on. Now we’re playing Jailbreak. Come on, hurry and join.”

“Jailbreak?” He walked closer, squinting at the screen. “Azora… are we convicts?”

She beamed. “Yup! First, we break out of jail. Then we rob the bank, maybe the train, and get rich so we can buy matching cars.”

He stared at her like she’d just casually confessed to being a crime boss. “Are you… sure this game is legal?”

Azora gave a long, exaggerated sigh, the kind children give when adults ask “boring” questions. “Uncle Mofe. It’s a game.”

“Yes, but” he pointed at the screen as her character picked up an AK47 weapon like she’d been doing it all her life, “this is very detailed crime.”

“Exactly,” she said proudly. “I’m a pro.”

Mofe stared at his daughter, fighting back laughter. “Oh great. First we lost a fashion show to a pink chicken… now I’m about to become an accomplice in a virtual armed robbery.”

“Uncle Mofe, let's go! Join the game already,” she ordered, “the train leaves in five minutes.”

He sighed dramatically and sat down on the armchair, retrieving his phone. “This is how it starts. One minute you’re matching outfits, the next you’re knocking over a bank.”

“Uncle Mofe,” she said sweetly, “have you spawned? I need to show you how to break out of prison.”

He shook his head, chuckling as he joined the game. “Lord help me, Ezinne has raised a tiny criminal.”
*”””

They played for almost an hour, escaping jail, robbing virtual trains, and getting caught a few times because Mofe kept taking wrong turns.

“Uncle Mofe!” Azora groaned as sirens wailed again. “You can’t just drive into a wall like that.”

“It was dark!” he protested, laughing as his character got arrested again. “Besides, who builds a highway with no proper streetlights?”

She shook her head, clearly exasperated but trying not to laugh. “You’re lucky I’m the brains of this operation.”

“Well you're lucky that I’m the good-looking getaway driver,” he said with a grin.

Azora burst out laughing. “You’re not even a good driver, Uncle Mofe.”

They reset for another round when Azora suddenly paused, tapping the keyboard absentmindedly.

“Uncle Mofe… science fair is coming up soon,” she said, suddenly shifting topics. “I want to do something really cool this year. I just don’t know what yet.”

“Hmm.” He leaned back, pretending to think very hard. “What’s cool these days? Flying cars? Time machines?”

She giggled. “Dad!”

This took him by surprise. Up until now, she'd called him uncle Mofe, probably because they'd been playing. Now, she was being serious.

“What? Those were cool in my time,” he teased. “Okay fine, what about a robot? We could build one with Lego robots. I’m sure I can get a set for you.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “A robot? Like an actual robot? That’s perfect!”

He chuckled at how quickly her excitement spiked. “We can make it walk, wave, maybe even say something.”

“Really?” She asked, her eyes wide as saucers.

“Yup.” He nodded.

“That would be really cool, thanks dad!” She said proudly, getting up from the bean bag and coming to hug him.

Then, almost shyly, Azora added, “Science fair and career day are going to be on the same day. Do you want to come for it? You know… as my parent.”

Mofe froze for half a second, caught off guard. Parent. The word landed somewhere deep in his chest, warm and heavy.

“What do parents do on career day?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

She shrugged like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Just talk. You can give a talk about your job or just talk about anything that you feel kids should know. The parents always do it. It’s fun, we learn so much.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if your mum did it?” he said softly.

Azora gave him a look that was far too knowing for a little girl. “Mummy always does it. But now it’s time for my dad to do his.”

That word again, dad, made his throat tighten a little. He didn’t want to show it, but it hit him straight in the heart.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll have to figure out how to sound smart in front of your classmates.”

She laughed. “Common dad, you know you're always smart. You'll be fine, But don’t wear any weird 80s outfits, okay?”

“Hey!” he protested, but his smile gave him away. “Fine, I’ll leave the platform heels at home.”

“Good,” she said, giggling as she returned to the beanbag, returning to her game.

And for a moment, Mofe just sat there watching her, his loud, brilliant, hilarious little girl who called him dad like it had always been that way.

Parent.

She’d said it like it was nothing. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to show up as her dad.
He swallowed, leaning back in the chair, his heart thumping a little harder than before. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there for her. God knew he did. It was just… complicated. Everything with Ezinne was still hanging by threads of tolerance, and him just showing up at her school, claiming to be Azora's father might not sit well with her.
He watched Azora tilt her head and burst into laughter as her character narrowly escaped a police chase. She had no idea what those words she’d said had done to him.

It’s time for my dad to do his.

That word, dad, it made something inside him tighten, a mix of joy, guilt, and fear.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. “Okay,” he muttered under his breath, half to himself. “You’re not going to mess this up.”

“Did you say something, Uncle Mofe?” Azora asked without looking away from the screen.

He smiled. Now he realized his name, Uncle Mofe came to her naturally since it's how she began addressing him earlier, however, Dad, was more intentional. When she said it, it was deliberate.

“Nothing, boss. Just… practicing my speech for Career Day.”

She giggled.

He let out a soft laugh but his mind was already a few steps ahead, to Ezinne.

He needed to talk to Ezinne about this first, and knowing how things were between them… that conversation wouldn’t be easy.

But as he looked at Azora, so full of life and trust, he knew he’d have that conversation anyway. For her. Even if Ezinne shot down the idea like a heat-seeking missile.
****


A soft knock interrupted their game, and Tope appeared at the door. "Sir, Mrs Dara is here for Azora."

Mofe looked up from his phone, turning to Azora, "guess our gaming session's over, Runway Model. It's time to get your bag.”

Azora grinned, giving him a heartfelt hug. "I enjoyed playing Roblox with you today. Don't forget to start practicing your career day speech."

"I'll have it memorized by Monday," he promised, holding her to himself for a few seconds before letting her go.

“Have fun sleeping over, okay?” He told her, following her out of the room before going down the stairs.

Dara stood near the entrance, her posture as elegant as he remembered. "Mofe," she greeted with a polite nod. “Wow, you're around today.”

"Dara," he said warmly. "It's good to see you. How is your family?"

"They're all well, thank you," she replied, her eyes studying him carefully. “You look … different? Is it the beard?"

"That and maybe, fatherhood changes a man," he said simply, watching Azora return downstairs and skip toward the waiting car. The words felt true, yet they sat uncomfortably in his mouth.

When the door closed behind Azora, Dara's expression became more serious. "You know, every time I look at that girl, I see more of you in her," she said, her voice softening. "Not just the eyes, it's the way she tilts her head when she's thinking, that stubborn set of her chin when she's determined."

Mofe felt an unexpected warmth at her words, "yes, I've noticed it too."

"That's why I'll be honest with you," Dara continued, her gaze direct. "I'm glad you're back Mofe, if you're here to assume to role of a father to her. But if you're here to punish Ezinne for keeping Azora from you all these years..." She let the warning hang in the air.

Mofe met her gaze steadily, "I'm not here to punish anyone. I missed ten years of my daughter's life because of my own choices as much as anyone else's."

Dara's shoulders relaxed slightly. "She was trying to protect Azora, you know. In her own way."

"I understand that now," Mofe said quietly. "All I want is to be the father Azora deserves. And if Ezinne will allow it, to be whatever she needs me to be for her too."

Dara’s gaze scanned his features, as of searching for a sign that would give something away.
He knew this wasn't entirely honest. Even as he spoke, he was actively scheming and orchestrating the eye check-up event as a cover for his initial shady actions. He told himself it was for her own good, that her stubbornness left him no other choice. But standing before Dara's straightforward trust, his "noble" deception felt shameful.

"You'll need patience," Dara warned. "More than you've ever had."

"I'm trying," he said, the words feeling hollow. Was he? Or was he just forcing his will on Ezinne in a different, more manipulative way?

"Maybe you could help her see that I'm sincere?" he asked, the request now tasting like ash.

Dara's lips curved into a small, trusting smile. "I might mention it. But Mofe, no games this time. No schemes."

"No games," he vowed, the lie smooth and practiced on his tongue. "Just the truth."

As Dara walked to the car, Mofe remained in the doorway, watching until the taillights disappeared. The warmth of their conversation evaporated, leaving only the cold, hard reality of his plans. He had meant every word about wanting to be a good father and partner. But he also knew that to help Ezinne, he would have to first betray her trust all over again. The path forward felt paved with contradictions, and he was only just beginning to walk it.

******

The car pulled to a gentle stop, and Ezinne heard the familiar crunch of gravel that meant she was home. The drive back from dropping Rachel at culinary school had been quiet, and she had assumed it would remain so. She fully expected Mofe to be long gone, having fulfilled his babysitter duty with Azora.

So when the back door of the car opened, she was surprised by the shift in the air, the subtle displacement that signaled someone tall and solid was there. But it was the scent that confirmed it. His breezy, masculine fragrance with a hint of a designer scent and something uniquely, infuriating him. Mofe.

"Let me assist you, Ezinne," his low voice rumbled, closer than she had anticipated.

Her senses, always on high alert, went haywire. The fine hairs on her arm prickled as his hand found hers, his grip firm and warm as he guided it to his waiting forearm. His other hand came to rest lightly, possessively, on the small of her back as she began to step out. It was a simple, courteous gesture, but the points of contact felt like live wires.

As she rose, her face came dangerously close to the collar of his shirt, and the scent of him intensified, wrapping around her, pulling at a deep, dormant part of her memory.
Her breath hitched, a tiny, almost imperceptible sound, but she was sure he heard it. For a dizzying second, she was not an executive director or a mother, but simply a woman thrown off-balance by the man she had never been able to fully forget.

She quickly found her footing on the gravel, but the ground beneath her felt less stable than before. She withdrew her hand from his arm, the skin tingling where she had touched him.

"I thought you would have left by now," she said, her voice coming out slightly breathless. She took a small, deliberate step back, needing to put space between herself and the intoxicating, dangerous familiarity of him.

“I had something important I needed to discuss with you,” Mofe explained, his voice still disarmingly close. “That’s why I stayed.”

Ezinne’s curiosity instantly overrode her sensory confusion. “What is it about?” she asked, turning her head in his direction, her tone sharpening with suspicion and interest.

“It’s… a rather heavy topic,” he replied, his tone careful. “I think it would be better if we had dinner first. It’s been a long day. We can talk with clear heads afterward.”

A sigh escaped her lips, part frustration, part resignation. He was deliberately building anticipation, and she hated that it was working. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. Was it about Azora? Legal matters? His sudden, permanent return?

“Fine,” she conceded, her voice clipped. “I’ll need to freshen up and change. I’ll meet you for dinner shortly.”

“I’ll have everything ready,” he said.

Without another word, she turned, using her cane to guide her confidently toward the house, feeling the weight of his gaze on her back with every step. The mystery of his important discussion now loomed as large and unsettling as his physical presence, ensuring that her thoughts would be entirely consumed by him until they sat down to eat.

True to her word, Ezinne returned to the dining room in just a few minutes. The soft shuffle of her slippers on the floor announced her arrival, and she immediately heard the sound of Mofe rising from his chair.

His footsteps approached, and she felt his presence beside her a moment before his hand gently guided hers to the back of the chair he was pulling out for her.

"That was quite fast," he remarked, his voice light with what she assumed was a smile.

She ignored the comment. With Azora not there to act as a buffer, she felt no obligation to engage in his small talk. Instead, she cut straight to the point, her tone flat. "You know I can find my own way around, right?"

His hand left hers as the chair settled into place. "I know," he replied, his voice calm and close. "But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't assist a lady?"

She shook her head slightly, a faint, unbidden tug at the corner of her mouth that she quickly suppressed. She would not give him the satisfaction of a smile. She settled into the chair, sitting up straight.

"What are we having for dinner?" she asked, deftly steering the conversation away from his chivalry and back to practical matters.


"I asked the cook to make us some poundo and vegetable soup with fried tilapia fish. I hope that's alright with you."

"Yes," she replied with a slight shrug, her tone neutral. She didn't add that she thought his choice of food for dinner was a good one.

"Would you like me to serve it for you?" he asked.

She was fully capable of finding the food and serving herself with her hands, but when someone was around, it took her longer, felt more careful, and honestly, was less graceful. It was usually easier and less frustrating to accept help. "Yes, please," she agreed.

She listened to the quiet sounds of him serving the food, the ladle scooping the soup, the gentle clink of the fish being placed on the plate. He worked quietly and efficiently.

"Alright, you're all set," he said, his voice letting her know he was done and had stepped back. "The bowl of soup is directly in front of you, with the piece of fish on the right. The plate with the poundo is just to the left of the bowl."

Ezinne reached out, her fingers lightly brushing the edges of the dishes to find her way, confirming the layout he had described. "Thank you," she said softly, her words sincere.

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice just as gentle.

For a moment, the only sound was the quiet clinking of cutlery as they began to eat, the simple act of serving each other creating a fragile, temporary connection between them.

The words came out of him, low and heartfelt, as if drawn from a deep place of memory. "You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed our local food."

His confession lingered in the air, more personal than she expected. It wasn’t just about the meal, it showed how much he longed for everything he had left behind. Ezinne paused, her fingers stopping at the edge of her plate. She could imagine him, looking at the steam rising from the vegetable soup, breathing in the familiar, spicy smell.
A memory suddenly popped up, clear and unexpected, Mofe in his small BQ kitchen, skillfully flipping an omelette, while the air was filled with the smell of peppers and onions. He had always loved food, and was a good cook who had enjoyed making meals for her back then. She felt a faint smile wanting to appear, but she quickly pushed it down, hiding those thoughts away.

She decided not to respond to the emotional weight of his statement. Instead, she focused on the practical, her tone light. "Well, you're back now. You can have it whenever you want."

She rinsed her hand and dug into her food, effectively closing the moment of shared nostalgia.

"Dara sends her regards by the way," he said.

"Oh, okay," she replied.

The conversation died there, leaving them to finish their meal in a silence that was heavy with everything left unsaid.

Finally, Mofe broke the quiet with a contented sigh. "Phew! I think I ate too much. Nigerian food is going to make me gain weight really soon."

The confession was so familiar, so him, that Ezinne felt the urge to laugh bubble up in her chest. She pressed her lips together, refusing to give in. Why was he doing this? All she wanted was a detached, civil coexistence.

"The house is so quiet without Azora," he added with another sigh, his tone shifting to genuine wistfulness. "I miss her already."

That, she could understand. It was a sentiment she shared. Using it as her anchor back to the purpose of this awkward dinner, she finished rinsing her hands in the bowl of water provided. "What was it you wanted to discuss?" she asked, her voice steady and direct, cutting off any further attempts at nostalgia or small talk.

Mofe sighed, bracing himself. "It’s .. Azora invited me to speak at her the career day event at her school. And if it's alright with you, I would love to."

Ezinne was so shocked she fell silent, the air seeming to vanish from the room.

"Ezinne," he continued gently, "just hear me out. This might not be a bad idea."

"Mofe..." she began, her voice a warning.

"Please, let me explain," he said, leaning forward slightly. "It might be the perfect, most natural way to introduce me as her biological father to her school community. Think about it. Ekene was her adopted father, a fact people knew and respected. I can be presented as her biological father, who is now back and actively involved in her life. It creates a complete picture, not a secret."

When he said it, it sounded simple. But Ezinne knew people wouldn't make it simple. She could already hear the whispers. "It's not that straightforward, Mofe. People will talk. They'll have questions we aren't ready to answer."

"I know they will," he conceded. "But isn't it better we control that narrative ourselves, in a positive setting, rather than letting rumors and speculation run wild? A Career Day is about the future, about inspiration. We can frame this as a story of different kinds of families and different paths to success. It takes the power away from the gossip."

He paused, letting that sink in before appealing to her core concern: their daughter. "Most importantly, Ezinne, this is what Azora wants. She's proud enough of me to ask me to stand up in front of her whole class and represent her. Denying her this, or having you show up without me after she's invited me... what would that tell her? That we're ashamed? That her family is something to be hidden?"

He softened his voice further. "This isn't about us, or our past. This is about giving Azora the confidence to claim both parts of her story openly and with pride. We can stand together as her parents. You, the constant, incredible force in her life, and me, the father who's returned to step up. We show the school, and more importantly, we show her, that we are a united team for her sake. That's the message that will silence the whispers faster than anything else."

Ezinne was quiet for a long time, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. Mofe’s words hung in the air, and for once, they weren’t filled with anger or demands, they were measured, thoughtful. Almost convincing. Damn! He made one hell of a good argument, making it very difficult for her to refuse.

He was right about a few things, but most especially about the fact that Azora had asked him. For her to invite Mofe… it meant something. It meant she was already claiming him, in her own bright, uncomplicated way.

And the idea of controlling the story… Ezinne had spent ten years building a life that was orderly, predictable, safe from prying eyes and judgment. But Mofe’s return had shattered that peace. Secrets, she was beginning to realize, had a way of bubbling to the surface. If this was going to come out, maybe he was right. Maybe it was better to frame it on their own terms.

But the thought of standing beside him, presenting a united front… it felt like a performance. A lie. They weren’t united. They were a fractured thing held together by their love for a little girl.

“It’s a lot to process, Mofe,” she said finally, her voice low. “You make it sound so simple. But it’s not.” She shook her head slightly. “I need to think about it. I need to be sure this is what’s truly best for Azora, and not just what’s easiest for you.”

Mofe listened quietly, his usual defensiveness absent. He could hear the genuine fear and uncertainty in her voice. This wasn't an attack, but a real, heartfelt question.

He sensed that she didn’t fully trust that he was back for the long haul. She still didn’t understand that he was all in, and fully ready to do this with her.

He sighed, not in frustration, but in understanding. "That's fair," he said, his voice low and serious. "Ezinne, I can't give you a legal document or a blood oath to assert to you that I'm back to stay. But I can tell you what I'm doing, not just what I'm saying."

He leaned forward, as he tried his best to explain and allay her concerns. "My company has a competent acting CEO in place, William. He's been effectively running day-to-day operations for the last two years, and the board trusts him completely. My role has shifted to Chairman of the Board, which means I'm involved in high-level strategy, not daily management. Those meetings can happen from anywhere in the world, including here."

He paused, letting that sink in. "But more importantly, Ezinne, I've already started the process of stepping back. I'm not here on a extended vacation. I'm in the process of delegating my final core responsibilities. I'm not juggling two lives; I'm choosing one. This isn't a trial run for me. I've missed ten years. I'm not missing another decade. My guarantee is my action, this office I set up here, the drivers I've hired locally, the school runs I'm making. I'm building a life here. The company will always be part of my legacy, but Azora... and you... you are my future."

His words landed with the force of a physical blow. You are my future. The air left her lungs in a soft, startled gasp. What did he mean by that? Before the dizzying implication could fully take root, he pressed on, his voice intense.

"Ezinne, do you really think I would abandon you and Azora and just disappear? Do you think that's something I'm capable of? Do you think that's the sort of man I am?"

This time, the answer came to her instantly, rising from a place of deep, unshakable knowledge beneath all the layers of hurt and anger. He was many things; stubborn, arrogant, a schemer who operated in shades of grey. But a man who would willingly walk away from his own child? No. That was a line he would never cross. His own childhood had been marked by a painful absence; he would never inflict that same wound on his daughter.

She gave a slow, deliberate nod, her expression solemn. "I believe you," she said, her voice quiet but clear. "I believe that you believe what you're saying."

It was both an acknowledgment and a subtle shield. She trusted his intention in this moment, but the scars of the past were still too tender to fully trust the promise of the future. She was conceding the battle, not surrendering the war.


"Okay," Ezinne said, the words feeling heavy as she said them. "You can represent her for Career Day." She silently hoped this decision, this small act of trust, wouldn’t come back to hurt her.

She heard him let out a deep, relieved sigh. "Thank you," he said, and his sincerity was clear in his voice.

"If that's all," she said, starting to stand up, "I'd like to go to my room now."

"Err... Umm..." he stammered, sounding unusual hesitant. "Would you... would you like me to stay the night?"

What? His question surprised her so much that it momentarily shocked her. Her mind raced. Their relationship wasn’t at a point where he should be asking that.

He must have sensed her surprise because he quickly added, "The last time Rachel was away, she asked me to... keep an eye on you. In case you needed anything."

His explanation cooled her initial anger with a dose of reality. It wasn’t a romantic offer; it was a duty, a favor for Rachel. It reminded her of her own vulnerability.

"Oh," she said, regaining her composure, though her tone had a hint of frost. "No. That’s fine. I’m feeling much better now. I sleep much better." It was only partly true, but she needed to feel independent again.

"Okay," he replied, and she heard him get up from his chair. "I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Azora gets back by noon, right?"

"Right," Ezinne confirmed, turning toward the hallway, eager to escape the mixed emotions his presence stirred in her and the sting of his offer, which came from pity, not passion.

"Ezinne," he called softly.

She turned back, her body asking a question.

"I know you said you're fine, and I believe you," he started, his voice calm and steady. "But just in case... I moved the small side table from the hallway into your room. It’s right beside your bed, on the left. I put a bottle of water and your phone charger on it. So you don't have to get up at night if you’re thirsty."

The gesture was simple, practical, and thoughtful enough to completely disarm her. It wasn’t about him staying; it was about making her space safer and more comfortable while he was away. He had noticed the path she took to her room and remembered which side of the bed she used. He had thought of a small nightly inconvenience and quietly solved it for her.

A small but undeniable warmth spread through her chest. It was the kind of quiet, attentive care she hadn’t felt in a long time.

"Thank you, Mofe," she said, her voice softer than she meant it to be.

"Goodnight, Ezinne," he replied, and this time, she could hear the smile in his voice before he turned to leave.


*******
Next Chapter will be posted next Thursday