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She picked up her clutch but left her phone on the table beside her plate, not thinking twice about it. She was only going to the restroom and expected to be back within a few minutes.

The corridor leading to the restrooms was considerably quieter than the main hall. The noise from the event faded behind her as she walked, and by the time she pushed open the restroom door, she could barely hear the music anymore.

For the first time all evening, she was alone. She stood in front of the mirror afterward, touching up her lipstick and smoothing a loose strand of hair back into place. Her thoughts wandered to Mofe.

She wondered what he was doing. Whether he was already home. Whether he was thinking about her. The thought made her smile faintly. Then she stepped out.

She had barely taken two steps into the corridor when she stopped.

Ekene was standing directly outside the door. There was something wrong with the way he was looking at her. His shoulders were tense, his jaw was tight, and there was a coldness in his eyes that made her stomach tighten before she could even understand what had happened.

“Ekene?” she called uncertainly.

He said nothing. Instead, he held up her phone.

For a second, Ezinne simply stared at it. Then, before she could ask how he had gotten it, he tossed it toward her.

She caught it against her chest with a startled gasp. “What the hell—”

“You’re still seeing him?” His voice was low, but the anger beneath it was unmistakable.

Ezinne's expression changed. She looked down at the phone in her hand, and almost immediately understood. Mofe must have sent her a message while she was in the restroom. Somehow, Ekene had seen it.

Her fingers tightened around the phone. “You went through my phone?”

“I didn't have to go through it,” he snapped. “He sent you a message.”

Ezinne looked at him for a moment. “So?”

The single word seemed to make his anger flare.

“So?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You’re still seeing Mofe?”

Ezinne glanced down the corridor. A few guests were walking past at the far end, talking among themselves.

She lowered her voice instinctively. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why?” Ekene demanded. “Because you're embarrassed?”

“No. Because we're in the middle of my father's event.”

“I don't care about the damn event!” He yelled, his voice echoed down the corridor.

Ezinne flinched, more from the suddenness of it than fear, then straightened. “Don’t yell at me.”

“I shouldn’t yell?” Ekene took a step toward her. His face had tightened with frustration, and she could see that he was struggling to keep his temper under control. “After everything that happened? After everything your father did to keep you away from that guy, you went right back to him?”

Ezinne stared at him. “This is none of your business, Ekene.”

“It is my business when you're doing dumbass shit!”

Her brows drew together. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He dragged a hand through his hair and took a step away, as though trying to gather himself, but the anger was still rolling off him. He turned back to her almost immediately.

“I thought you'd finally come to your senses,” he said bitterly. “I thought you had finally understood that it could never work between you and him.”

“How hard is it for you to understand that you do not get to decide who I see?” She asked; her voice was quiet, but there was a firmness in it now. “Not you. Not my father. Nobody.”

“I am trying to protect you, Ezinne.” He said tersely, trying to keep ahold on his temper.

Ezinne gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You?”

Something in her expression changed. “You don't know what protection is, Ekene. You're trying to control me.”

The words seemed to stop him, and for a moment, he simply stared at her. Then his jaw tightened again.

“So you're really serious about him?” He said, watching her with disbelief.

Ezinne folded her arms across her chest. She could feel the tension building inside her, but she refused to let his anger intimidate her.

“Yes.” She said it simply. There was no hesitation in her voice.

Ekene gave a bitter laugh and looked away. A waiter passing through the corridor glanced at them before quickly looking elsewhere.

Ekene stepped closer to her, whispering, “You're being a stupid little girl.”

Ezinne's face hardened.

“Don't call me stupid.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

The insult landed harder than she expected, and her expression went still.

For several seconds, she said nothing. She could hear the muted sounds of conversation and music drifting in from the main hall, the ordinary sounds of a celebration continuing only a few steps away from them.

Ekene was breathing heavily now. “I have spent weeks trying to be there for you,” he said. “I've defended you to your father. I've taken you everywhere you needed to go. I've made sure you were safe. And all this time, you've been sneaking around with him behind everyone's back.”

“I never asked you to do any of those things.”

His jaw tightened. “No,” he said quietly. “You didn't.”

“Then why are you acting like I owe you something?”

He looked at her. “You just let me do them.”

Ezinne shook her head. “I told you exactly what I could give you.”

“Friendship,” he said bitterly. “Yes. I remember.”

“Then act like my friend.”

He laughed again, but there was no amusement in it. “You expect me to stand there and watch you run back to a guy who doesn't deserve you?”

“That is exactly what I expect.”

His expression twisted, and for the first time, Ezinne saw something beneath the anger that made the entire confrontation clearer. This wasn't only about Mofe. It wasn't only about her safety or her father's wishes.

Ekene was hurt. He wanted something from her that she had never promised him. And because she had refused to give it to him, his concern had slowly turned into resentment.

“You're unbelievable,” he said.

“And you're out of line.”

“You know what your problem is?” he asked, pointing at her. “You think because you're the General's daughter, everybody has to keep dancing around you.”

Ezinne stared at him. The words hurt, but not because she believed them. What hurt was how easily the man who had spent weeks presenting himself as someone she could trust had turned that kindness into something he could use against her.

“You're angry because I don't want you,” she retorted sharply.

His expression flickered. “That's not what this is about.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn't.”

“It is,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time. “You told my father I shouldn't be treated like a prisoner. You stood up for me when he was trying to control where I went and who I saw.”

She took a breath. “But now you're standing here acting as though I owe you access to my life because you've been helping me get around.”

“That is not fair.”

“Neither is this.”

She lifted the phone slightly between them. “You don't get to pick up my phone. You don't get to look at messages that weren't meant for you. And you certainly don't get to stand outside a bathroom and interrogate me because you don't like who I'm seeing.”

Ekene looked away. His chest continued to rise and fall heavily as he struggled with whatever he was feeling. When he finally looked back at her, the anger was still there, but there was something else beneath it now. Hurt.

“You're making a mistake.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged.

“You'll regret it,” he warned

Ezinne held his gaze. “That's my problem to deal with, not yours.”

He shook his head slowly. “You've lost your mind.”

Something inside her finally snapped. It wasn’t loud and dramatic, just tired. She was tired of explaining herself, tired of being treated as though every decision she made needed someone else's approval, tired of having people claim they were protecting her while making her feel as though she had no right to choose for herself.

She stepped around him. “Goodnight, Ekene.”


He turned quickly. “Ezinne, where are you going?”

She kept walking.

“Ezinne, I'm talking to you!”

She didn't stop.

She walked back into the main hall with her head held high, even though her heart was pounding and her hands were still tight around her phone.

A few curious faces turned in her direction as she crossed the room, but she ignored them.

She reached the table where she had left her things and picked up her clutch. One of her relatives smiled at her and asked if she was leaving already, but Ezinne only gave a brief excuse and a polite smile before moving away.

She didn't have the energy to explain anything tonight.

Her father was still surrounded by guests, laughing at something one of his old colleagues had said. He looked completely at ease, enjoying himself in a way she hadn't seen in a long time.

For a brief moment, Ezinne considered going over to say goodbye. Then she changed her mind. She wasn't going to stand there and pretend everything was fine when it wasn't. She simply slipped out of the venue.


The warm Lagos air met her the moment she stepped outside. She drew in a slow breath as she walked toward the road.

Raising one hand, she flagged down a taxi. Once she was inside, she gave the driver the name of her hotel and leaned back against the seat. Only then did she allow herself to breathe properly.

She looked down at the phone in her hand. There were several messages. Most of them were from Mofe. Her thumb hovered over his name.

The anger she had been carrying slowly began to give way to something softer. After everything that had just happened, after Ekene's accusations and the argument and the humiliation of being made to defend a decision that belonged to her alone, all she wanted was to hear Mofe's voice.

She opened their conversation. His last message was still there. Ezinne stared at it for a long moment, her thumb resting against the edge of the screen.

Outside, Lagos moved past the taxi window in streaks of light and colour, the city carrying on as though nothing had happened.

She read his message again, then she began to type.
********




Mofe was walking home from work when his phone vibrated in his hand again. He glanced at the screen, and the moment he saw Ezinne's name, a smile spread across his face before he could stop it. He slowed his steps slightly, his work bag hanging from one shoulder as he read her message.

Ezinne: I'll be back in two days, and the first place I'm visiting is your house. My dad will still be in Lagos, so I can stay over. I can even drive over.

He read it twice, the last part making him smile wider. The thought of having her back in his space, without having to worry about her rushing home or inventing another excuse for where she had been, made something warm settle in his chest.

Mofe: Awesome, can't wait. Maybe we should go out? Do something fun?

He could already imagine her face as she considered it. Her reply came a few moments later.

Ezinne: No. I want to spend every minute with you. I've missed you so much.

Mofe slowed to a stop for a second, his smile turning softer. He shook his head, almost embarrassed by how easily she could still affect him.

Mofe: Well, I won't protest. I'm at your service, my lady.


He tucked the phone into his pocket and walked the remaining distance to his house, only remembering when he reached the gate that his aunt was supposed to have returned that evening. He had completely forgotten.

Mofe pulled out his keys and unlocked the gate. As he pushed it open, the familiar smell of something cooking drifted toward him, and he paused.

“Ah.” Aunt Moni was home. He closed the gate behind him and walked into the compound, hearing the faint clatter of pots from inside. A moment later, his aunt appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on the edge of her wrapper.

“Mummy, you're back?” he asked, his face lighting up as he walked toward her.

She smiled broadly and opened her arms. “I'm back, oh! How have you been, omo mi?”

“I've been okay,” he replied, bending to hug her before straightening again. He looked at her carefully for a moment, quietly relieved to see that she looked well. Her diabetes usually worried him, but lately she had been taking her health more seriously, watching what she ate and keeping up with her medication.

“How was the trip?” he asked, taking off his backpack. “And how is the business?”

“Very well,” she replied proudly, following him inside. “I bought the goods and dropped everything at the shop before coming home. Tomorrow, I will start distributing to my customers.”

Mofe nodded approvingly as he set her bag down. “You just got back, and you're already cooking?”

His aunt laughed and waved him off. “ I wanted to make something nice for you; it’s been a while.”

He smiled when the smell of egusi soup became even stronger as they moved farther into the house. “You should be resting after all that travelling.”

“Resting for what?” she asked, giving him an amused look. “Am I sick?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, laughing again. “But I'm fine.”

She turned toward the kitchen, then stopped suddenly.

“And your brother? Have you seen him?”

Mofe's expression changed slightly. “Eric came around a few days ago,” he said.

His aunt looked at him with interest. “He came here?”

“Yes.”

“How is he?”

“He's fine,” Mofe answered, choosing not to tell her about the argument. “Everything is okay.”

His aunt studied him for a moment as though she suspected there was more to the story, but she did not press him. Then her face suddenly brightened.

“And your result!” she exclaimed.

Mofe laughed softly. “Mummy…”

“You didn't tell me everything when you called me!”

“I told you I got a first class.”

“You did, but you did not tell me enough.”

She suddenly broke into a little dance, moving her shoulders from side to side as she sang a few lines of a Yoruba praise song for him. Mofe stood there grinning, watching her with the shy embarrassment of a boy who did not quite know what to do with so much praise.

“You have always been exceptional!” she declared, pointing at him proudly.

“Maa mi, calm down,” he pleaded, laughing as he lifted both hands. “It's just a result. It's not like I solved world peace.”

His aunt stopped dancing long enough to give him an unimpressed look. “Ah! I will not be surprised if you achieve that in a few years.”

Mofe chuckled and shook his head. She continued praising him for another minute, telling him how proud she was and how all her sacrifices had been worth it. He listened quietly, the smile never quite leaving his face.

She was the only woman he had ever truly known as his mother, and seeing her so happy for him touched something deep inside him.

“I just wish my sister knew you would grow up to become such a rare gem,” she said more softly, the smile on her face giving way to something wistful.

Mofe's expression softened. “Mummy, please,” he said gently. “Don't start crying.”

“Who is crying?” she protested, waving him away.

“You're about to.”

“Go and bathe jare.”

He laughed.

She turned toward the kitchen again. “Let me check the soup before it burns.”

“I'll change first, then I'll come and help you,” He told her as she walked back to the kitchen.

“You don't have to rush,” she said, waving him away.

“I know.”

“Go and rest small.”

Mofe smiled as he picked up his bag and headed toward his room; suddenly remembering that Ezinne had probably sent another message by now.

He reached into his pocket, glanced at the screen, and smiled when he saw her name waiting there, but he did not open it.

Not yet. He would check everything after his bath.

As he stepped into the bathroom, another thought occurred to him. With his aunt back home, Ezinne would no longer be able to spend the night here.

Hmm, that was going to be a problem.
*************

Chapter 36

Eleven years ago


General Gregory Onu’s honorary event was being held in one of the grand hotels overlooking the Lagos waterfront, and by the time Ezinne arrived, the place was already alive with people.

Military officers in their formal uniforms stood in small groups around the entrance, laughing and exchanging handshakes, while older family friends and distinguished guests moved through the brightly decorated hall. Cameras flashed frequently, catching arrivals as reporters moved around the room, looking for familiar faces and waiting for someone important enough to make the evening's coverage.

Ezinne stepped out of the car in her mint-green dinner gown and immediately felt the weight of several eyes turning toward her. The dress fitted her beautifully, falling in soft folds from her waist to the floor, while the simple neckline left her shoulders bare. Her hair had been swept away from her face, and the small earrings she wore caught the light whenever she moved.

She smiled politely as she followed one of the event coordinators into the hall, even though her mind was already somewhere else. She would much rather have been anywhere that did not involve standing around for hours listening to people praise her father. But being the supposedly dutiful daughter, this was where she had to be.

Her father seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Every few minutes, another old colleague would stop him to shake his hand, embrace him, or remind him of some story from years ago. He appeared to know almost everyone in the room, and judging by the laughter that followed him wherever he went, the feeling was clearly mutual. It was easy to see how much he was enjoying being among people who knew him from another time in his life.

Ezinne watched him from a short distance, and when he happened to look in her direction, she managed a small smile. She and her father were in a strange place with each other. She didn't hate him, but their relationship had become painfully strained, weighed down by too many things left unsaid and too many wounds neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge. He was still her father, and she knew she owed him respect simply because he was her parent. But sometimes she wondered if respect was supposed to flow only in one direction. Wasn't a parent also supposed to understand that their children had feelings, boundaries and choices of their own? Shouldn't those things be respected too?

She was so bored, she found herself looking at her phone whenever she could get away with it.

Mofe had sent her a message less than twenty minutes earlier.

Mofe: How is the party?

She had smiled when she read it.

Ezinne: Loud.

A second message had appeared almost immediately.

Mofe: You look beautiful, don't you?

She had laughed quietly before replying.

Ezinne: How would you know?

Mofe: Because you always do. Send me a pic, so I can drool.

Eww, Mofe, she’d thought with a smile, but she had stared at that message longer than she cared to admit.

Now, standing in the middle of a room filled with people, she found herself wishing he were there. She imagined how dashing he would look in a dark tux, probably standing slightly apart from the crowd and pretending he was not impressed by the whole affair. She could already hear him making some teasing remark about how serious everyone looked.

The thought brought a small smile to her lips.

“Ezinne?”

She turned at the vaguely familiar voice and her face immediately brightened.

“Aunty Oge!”

The older woman opened her arms, and Ezinne stepped into the embrace with a genuine smile. Aunty Oge held her tightly for a moment before pulling back and placing both hands on Ezinne's shoulders.

“Look at you,” she exclaimed, looking her over with obvious delight. “When did this little girl become such a beautiful woman?”

Ezinne laughed as she shook her head. “Aunty, please. You saw me a few years ago.”

“A few years?” Oge repeated, widening her eyes. “That was not enough time for you to grow this much.”

Ezinne laughed again as the woman reached up to touch her cheek, and for a moment, the years seemed to disappear.

Aunty Oge had cared for her when she was much younger, during one of those periods when her father’s job had made it difficult for him to have her with him. Ezinne remembered her home, the smell of her cooking and the way Oge used to sit beside her whenever she was frightened at night. There were memories from that period that had become blurred with time, but the warmth she associated with the woman had never completely disappeared.

“You remember my children?” Oge asked, turning slightly.

Ezinne looked past her and smiled when she saw three teenagers standing together. They were no longer the little children she remembered.

“Oh my goodness,” she said, laughing softly. “These are your children?”

The teenagers laughed, clearly embarrassed by the reaction.

Ezinne greeted each of them, asking about school and teasing them about how tall they had become. They responded with the slightly awkward politeness of teenagers meeting an older relative they barely remembered, and Ezinne found herself enjoying the conversation more than she expected.

For the next hour, she moved around the room meeting relatives and family friends she had not seen in years. There were hugs, questions about school, comments about how much she had grown and several stories about her childhood that she had completely forgotten. It was nice, but every now and then, her eyes drifted toward the entrance.

Then she saw Ekene, and her smile faded slightly. He had clearly made an effort for the evening. He was dressed in a dark tux, his hair newly cut, and he wore the confident expression of a man who believed he belonged wherever he happened to be. The moment he spotted her, his face brightened.

He walked toward her with the familiar ease that had once made her feel special. Now it only made her tired.

“Ezinne,” he said warmly, stopping in front of her.

She gave him a polite smile. “Hi.”

His eyes moved over her dress before returning to her face. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” she replied, keeping her tone pleasant.

He smiled as though she had given him something more than a simple courtesy.

“I've been looking for you,” he told her, leaning slightly closer so he would not have to raise his voice over the music.

“I've been around,” she replied, glancing toward the group of relatives behind her.

“I know.” He smiled again. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Ezinne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. There it was. The attentive boyfriend act. The one that he had been doing for weeks now. He appeared whenever he could, checking on her, calling her, offering rides and behaving as though they were still together. They were not.

At least, not in her mind, and she had made that very clear to him. Yet somehow, he had managed to find his way into her father's celebration and was now standing beside her like he had every right to be there.

“I am fine,” she told him, folding her hands lightly in front of her.

Ekene nodded and smiled. “Good.”

He remained beside her.

Ezinne looked toward the other side of the room.

He did not move, and she looked at him again to see him smiling at her.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Do you want something to drink?” He tried again.

“No, thank you.”

“Do you want to sit down?”

“I am fine standing.”

He nodded again but remained where he was, and Ezinne breathed out slowly through her nose. She could already feel a headache coming.

Her phone vibrated inside her handbag. She knew who it was before she even looked. Slipping her hand into the bag, she pulled out the phone, turning the screen slightly away from Ekene.

Mofe: Still alive?

A smile immediately appeared on her face. She typed quickly.

Ezinne: Barely. Boredom is killing me here.

Another message came.

Mofe: Should I come save you?

She pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing. There was no way he could appear there, not when he wasn’t Superman.

Ezinne: Yes please, Kal-El.

Ekene noticed the smile. “Who is that?” he asked casually.

Ezinne locked the screen and slipped the phone back into her bag. “No one.”

His expression changed slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached for her hand, but she instinctively moved it away before he could take it. The movement was small, but the meaning was clear.

Ekene looked at her for a moment, and she met his eyes calmly. She was beginning to wonder how much longer she could endure this evening, because the truth was simple. She did not want to be standing here with Ekene. She wanted to be somewhere else entirely. Preferably somewhere quiet … with Mofe.

Judging from the way her phone kept vibrating in her handbag, Mofe was thinking about her too.



By the time the evening began to wind down, the energy in the hall had softened considerably. Dinner had been served, the music had been turned down, and several of the older guests had already begun making their way toward the exits after one final round of handshakes and photographs. Groups lingered around the tables, finishing drinks and conversations while waiters moved quietly between them, collecting empty plates and glasses.

Ezinne had spent most of the evening doing her best to remain pleasant. She had smiled when she was expected to, answered questions from relatives, listened to stories about her father, and endured Ekene's constant hovering without openly losing her temper. But she was tired now. Her feet hurt, her cheeks ached from smiling, and she was more than ready to return to the hotel.

“I'll be right back,” she told one of her cousins sitting beside her when she got up from the table. She’d deliberately ignored Ekene, who had chosen to remain by her side throughout the event.

Sadly, I couldn't meet up with tonight's post. Please bear with me. Next post tomorrow.

jupitre:
I so much enjoyed this last chapter...
Maybe cos of the emotions between the two brothers ...
It was deep..

Thanks repo

Thanks for the feedback. Glad you enjoyed the chapter.

Next chapter comes up on Monday 8pm

dripzzy:
This is beautiful

Thanks. Glad you enjoyed the update.

sal1974:
Splendid! That’s yet another wonderful story. The wait for the update was definitely worth it. Kudos to you, and thank you for the time and effort you put into bringing us this amazing story. Your work is truly appreciated, and please know that you are not taken for granted.

I’m already looking forward to the next episode, while at the same time dreading the day the updates will stop when the story finally comes to an end. 😄 Keep up the great work!

Thank you so much for this When this one ends, another story will begin. 🙂

Mofe looked back toward Azora. “Come here for a minute, sweetheart.”

She frowned immediately. “Why?”

“I want you to meet someone.”

“My game is still on,” she said with some reluctance.

“You’ll get back to it soon, I promise,” he assured her.

Azora sighed with all the suffering of a child being asked to make an enormous sacrifice, but she pushed herself to her feet. She crossed the room with the device still held tightly in one hand and climbed onto the sofa beside Mofe.

“Who am I meeting?” she asked curiously, leaning toward his phone.

Mofe angled the screen so they could both be seen.

“This is William.” He glanced at the screen before turning his attention back to Azora. “He’s one of my oldest friends. We met when I was in college, and now we own and run the company together.”

Azora peered curiously at William.

William, on the other hand, was staring at her with a surprised expression that he was trying to conceal. Mofe almost laughed.

His friend recovered quickly enough, although the surprise remained obvious in the way his brows stayed slightly raised.

“Hello,” William said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “And who are you, little lady?”

“I’m Azora.”

“Azora,” William repeated, glancing pointedly at Mofe before looking back at her. “It is very nice to meet you.”

Azora smiled politely. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Azora is my daughter, William.” Mofe said, not bothering to break the news gently.

William’s shocked expression landed back on Mofe, but he gave his white partner a subtle look that clearly said not now.

“So,” William said, settling back into his chair as his natural humour returned, “your father tells me we’ve been friends since college, but apparently friendship means keeping very important information from me.”

Azora’s face immediately filled with curiosity. “Dad didn’t tell you about me?”

Mofe closed his eyes briefly, and William grinned.

“No. Your father obviously likes surprises.”

Azora nodded her head giggling in agreement, “he sure does.”

“I was going to tell you.” Mofe said with a guilty groan.

William gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief. “When? Her university graduation?”

Azora laughed even more.

Mofe pointed at the screen to his supposed friend. “You are supposed to be making a good first impression.”

“I think she likes me already,” William said with a nonchalant shrug.

“I do,” Azora announced cheerfully.

William looked pleased with himself. “See?”

Mofe shook his head, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him.

Azora moved slightly closer to the phone, studying William with obvious interest. “Do you make machines and robots too?”

William laughed. “Not quite.”

“But Dad said you own the company together.”

“We do.”

“So what do you do?” She asked but it came off more like an accusation.

The innocent question made Mofe cover his mouth to hide a laugh.

William stared at Azora as though she had personally wounded him.

“What do I do?” he repeated.

Azora nodded seriously.

William placed one hand against his chest. “I make sure your father’s expensive ideas do not bankrupt us.”

“They are not expensive ideas,” Mofe protested.

William ignored him. “Your dad is more of the technical genius, while I’m more on the business and management side.”

Azora nodded thoughtfully. “So you don’t build robots.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Can you programme?” She tried again.

“Enough to embarrass myself beside your father.” William replied and that made Azora giggle again.

Mofe shook his head. “You are making yourself sound completely useless.”

“I make us money. That is extremely useful,” William countered.

Azora looked from William’s image on the phone to her father. “Dad said he makes money too.”

William sighed dramatically. “Of course he did.”

“I do not actually remember saying that.” he said, wondering when he'd said that to her. He might have answered a question from her classmate who had asked if a lot of people bought his robots.

“You probably implied it.”

Azora laughed again, clearly enjoying the exchange between them. Then William noticed the small trophy on the shelf behind her.

“You’ve got a lovely trophy over there, Azora. What did you win?” he asked.

Azora’s entire face brightened. “My science fair!”

“She won Best Science Invention today,” Mofe said before she could explain. The pride in his voice came through so easily that William’s expression changed again.

“What did you build, Azora?”

“A Lego robot,” Azora answered. “Dad and I programmed it together.”

William looked at Mofe. Something passed across his face then, more thoughtful than surprise, but it disappeared almost immediately beneath another smile.

“You built and programmed a robot?” William asked.

Azora nodded proudly. “Yes.”

“Wow, at you age? And you won?”

“Yes,” she replied, still smiling brightly.

William gave a low whistle. “I think your father may finally have some competition.”

“She’ll definitely be taking over my position at the company pretty soon,” Mofe teased.

“Not yet,” Azora corrected seriously. “I’m still learning.”

William burst out laughing. “I definitely like her.”

Mofe rested an arm along the back of the sofa behind Azora. “Unfortunately, she seems to like you too.”

Azora suddenly glanced toward the laptop in her hands.

“Oh! My game.” She exclaimed as she began sliding off the sofa.

“You cannot leave in the middle of a conversation,” Mofe protested.

“Yes, I know.” She said but looked more interested in the game on her computer screen.

“That does not explain anything,” Mofe told her.

“I need to finish the next level,” she protested, now looking up at him.

William laughed from the screen. “It's okay, you can get back to your game, Azora. I understand priorities.”

Azora grinned at him, waving. “Bye, Uncle William.”

The title caught both men slightly off guard. William recovered first.

“Bye, Azora. It was very nice meeting you.”

“You too.” She hurried back to her place on the floor and had the game running again within seconds, completely unaware that she had just turned Mofe’s business partner’s understanding of his life upside down.

Mofe watched her for a moment before returning his attention to the screen. William was staring at him.

The humour was gone now, and for several seconds, he simply looked at Mofe without saying anything, his brows pulled together as though he was trying to solve a particularly difficult problem.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t understand. How … when..”

Mofe released a slow breath. “I know.”

William stared at him. “You have a daughter.”

“Yes, I do.”

“She looks about ten years?”

“Yes, she's just over ten.” Mofe replied with a nod

William blinked once, then looked toward wherever Azora had disappeared from the camera frame before returning his gaze to Mofe.

“And somehow, in all the years we have known each other, this has never come up?”

“I only found out recently, William,” Mofe said with a tired sigh.

That silenced him. William’s expression changed immediately, surprise giving way to something far more serious.
“You only found out recently?”
Mofe glanced toward Azora again. She seemed totally engrossed with the game but still, he lowered his voice. “Yes, after I returned to Nigeria. It’s a long story.”

William stared at him for several seconds. “Apparently.”

“I’ll explain everything when I come for the board meeting.”

William’s eyebrows shot upward. “That’s a while.”

“A few weeks at most.”

“You just introduced me to your ten-year-old daughter and now you want me to patiently wait for the explanation?”

Mofe’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”

William gave a disbelieving laugh and rubbed one hand over his face. “You are unbelievable, MJ.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Mofe, I have approximately fifty questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Starting with who her mother is.”

Mofe’s smile faded slightly, and William noticed. He knew him too well not to.

His eyes narrowed as he studied Mofe’s face. “Oh.”

Mofe said nothing, but that seemed to tell William even more.

“Oh,” he repeated, this time much more slowly. “Is it her? The lady you left behind all those years ago?”

Mofe shifted the phone slightly. “We’ll talk when I see you.”

William shook his head, still processing everything. “You had better come prepared for a very long conversation.”

“I will.”

William looked past him toward Azora one final time, and when he looked back, his expression had softened. “She seems great.”

Mofe’s gaze automatically moved toward his daughter.

Azora was definitely completely engrossed in her game now, her small face tightened with concentration as her fingers flew over the controls.

His smile came without effort. “She is.”

William watched that smile appear and seemed to understand that there was far more to the story than Mofe was prepared to explain over a video call.

“All right,” he said eventually. “I’ll wait patiently.”

“A few weeks.”

“Lord give me the patience,” William joked.

Mofe laughed. “He will.”

William shook his head one last time before ending the call, still looking as though he had several dozen questions fighting to escape.

The screen went dark, and Mofe lowered his phone and looked across the game room at Azora.

“Dad,” she called without looking up. “I’m almost done! Look!”

He smiled and settled back into the sofa. “I’m watching.”
**************

Present Day

Mofe, Azora and Ezinne had spent almost the entire day at Azora’s school. It was Career Day and the annual science fair, and between Azora’s science project which she'd won, Mofe’s presentation to the children and the endless activities happening around the school, the day had been longer and more eventful than any of them had expected.

By the time they left the school, all three of them were tired. Mofe had decided against going straight home and instead treated them to an early dinner at a quiet Indian restaurant, where they ate slowly and talked about the day before finally returning home in the evening.

Azora had taken her bath almost as soon as they arrived. Now dressed in shorts and a loose T-shirt, she was sprawled comfortably on the floor of the game room with her laptop open in front of her, completely absorbed in whatever game she had decided was more important than anything else in the world.

Mofe had settled into one of the large sofas, watching her while trying to go through messages on his phone. He was tired, but it was the pleasant kind of tiredness that came after a good day. Every now and then, his eyes drifted from his screen to Azora, and each time he found himself smiling.

There was something deeply satisfying about having spent the day with her. He had been there. He had watched her excitement, helped her through the last-minute nerves before her presentation and stood among the other parents when her name was called as the winner.

He had spent the entire drive home listening to Azora talk excitedly about her win, even though he had been right there when it happened and had probably recorded more of it than any reasonable parent should. Her small trophy was now sitting proudly on one of the shelves in the game room, and every few minutes, Mofe found himself glancing toward it with the same ridiculous sense of pride he had felt when her name was announced.

Mofe had known the project was good. He had watched her patiently test each command, correct mistakes in the code and stubbornly refuse to give up whenever the robot did something completely different from what she intended. Still, watching her stand in front of the judges that afternoon, confidently explaining how the sensors worked and how they had programmed the robot to respond to specific instructions, had affected him more deeply than he had expected.

She had been so sure of herself. She was very intelligent, and so much her own little person.

He had stood at the back of the room with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, smiling like an idiot while she answered questions. By the time they announced that she had won, he had been clapping louder than most of the children.

Azora had accused him afterward of embarrassing her but he had not cared in the slightest.

His own presentation had gone far better than expected too. He had spent far too much time the night before worrying about how to explain software engineering and technology to a room filled with ten-year-olds without either boring them or confusing them.

It turned out that neither had been a problem.

The children had been fascinated from the moment he started talking about how software made the things they used every day work. Their attention had sharpened even more when he played short videos showing some of the machines, software systems and robotic projects his company had worked on.

That had opened the floodgates. Hands had gone up everywhere.

One child wanted to know whether robots could become smarter than people. Another asked if artificial intelligence could do all their homework someday. A boy in the front row had wanted to know whether Mofe could build a robot that cleaned his bedroom, and when Mofe suggested that learning to clean his own room might be cheaper, the entire class burst into laughter.

Most of their questions had been about robots.

By the end of the presentation, Mofe had forgotten that he had ever been nervous. There was something refreshing about talking to children. They did not care about his company’s valuation, market projections or quarterly growth. They simply wanted to know whether machines could fly, think, cook, play football or take over the world.

Mofe had been trying to go through the messages on his phone, but now he found himself watching her instead.

There were still moments when the reality of having a daughter still caught him by surprise.

Not because he forgot Azora existed, but because sometimes he would look at her doing something completely ordinary and suddenly remember how much of her life he had missed.

Ten years. He had missed her first steps and first words. He had not been there for her first day of school or the first time she lost a tooth. He had missed fevers, birthdays, scraped knees, school performances and probably hundreds of small conversations that Ezinne would remember and he never could.

The thought still hurt whenever he allowed himself to dwell on it. But today had been different.

Today, he had been there.

He had helped her build something. He had watched her present it. He had watched her win. It did not return the years he had lost, but it gave him something else to hold on to.

Mofe was still watching her when his phone began vibrating in his hand.

He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly when he saw William’s name. It was a video call.

That was unusual enough to make Mofe sit straighter.

He and William communicated almost every day, sometimes several times a day, but most of their conversations happened through messages or short voice calls. Between the company, different time zones and William’s dislike for unnecessary meetings, video calls were rare unless there was something specific to discuss.

Mofe accepted the call.

William’s face appeared almost immediately, and from the familiar glass walls and city skyline behind him, Mofe recognised his office. His business partner looked as though he had been there for hours. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt was open, and there was a coffee cup sitting close to his elbow.

“Well,” William said, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile. “You are alive.”

Mofe’s brows lifted. “We chatted yesterday.”

“Yes, through three messages and one email containing seventeen comments on a project you are supposedly taking time away from.”

A laugh escaped Mofe as he adjusted the phone in his hand. “I never said I was taking time away from work.”

“You are in another country.”

“Yes, but that is not the same thing.”

William shook his head slowly, but his smile remained. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Mofe settled more comfortably against the sofa and glanced briefly toward Azora, who had not looked up from her game. “How are you?”

“Overworked because my business partner has abandoned me.”

“Oh come on, you’ve always been dramatic.”

“And you have always been insensitive to my suffering.”

Mofe smiled. This was familiar territory between them, the same easy teasing that had existed since they were much younger men trying to build something neither of them had known would eventually become enormous.

“How is everything there?” Mofe asked, his expression becoming more serious as he turned his attention fully to the phone. “I know the reports look good, but I want to know how things actually are.”

William understood the question immediately. “The company is fine, MJ, all's going as all should.”

“And the board?”

William gave him a knowing look. “That is what you really wanted to ask.”

“Yes, that's what I really meant to ask about.”

Mofe had followed the daily operations closely since coming to Nigeria. He attended important virtual meetings, reviewed proposals, read financial reports and still had the irritating habit, according to William, of sending messages at ridiculous hours whenever something caught his attention.

But reports could not tell him everything.

William was physically there. He knew what was being said in boardrooms after meetings ended and could tell when people were becoming uneasy long before anyone officially raised a complaint.

“The board is fine,” William assured him, picking up a pen from his desk and turning it lazily between his fingers. “As long as the company keeps running properly and the money keeps coming in, nobody is particularly concerned about where you are sitting when you approve things.”

Mofe relaxed slightly. “No complaints about how long I’ve been away?”

“Nothing serious. They know you’re still working.” William’s mouth twisted. “Believe me, we all know you’re still working.”

“That sounds like a complaint.”

“It is,” William said dryly, and Mofe laughed quietly.

William continued, “I received your reviews on the ideas we’re developing. The autonomous systems team has already gone through your notes, and they are making the changes you suggested.”

“Good.”

“Well, good for you, not them. It isn't easy meeting up to your standards. They called you several things I probably shouldn’t repeat in front of shareholders.”

“That usually means I did a great job going through the systems.”

William laughed and shook his head. “This is exactly why nobody misses having you physically in the building.”

“I’m deeply hurt,” Mofe said, bringing a palm to his chest.

“No, you aren’t.”

Mofe was still smiling when William’s expression became slightly more serious.

“You do need to come in next month, though.”

Mofe’s smile faded. “Why?”

“Board meeting.” William rested his forearms on his desk and leaned slightly closer to the camera. “There are a few things we need everyone physically present for, and I don’t think joining through a screen is going to work this time.”

Mofe sighed, as he asked with reluctance. “When?”

“I’ll get back to you with the date,” William said.

Mofe thought about it briefly, mentally sorting through what he already knew of the coming month.

“Okay, I guess I’ll be there since I have no choice.”

William’s eyebrows rose. “No argument?”

“No.”

“No dramatic speech about how indispensable your presence is in Nigeria?”

Mofe narrowed his eyes. “Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No.” William lifted one hand in surrender, smiling again. “I’m simply surprised.”

“I can fly in for the meeting and return right after.”

That answer seemed to catch William’s attention.

He studied Mofe for a second before asking, “So you’re still planning to stay there?”

Mofe’s fingers shifted slightly around the phone. He had known the question would come eventually.

“I haven’t decided how long.”

William gave him a doubtful look. “You have been saying that for weeks.”

“I know.”

“And you still have no idea when you’re coming back properly?”

Before Mofe could answer, Azora suddenly shouted from the floor.

“Dad!”

Mofe turned immediately. She had pushed herself upright and was staring excitedly at her laptop screen, her whole face bright with triumph.

“Dad, look! I finally finished the obby!”

Mofe smiled automatically at the excitement in her voice. He glanced in her direction, asking, “You finished it?”

“Yes!” She lifted the device toward him, even though she was several feet away and there was no chance he could see what she was trying to show him. “Look!”

“I can’t see it from there, sweetheart.”

William had gone completely silent.

Mofe glanced back at his phone and found his friend staring at him with a deeply confused expression.

“Where are you?” William asked slowly.

Mofe looked from the phone screen to Azora.

For a moment, he considered brushing the question aside. William did not know about Azora yet. There had never been a good time to explain everything over the phone, and the story was far too complicated for a casual conversation squeezed between business updates.

But perhaps there would never be a perfect time.

William had been his friend since college. They had struggled together, built the company together and watched each other become men very different from the boys who had first met years ago.

If anyone deserved to know, William did.

Mofe gave a short disbelieving laugh. “Blind? Do you know what you’re even saying?”

“Yes.” Eric stepped closer, his frustration returning. “That girl can do absolutely no wrong in your eyes.”

“That is not true,” Mofe argued.

“It is.”

Mofe shook his head. “Ezinne is probably one of the sweetest people you could ever meet, and I genuinely don’t understand why you dislike her this much.”

Eric stared at him. “I don’t dislike her.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I’m scared of what comes with her.” Eric ran one hand over the back of his neck and released a frustrated breath. “You keep making this about Ezinne herself. Fine. Maybe she’s sweet. Maybe she’s the nicest girl in Abuja. Maybe she personally has never done anything to me. But her father has.”

Mofe’s jaw tightened again.

“You were fucking lucky he didn’t even do anything more to you,” Eric continued, his voice lower now but no less serious. “He got you thrown out of where you were living. He has already shown you exactly what he is willing to do to keep you away from his daughter, and instead of taking that seriously, you’re still defending the relationship.”

“I know exactly what her father is capable of,” Mofe said stubbornly.

“Do you?” Eric asked, staring at him.

Mofe’s eyes narrowed as Eric held his hard gaze. “Because if you did, I don’t think you’d still be seeing her.”

The room fell quiet, and for a few seconds, the two cousins simply stared at each other. Then Eric’s expression shifted with sudden suspicion.

“You’re still seeing her, aren’t you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he studied Mofe’s face.

Mofe did not answer. The question alone irritated him. There was something about Eric asking it in that tone, as though Mofe needed to explain or defend his relationship, that immediately hardened something inside him.

Eric gave a humourless laugh when the silence stretched. “You are,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “After everything that happened, you’re still seeing her.”

Mofe’s jaw tightened but he said nothing.

Eric’s expression shifted from suspicion to disbelief. “MJ.”

Mofe decided that the discussion had gone on for long enough. He walked toward the bed and picked up the bag he had dropped there earlier.

Eric followed him with his eyes. “You’re actually still with her?” He asked again as if he needed to get a direct confirmation from his cousin. As if he couldn’t believe it if Mofe didn’t confirm.

Mofe pulled the strap over his shoulder, still not answering.

“Mofe,” Eric called him again.

He turned sharply. “What exactly do you want me to say?”

Eric spread both hands. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because after everything that happened, I cannot believe you would still go back there.”

Mofe gave a humourless laugh and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “You don’t have to believe anything.”

Eric shook his head slowly. “You haven’t learnt anything.”

That struck harder than Mofe expected. He stepped closer to his cousin. “You know what, Eric? You don’t know what’s happening between me and Ezinne, and you don’t know half of what has happened over the last few months.”

“I know enough.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, I know we lost our accommodation,” Eric said with a shrug.

“Which I already apologised for.”

“And I know you’re apparently still seeing the same girl whose father caused all of it.”

Mofe’s temper finally broke through. “She is not her father!” His voice came out louder than he intended, filling the small room.

Eric fell silent, and Mofe took a slow breath, trying to calm himself, but the anger had already reached the surface.

“Whatever problem you have with General Onu, it’s fine,” he continued, pointing briefly toward Eric. “I have my own problems with the man. Probably more than you ever will. But stop putting everything he does on Ezinne.”

Eric’s jaw tightened. “And when he comes after you again?”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“And when somebody else around you gets dragged into it?”

Mofe froze for half a second, and Eric saw that he had landed the blow.

“That is what you don’t understand,” Eric said, his voice calmer now. “You keep thinking this is only about you.”

Mofe stared at him. For a moment, he had no answer. Because that part was not entirely unfair. Eric had already been dragged into the consequences once. Still, Mofe was too angry now to continue the conversation without saying something worse.

He looked at the time on his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “I have to get to work.”

Eric gave a small, bitter laugh. “Of course. So, that’s it?”

Mofe ignored it and walked toward the door. He stopped just before stepping into the hallway and looked back at his cousin.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice quieter now, though the tension remained in his face, “I never wanted you caught up in any of this. And I am sorry you lost the place because of me.”

Eric’s expression shifted, but Mofe did not give him time to answer. “But Ezinne is not going anywhere,” he continued, adjusting the strap of his bag firmly over his shoulder. “So if the only way we can be close again is for me to stop seeing her, then we’re going to have a problem.”

Eric looked away, pressing his lips together.

Mofe watched him for another moment and felt some of his anger give way to disappointment. He hated this. He hated that someone who had once been one of the closest people in his life now felt almost like a stranger standing in the same room. But he did not know how to fix it without giving up something he had no intention of giving up.

He turned toward the hallway. “I’m leaving. I made white rice and efo-riro earlier and kept it in the freezer not too long ago,” he said, his tone tired now as he started toward the front door. “Lock the door when you’re leaving, Hope you still have your key.”

Eric didn’t respond but he followed him as far as the sitting roomand stopped there. Mofe reached for the door, then looked back at him one last time.

“And maybe come home once in a while,” he added, his expression softening despite himself. “Mom misses you, even if you apparently don’t miss the rest of us.”

Eric’s face changed slightly, but he shoved both hands into his pockets and looked away. “I talk to her.”

“I know,” Mofe replied, giving him a tired nod. “But talking isn’t always the same as showing up. Hope I’ll see you at the convocation ceremony?”

Eric did not answer.

Mofe opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind him with more force than he intended, then stood on the small porch for a moment, staring ahead while the anger slowly drained out of him.

He hated arguing with Eric. More than that, he hated knowing that beneath all the anger and accusations, his cousin was not completely wrong. Eric had warned him that being with Ezinne would come at a cost, and so far, that cost had been higher than either of them could have imagined.

Still, as Mofe adjusted his bag and started down the path toward the gate, his decision did not change. He loved Ezinne.

Whatever problems came with that love, he would deal with them when they came. He just wished loving her did not have to cost him people he loved too.
***********

Chapter 35


Eleven Years Ago



Convocation was exactly one week away, and Mofe found himself looking forward to it more than he had expected.

He had tried to pretend the whole thing did not matter much. A ceremony was a ceremony, after all. He would wear the gown, sit through the speeches, walk across the stage when his name was called, collect whatever needed collecting, make his speech, take pictures with friends and family, namely, his aunt, as he doubted that Eric wanted to be seen with him at the moment, and then he would return home. That was what he kept telling himself whenever anyone mentioned it.

Ezinne, unfortunately, had made it impossible for him to remain modest about any of it.

She had apparently decided that overall best graduating student was no longer an achievement but a permanent title that had to be attached to his name at every opportunity. Two nights earlier, she had sent him a message asking whether Mr. Overall Best Graduating Student had eaten dinner. The next morning, she had asked whether Mr. Record Holder could try adding some pizazz to his stage walk. When he begged her to stop, she had responded with a laughing emoji and asked again whether he had reconsidered doing the dance that she’d suggested when collecting his award. Just that morning, she had sent him a message referring to him as His Royal Academic Excellence.

When he had threatened to block her, she’d told him he would unblock her before lunchtime. The irritating thing was that she was probably right, he couldn't block her for even five minutes. He had been smiling about it ever since.

Even now, a smile still tugged at his mouth as he stood in front of the small mirror in his room, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It had only been a couple of days since he had last seen her, but he missed her more than he wanted to admit. They had spoken constantly since then, mostly through messages because Ezinne had been unusually busy preparing for some event being held in honour of her father the following weekend. She had complained endlessly about dress fittings, relatives, guests and the endless instructions being thrown around the house, and Mofe had happily listened to every complaint.

He missed seeing her face when she was talking, though. He missed the way she laughed before finishing a joke because she already thought she was funny. He missed the familiar weight of her arms around him and the ease that had finally returned between them after weeks of uncertainty.

He checked the time on his phone and slipped it into his pocket. He had a shift to get to, and if he did not leave within the next few minutes, he would be rushing. He bent to pick up his bag from the edge of the bed, then stopped when a knock sounded at the front door.

He frowned. He was not expecting anyone.

For one ridiculous second, his mind went straight to Ezinne, even though he knew she would never appear without warning, especially not with everything she had going on at home.

The knock came again.

“Coming,” Mofe called. He was already cutting it close and was not expecting anyone, so he picked up his bag from the bed and walked through the small living room toward the door, mentally hoping whoever it was did not intend to stay long.

He opened the door and stopped.

Eric stood outside with a backpack hanging from one shoulder, his face showing the same guarded expression Mofe had become used to seeing whenever they crossed paths these days.

Mofe’s surprise must have shown immediately because Eric’s expression tightened almost as soon as their eyes met. His cousin had a backpack hanging from one shoulder and looked as though he had already decided not to explain himself.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke, and Mofe simply stared at him. It had been weeks since Eric had come home.
They barely saw each other anymore, and even when they did, their conversations had become short and awkward. It still hurt Mofe more than he liked admitting because Eric was practically his younger brother. They had lived together, eaten together, gone to school together, argued, insulted each other, borrowed each other’s things without permission and occasionally came close to fighting, but they had always been close. Then Ezinne had happened.

Or perhaps, more accurately, General Onu had happened.

After Mofe had been arrested and spent a night in a cell because of what the General believed had happened between him and Ezinne, everything around him had shifted. He had lost the caretaker accommodation where he and Eric had been staying, and Eric had moved closer to school shortly afterward. His official explanation had been that going to school every day from his mother’s house was too stressful and expensive, but Mofe had always known there was more to it.

Eric blamed him. And perhaps he had every right to.

Eric had repeatedly warned him to stay away from Ezinne. Eric had told him from the beginning that nothing good would come from getting involved with a girl whose father had that much influence. Mofe had ignored every warning, and when everything exploded, Eric had also lost his home.

That knowledge had sat heavily on Mofe for months. Still, months had passed. At some point, they had to move forward.


Seeing his cousin standing there now, looking as though visiting his own mother’s house was somehow an inconvenience, irritated him.

Mofe finally recovered and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, forcing some lightness into his face. “Well, well. Look who finally remembered where we live,” he said, forcing a teasing smile onto his face as he stepped aside.

Eric barely reacted. “What’s up?” he muttered, brushing past Mofe and walking straight into the house.

Mofe watched him go, the attempted smile fading from his face. He closed the door behind him as Eric crossed the small sitting room without waiting to be invited further. His cousin disappeared into the room they had once shared and dropped his backpack onto the floor beside the bed.

Mofe followed slowly. “So what brings you here today?” he asked, standing in the doorway with his arms loosely folded. “Did your new luxurious accommodation finally throw you out?”

Eric glanced at him briefly before returning to his bag. “I came to get some things,” he replied flatly, stacking two notebooks on the bed without looking up again.

Mofe waited for more, but nothing came.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Wonderful conversation,” he said dryly, tilting his head as he watched Eric. “I’ve really missed these deep discussions.”
Eric gave a grunt that irritated Mofe more than silence would have.

“So this is what we’re doing now?” Mofe asked, pushing away from the door and entered the room properly. “You come home after disappearing for centuries, grunt at me and behave like you’re renting a room in a stranger’s house. Eric, are you seriously still angry with me?” he asked, the humour leaving his voice as he stopped beside the bed. “After all these months?”

Eric’s hands paused inside the open bag, and for a second, he remained bent over it. Then he straightened slowly and looked at Mofe. “You really have to ask?”

Mofe’s jaw tightened. “Apparently.”

Eric zipped one side of his bag with unnecessary force. “I warned you.”

Mofe exhaled slowly. There it was.

Eric turned fully toward him now, his frustration finally breaking through the indifference he had been hiding behind since he arrived. “I warned you to stay away from that girl,” he said, pointing one hand toward Mofe as his voice rose. “I told you from the beginning that she would bring trouble into your life, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Mofe folded his arms across his chest. “Ezinne did not get us thrown out.”

“Her father did,” Eric pointed.

“Exactly.”

Eric shook his head sharply. “That difference doesn’t matter to me, MJ. The trouble came because of her.”

“No,” Mofe replied, his tone hardening as he took another step into the room. “The trouble came because her father is controlling and decided I wasn’t good enough to be around his daughter. That is not Ezinne’s fault.”

Eric stared at him in disbelief. “We lost the place we were staying, and somehow you think I’m supposed to smile and act like everything is fine?”

Mofe dragged a hand slowly over his jaw. “I never said that.”

“You don’t need to say it.” Eric stepped away from the bed and faced him properly, his shoulders tense now. “But don’t act like I’m being unreasonable because I don’t want to sit around and watch you make the same mistake again.”

Mofe’s irritation flared. “Don’t you see how silly it looks that you avoided coming home because you’re angry with me?”

Eric looked away, and Mofe continued before he could answer. “You don’t even come to see mom anymore.”

Eric’s head snapped back toward him. “Mom is fine.”

“That is not the point.”

“I talk to her,” Eric said.

“On the phone.”

“Yes, on the phone.” Eric spread his hands impatiently. “What exactly do you want from me?”

Mofe stared at him. “I want you to stop behaving like everybody in this house offended you.”

Eric scoffed, and Mofe felt his temper rising higher, but beneath the anger was something else he did not want to admit too openly. Guilt.

Because as much as Eric’s attitude frustrated him, Mofe understood where it came from. Eric had not chosen any of this. He had simply been caught in the consequences of a relationship he had warned Mofe against from the beginning.

Mofe released a slow breath and forced some of the tension out of his shoulders.

“Look,” he said, lowering his voice slightly as he stepped closer to his cousin. “I know losing the accommodation affected you too. I know you had nothing to do with any of what happened, and somehow you still ended up paying for it.”

Eric looked at him but said nothing.

“And I’m sorry about that,” Mofe continued, his expression serious now. “I mean it.”

For a second, something in Eric’s face softened. Then he looked away again.

“But I’m not apologising for Ezinne,” Mofe added.

Eric’s expression hardened immediately. “Of course not.”

Mofe frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re still exactly where you were before.”

“And where is that?”

“Blind.”

Frankcallys:
Waiting patiently to see how crappy Mofe's presentation will be 🤔
My take... Crappy, yet satisfying 😂

Next chapter will drop tomorrow evening by 8pm

Lordroman1346:
What keeps y’all going and writing

I enjoy it. Plus I need to finish what I started.

Present Day


Mofe was seated in his office at the centre for the first time in four days, though the room still did not feel like his.

His laptop was open in front of him, his phone lay facedown beside a half-empty cup of dark coffee, and several documents were spread neatly across the desk. Anyone walking in might have assumed he had been working seriously for hours, but the arrangement was far more impressive than the work he had actually done.

He had told himself he had come there to work. He needed to answer emails, clear the tasks he had neglected, and finally stop avoiding the things waiting for him outside that office. For almost an hour, he managed to look as if he was succeeding, but his mind kept slipping away from the screen every few minutes and returning to Ezinne.

Even now, he still could not quite believe she had allowed him to kiss her.

He had asked. She had paused long enough to make his heart nearly stop, and then she had said yes. Room service had interrupted before the kiss could become anything more dangerous, but the moment had still happened. She had said yes to him. She had leaned into him. She had wanted him enough to forget, even briefly, that everything between them was tangled and complicated.

That had to mean something.

Mofe was not foolish enough to become smug about it. He knew Ezinne too well for that. One kiss did not mean the road ahead would suddenly become smooth, and one soft moment in his hotel suite did not mean she would stop protecting herself from him.

She could still cut him off as quickly as she had let him close.

She had survived without him for years, and she had done it under circumstances that would have broken many people. In her mind, she did not need him. If keeping him away became necessary for her sanity and peace, she would push him out of her life without hesitation, no matter what still existed between them.

He had just begun typing a response to Jared when the door opened with enough force to make him lift his head sharply.

Ezinne walked into the office without knocking. Her dark glasses hid her eyes, but the hard line of her mouth told him everything he needed to know. She was angry, and from the way she moved straight toward his desk without greeting him, she had clearly carried that anger all the way there.

“You had absolutely no right to send that message to Anthony,” she said, stopping in front of the chair opposite him. She did not sit down, even after her cane touched the chair leg and her hand found the backrest, and somehow that made her anger feel even more serious.

Mofe leaned back in his chair and closed his laptop slowly. “Good morning to you too. I didn't know you'd arrived,” he said, keeping his voice light even though he already knew this was not going to be the kind of conversation he could charm his way out of.

“Don’t good morning me, Mofe,” she snapped, tightening her fingers around the back of the chair. “Anthony just called me sounding as if he was about to be sacked, and it took me several minutes to even understand what he was apologising for.”

Mofe’s expression became more serious. “He called you because of the email I sent,” he said, watching the way her jaw tightened at the calmness of his tone.

“Yes, because of the email you sent,” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “You sent a query to my principal, who is supposed to be on leave, asking him to explain why the centre’s licences were allowed to expire and why disciplinary action should not be taken.”

“I asked for an explanation because one was necessary,” Mofe said, resting his hands on the arms of his chair. “What happened yesterday was not a small administrative mistake, Ezinne.”

“I know exactly what happened yesterday,” she said, and her voice cut through the room. “I was the one who was arrested, Mofe, so you do not need to explain the seriousness of it to me.”

He paused then, because she was right. He had been about to explain it from his own anger, from what he had seen and felt when he walked into that council office, but she had been the one taken away from her own centre. Whatever rage he felt on her behalf did not give him the right to speak over her experience.

Ezinne drew in a breath and continued before he could respond. “You have no official position in this school or this centre. You are not the executive director, you are not on the management team, and my staff do not report to you.”

“I know that,” he said quietly, though he could tell from her expression that those words were not enough. He remained seated because standing too quickly might look like he was preparing to argue, and he wanted to hear her out properly.

“Then why are you sending messages to my staff as if you have the authority to threaten their jobs?” she asked, leaning slightly into the chair as if she needed something to hold on to while she spoke. “Do you know what that does to my authority here?”

Mofe rubbed his thumb slowly along the edge of his chair. “I did not threaten his job,” he said, though even as he said it, he knew that was not the part of her argument that mattered most.

“You made him feel threatened, and that is enough,” Ezinne said, her voice firm and hurt at the same time. “When you send official queries to my staff without discussing it with me first, you undermine me, Mofe. You make them wonder who is truly in charge here.”

His gaze lowered briefly to the desk. He had been so focused on getting answers that morning that he had not considered how it would look to the staff, especially with his name and influence attached to the message.

Ezinne shifted her cane from one hand to the other, then continued in a calmer but no less angry voice. “It causes confusion. They start thinking that because you have money, because you have influence, because you have been helping me with this place, then perhaps you are the person whose opinion matters most.”

“That was not what I intended,” Mofe said, looking back at her. His voice remained calm, but the guilt had started to settle in his chest because he could see exactly why she was upset.

“It may not have been your intention, but it is the result,” she replied. “I am the executive director, Mofe. If my staff fail in their duties, I am the one who calls them to order, not you.”

Mofe nodded slowly and pushed his chair back, standing without rushing. He walked around the desk but stopped a few steps away from her, careful not to enter her space while she was still this upset.

“You’re right, I overstepped,” he said.

Ezinne’s mouth parted slightly, as though she had expected him to argue for much longer. She stood still, her hand still resting on the back of the chair, while he watched some of the fire in her expression flicker with surprise.

“I guess I never saw it that way,” he continued, his voice lower now. “I should have spoken to you before I sent that email to Anthony.”

“You should have,” she said, but the edge in her voice had softened a little. She still looked angry, but his apology had clearly taken some of the strength out of the fight she had brought into the room.

Mofe slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers and held her face with his gaze. “I sent the query because of the gravity of what happened yesterday. Something like that should never have happened, and it should never have led to you being arrested.”

“I agree,” she said, lifting her chin slightly. “But that still does not mean you had the right to handle it on my behalf.”

“Yeah..” he said, and this time he did not try to soften the agreement. “I was angry, and I wanted to know how the licences were allowed to expire, who was responsible, and why no one had put measures in place to prevent it.”

Ezinne folded her arms across her chest. “Those are questions I could have asked,” she said, and there was a small tremor beneath the anger now because this was not only about Anthony. It was about control, about choices, and about him acting without consulting with her first.

Mofe heard it, and his expression changed. “Yes,” he said. “I should have come to you and said, 'We needed to investigate it together.’”

“You should have,” she repeated, her voice quieter this time. “You should have had a discussion with me before sending something like that.”

He nodded again. “I also knew you would probably not have been as strict with Anthony as I was,” he admitted, then immediately saw her frown.

“Mofe,” she said slowly, and there was warning in that single word. “Do not make the mistake of suggesting I cannot be professional with my staff because I have a cordial relationship with them.”

“Ezinne, that is not what I meant,” he said quickly, lifting one hand before lowering it again. “I meant that your relationship with Anthony is a little too cordial than business, and I thought you might give him more room than I was prepared to give him after what happened.”

“And that was still not your decision to make,” she said, cutting him off before he could go any further. “Whether I would have been strict or lenient is irrelevant because it was never your place to decide anything for me.”

Mofe went silent for a moment. The truth of that sat heavily between them, and he knew there was no defence he could offer that would not sound like exactly what she was accusing him of doing.

“To be fair, I copied you in the email,” he said after a short pause, though even he could hear how weak that sounded. “It was not as if I went behind your back completely.”

“That does not make it better,” Ezinne said immediately. “Copying me on an email you had no right to send does not turn it into a discussion.”

He lowered his head slightly and let out a quiet breath. “You’re right,” he said again, and this time there was no argument left in his voice.

She seemed to deflate a little at that. Her shoulders dropped, her grip on the chair loosened, and the anger on her face became something more tired than furious.

Mofe took one careful step closer but still did not touch her. “I overstepped,” he said. “I was angry about what they did to you, and I reacted from that anger instead of respecting your authority here.”

Ezinne was quiet, and for a moment the office seemed to settle around them. Outside the door, someone walked past in the corridor, their footsteps fading quickly, but inside the room, neither of them moved.

“This is your centre,” Mofe continued, his voice sincere and steady. “These are your staff, and you are the person they should answer to. I should have respected that before I sent anything, and I am sorry.”

Ezinne drew in a slow breath. “You sound like you mean it,” she said, and there was almost annoyance in her tone, as though his sincere apology had ruined the shape of the argument she had planned.

“I do mean it,” he replied.

“Well, I am still mad at you,” she said, turning her face slightly away from him. “I’ve heard your apology, but I am still very much mad at you.”

Mofe’s mouth curved a little. “That seems fair,” he said, allowing a faint smile now that the worst of her anger had eased.

She pointed her cane slightly in his direction. “Do not smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling.” He was.

“You were.”

“You cannot see me.”

She gasped, before replying, “I can hear it in your voice.”

He gave a small laugh despite himself, then quickly lowered his gaze when her mouth tightened again. He should have left the moment alone, but his mind had already wandered to the previous night and the kiss that had left both of them breathless before room service interrupted them.

“Is all of this anger really about the email?” he asked, watching her closely.

Ezinne turned back toward him at once. “What else would it be about?”

Mofe leaned his hip against the edge of the desk and folded his arms. “I don’t know,” he said, his tone deliberately casual. “There were some activities in my hotel suite last night, and I wondered if they had anything to do with your mood.”

Her mouth opened in disbelief. “Activities?” she repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “The activities that involved you and me standing very close together and forgetting how to behave sensibly.”

“Mofe,” she warned, but this time embarrassment coloured the word more than anger.

“You mean the kiss,” she said after a moment, her voice lowering as if even saying it out loud made the memory too real.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I mean the kiss.”

Ezinne shifted where she stood, her fingers tightening around the handle of her cane. “No, this is not about that,” she said, but the slight pause before the answer told him there was more.

“Nothing at all?” he asked.

She exhaled. “I encouraged it, so I am not blaming you for it,” she said, turning her face away from him. “Although I've been thinking...”

Mofe’s expression sobered. “Thinking about what?” he asked, though he was not sure he wanted the answer.

“About whether it was a mistake,” she said quietly
.
He did not like the sentence. His face changed before he could hide it, and his voice dropped when he repeated, “A mistake?”

“I said whether it was a mistake,” she replied. “I did not say it was one.”

He held on to that correction immediately. It was a small distinction, but at that moment, it felt important enough for him to build an entire hope around it.

Ezinne touched the back of the chair again, her movements slower now. “We do not need to complicate things even more between us,” she said. “There is already enough to deal with.”

“What things between us shouldn't we complicate?” he asked, even though he knew exactly what she meant.

She gave him a look, or at least turned her face toward him in a way that carried the same effect. “You know what I mean, Mofe.”

He said nothing, and after a moment she continued. “Azora should be our focus. She is still adjusting to having you in her life, and we are still learning how to do this properly.”

“Co-parenting,” he said, his tone neutral.

“Yes,” she said. “Co-parenting. Giving her stability. Making sure she does not become confused because the adults around her cannot control themselves.”

Mofe looked at her for a long moment. He wanted to ask why she was trying so hard to pretend there was nothing between them, why she kept hiding behind Azora whenever the truth of what they felt for each other came too close.

He wanted to remind her that she had been the one who asked to go to his hotel suite. She had touched his face, agreed to the kiss, and kissed him back with enough feeling to make him forget every single reason he had been trying to be patient.

He also wanted to ask what she expected him to do with the feelings he had carried for years. Ten years, another country, another woman, an engagement and all the anger in the world had not killed what he felt for her, so what exactly was he supposed to do now that she was standing in front of him again?

He kept all of it to himself. There was no point pushing her when she was already retreating, and besides, she had only wondered whether the kiss had been a mistake; she had not said it was one.

That was enough for him.

There would be more kisses in their future. He did not know when, and he did not know how, but he knew Ezinne well enough to know that whatever was between them had not ended in his hotel suite.

As for not complicating their relationship, Mofe almost smiled. He planned to complicate the hell out of it, slowly and carefully, but definitely.

Out loud, he only said, “I understand.”

Ezinne’s head tilted slightly. “You understand?” she asked, clearly suspicious.

“Yes,” he replied, keeping his face straight. “I understand what you are saying.”

“That is not the same as agreeing,” she said.

“No,” he admitted. “It is not.”

Her mouth tightened again, but before she could respond, he moved back behind the desk and opened his laptop. “So, hope you’ve accepted my apology for my actions this morning,” he asked.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I need your help with something, and I am scared you will hate it simply because you are still pissed at me,” he said, searching for the document on his screen.

“What is it?” she asked, still sounding suspicious.

“My presentation for Azora’s career day,” he replied. “I need to read it to you before I embarrass myself in front of our daughter and her classmates.”

Ezinne was quiet for a moment. “You wrote a presentation for career day?” she asked, and there was enough disbelief in her voice to make him glance up.

“Yes,” he said defensively. “Is that so shocking?”

“With you, not really,” she replied. “I can already imagine it sounding like one of your boardroom speeches.”

“That is exactly why I need your help,” he said. “But if you are still angry with me, you may hate it out of principle.”

A reluctant sound escaped her before she could stop it. It was not quite a laugh, but it was close enough to make Mofe look up fully.

“Stop trying to make me less mad at you,” she said, pointing her cane vaguely in his direction again.

“I am not trying,” he said, smiling now. “I cannot help it if I crave the sound of your laugh every time.”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then she shook her head, but the tightness around her mouth had softened.

“You are so annoying,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, his smile widening.

She found the chair properly this time and sat down, folding her e-zine cane across her lap. “Fine,” she said, leaning back with the air of someone doing him a great favour.

Mofe waited, his fingers resting on the laptop keys. He knew she was still mad, and he knew there were still many things unresolved between them, but the fact that she was sitting there at all felt like a small victory.

“Alright, read your crappy presentation,” she said at last.

Mofe smiled as he turned back to the laptop. For now, that was enough.


********

Hello readers,

The second part will be uploaded by 8pm. Thanks for reading.

sal1974:
Thanks for the update

dripzzy:
Thanks for the update

You're welcome

Present Day

Ezinne sat alone in her office with a cup of tea cooling beside her and the memory of Mofe’s hotel suite refusing to leave her mind.

She had been trying to listen to an audiobook for almost twenty minutes, but she had already lost the thread of the story. The narrator’s voice continued in her ears, steady and pleasant, but the words slipped past without settling. Every few seconds, her mind drifted back to the penthouse suite, to the cool marble beneath her bare feet, the softness of the armchair, the smell of expensive wood and Mofe’s cologne filling the air around her.

Giving up on the book, she sighed and removed one earbud. The previous evening had been strange. Strange wasn’t exactly the best word for it, but it was the only one her mind could hold on to without making her feel completely overwhelmed.

Room service had interrupted their kiss at the worst possible moment and killed the mood so completely that she still almost laughed again just thinking about it. One moment, she had been in Mofe’s arms, holding on to him as though she had forgotten every reason she was supposed to keep her distance. The next moment, there had been a knock at the door, and a cheerful voice had announced dinner as if it had not just ruined something that felt dangerously close to becoming impossible to stop.

Mofe had not hidden his frustration. He had rested his forehead against hers for a few seconds, breathing heavily, his arms still around her. The annoyance in his demeanour had been so boyish and genuine that Ezinne had laughed before she could stop herself.

After that, they had eaten. It should have been awkward, considering everything that had happened before the food arrived, but somehow it had not been. Mofe had ordered far too much, of course. There had been rice, grilled fish, barbecue chicken, pepper soup, bread rolls, vegetables and some dessert he insisted she needed to taste.

Generally, their dinner had been calm in a way the rest of the evening had not been. Mofe had described everything on the table before serving her, and every few minutes, he had asked if she wanted more of something. She had accused him of trying to feed her like a child, and he had told her she was the one who had been arrested and dragged around all afternoon, so she could allow someone else care for her for a few minutes.

She had wanted to argue. Instead, she’d chosen to just eat and allow Mofe to dote on her.

By the time the meal ended, the vibe between them had faded into something quieter. They had not exactly settled their differences from their earlier argument, but the air between them was softer. They had spoken about Azora for a while, and Mofe had told her about the drawing on his hotel refrigerator, the one where Azora had drawn the three of them standing outside a house with a roof far too large for the walls. Ezinne had tried not to react too strongly to that, but something about knowing that he had kept their daughter’s drawings in that expensive suite had touched her more than she wanted to admit.

When she finally said she wanted to go home, Mofe had offered to follow her.

“You’ve had a long day,” he had said, walking beside her as they left the suite. His hand had been at her elbow, steady and gentle, guiding her without making her feel helpless. “I’ll ride with you.”

“You’ve also had a long day,” she had replied. “But unlike me, you spent part of it threatening to bankrupt a government agency.”

“They deserved it. I should have followed through on those threats,” He said.

Ezinne smiled, rolling her eyes behind her dark-shaded glasses. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. The whole experience was exhausting.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Of course, you’re not,” Ezinne said, indulging him. He was always looking for a fight. She pitied anyone who dared to cross him.

He had escorted her all the way down to the lobby. The hotel staff had greeted him as they passed, their voices polite and familiar, and once again Ezinne had been reminded that Mofe had been living in a world far larger than the one she had known with him years ago. People knew him now. They opened doors for him, lowered their voices around him and treated his presence like something important.

Yet he had moved beside her slowly, matching his steps to hers, asking quietly where she wanted his hand and warning her before every small change in the floor.

At the car, he had tried again. “Let me escort you home.”

“No,” she had said. “Go upstairs and rest. I’ll be fine.”

He had not answered immediately, and for a moment, she had thought he would argue. Mofe was very good at arguing when he wanted something, and lately, he seemed to want to stand between her and every inconvenience in the world. Instead, he had pulled her gently into his arms.

The hug had been slow, not desperate like the kiss. Not heated. Not even as comforting as the one he had given her earlier when she cried. This was different. It was quiet and tender in a way that made her chest ache.

Ezinne had stood still at first, surprised by it, then her hands had slowly settled against his back.

He had held her for several seconds without speaking. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body, the faint tension in the way his arms remained around her as though he was forcing himself not to hold her too tightly.

Then he had lowered his mouth close to her ear. “I love you, Ezinne.”

The words had struck her again, made her giddy inside and raised bumps on her skin. She did not know why those words still had the power to surprise her. He had said them before. Yet each time, they seemed to land differently, as if her heart had not yet learned how to receive them without stumbling.

She had not responded because she had not known what to say. Mofe had not pushed her. He had simply kissed her temple, released her and helped her into the car. He had waited until she was settled before closing the door, and she had felt him standing there even after the driver started the engine.

She had kept her face turned away from the window as the car pulled away, but she had known he was watching.

Now, sitting in her office the next morning, Ezinne pressed her fingers against her forehead and let out a slow breath.

What in the world was happening between them?

Last evening, in his hotel suite, they had both gone through a ridiculous rollercoaster of emotions, when she thought about it in order. She’d confessed that she’d eavesdropped on his conversational with is aunt. Then he’d opened up about his uncle, they’d talked about his anger towards him and then her father had entered the conversation. She’d been upset, angry when it seemed Mofe was making excuses for him. They had argued, she had cried, and he’d comforted her.

He had dropped one shocking revelation after another until her entire understanding of her father had begun to shake beneath her. Chief Onu had been silently and secretly donating to the centre. Even when he had not had the money to spare. She still did not know what to do with that.

After all of that, she and Mofe had somehow started laughing like two foolish people who had not just been standing in the middle of several emotional disasters.

Then they had kissed, been interrupted mid-kiss, and then they had eaten dinner.
It made no sense at all.

Ezinne lowered her hand and reached for her tea. The cup was barely warm when she took a small sip, and she made a face before setting it back down. She should ask Maureen to bring another cup, but she was not ready to speak to anyone yet.

She needed time to think. Her phone rang before she could sink deeper into those thoughts.

Ezinne reached across the desk, feeling for it with one hand until her fingers touched the smooth screen. The phone announced the caller’s name through the speaker.

Anthony.

She frowned as she knew he was supposed to be on leave. He had taken two weeks off to rest, and unless something very urgent had happened, he had no reason to call her in such a hurry.

“Good morning, Anthony.”

“Good morning, ma,” he said quickly, his voice tense and breathless. “Ma, please, I am very sorry. I honestly do not even know how this happened.”

Ezinne straightened in her chair. “What happened?”

“The licences, ma. I should have followed up myself before I left. I thought the renewal had been completed because the administrative officer told me the documents had been submitted, but I should have confirmed the payment and final approval.”

Ezinne blinked. For a few seconds, she did not understand what he was talking about. Anthony was speaking too fast, his words tumbling over each other in a way that was completely unlike him. He was usually calm, measured and quite composed, which made the panic in his voice even more alarming.

“Anthony, slow down,” she said. “What are you talking about?”

“The expired licences, ma. I am very sorry about what happened to you yesterday. I only heard the full details late last night, and I feel terrible. If I had known there was any issue before I travelled, I would never have left.”

Ezinne leaned back slowly, as she finally understood what he was on about. “Anthony, calm down,” she said. “Take a breath first.”

“I am trying, ma, but this is very serious. I understand that it reflects badly on me as principal, and I know I should have personally confirmed that everything had been renewed.”

“Once again, you need to calm down. You are speaking too fast,” Ezinne told him.

“I am sorry, ma.”

“Start again,” she said, softening her voice. “Why are you upset?”

There was a brief silence on the other end. When Anthony spoke again, his voice was lower, but still strained. “I received a query from Mr. Johnson.”

Ezinne went still, not sure she had heard him correctly. “Mofe sent you a query?”

“Yes, ma.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

Of course. Ezinne closed her eyes for a moment. Last night when she had told the man to go upstairs and rest, she should have known better. Mofe Johnson’s idea of rest apparently involved waking up early to terrify her staff.

“What exactly did he say?” she asked.

Anthony cleared his throat nervously. “He asked me to provide a detailed explanation of why the centre’s licences were not paid for and allowed to expire. He also asked why management was not informed, who was directly responsible for the renewal process, and why no one followed up before the council came.”

Ezinne listened in silence.

“He also requested copies of the payment records, the renewal documents, correspondence with the council and the names of every staff member involved,” Anthony continued. “He also asked why disciplinary action should not be recommended for the negligence that led to your arrest.”

Ezinne frowned. That sounded exactly like Mofe. He would use calm words, but with deadly intention.

Anthony continued, more frantic now. “Ma, I know how it looks, but I promise I did not ignore the issue. Before I went on leave, I asked the Admin office to confirm that the renewals had been completed, and I was told that the documents were being processed. I did not know the payment had not cleared.”

“Anthony …” Ezinne tried to speak, but the principal cut her off in his frantic tone.

“I should have checked again. I accept that. I am not trying to push blame, but I truly thought it had been handled.”

“Anthony,” she said more firmly.

“Yes, ma?”

“Calm down.”

He released a shaky breath.

“No one has said your job is on the line,” she told him.
Another silence followed, and from that silence alone, Ezinne knew that was exactly what he had feared.

“I understand that the matter is serious,” he said quietly. “I know Mr Johnson is very angry.”

“Mofe is not your employer, Anthony. I am,” she reminded him.

Anthony did not respond immediately, and Ezinne understood why. In a place like the centre, money and influence mattered whether she wanted them to or not. Mofe had been helping them. He had organised the outreach, brought in specialists, solved problems and moved through the place with the kind of authority people naturally responded to. If he sent an email demanding answers, most people would panic first and think later.

That was exactly the problem.

“Have you responded to him?” she asked.

“Not yet, ma. I wanted to speak with you first.”

“Good. Respond to the email.”

“Ma?”

“Write a proper response,” she said. “Explain what happened clearly. Include dates, names and all relevant documents. Do not sound panicked, and do not make excuses. If mistakes were made, admit them, but explain the process and where the failure occurred.”

“Yes, ma.”

“And copy me.”

“Of course, ma.”

“I will speak to Mofe and get back to you.”

Anthony let out another relieved breath. “Thank you, ma. I am very sorry again. I should have been more careful.”

“We will discuss that when you return from leave.”

“Yes, ma.”

“And Anthony?” She called his name, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes, ma?”

“Stop sounding as if you are already packing your office. You cannot write a sensible response in that state,” She joked dryly.

A weak laugh came through the phone. “I will try to calm down, ma.”

“Good.” She ended the call and placed the phone carefully on the desk.

For a moment, she sat completely still, then irritation began to rise slowly through her. She should have known he would do something like this.

She should have known that he would take charge of the issue because he was angry about what had happened the previous day. She could almost hear his voice in the email even without reading it, controlled and calm, but sharp enough to make a grown man believe his career was under threat.

Ezinne understood his anger. A part of her even appreciated it. Something had gone wrong at the centre, and that failure had resulted in her being taken away by officials from the Educational Council. She understood that it could not be ignored. There had to be accountability.

But it was still her institution, and her staff. Her authority.

He did not get to walk in and start sending queries on her behalf simply because he cared about her and had the legal power to frighten everyone around them. The thought made her pause.

Because he cared for her … and maybe even thought he was still in love with her.

She pressed her lips together and pushed the thought aside before it could soften her too quickly.

No. She was not going to be distracted by last night’s kiss or the way he had held her outside the hotel and whispered those words into her ear.

Not today. Today, she needed to deal with Mofe Johnson and his habit of making decisions first and apologising later.

Ezinne reached for her laptop and opened it. She waited for the screen reader to announce the desktop, then navigated slowly to her email. Her fingers moved more firmly than usual across the keyboard as she searched for Anthony’s name and the email Mofe had copied her on.

She wanted to know exactly what kind of query he had sent.

If it was as bad as Anthony made it sound, then Mofe was about to have a very unpleasant morning.

**************


Next Chapter will be posted on Thursday

Expect the second part by 12 noon. Thanks.

“I’m not answering that,” Ezinne said, ignoring her friend and dragging the sheet over her knees, which only made Dara laugh harder.

“You don't even have to answer. I can't see it all over you. You’re even blushing.”

“You are such a busybody, Dara.”

“And you are very obvious.”

“I am not. Just leave me alone, Dara, please,” Ezinne begged.

“No way, I'm going to tease the hell out of you.”

Her phone vibrated behind Dara, and both women looked toward it. Dara’s brows lifted. “Mofe?”

“It could be anyone,” Ezinne said with a careless shrug.

“Then you won’t mind me looking,” Dara said, leaning towards the phone on the bed.

Ezinne lunged for it. Dara squealed and pulled away, but Ezinne managed to wrestle it from her before she could unlock the screen.

“This girl, you don't have any boundaries at all!”

“Oh now, you want boundaries? All those weeks you were moping and crying over a broken heart, you didn't care about boundaries oh!”

Ezinne turned the phone away and opened the message.

Mofe: Thinking about you and missing you. Can't wait to see you later.

Warmth spread through her before she could stop it.

Dara, watching her face rather than the phone, groaned triumphantly. “Oh, please.”

“What?”

“You’re smiling stupidly. It's definitely him, Mofe.”

Ezinne immediately pressed her lips together.

Dara laughed. “Too late.”

Dara was still watching her with that annoying knowing smile when Ezinne finally pushed the sheet away from her legs and sat up properly.

“My real issue now is Ekene; that guy is starting to annoy me.”

Dara’s smile faded slightly. “What happened?”

Ezinne climbed out of bed and walked toward her dressing table. “He is trying really hard to insert himself back into my life, and I don’t know how many different ways I have to tell him that I’ve drawn a line.”

Dara turned on the bed so she could face her properly. “What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing dramatic. That’s actually the problem.”

Ezinne picked up her hairbrush and began slowly working it through her hair.

“He took me for frozen yogurt. We sat down and talked, or rather, he talked and I pretended to listen. And then he started questioning me about why I came home late from your place.”

Dara frowned. “How did he even know you came home late?”

“That is exactly what I asked him. Apparently, he had called the house.”

“To check?”

“Yes.”

Dara’s brows rose.

Ezinne pointed the hairbrush at her. “Do you see what I mean?”

“That is a little much.”

“A little?” Ezinne gave a dry laugh. “I told him the same thing yesterday. He fought with my father because he said I shouldn’t be treated like a prisoner, and now he’s slowly applying for the vacant position of prison warden.”

Dara laughed despite herself.

“It isn’t funny, Dara. It's unnerving.”

“It is a little funny.”

“It won’t be funny when I eventually strangle him.”

“You’re not going to strangle anybody.”

“Then he needs to stop checking where I am every few hours. I'm serious, Dara; last thing I need is him hovering around.” Ezinne said, turning back toward the mirror. “He calls. He asks what I’m doing. He asks where I’m going. Yesterday he wanted to know what you and I had supposedly been doing that kept me out so late. And he acts like he's concerned, so if I complain, suddenly I’m the difficult one because he’s only trying to make sure I’m okay.”

Dara was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he really is concerned.”

Ezinne looked at her through the mirror. “You’re defending him? You don't know him again?”

“I’m not defending him. I’m only saying maybe some of it is genuine.”

“It’s not, but even if it is, I don't want it.”

Dara nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”

Ezinne dropped the brush onto the dressing table and turned around.

“I don’t want Ekene taking care of me. I don’t want him worrying about me. I don’t want him behaving like some responsible boyfriend when he is not my boyfriend.”

“He obviously wants to be.”

“Well, that is unfortunate for him. He blew it when he had his chance.”

Dara smiled faintly. “Do you think he’s changed?”

Ezinne actually scoffed. “I don’t even care if he has become the Buddha.”

Dara burst out laughing.

“I’m serious. He can become the calmest, kindest, most enlightened human being in Nigeria. He can start meditating every morning and feeding homeless puppies in his spare time. There is still no place for him in my life. I don’t love him anymore, Dara. There isn’t even a little part of me wondering whether we could work things out. Nothing. That door is closed.”

Ezinne walked over to sit on the edge of the mattress and drew one knee beneath herself.

“He behaves like if he is patient enough, helpful enough, available enough, I will eventually remember why we were together and fall back into his arms. Ekene and I were so wrong for each other. I just refused to admit it because I had known him for so long.”

Dara picked idly at the edge of the pillowcase. “Then you should not let him hang around.”

Ezinne gave her a look. “But you know why I need him around.”

“I know your original reason.”

“And it’s still the reason.”

Dara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You think you still need him?”

“Yes, for now.”

Ezinne sighed and leaned back on her palms. “My father relaxed because of Ekene. That officer is gone because Ekene challenged him about it. My dad trusts him. If Ekene says he’s taking me somewhere, nobody asks questions. If his driver comes for me, nobody cares. That gives me room to breathe.”

“And room to see Mofe.”

“Yes.”

Dara let out a slow breath. “This is getting messy, Zinnie.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean really messy.”

“I know, Dara.”

“Because Ekene thinks all this access means you’re giving him another chance.”

“But I never told him that.”

“You don’t have to tell him. You’re spending time with him. You let him take you out yesterday.”

“Reluctantly.”

“He doesn’t know how reluctant you are.”

“I remind him constantly that we’re only friends.”

“And he constantly ignores the part he doesn’t like.”

Ezinne sighed. That was exactly the problem.

Yesterday was just another example of just how easily Ekene could twist simple access into something more. She had agreed to frozen yogurt because refusing every invitation would make the whole arrangement suspicious, but halfway through the outing, she had found herself irritated by the very fact that she had to sit there at all.

Especially when everything inside her had wanted to be somewhere else. With Mofe.

She had spent half the time thinking about him, remembering his arms around her and the lazy morning they had shared before she finally forced herself to leave. Then she had sat across from Ekene pretending the smile on her face had something to do with a ridiculous movie she had invented. The entire situation was becoming ridiculous.

“I would have cut Ekene off already if I didn’t still need him,” she said finally. “Completely. No calls, no outings, nothing.”

Dara looked at her carefully. “And what happens if Mofe finds out?”

Ezinne’s mouth tightened. “He won’t. He can't."

“That wasn’t my question.”

“He cannot find out, Dara.”

“Which is even worse.”

Ezinne frowned. “Why?”

“Because now you’re hiding Ekene from Mofe and Mofe from Ekene. Do you realise what that sounds like?”

Ezinne shook her head in denial. “I am not dating two men, Dara. You know that.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You made that face,” Ezinne told her.

“What face?”

“That judgemental face.”

Dara gave her a dry look. “I’m just saying you need to be careful. Mofe already hates Ekene for very valid reasons. If he finds out you’ve been quietly allowing Ekene back into your life while you two are trying to rebuild trust…”

“He will be angry.”

“Angry?” Dara stared at her. “Mofe?”

Ezinne thought about it. “Fine. He’ll probably lose his mind.”

“Exactly.”

“And Ekene finding out about Mofe right now would be just as bad.”

“Yes, exactly.” Dara nodded.

Ezinne groaned and let herself fall backwards onto the bed. “Why is my life so stressful?”

Dara looked down at her. “Because you make stressful decisions.”

“Thank you for your support.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ezinne stared at the ceiling for a moment. The truth was, she knew Dara was right. The plan had been much simpler when she and Mofe were barely speaking. Ekene had simply been a means to an end. A way to convince her father that Mofe was no longer a problem and slowly regain some freedom.

Now Mofe was completely back in her heart, and after the night they had shared, pretending otherwise was impossible.

She wanted to see him freely. She wanted to answer his calls without wondering who was listening. She wanted to stop inventing sleepovers and imaginary outings. She wanted the easy relationship they had once had, when seeing each other had not required strategy worthy of a military operation.

But until her father stopped watching, Ekene was useful. And that made her uncomfortable.

“I just need a little more time,” she murmured.

Dara’s voice softened. “For what?”

“For my dad to relax completely. That’s all. Once he gets used to me going out again without an officer following me everywhere, I won’t need Ekene.”

Dara did not look convinced, but she let it go.

Ezinne suddenly glanced toward the digital clock on her bedside table. It was 1:24 p.m.

She sat up quickly. “God.”

“What?” Dara asked.

“I’m supposed to leave here by three.”

Dara stared at her. “Leave for where?”

Ezinne avoided her eyes, and Dara’s expression immediately became suspicious again.

“Ezinne.”

“What?”

“Where are you going?” Dara asked.

“To Mofe’s,” Ezinne confessed, and Dara stared at her.

“What?” Ezinne had to ask.

“You’re going back?” Dara asked

“Yes.”

“But you just left there yesterday.”

“So?”

Dara’s mouth slowly curved.

Ezinne saw the smile coming and pointed at her. “Don’t.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You’re about to.”

Dara bit her lip, visibly trying and failing to contain herself. “So the reconciliation was really that good, ehh?”

Ezinne grabbed the pillow beside her once again.

Dara raised both hands quickly, still struggling to hold back her laughter but failing. “Please! I’m only asking.”

“You’re such an annoying friend,” Ezinne said, unable to keep a straight face.

“I’m your concerned friend.”

“No, you’re a gossip.”

“Same job, different title,” Dara replied with a shrug.

“We’re spending time together. That’s all.”

“Again.”

“Yes, again.”

Dara’s grin widened. “Interesting.”

“I missed him,” Ezinne confessed.

That quiet admission softened the teasing slightly.

Ezinne looked down at her hands. “I missed us. And now that we’ve finally sorted things out, I just…” She shrugged. “I want to be around him.”

Dara watched her for a few seconds before smiling. “That part I understand. I'm happy you two have managed to patch things up.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’m still curious.”

“About what?” Ezinne rolled her eyes, knowing Dara was about to become annoying once again.

Dara gave her a pointed look.

“What?” Ezinne had to ask when she wasn't speaking.

“You were careful, right?” Dara finally asked.

The change in her tone made Ezinne glance at her. For a second, Ezinne genuinely did not understand. Then her gaze moved automatically toward the closet. The morning-after pill that was still inside her handbag.

Her stomach tightened as she realized that she had forgotten about it again. Or perhaps ‘forgotten’ was becoming too generous a word. It had been sitting there all morning while she repeatedly postponed taking it, and now she had even lied to Mofe about it.

Dara followed her gaze briefly before looking back at her.

“Well?”

Ezinne forced herself to look casual. “Yes.”

“You used protection?”

The guilt sharpened. “Yes,” she said again.

Dara nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

Ezinne looked away. The lie bothered her more this time.

Not because Dara had any reason to know the truth, but because she was beginning to feel foolish about the whole thing. She had the pill. There was no reason not to take it. She had simply been lazy, and now she was lying to everybody to avoid being told exactly what she already knew.

Her gaze flicked toward the clock again, and then she remembered something else.
“Oh.” She gasped.

Dara groaned. “What now?”

Ezinne turned toward her with a sweet smile, and Dara immediately shook her head.

“No.”

“I haven’t asked you anything," Ezinne said.

“I recognise that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you use before making me participate in nonsense.”

Ezinne moved closer and caught her hand. “Dara.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“What?”

“I need you to call my dad.”

Dara pulled her hand away. “Absolutely not.”

“Listen first.”

“Nope, I don’t need to.” Dara said, shaking her head.

“I need you to ask him if I can sleep over.” Ezinne told her.

Dara stared at her for several seconds, and then she laughed once, without humour. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not, Dara.”

“Again?”

“Yes. It’s only one more night.”

“But you stayed with me just two nights ago.”

“Exactly. So it won’t seem strange.”

Dara’s mouth fell open. “How does staying at my house repeatedly make it less strange?”

“Because we’re close.”

“We’ve always been close. We didn’t suddenly become married.”

Ezinne laughed.

Dara pointed at her. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Your father is going to start wondering what exactly we are doing in my house every night.”

“If he asks, tell him we’re watching movies.”

Dara gave her a long look.

Ezinne remembered the lie she had told Ekene the previous evening and nearly laughed again.

Dara shook her head in disapproval. “You and these your movies.”

“It’s believable.”

“Until someone asks which movie.”

Ezinne glared at her. “Very funny. Just tell him we’re spending the evening together and I want to stay over.”

“And if he asks to speak to my parents?”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He likes you.”

“That does not mean he might not see through our lie.”

“Dara, please.” Ezinne said, folding her hands under her chin dramatically but Dara wasn't buying it.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That begging face. It won’t work.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I love you,” Ezinne said, pouting her lips.

“You did not love me five minutes ago when you were throwing pillows at me,” Dara reminded her.

“I have grown since then.”

“In five minutes?”

“Emotionally.”

Dara rolled her eyes. Ezinne immediately grabbed her around the shoulders and squeezed. “Please, please, please. Do it for your desperate friend, please.”

Dara pulled back enough to look at her. “You are actually shameless now.”

“I am in love.”

Dara shook her head for a long moment, but Ezinne could already see her weakening. Finally, she sighed. “Fine.”

Ezinne’s face lit up..“Really?”

“Yes. I’ll call him.”

Ezinne threw both arms around her before she could change her mind. “I love you so much. You're my best friend ever.”

“You are just using me jare.”

“I can love you and use you at the same time, can't I?” Ezinne asked, laughing.

Dara burst out laughing. “Listen to yourself.”

“You’re the best friend in the entire world.”

“More like, the most foolish.”

“That too,’ Ezinne's agreed.

Dara pushed her away, still smiling. “Go and have your bath. You smell like yesterday.”

Ezinne gasped. “I do not.”

“Maybe not, but I’m not coming close enough to find out.”

“You’re nasty, you know that, right?”

“And yet you need me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Ezinne climbed off the bed and headed toward the bathroom, already mentally planning what she would wear to Mofe’s. Halfway there, her eyes fell on the closet, and she stopped. The pill.

For a moment, the playful mood slipped away, as she turned toward the closet. Then glanced down at herself. She would take her bath first, then the pill immediately after. No more excuses.
******

Chapter 33

Eleven years ago

Ezinne was sprawled diagonally across her bed in the oversized T-shirt she had slept in. The curtains were still mostly drawn, leaving the room cool and dim despite the afternoon sun outside. Everything about the room encouraged laziness, and Ezinne had surrendered to it completely.

She'd been in bed from most of the day, sleeping and too tired to do anything else.

Her phone vibrated beside her hip, and with a sigh that lacked any real annoyance, Ezinne reached for the phone.

Mofe: Have you eaten?

A smile tugged at her mouth, but she yawned instead before replying

Ezinne: Yes, Daddy.

It was a lie but she knew if she told him the truth, it would lead to too much talk. The three dots appeared almost immediately.

Mofe: What did you eat?

She rolled onto her back.

Ezinne: Food.

Mofe: Ezinne.

Ezinne: Mofe.

She was still smiling when the next message arrived.

Mofe: And you are sure you took the pill?

The smile disappeared, as Ezinne stared at the screen. Her gaze slowly travelled from the phone to the closet across the room.

The morning-after pill was inside her handbag, and her handbag was inside the closet. She had not taken it. Worse, she had already told Mofe that she had.

The previous evening, shortly after she arrived home, he had asked whether she had remembered, and she had said yes because she knew exactly what would happen if she admitted she had forgotten. Mofe would begin his irritatingly responsible lecture. He would explain the instructions to her as though she could not read, remind her every fifteen minutes, and possibly call just to make sure she swallowed it while he listened.

She had fully intended to take it, then Ekene had arrived. She had barely had time to change before leaving with him, and by the time she returned from their frozen-yogurt outing, exhaustion had caught up with her. She had slept very little the night before at Mofe’s place, and once she finally crawled into bed, she had been unconscious almost immediately.

This morning she woke up late. And since waking, she had achieved almost nothing. She had not eaten. She had not bathed. She had barely even left the bed.

Taking the pill should have been simple enough, except that simplicity apparently required more effort than she currently possessed. She would have to get out of bed, walk to the closet, find her handbag, retrieve the packet and go downstairs for water.

That sounded like an unreasonable amount of activity right now and she didn't feel up to it.

Her phone buzzed again.

Mofe: ?

Ezinne bit her lip.

Then typed:

Ezinne: Yes, I told you I did after I got home yesterday.

His reply came immediately.

Mofe: Good.

She dropped the phone onto the mattress. Technically, she was going to take it. Very soon.

She glanced at the closet again. It would take her about six steps to get there. Perhaps seven, she could do it now.

Instead, she sank farther into the pillow, deciding to take it after her bath. Definitely after her bath.

A knock sounded at the bedroom door, and she frowned.

“Who is it?”

The door opened before the person bothered answering. Dara walked in, took two steps into the room and stopped dead.

Her eyes travelled from Ezinne’s rumpled hair to the oversized shirt, then to the unmade bed.

“Ah-ah.”

Ezinne lifted her head slightly. “Good afternoon to you too.”

Dara shut the door behind her. “You haven’t had your bath? Do you know that the time is past one p.m?.”

“Yup, I know.”

“And you’re still in bed.”

“I can see that.” Ezinne said.

“You look like you just woke up.”

“I practically did.”

Dara studied her for another second, then something clicked because her expression changed.

“You and Mofe finally made up, didn't you?” Dara asked, giving her a knowing look.

Ezinne’s lips betrayed her before she could control them. It was just a tiny smile but Dara saw it.

“Oh.”

Ezinne immediately schooled her face. “Yes. We talked. We resolved things.”

“Hmm.”

“What is ‘hmm’?” Ezinne asked her friend.

Dara lowered herself slowly onto the edge of the bed, still studying her. “How exactly did you resolve things?”

Ezinne reached for her phone, trying to seem nonchalant. “By having a conversation. You know it’s something adults do, right?”

“A conversation.” Dara repeated.

“Yes.”

“Ans how long was this conversation?”

Ezinne unlocked her phone and began scrolling through absolutely nothing. “Why?”

“Because you were supposed to come back to my place.”

“I know.” Ezinne replied, still glancing at the screen.

“You did not come back.”

“No.I did not.”

“And when I called you this morning, you were barely awake.”

“I was tired,” Ezinne said, still doing her best not to look in her friend's direction.

“From talking?” Dara asked.

Ezinne looked up sharply to see Dara’s mouth twitch.

“Dara.”

“What?”

“You’ve been in my room for less than five minutes. Please don’t start.”

“I haven’t started anything.” Dara shifted farther onto the bed. “I’m simply trying to understand how two people can talk so intensely that one of them is still looking half-dead the next afternoon.”

Ezinne had to smile slightly. Surely, she didn't think she looked that bad. “I told you, it became late.”

“How late?”

“I didn’t check.”

Dara’s brows climbed. “You didn’t check the time?”

“No.”

“So you talked all night?”

“Ofcourse not, how would we talk all night?” The answer left Ezinne’s mouth before she considered how it sounded.

Dara went very still, and Ezinne mentally cursed herself.

“And what,” Dara asked carefully, “did you do during the part of the night when you were not talking?”

Ezinne stared at her, and Dara stared back.The corner of Ezinne’s mouth twitched, and that was enough.

Dara slapped one hand against her thigh. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“That face.”

“What face?”

“That guilty, satisfied face you’re trying to hide!” Dara exclaimed, pointing a finger at her.

“I don't know what you're saying but I don't have any guilty, satisfied face.”

“You absolutely do.”

Dara leaned closer, peering at her as though examining evidence.

Ezinne pushed her forehead away with one hand. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“You slept there.”

“I already told you I stayed because it was too late to leave.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“There are several places one can sleep inside a house, Dara.”

“Very true.” Dara nodded solemnly. “There is a couch.”

“Yes, could be comfortable sometimes.”

“A floor.”

“Yes. Quite uncomfortable but still a viable place to sleep.”

“A chair, if things become desperate.”

“Exactly. This too”

“And Mofe’s bed.”

Ezinne looked away, “ well, you said it, not me.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Dara,” Ezinne said with patience, “you are reaching for conclusions.”

“Your face is giving me the conclusions for free.”

Ezinne reached for her phone again, but Dara was faster. She snatched it from the mattress and tucked it behind her back.

“Give me my phone.”

“No.”

“Dara, give me my phone nau.” Ezinne said, groaning in frustration.

Dara didn't budge. “Did you sleep in Mofe’s bed?”

Ezinne held out her hand. “My phone.”

“Ezinne.”

“Dara.”

They stared at each other until finally, Dara’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

“What is it now?”

“You did.”

“I never said I did.”

“You don’t have to.” Dara clapped a hand over her mouth, though it did nothing to muffle her delight. “You actually...”

“Lower your voice!”

Dara leaned closer and whispered loudly instead. “Something happened.”

“We reconciled, that's what happened.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only answer you’re getting.”

“How did you reconcile?”

“We talked.”

“Naked?”

Ezinne’s mouth fell open, and for one second, Dara managed to keep a straight face before she collapsed sideways across the bed laughing.

“Have some decorum, Dara.” Ezinne told her friend, giving her a disapproving stare.

“I’m asking a legitimate question,” Dara told her.

“There is nothing legitimate about you or your question, busybody.”

Ezinne reached across her for the phone, but Dara twisted away, still laughing. “Come on, Zinnie, I’m your friend.”

“Then behave like one.”

“I am behaving like one. Friends require details.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Good friends do.”

“Then become a bad friend.”

Dara sat up again. She'd laughed so much, she was wiping the corner of one eye. “Did he at least kiss you?”

Ezinne gave her a flat look, and Dara’s grin returned immediately. “Oh, of course he kissed you.”

“Obviously. We’re together.” Ezinne reminded her.

Dara became serious and studied her more carefully now, humour giving way to genuine curiosity. “So, you trust him again?”

The question landed differently from the others, and Ezinne’s gaze dropped briefly to her hands.

“Well..,” she admitted. “I’m trying to.”

Dara’s expression softened. “And he knows that?”

“Yes, he knows he messed up.” Ezinne paused, then smiled faintly despite herself. “He's promised to do better. So we’re going to try.”

Dara nodded slowly. “That’s good. It still doesn’t explain why you look like this though. That night you spent together must have really been something”

Ezinne groaned and grabbed the nearest pillow, threatening to smother her with it.

Dara threw up both hands, already laughing. “Okay! I’m done.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes! Yes! I am,” Dara said between giggles, and Ezinne backed away from her friend.

Dara managed to stay quiet for about four seconds before leaning forward, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, how good was it really?”

The pillow hit her squarely in the face, and Dara shrieked with laughter.

Hello guys,
Today's post will be by 8pm. Thanks!

Hello Readers,

I'm afraid I couldn't get the chapter ready to post today and will need to postpone till Monday. My apologies for the delay. Thanks for your patience.

Peju.

Frankcallys:
Gaadamn!!! Which kind room service be that kwanu? Are you sure some of these room service are not from the pit of hell?

I've once been in a situation like this, we were almost there and about to to to... when that Enemy of progress messed up what could have been the best experience for both of us. She changed her mind after the distraction and that was how we never got another chance till this day.

I'm still pissed till this day. Ezinne, abeg don't change your mind like mine did

😂😂 lmao @Enemy of progress. Progress to where exactly?

We'll see whether Ezinne changed her mind on Thursday.

sal1974:
Thanks for the update, looking forward to Thursday for the next update

you're welcome

dripzzy:
Such a long update
Well done repogirl

thanks!

This was a crucial chapter, hence the lengthy post.

The next post comes up on Thursday. Thanks for reading.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Ezinne did not move. “I … I don't understand.”

“He has been making anonymous donations to your centre for years.”

“No, that's not possible,” she shook her head in disbelief.

“He did, Ezinne. He made substantial donations to the centre.”

“No,” her voice came out as a whisper.

Mofe walked back toward her. “He told me today.”

“And you believed him?”

“Not immediately, but I asked enough questions to realise he was telling the truth.”

Ezinne shook her head. “My father has never given money to the centre.”

“You never knew it came from him.”

“I would have known. We sent messages to our donors. We even met them sometimes.”

“He made sure his name was kept out of it.”

“No, if you say he made substantial donations,” she rose abruptly from the chair. “Someone would have told me.”

“Emeka knew.”

The name stopped her, and Mofe watched the colour drain from her face.

“What do you mean?”

“He was the one managing the centre’s finances when most of the donations were made.”

Ezinne’s breathing changed. “Part of the funds he stole?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head again, more slowly this time. “We discovered irregular transfers. Missing grants. Money that should have been used for equipment and training. But there was never anything from my father.”

“Because most of it never reached the centre’s proper accounts.”

Ezinne’s hand moved out, searching for the armchair she had just left. Her fingers missed the backrest by several inches.

Mofe saw her knees buckle. “Ezinne!”

He reached her before she fell, wrapping one arm around her waist while his other hand caught her upper arm. She sagged against him for a moment, stunned and unsteady.

“I have you,” he murmured.

“This cannot be true,” she whispered.

“It is.”

“No.”

Her legs were still weak beneath her, so Mofe guided her carefully back to the armchair. He waited until she was seated before crouching in front of her, keeping one hand around hers.

Her fingers were cold.

“How much?” she whispered.

“I don’t know the complete figure yet.”

“But you said the donations were substantial.”

“They were.”

She swallowed. “How substantial?”

“Enough to have made a considerable difference to the centre if Emeka had not diverted most of the money.”

Ezinne pulled her hand from his and pressed it against her forehead. “No, there has to be some mistake. My father would never support anything I built. He thought the centre was an embarrassment. He thought I was wasting my time trying to prove I could still have a life after losing my sight.”

This was news to him. “He said that?”

“He said it repeatedly after the accident. He wanted me to move back to his house with Azora, but I refused and moved in with Rachel and her mother instead.” She told him. “So why would he secretly send money?”

“He probably realised you were determined to make it on your own and decided to support you instead.” Mofe continued carefully. “He said he could not approach you. He knew you would reject anything that came directly from him, so he gave anonymously.”

“That does not make sense. He didn't believe I would succeed with the centre,” she said adamantly.

“It makes perfect sense to a proud man who wants to help his daughter without admitting he had been watching her from a distance.”

Ezinne’s lips parted, but no words came.

Mofe watched the emotions move across her face … disbelief, confusion, anger and something far more vulnerable that she was desperately trying to suppress.

“He did it even when he was struggling financially,” Mofe added quietly.

Her head turned back toward him. “What?”

“He had personal debts from a side venture that failed. He was borrowing money and moving funds around to keep himself afloat. Some of the transactions I discovered when I investigated the company were connected to those debts.”

“And he was still donating to the centre?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would he do that?”

“Because you mattered to him.”

Tears began to gather beneath her dark glasses. Ezinne wiped at them impatiently. “Or because he felt guilty.”

“Perhaps he did.”

“That is more believable.”

Mofe nodded patiently. “It probably was guilt.”

She gave a shaky breath, almost triumphant at the admission. “Then it proves nothing.”

“It proves he knew he had hurt someone he loved.”

Her face tightened. Mofe sat on the stool again, still close enough to catch her if she became unsteady.

“Guilt does not appear from nowhere, Ezinne,” he said. “Sometimes it comes because we have betrayed our own values. Sometimes it comes because we fear consequences. But sometimes it comes because we finally understand the pain we caused someone we love.”

She remained silent.

“Your father could have ignored the centre,” Mofe continued. “He could have kept his money, especially when he barely had enough. Instead, he continued supporting it without expecting you to thank him or even know.”

“That still does not erase what he did.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“It does not mean I have to forgive him.”

“No.”

“It does not mean I have to let him meet Azora.”

“No one has said that.”

Ezinne leaned back against the chair, her face turned toward the ceiling as she struggled to absorb everything.

Mofe remained quiet, giving her time.

After a long moment, she lowered her head. “What if your uncle did the same thing?”

Mofe frowned, wondering at how she'd suddenly gone back to the topic of his uncle ... “What?”

“What if he paid for your airfare because he felt guilty?” She asked.

“That is different.”

A faint smile touched her mouth. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because we were discussing your father.”

“And now I am discussing your uncle.”

Mofe narrowed his eyes at her, though she could not see it. “Do not try to turn this around on me.”

“You just spent the last several minutes explaining that guilt can be fuelled by love.”

“In your father’s case.”

“Guilt is selective now?”

“That is not what I said.”

“It sounded like it.”

Mofe stared at her.

Ezinne’s voice became almost thoughtful. “Perhaps your uncle regretted abandoning his brother’s child. Perhaps paying for your airfare was the only way he knew how to help you without having to face what he had done.”

“That is an impressive argument from someone who nearly fainted when I used the same reasoning about her father.”

“I did not faint.”

“Your knees gave way.”

“I was startled.”

“You were falling.”

“And you caught me.”

“Because I was standing there.”

She tilted her head. “Are you saying you would have allowed me to fall if you had been farther away?”

Mofe’s mouth dropped open, and Ezinne’s smile deepened.

He stared at her for another second before a disbelieving laugh escaped him. “You are unbelievable.”

“I am only applying your own logic.”

“You are twisting my logic.”

“I am clarifying it.”

“You are being manipulative.”

“That is a very serious accusation from you,” She said with a knowing stare and then the laughter came before either of them could stop it.

At first it was only a small, reluctant sound from Ezinne, still unsteady from tears. Then Mofe shook his head and laughed harder, because the entire argument had become too absurd to sustain with a straight face.

Within moments, they were both laughing.

The release of tension felt almost startling after everything that had passed between them. Ezinne covered her mouth, but it did nothing to contain the sound. Mofe leaned back on the stool, watching her with a warmth that spread slowly through his chest.

“You really are impossible,” he said.

“Well, you started it.”

“I was trying to help you.”

“And I was trying to help you.”

“You were using my own words against me.”

She shrugged, “It was excellent advice. I thought you deserved to hear it too.”

Mofe laughed again, then reached out and took her hand. “Gosh, how did I forget your smart mouth is one of the reasons I love you so much,” he said without thinking. “And this is obviously where Azora gets that crafty intelligence of hers.”

The laughter faded from Ezinne’s face, and Mofe realised what he had said only after the words were already between them Her fingers remained in his, still and warm.

“Azora’s craftiness comes from you,” she said eventually, her voice softer now. “Everything sweet about that child comes from me.”

Mofe smiled. “Naturally.”

“I am glad you agree.”

“I don’t. I simply know better than to begin another argument when you are sitting close enough to hit me.”

“I would never hit you.”

“You assaulted my chest earlier,” he reminded her.

“I was trying to make you release me.”

“Well you failed.”

Her lips curved once again in a smile, and the sight of that small smile changed something inside him.

Mofe’s gaze moved over her face, lingering on the dampness beneath her glasses and the softness that had returned to her mouth. Only a few minutes ago, she had been crying in his arms. Now she was teasing him, her hand resting willingly in his.

He leaned closer before he could talk himself out of it.

Ezinne felt the shift immediately. Her smile faded, and her breathing slowed. “Mofe?”

“Yes?”

“You are very close.”

“I am.”

She did not pull her hand away. He raised his free hand and brushed his knuckles gently along her cheek, wiping away the last trace of moisture there. Ezinne leaned almost imperceptibly into his touch.

Mofe’s chest tightened. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

The question settled between them, quiet and heavy. Ezinne did not answer immediately.

He watched her consider it, her lips parting slightly as her fingers tightened around his. He could almost feel the argument taking place inside her.

Mofe waited. He did not move closer. He would not take another inch without hearing her say it.

Then Ezinne drew in a slow breath. “Yes.”

The single word went straight through him. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I want you to.”

Mofe closed the remaining space between them. His first touch was careful, his mouth brushing hers gently as though giving her one final chance to change her mind. Ezinne’s fingers curled into the front of his shirt, holding him there.

That was all the invitation he needed. He kissed her again, deeper this time.

The restraint he had been forcing on himself for days fractured almost immediately. His hand slid behind her neck, drawing her closer as her lips parted beneath his. Ezinne responded with a soft sound that sent heat racing through him, her other hand moving up to his shoulder before curling around the back of his neck.

Mofe rose from the stool without breaking the kiss, bringing her with him. Ezinne swayed into his body, trusting him to hold her steady. His arm wrapped around her waist, fitting her against him while the kiss grew slower, deeper and more consuming.

Every thought of her father, his uncle and the secrets still waiting between them disappeared beneath the warmth of her mouth.

There was only Ezinne. Her scent. The softness of her body against his. The way she kissed him as though she had spent the past four days missing him every bit as fiercely as he had missed her.

Mofe tilted his head and deepened the kiss further. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and the small pull nearly destroyed what remained of his control. He drew back only far enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers.

“Ezinne,” he whispered.

She reached for him again. Her mouth found his before he could say anything else, and this time there was no hesitation in her. Mofe groaned softly and gathered her closer, kissing her with all the hunger he had tried to suppress since the last time she had been in his arms.

A sharp knock sounded at the suite door, but neither of them stopped, choosing to ignore whoever was at the door.

But the knock came again, louder this time. “Room service.”

Mofe closed his eyes and let his forehead fall against hers, and for several seconds, the only sound in the room was their uneven breathing.

Then Ezinne began to laugh softly against his mouth. “Poor timing.”

Mofe groaned, tightening his arm around her waist. “Just my damned luck,” he muttered.

**************

For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she pulled out of his arms. He let her go, watching her, and knowing he had to wait for her move before he said anything else. Before he gave out something he shouldn't… yet.

“Mofe … this is too much,” Ezinne said, still pulling farther away from him, one hand rising between them as though she needed the distance to think.

“Ezinne, please, give me a chance to explain.”

“You met with my father?” She asked as if she wasn't sure she'd heard right

“Yes, I did.”

Her face tightened. “You sat across from him and discussed me?”

“I sat across from him because he reached out, begging me to help him reconcile with you,” he explained.

Ezinne gave a short, disbelieving laugh and turned away from him.

“Zinny, please, if you would just listen.”

“Do not call me that right now. You met with that man behind my back to discuss how to handle me! Who made you an intermediary between us by the way?”

Mofe pressed his lips together and resisted the urge to reach for her again. She was already hurt, already exposed by wounds that ran far deeper than anything he could soothe with a touch. If he moved toward her now, he risked making her feel trapped rather than comforted.

He lowered his voice. “Ezinne… he looked old. Tired. He said he needed to make things right, and I…”

“And you decided that was your responsibility?” she cut in. “So you met with him?”

“No.” Mofe shook his head. “I met with him because I needed to know whether he was sincere. I was not going to bring his message to you without first sitting across from him and looking him in the face.”

Her mouth tightened, but she said nothing

Mofe continued before she could shut the conversation down entirely. “I called the meeting because I wanted to see what he really wanted. I wanted to know if this was another attempt to control you or if he had actually changed.”

“And?”

Mofe hesitated. “And he was different.”

Ezinne laughed again, but there was no humour in it. “People will always become different when age catches up with them, and there is no one left to command.”

“I know how it looks and sounds.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

He moved back toward the stool and sat down, leaving enough distance between them for her not to feel crowded. Ezinne remained standing, her body rigid, one hand gripping the back of the armchair.

Mofe looked up at her.

“I wish you could see him, Zinny; he looks older,” he said. “Not weak or helpless. Just old in a lonely, worn-down way. He’s a haunted man, Ezinne.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for him?” She asked with a scoff.

“No! Hell no!”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because I feel you should know.” His answer came quietly enough to make her pause.

Mofe leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“This was the first real conversation your father and I have ever had,” he continued. “The first time we sat across from each other and spoke like two people instead of enemies.”

Ezinne’s fingers tightened around the chair.

“There were no threats,” Mofe said. “No one holding anything over the other. No anger. No bargaining. No attempt to remind me of where I came from or what he thought I was worth.”

He exhaled slowly. “He was civil with me. More than civil. He was almost… eager for us to find a way to move forward.”

Ezinne shook her head. “People can act very well when they want something.”

“I know that … oh, trust me. I know.”

“You barely know him,” she said.

“Ezinne, I know him well enough. More than you think I do. And I know what he did to you.”

“Then you should have walked away.”

“Perhaps I should have.”

She turned toward him sharply. “Then why didn’t you? And don’t talk about him being old and worn down.”

“Because he took responsibility.”

The words stopped her, and he watched the tension in her face shift, though it did not disappear.

“He did not pretend he had been misunderstood,” Mofe said. “He did not blame you or Ekene or me. He did not put the reason for his actions on anyone but himself.”

Ezinne’s mouth trembled before she pressed it into a hard line.

“He admitted that he was proud,” Mofe continued. “He admitted he made decisions for you because he thought he knew better. He said hindsight had not been merciful to him and that the older he became, the more clearly he saw everything he had done wrong. He lives in regret, Ezinne.”

Ezinne looked away. Mofe could see that she wanted to dismiss it. He could almost feel the anger rising in her again, fighting against the small part of her that had heard every word.

“And he is sorry,” Mofe said.

“Stop.”

“He is.”

“I said stop.”

“Ezinne, please let me finish.”

“I do not want to hear how sorry he is.”

“You need to know why I met him.”

“I already know why he met you. He wants something.”

“Yes, he does.”

The blunt agreement made her turn back toward him.

Mofe stood slowly. “He wants his daughter’s forgiveness,” he said. “And he wants to meet his granddaughter.”

Ezinne’s face changed. “No.”

“That’s fine ... I am not asking you to do anything today.”

“Azora is not his concern.”

“That's fine. I told him that decision was yours.”

“He does not get to ask for her. He does not suddenly become a grandfather because he has decided he is lonely.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you standing here defending him?”

“I am not defending him.”

“It sounds like you are.”

“I am telling you what happened, what I saw at the meeting.”

Her breathing had become uneven again. Mofe got up and moved one step closer to her, then stopped when her shoulders stiffened.

“He begged me to help him make things right,” he said. “he did not demand. He did not threaten. He begged, Ezinne.”

Ezinne gave a bitter smile. “My father does not beg.”

“He did today.”

That silenced her. Mofe watched the words settle over her, painful and unwanted.

“He is asking for a chance to apologise to you,” Mofe continued. “He has owned every mistake he made. He wants a chance to mend the relationship.”

Ezinne shook her head repeatedly. “No. He does not get to decide he wants a relationship now. Did you tell him this would be easy breezy for him?

“I told him it would take time,” Mofe said. “I told him it would take patience and that he would have to trust me not to push you before you were ready.”

“So the two of you made plans about me,” Ezinne said quietly. “You agreed that you would gradually push and coax me until I forgave him?”

The accusation was softer than her earlier anger, but it cut far deeper.

Mofe’s expression tightened. “No. I swear to you, I made no such promise.”

“But you told him you would help him.”

Yes, I did.” Mofe held her gaze even though she could not see him.

“I told him I would try,” he admitted. “But I also told him that you would not be pressured.”

Ezinne said nothing, but he knew she was thinking. If only he knew what was going through that mind of hers.

“I think I've said enough for now. The decision remains with you, and you are free to refuse,” Mofe continued. “You can tell me never to mention him again, and I will respect it.”

Her lips parted slightly.

“I am not here to force reconciliation on you,” he said. “I am not asking you to forgive him because he is old or sorry. I am not asking you to forget anything.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“Nothing really,” he shrugged.

The answer seemed to surprise her, because she raised her brows in surprise, and then frowned in confusion.

Mofe’s voice softened. “I never planned to tell you any of this today, but you asked why I stayed away for four days, and I didn't want to lie to you. I could have said I stayed away from you because of my Aunt's revelation, but that would have been another lie.”

He took another careful step toward her. “Ezinne, I am so damn exhausted from half-truths, lies and secrets. Anything not exposed immediately becomes even harder to address later. I saw an opening today and took it. I have already made one too many decisions behind your back,” he said. “I will not do that with this.”

She listened quietly, and something in her expression told her she believed him. Her shoulders slumped, releasing some of the tension she’d been holding on to.

Ezinne’s hands lowered slowly to her sides. “He does not deserve my forgiveness,” she whispered. “He watched me suffer. He chose his pride over me, so he should live with the consequences of his decisions.”

Her voice broke, and Mofe’s chest ached as he heard it. He said nothing, and they both stood silently for a long moment, a few feet apart, with her face turned away from him.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter. “What exactly did he say about Azora?”

Mofe felt the significance of the question immediately, but he was careful not to let hope enter his voice.

“He said he wanted the chance to know her.”

“That is all?”

“He said he had already lost too many years with you. He did not want to lose all of them with her too.”

Ezinne’s fingers curled against her dress.

Mofe continued gently, “He asked what she was like.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him she was intelligent. Curious. Stubborn, and he said she was just like you. That you gave him hell as a child.”

Despite herself, Ezinne’s mouth twitched. Mofe saw it and continued. “I told him she remembers everything and argues like a lawyer when she thinks she is right.”

“She gets that from you,” Ezinne said quietly.

“Your father and I agree that she gets it from you,” he countered.

Ezinne lowered herself carefully into the armchair again, as though the conversation had suddenly become too heavy to carry standing up.

Mofe returned to the stool in front of her but did not touch her.

“You do not have to decide anything,” he said. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow.”

She sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “And if I never want to see him?”

“Then I will tell him.”

“You would accept that?”

“It is your choice.”

Her head lifted slightly. Mofe held his position, resisting the urge to move closer.

“I mean it,” he said. “He may be sorry. He may have changed. He may want another chance with everything in him. But finally, it's up to you. And I'm on your team one hundred per cent.”

Ezinne’s shoulders eased only slightly. “But you think I should meet him.”

Mofe gave her his honest thought. “I think you deserve the opportunity to hear what he has to say,” he answered carefully. “But only when you are ready. And if you never are, that will be something he has to live with.”

Ezinne went quiet again, and he could not tell whether she was angry, considering his words, or simply too tired to fight anymore. But he could feel her withdrawing again, retreating behind the careful silence she used whenever a conversation became too painful.

He knew he should stop. He had already pushed harder than he intended, but there was something else she needed to know.

Mofe leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Ezinne, I know this will be difficult to hear, especially coming from me, but I think everything your father did was fuelled by love in his own way.”

Her head snapped up. “Oh please! Mofe, don’t start with that again.”

“Believe me, I’m not excusing him,” He said, keeping his voice even.

“But it sounds very much like you are.”

He shook his head. “I said his actions came from love. I did not say they were right.”

Her mouth hardened. “Love does not force a woman into an abusive marriage. Love does not take away every choice she has. Stop trying to dress cruelty up as affection simply because he regrets it now.”

Mofe sighed and rose from the stool. He moved a few steps away, searching for the right words before he caused another explosion between them.

“I am not dressing anything up,” he said. “What he did was controlling, cruel and unforgivable in ways he may never be able to repair. But I sat across from him today, Ezinne. I listened to him speak about you. Whatever else that man is, he loves you.”

She gave a brittle laugh. “How convenient for him.”

“I thought the same thing.”

“Then why are we still having this conversation?”

“Because he told me something I think you deserve to know.”

Her face turned slowly toward him. The resistance was still there, but so was caution now. “What’s that?”

Mofe hesitated. He had promised the Chief that he would try his best to help, but this had not been part of the plan. He hadn't asked the Chief if Ezinne needed to know this particular information.

Yet he could not stand here and speak vaguely about love when he possessed proof that the Chief’s concern had not begun with his sudden desire to meet Azora.

“Your father has been supporting the centre,” he said.