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Wooooooooow

Crazy
Crazy
Crazy.....

Nollywood writers where are you? Come and see crazy pen game at work...

TheBlessedMan is the best on this literature section ahswear. Man... This is like COUNTLESS pro pro and pro max of the maxes 😂

This is crazily intense I swear.


Darous is really in it this time around. I love how everything is connecting.

The tiffany kind of love can make someone jealous oh my god. Can't stop giggling with all her scenes. The girl get one crazy aura.

Kenny went too far but I understand some people can break into their darkest part. He's a funny guy on his best days and now on his darkest days we can only expect the worse of him. That's just how humans are wired.

Jude, my dear Jude... You will be missed.

So it's my gender that started the break down of this lovely friendship circle?

I'm not shocked.


TheBlessedMan, you are indeed blessed man. You that bomb 💣💣💣💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

I'm just but a humble writer ma'am. You are appreciated ma. Thanks for dropping by.

Episode 20- Tiffany's Kidnapping Plans.


Detective Kalu was very tired when he got back to the station that night. He pushed Kenny into one of the cells and locked it himself. Then he sat on the bench beside the cell, rubbing his forehead slowly.
He already knew what he wanted to do next.

He knew Kenny had nothing to do with the Circle. Kenny was just a desperate man trying to find the lady who killed his friend. Those two men with him that night — the ones in black shades — were hired muscles, nothing more. But the way they suddenly turned on Kenny when that Jeep arrived… that said something bigger.

The guys knew the man inside the Jeep. They knew who the Limping man is.

Kalu was sure — those men got an order from the limping man that night. To silence Kenny.
If he hadn’t shown up when he did, Kenny would be lying dead in gutter right now.

So Kalu made up his mind.
He was going to use Kenny to reach those men… and through them, get to the Limping Man.

The plan was simple — get Kenny to open up about the men, how he found them, who they worked for. Then he’d contact them, pretend to hire them for a small private job — maybe “extra security” for an event. He’d bait them with money they couldn’t resist, gain their trust, play along… and then, when the time was right, follow them straight to the heart of the Circle.

That was the plan.
But there was one big problem — Kenny wasn’t talking.

Two whole days of intense questioning has been met with nothing but silence from Kenny.
The man just sat there, beaten, tired, but still holding his tongue. He could tell Kenny was deeply affected by Baba T's death.

By the fifth day, Kalu was running out of patience. He decided to take a break and visit the hospital morgue to see Baba T’s body. Maybe looking at that face again would help him think clearly, maybe even spot something he missed before. In his line of work, the smallest detail could be the key to solving everything.

When Kalu got to the hospital, he walked straight to the morgue office.
But what he heard there made his heart skip.

“Ah, Detective Kalu,” the morgue attendant said casually. “We’ve already received clearance for that body. It’s been approved for burial — just waiting for pickup.”

Kalu frowned. “Clearance? From who?”

The man shrugged. “From above. All the papers are complete. The order came in yesterday. The body will be handed over to one of his friends… a man named Darous Emmanuel.”

For a few seconds, Kalu couldn’t move. His brain just… jammed.
Then anger rose inside him like fire.

Darous Emmanuel.
That quiet, confused-looking boy who came to his office, telling him he wanted to retract his statement — he somehow got a high-level clearance to bury a murder victim? Without police authorization?

That was impossible.
That was corruption — deep, dangerous corruption.

Kalu left the hospital with his jaw tight, his heart burning.
Back in his office, he dug through his files and found Darous’ contact number from the day he came to withdraw his earlier statement about Ebenezer’s death.

He dialed it immediately.
Darous picked up on the third ring, sounding weak and tired.

“Darous,” Kalu said sharply. “I want to see you. In my office. Now.”

There was silence on the other end. Then Darous spoke, voice shaky.
“Detective, I can’t come right now. I’m in the hospital.”

Kalu’s eyes narrowed. “Which hospital?”

After a pause, Darous gave the name. His voice was hesitant, like someone who had something to hide.

Kalu wrote it down quietly, his eyes cold.
He ended the call, dropped the phone, and sat back in his chair.

Something wasn’t right.

Kalu stared at the phone for a long moment after the call ended. His gut twisted with that familiar feeling — the one that always came before something dirty was about to unfold.

He picked up the receiver again and dialed a direct line — one only a few officers had access to. It rang twice before a heavy voice answered.

“Hello, sir,” Kalu said, his tone stiff. “This is Detective Kalu. I just got word from the morgue. The body of one Babatunde Omitunde — the ongoing homicide case — has been cleared for burial. I need to confirm if that came from your office.”

There was a short silence on the other end, then a sigh.
“Yes, I’m aware of it,” the voice said. “The order came from above.”

Kalu frowned. “Above?”
“That’s right,” the man replied, his voice flat and cautious. “We got a directive from the top. The reports now classify the case as a cult-related killing. You know how messy those can get. The ogas decided it’s best to close it quickly before it stirs unnecessary tension.”

Kalu’s fingers tightened around the phone. “With due respect, sir… that’s not procedure. The autopsy report wasn’t even completed. And there’s an ongoing investigation. How can it just be cleared like that?”

Another pause. This one heavier.
“Detective Kalu,” the man said finally, his tone dropping. “Sometimes, you need to learn when to stop digging. Drop this one. Channel your energy into something that saves lives, not one that’ll make you lose yours.”

The line went dead.

Kalu was shocked. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. A cult-related killing? That was nonsense. He’d seen the case file prepared by Corporal Saheed and Moses — there was nothing cult-like about the case. And for the clearance to come that fast? Someone powerful was pulling strings.

He leaned back in his chair slowly, his jaw tight.
“Darous,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re not clean in this.”

His instincts — the same ones that had kept him alive this long — told him one thing loud and clear:
This wasn’t just corruption.
This was the Circle. And they were already two steps ahead of him.

He sprang to his feet, snatched his car keys from the table, and stormed out.

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


I dropped the phone slowly and stared at the ceiling. My eyes weren’t smiling at all.

Tiffany who had been scrolling through her phone beside me, noticed immediately.
“What happened? Who was that?” she asked.

I sighed. “Detective Kalu. The same officer that interrogated me at the party. He said I should come to his office.”

She frowned. “Office? In your condition? Does he know you’re in the hospital?”

“I told him,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Maybe he’ll come here instead.”

She reached out and held my hand. “Hey, don’t stress yourself over that. You need to rest. Let them handle whatever they’re handling. The most important thing right now is you getting better.”

I smiled weakly. “You sound like my doctor.”

“Good,” she said, standing up and adjusting her bag. "Don't you forget to listen to your doctor's instructions then..."

I chuckled. “Where are you going?”

“I want to drop Toyosi home, take one or two things...” she said, brushing her hair back. “Then I’ll come back and stay with you till you get better..”

I raised a brow. “You sure the nurses won’t chase you out?”

She grinned. “Let them try. I’ll tell them I’m your personal nurse, wife, and emotional support system — all in one. Just anything I need to be to make them back the hell off.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

She leaned closer, her perfume filling the air. “Just get some rest, okay? I’ll be back before you start missing me too much.”

“Too late,” I said with a small smile.

She smiled back, gave me a long deep kiss on my sore lips, winked, and walked out — leaving me staring at the door, wondering what the detective really wanted from me this time.

An hour later, I was sitting on the hospital bed, arm bandaged, still fighting the dull ache running through my body, when the door swung open with a loud push.

Detective Kalu walked in — no greeting, no smile, just that same hard stare.

“Mr. Darous,” he said slowly, shutting the door behind him. “You and I need to talk.”

I looked up, tired. “Detective, I told you everything already.”

He gave a short, dry laugh. “Everything? You think I’m that foolish?”

He took a step closer, his shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. “You see, the day you came to my office to retract your statement about the death of Ebenezer — the man that limping guy shot at Mrs. Adeoye’s event — I knew you were lying.”

I frowned, trying to stay calm. “I—”

He raised his hand sharply. “Don’t interrupt me. I knew you were lying because your eyes said something your mouth didn’t. I let it go… but now?” He shook his head. “Now, I see the whole picture.”

He walked to the foot of the bed, folded his arms. “You couldn’t afford the four hundred thousand naira you used to rent that G-Wagon. Not as a bricklayer. You couldn’t afford that Rolex either. You think I don’t know?”

I swallowed hard. “Detective, I—”

“I followed you,” he cut in, his voice low but sharp. “From the hospital, the night your friend died. I saw the woman who came out of your house. I traced her — Mushin garage area. And do you know what I found out?”

I stayed silent. My pulse started to race.

He leaned in. “She killed your friend, Baba T. You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know you handed her over to the Circle to protect her? And now, you’re using those same people to cover the whole thing up — getting a burial clearance overnight without police authorization.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. His words hit me like a brick to the chest. How did he even know all that? Baba T’s death… Cynthia… the Circle… everything I thought was buried somewhere between whispers and silence, he laid it all out like he’d been there with us.

But it was the last part that shook me the most — the part about the burial clearance. I just sat there, staring at him, my mind trying to process what he’d said. Burial clearance? Overnight? By me? That didn’t make any sense.

Just a few hours ago, Jude and I had accepted that Baba T wouldn’t be buried anytime soon. We’d already made peace with the waiting, the endless police procedures and investigations. So how on earth could there be a clearance already? And how could it possibly be traced back to me?

The more I thought about it, the colder I felt inside. Something was happening behind my back — something I didn’t understand yet — and the fact that the detective knew about it before I did made my skin crawl.

He took a deep breath and hissed. “You’re good, Darous. Too good. But not that good.”

My throat felt dry. “Detective, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re making wild assumptions.”

He smiled faintly — the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Really? Then answer this. Where did a bricklayer like you get the money to rent that G-Wagon? Four hundred thousand naira, for one day?”

I froze. My mouth opened but no words came out.

And then — a voice from the door broke the silence.

“I gave him.”

We both turned.

There she was — Tiffany.

Leaning slightly on the doorframe, wearing a fitted white dress and a calm, expensive confidence that filled the room before her perfume did. Her hair was sleek, her diamond earrings catching the weak hospital light.

Detective Kalu blinked. “And you are…?”

She stepped forward, heels clicking softly on the floor. “The woman who paid for the car,” she said simply. “And if you have a problem with that, detective, maybe you should start investigating me next.”

Kalu’s face hardened, but for a moment, he didn’t speak.

Tiffany turned to me and smiled faintly — the kind of smile that said, Relax. I’ve got this.

The detective exhaled slowly. “This isn’t over, Mr. Darous,” he said, pointing a finger at me. He leaned closer to me and whisper in my ear. “The Circle may protect you now… but one day, the ground will open beneath your feet. And I’ll be there when it does.”

He stormed out, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Tiffany stood beside my bed and brushed imaginary dust off her dress. “You really should stop getting into trouble, Darous,” she said softly.

I looked at her — confused, exhausted, and strangely relieved.

That night, Tiffany and I slept in the hospital. And before your mind starts running wild — no, not together. Separate beds. Two whole different beds, thank you very much.

The next few days were oddly peaceful. The hospital felt less gloomy, more like… home. Tiffany had that kind of presence — soft yet commanding, like a nurse with a PhD in stress control. She made sure I ate on time, took my meds, and didn’t try any heroic escape from the ward. The nurses practically answered to her. Honestly, I think even the doctor started reporting to her at some point.

When it was finally time for me to be discharged, she crossed her arms like a general about to announce war.
“You’re not going home,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re following me to my place.”

“Follow you ke? Tiffany, you know this is kidnapping, right?” I said, trying to sit up.

She smirked. “Kidnapping? Please. You think kidnappers feed you, give you drugs, and sleep beside you on your hospital bed? You should be thanking this your kidnapper.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though I tried to hide it. “So I’m your hostage now?”

“Hostage with air conditioning and three square meals, and maybe...maybe a piece of this a*ss if you behave yourself.” She said turning her well shaped backside to me. She rolled her eyes. “Be grateful. Some people are kidnapped to the forest. You’re being kidnapped to a duplex.”

I just stared at her, shaking my head. This woman is impossible.
“Besides,” she added, her tone suddenly softening, “I just don’t want those gangs coming back for you. Not when you’re still weak.”

That last line did something to me — something I didn’t have a name for. Maybe it was the care in her voice, or the way her eyes stared deeply into my eyes. But in that moment, all I could think was… if this was kidnapping, maybe I didn’t really mind being the victim.


To be continued.

drewbar:
Chuck doesn't limp else Darous would have noticed it.

spot on bro

Typicool8:
Almost cried reading this episode..
Keep it up The blessed man

same here bro. I wan cry when I read it

drewbar:
Another thrilling episode. Something just came to my mind....are these 2 girls part of the Circle.

I wish Jude didnt leave, Darious needs his right hand man.

Ride on bro. Keep it coming.

are they part of the circle? I've been asking myself too o. And now Jude leaving? Ah .. not this time ahswear

EPISODE 19 — Scars and Goodbyes.

For one week, I was in that hospital — one long, painful week.
The first night I got there, I honestly thought that was my end. My body wasn’t paining me — it was holding a full-blown protest. My ribs were playing Tekken, my chest was doing WWE SmackDown, and my back? That one was running its own government project with no completion date in sight.

Every morning, the nurses would troop in like soldiers on duty.
“Sir, small prick,” one said, holding a syringe.

I frowned. “You people should at least agree that it’s not small again. Since yesterday, you’ve been pricking me like mosquito wey never chop since last year.”

The doctor behind her chuckled. A tall man with a bald head that reflected light like mirror.
“You’re healing well,” he said in his deep baritone. “No fractures, but you have muscle bruises, contusions, mild internal swelling, and dehydration.”

I blinked slowly. “Doctor, just say it like you are talking to a bricklayer — sheybi I go live?”

He smiled. “You’ll live.”

“Good,” I nodded. “Because the god of thunder don enter menopause, he no fit get another child wey go replace me o.”

He laughed and patted my shoulder. “You’ll be fine, son of thunder.”

Jude was there too, standing like a bouncer at the door. When the doctor left, he sighed.
“Guy, you strong o. I swear, when I saw you lying on the floor that night, I swear I thought you don go.”

I laughed small. “Go where? I never even born pikin. You think Shango will allow his prodigal son to die like that?”

He smiled and shook his head. “You no go ever change....you and this your thunder talk....”

The painkillers they gave me were strong enough to make a lion humble. But each time I coughed, it felt like my lungs were sending resignation letters.

By the fourth day, I could at least move around small. My face no longer looked like puff-puff, just a little bit swollen.
Jude came in that morning with a nylon bag and dropped it beside me.
“What’s that?” I asked.

He grinned. “By the way, that new phone you asked me to get for you — I got it.”

“Oh, you don buy am?” I asked, already stretching my hand like a kid waiting for candy.

“Yes na. abi the six hundred K wey you say make I comot with your ATM na for land?” He said, reaching into my wallet to pull out the SIM card I retrieved the previous day. “Let’s set it up.”

He slipped the SIM into the new phone, hit the power button, and the screen came alive like a new dawn.
He helped me set everything up — restored my contacts from cloud storage, synced my old details. After some hours, it almost felt like nothing had been lost; like I’d taken back a piece of my life Kenny had stolen.

Then he handed the phone to me. “Take.”

I smiled weakly. “Ah, Baba Jude — the telecom messiah himself.”

He chuckled. “Better thank me well before I carry it back.”

We both laughed, but the laughter didn’t last long. Soon, the talk drifted to Baba T — how much we missed him, and what would happen to his body.
Jude called someone he knew to ask if it was possible to get the body released for burial, but the response wasn't what we expected at all.
It's legally impossible for now.

The police were still investigating, and until they cleared it, the hospital couldn’t hand the body over — not even to his family.

I felt something sink deep inside me.
It hit me — Baba T’s burial might not happen anytime soon. It would take pure luck, because the police would never find the person who stabbed him — Cynthia.
And the painful part? It was me, his own friend, who helped her escape.

That thought sat heavy in my chest… and I knew it would haunt me for a very long time.

That same night, around 8:30 p.m., Chuka messaged me.

CHUKA: Good you’re online. What happened? I’ve been trying to reach you for three days now. Where are you?

I quickly typed back, explaining everything briefly — the attack and how I was now in the hospital.
Minutes later, his reply came in:

CHUKA: Send me the hospital’s account details. No questions asked.

That message alone said everything.
I called one of the nurses, got the hospital’s account number, and sent it to him.

A few moments later, another message popped up:

CHUKA: Stay put. Don’t worry about the bills. Everything is covered. Get well. We’ll talk later.

I read that line three times.
“Everything is covered?” I muttered. Then I looked around suspiciously.
“Abi he don sell my kidney in advance?”

I chuckled weakly, but then something started itching my brain. I picked up the phone again and typed:

Me: Boss, one small thing. That night… Cynthia. You people got her, abi?

His reply came fast — sharp and heavy like a slap.

CHUKA: Funny, isn’t it? For someone who remembers even the tiniest details — like what I wore the first day we met — you sure have a big problem remembering rules.

A few seconds later, another message followed:

CHUKA: No questions asked.

I frowned, my thumb hovering above the screen.

Me: But boss, I just wan—

Before I could finish typing, another message landed.

CHUKA: And let it be the last time you ask me about anyone related to the Circle. It’s none of your business. We let you know what we want you to know… and we will allow you to not know what we don’t want you to know.

I just stared at the screen, mouth half-open.
For a long moment, I didn’t move. Then I dropped the phone on my chest and sighed deeply.

No questions asked, eh?

But the way he said “anyone related to the Circle” hit differently in my head.
It could only mean one thing — they got Cynthia that night. That thought sent some relief into my worried mind.

And as for Kenny — no one had seen or heard from him since that night. Maybe he left town or something happened to him, either way, we need to move on from that.
But deep down, I knew one thing for sure — we all missed Baba T.


Morning of the fifth day, I was deep in sleep when my new phone rang. I opened one eye with a groan but when I saw the name, my heart skipped.
Tiffany.

I picked up weakly. “Hello?”

Her voice came through soft but shaky. “Darous… oh my God, Darous you got me worried...how are you? Are you okay?”

I smiled faintly. “Last I checked, yes. Still in one piece — just refurbished.” She let out a sigh from the other end. "But I'm in a hospital."

She gasped. “Hospital? What happened?”

I sighed. “Long story jare my queen of wahala. I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“No! You’ll tell me the address of that hospital right now!” She declared.

"And if I don't?"

She didn’t even pause. “Then I’ll start calling every hospital in Lagos till I find the one that has a fine boy named trouble magnet on their bed!”

I chuckled weakly. “Ah, abeg no disgrace me like that o.”

“Try me,” she fired back. “Don’t make me trend for the wrong reason — ‘Woman storms hospitals hunting for wounded boyfriend.’”

I laughed, wincing at the pain in my ribs. “Okay, okay, calm down Inspector Tiffany. I’ll send you the address before you start doing nationwide search and rescue.”

“Good,” she said, voice softening a little. “Because if I find out from another source, I’ll personally unplug your drip when I get there.”

I smiled into the phone. “You see why even devil is afraid of you?”

I gave her the hospital name and address.
Before I could even say, “don’t come,” she ended the call.

Two hours later, my ward turned to a movie set.

Tiffany walked in like she owned the building — followed by Toyosi, both of them looking like they were headed to a wedding, not a hospital. Tiffany wore a tight black dress, earrings shining like transformer sparks. Toyosi’s perfume hit the air before she even entered — sweet and expensive. My eyes settled on Tiffany's breast. Wow. Those sumptuously looking breast. My mind drifted back to the night at Mrs Adeoye. How I handled that breast and all the thrills that followed. I was already fantasising about how I will handle her when next the opportunity presents itself when Tiffany's next action broke into my thoughts.

Tiffany didn’t even greet me first. She marched straight to the nurse’s desk and said in that her rich girl accent that only appears during drama:
“Excuse me! Why is this man’s bed so close to the generator house? Are you trying to kill him with carbon dioxide?”

The nurse blinked like she was buffering. “Ma, please, you can’t—”

Tiffany cut her off. “No, you can’t! You’ll move him to another private room right now.”

The nurse frowned. “Sorry, ma, only the patient or family members can make such a request.”

Right then, the doctor entered — same bald-headed one. Tiffany turned to him sharply.
“Doctor, please, this environment is not safe for him. The fumes from that generator could kill him!”

The doctor adjusted his glasses calmly. “Madam, please relax. I understand your concern, but that generator house is quite far from his ward window. Besides, hospital policy only allows relatives to request transfers.”

Tiffany hesitated, blinked once, then said smoothly, “Alright then… does the title of wife count as relative in your hospital policy? Because I’m his wife.”

I nearly choked. My eyes almost jumped out of their sockets.

Right at that exact moment, Jude walked in holding a bottle of Lucozade. The doctor turned to him immediately.
“Sir, can you confirm that, please?”

Without blinking, Jude said, “Of course, doctor. They even got married the same day Diogo Jota and his wife did. It’s a football thing.”

The doctor squinted. “Diogo Jota?”

Tiffany nodded seriously. “Yes. The Brazilian goalkeeper. We’re huge fans.”

I bit my tongue not to laugh.

Toyosi stood by the door, arms folded. Her eyes met Jude’s — and instantly, the air went cold. Jude looked away, pretending to scroll through his phone.

Tiffany wasn’t done.
“If you don’t move him to a safer ward,” she said, “I’ll call an ambulance and take him to another hospital right now.”

The doctor raised his hands. “Alright, alright. We’ll move him. Please, calm down.”

She turned to me, still breathing hard. “See what I mean? You can’t even rest in peace in this kind of environment!”

I smiled weakly. “Babe, I’m not dead yet. And I’m perfectly fine here.”

She gave me a look. “Fine? You’re just one moustache away from Osama bin Laden.”

I chuckled. “And yet here you are…beside a terrorist. What if American troops raid this place right now?”

She folded her arms. “Good. At least they’ll rescue me first. You?—” she pointed at me—“they’ll interrogate you till you get well enough to be shipped away.”

I smirked. “Then I’ll tell them you’re the mastermind. You fit the profile.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep talking, Osama Junior.”

She sat beside me, holding my hand. For once, her voice went soft.
“You scared me, Darous. You really did.”

I smiled. “You think the son of thunder can die just like that? Thunder would strike my coffin first.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

The doctor returned with two nurses and they wheeled me into a smaller, private ward. Toyosi and Jude led the way, while Tiffany followed right behind—barking instructions like a military wife on a rescue mission.

When the nurses finally left us alone, she exhaled deeply. “Please, next time you want to almost die, send me a text first.”

I grinned. “You’ll be the first on the invitation list.”

Toyosi laughed softly from the corner. Even Jude smiled small.

"But tell me, what exactly happened to you?" Toyosi asked, folding her arms with that British concern that always sounds like judgement.

Tiffany’s eyes followed, resting on me with that same suspicious calm—like she was waiting to catch me lying.

"How did you end up like this, for real?" Toyosi pressed again, this time sounding like a detective from BBC Africa.

Truth is, I hadn’t planned what to say since they walked in. I turned to Jude for backup; he just gave me that small nod that clearly meant, “Guy, don’t say jack. Just freestyle.”

And since one of the perks of being the son of Thunder is knowing how to lie so well you’d convince even FBI, I cleared my throat and began.

“So… we were at our usual bar, yeah? Some gang mistook us for their rivals. We got talking and it turned to a heated argument. So one of them pulled a knife and stabbed Baba T. So Baba T is dead.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened. Toyosi gasped like she just heard cooking gas price had increased again.
“Wait, what? Baba T is dead?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “We rushed him to the hospital, but he didn’t make it. Me, Jude, and Kenny… we couldn’t take it. We beat the guys so bad, their ancestors probably flinched in their graves.”

They both went silent. Then Tiffany sighed and said softly, “Wow. I actually liked him. He was...the calm one among you, but in a funny way.”

Toyosi nodded slowly. “Yeah, I remember him. He said he wanted to be a motivational speaker. I told him he needed motivation first....eeeyah... may his soul rest in peace."

“Okay, fine. But how did you end up like this?” Tiffany asked.

I sighed and rubbed my bandaged arm. “That same night, the gang came after me. They broke into my place and beat me up. Next thing I knew, I woke up here. Jude’s been the one taking care of me since then. As for Kenny… he’s like Baba T’s widow. He took the whole thing worse than anyone else.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie—just ninety percent true and ten percent remix.

They both looked at me with pity. Tiffany came closer, brushing my hair like I was her lost puppy.

“You’ll be fine,” she said softly. “I’m staying here with you till you get better. And I don't want to hear pim on that...”

Toyosi added, “We’ll even get you something to eat. And maybe a barber to come shave your hair right here. You’re beginning to look like Osama Bin Laden.”

“A barber? Inside the hospital?” I laughed. “You girls are crazy.”

Tiffany gave me a side-eye. “Have you heard about the Saudi sleeping prince?”

“No. Who is that?”

“A prince who’s been in a coma for over twenty years,” she said, scrolling through her phone. “Here—look.”

She shoved the phone in my face.

“Twenty years and he’s still cute,” I said. “Wow.”

“Exactly!” Tiffany said. “Because he let people care for him.”

“That’s because he’s in a coma,” I said. “He doesn’t exactly have a choice.”

Tiffany smirked. “Then maybe I should tell the doctor to put you in the same coma. That way, I’ll finally have my way with you.”

Toyosi gasped dramatically. “Tiff, yes, that's exactly what we'll do.”

They both burst into laughter and walked out, leaving me staring at the door, shaking my head.

“These women will kill me before the stitches heal.” I said to myself.

The room was quiet after Tiffany and Toyosi left.
I could still hear their laughter fading down the hallway — light and carefree.

Then I noticed Jude standing by the door.
He wasn’t smiling. His eyes looked heavy, like he’d been carrying something too hard to say.

He walked up to me slowly, hands deep in his pockets.
“Bro,” he said, voice low, “I need to go.”

I blinked. “Go where?”

“Out of the city,” he replied. “And I'm leaving tonight.”

I tried to sit up. “Why? What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about it for days now. Kenny is still out there. And you and I both know he won’t stop until he finds me. The guy’s broken, and broken people are dangerous.”
He paused, eyes darting toward the window. “I wanted to leave two days ago, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave you alone. But now that Tiffany and Toyosi are here, I know you’ll be fine. You’ve got people who will truly care for you.”

I forced a weak smile. “So you’re leaving because Toyosi is around, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, bro. Not that.”
He looked me straight in the eyes. “I’ve moved past Toyosi. What happened between us taught me something I’ll never forget in my life— never let what people think about you decide how you live your life.”

His voice cracked a little. “I spent too long trying to prove I wasn’t a fool, trying to look strong, trying to be who I’m not. And look where it got me — lost, scared, and almost broken. But now… I just want peace. I just want to start again.”

We both went silent for a moment. The room felt heavier and quieter.

Then he smiled faintly and said, “I just miss Baba T, man.”

I nodded slowly. “We all do.”
That single name brought the silence back — thick and cold.

He sighed. “When they finally release his body, I’ll find a way to come back. No matter where I am, I’ll show up for his burial. He deserves that much from me.”

I smiled weakly. “Yeah… he really does.”

Then I mentioned Cynthia, but Jude quickly waved it off.
“She’s a big girl,” he said, forcing a half-smile. “Wherever she is, she’ll be fine. I’m done worrying about what I can’t fix. So be safe my bro....”

I felt a weight settle on my chest the moment I saw his eyes. I’ve known him long enough to recognize that look — the one that says his mind is made up. And when it gets to that point, nothing can change it.

“So this is it?” I asked quietly, fighting back the tears.

He nodded. “For now. I’ll keep in touch. We’re brothers, remember? Blood doesn’t make family — loyalty does.”

I got up slowly and hugged him. We didn’t say anything for a while. We just stood there, two broken men trying to hold each other together.

When we finally let go, his eyes were red but shining.

“Take care of yourself, bro,” he said. “You’ve been through hell, but you’re still standing. Don’t forget that. You’re stronger than you think.”
He paused and looked straight into my eyes like he suddenly remembered something.
“And if you ever feel like jumping off a bridge again, you better call me first. Because if I ever hear you died, I swear I’ll find your corpse, tie it around my neck, and dive into the same ocean. That way, at least you’ll know you killed both of us.”

I swallowed hard and forced a smile. “And you… don’t let the world turn your heart cold. You hear me?”

He laughed softly, wiping his face. “Too late for that,” he said, half-joking, half-true.

Then he turned, grabbed his small bag from the corner, and headed for the door.
He looked back one last time and said, “We’ll meet again, Darous. Maybe when all this madness is over.”

The door closed quietly behind him.

And just like that, the room went still again.
I stared at the empty doorway for a long time — feeling grateful, scared, and alone all at once.

It’s crazy how people come into your life, change it, and then leave —
but still leave a part of themselves behind in you.




To be continued.

Drop your comments below. One more episode on this page before we continue oooooo

Typicool8:
This story be like Hollywood movie...every episode gets more intense

how I wish they'd beaten that Kenny even more before Kalu stepped in...

EPISODE 18 — The Long Night 2.


I can't really say for how long I was out but when I opened my eyes, for a moment I thought I was gone. Everywhere in my body was screaming of pain. My lips were split. My back felt like someone had used me for plank practice. My ribs burned each time I tried to breathe.

Something warm touched my wrist. I turned slowly — my neck still stiff and heavy — and saw Jude bending over me. His face was tight with anger and sorrow.

“Easy, bro. It’s me,” he whispered. “Just relax.”

He kept untying the ropes. When they dropped off, blood rushed back into my hands, burning through my veins like acid. I groaned.

He pulled my arm across his shoulders and helped me up. My legs almost gave out. He guided me gently to a chair and I dropped into it, gasping for breath.

For a moment, I just sat there, eyes half closed. Then I managed to smile through my swollen lips when I saw how deeply Jude was worried about my situation.

“You see now, Jude? I can’t die just like that. I’m the only rightful heir to the throne of Thunder . If I die, who will.....?”

“You’re cracking jokes?" Jude cut into my words, with a straight face. " "In this your condition? Or you don't get it? How deeply messed up we are right now... Darous, we are in deep sh*t”

I tried to laugh, but the pain shot through my chest and shut me up. Jude’s tone softened a bit.
“Ogbeni, we’re in deep trouble.”

“I know,” I said quietly, as everything that happened started coming back to me. I closed my eyes, and a tear rolled down my face when I remembered Baba T’s death. Then came the memories that followed after — the night everything changed.

Kenny.

Our friend. Our brother. The same person who used to stand by us, laugh with us, eat with us — now the one hunting us like strangers.

How does that even make sense? How can someone switch so fast? One moment he was our guy, and the next, he was our greatest enemy. All because of one tragic mistake, something none of us could control.

I’ve tried to understand it, but I still can’t. Maybe Baba T’s death broke something inside him — something that never healed. But even at that, it still doesn’t explain how friendship could turn into war that easily.

Sometimes I just sit and wonder — how did we really end up here, in this mess between friends, frenemies, and foes?


“I don’t even know where to find Cynthia…” Jude said, his voice thick with worry.

“You can’t find her,” I said quietly. “I already helped her before you came here tonight.”

His eyes shot up. “What? Wait—how? When?” he stuttered.

“Sit,” I said, pointing to the chair beside me. “Let me explain.”

He sat slowly, eyes fixed on me. “Alright, tell me what happened.”

So I told him. Everything.
How I found Cynthia hiding inside my house that night — shaking like someone who had just escaped death.
How I called Chuka to help her get away before Kenny could find her.

Jude’s eyes widened. “Wait—Chuka? You mean the same Chuka from the Circle?”

“Yes,” I said. My throat felt dry. “I didn’t have a choice. I tried calling you, but your line was off. Kenny was already searching everywhere for her… and for you. If I hadn’t acted fast, she’d be dead by now. Trust me.”

Jude exhaled sharply and rubbed both hands over his face. “Maybe she deserves whatever happens to her,” he muttered. Then louder, “You shouldn’t have involved the Circle. You know what those people are capable of. Cynthia might later wish Kenny had killed her instead of ending up owing them.”

“She’s not the one who owes them,” I said firmly. “I am. They’ll come for me, not her. And honestly, she’s safer with them than with Kenny.”

He shook his head slowly. “Still, Chuka and his people are not the kind you joke with. They’re dangerous… very dangerous.”

“I know,” I said. “But last night, I had no other choice.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. The only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock.
Then Jude spoke again. “Where’s Kenny now?”

That question froze me. My eyes drifted to the clock. 3:22 a.m.
“He’s been gone for over three hours,” I said slowly. “He said he was going after Cynthia.”

Jude frowned deeply. “We need to know if she’s okay. Or if he’s already found her.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed my second number — the one I gave Cynthia. It rang once, then went off.

“Try again,” I said.

He did. Still off.

“I think Kenny took my main phone,” I said. “Let’s try my number instead.”

We tried my big phone — dead too.
Then we called Kenny’s number — once, twice, ten times… fifteen… twenty. Nothing.

Jude dropped the phone on the table and shook his head. “He’s not picking. Something’s wrong.

Jude sat opposite me, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands pressed hard against his face. The room felt heavy, like all the air had turned to stone.

“It’s my fault." Jude said. His voice heavy with regret. "All of it. Baba T… Cynthia… everything. If I didn’t let my stupid ego get in the way—”

“Stop,” I said quietly, shaking my head. “There’s enough blame to go round. Don’t do that to yourself.”

He looked up at me, his eyes red and heavy with guilt.
“No, you don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “If I hadn’t treated Cynthia like she no longer mattered… if I hadn’t pulled away from her just because my stupid ego got bruised by Toyosi, maybe she wouldn’t have had any reason to doubt me — not to talk of stabbing someone. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

I could see his hands trembling as he spoke, his voice cracking on the last words. For a moment, there was only silence between us — the kind that makes your chest feel tight and your throat dry.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, wincing at the pain in my ribs. “And if I hadn’t dragged all of you to that stupid party… asking you to do one ridiculous interview before I can take you along...… maybe Baba T would still be alive. Maybe we’d all be fine.”

Jude shook his head. “No. You were just trying to help us catch fun na. Me… I killed him with my pride. I can’t forgive myself for that. I can’t.”

I leaned forward and gripped his shoulder firmly, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“Listen to me,” I said, my voice steady. “Baba T’s death wasn’t just one person’s fault. We all played a part — every single one of us. You’re not the only one carrying this.”

I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in.

“Even Kenny had a hand in it. If he had done things in moderation, instead of taunting you for months with all those nonsense talks, maybe you wouldn’t have had any reason to feel less of yourself.”

He blinked hard, like he was fighting tears. “I should have been better. I should have protected him. He was like a brother to us all.”

“He was our brother, and for that, we will forever have him in our hearts” I said softly. “But blaming yourself won’t bring him back.”

Jude dropped his face into his hands again, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to live with this.”

I exhaled slowly. “We’ll live with it. We have to. That’s all we can do now.”

For a long time, we sat there in silence, two friends sitting in the middle of a broken friendship, holding the weight of a dead one between us.

Jude finally broke the silence. “We can’t stay here. If they come back, it’s over for us.”

I nodded slowly. “You’re right. Let’s move.”

He helped me pack a few things — my wallet, ID card, and a few clean clothes — then came back to lift me up. My legs were still too weak to carry me.

“You sure you can walk?” he asked.

“Walk?” I tried to smile but winced instead. “I can barely drag a step. Let’s just go before that idiot comes back to finish us off.”

He didn’t argue. He slid my arm over his shoulder and helped me out through the door. The cold night air hit my face like ice. I winced as it stung the wounds around my mouth.

He lowered me gently onto a small wooden bench by the corridor, then went back to lock my main door.

When he returned, he stopped and just stared at me for a moment. “Bro… your face looks bad. Real bad. You need treatment.”

I thought for a second, breathing through the pain. “There’s a small private hospital down the street,” I said weakly, pointing in the direction. “I helped them fix their toilet once. Let's go there. It's not far.”

He nodded quickly. “Good. That’s where we’re going.”

He lifted me again, slow and careful. Every step we took echoed in the quiet street.

And though the pain burned deep with every movement, one name kept flashing through my mind —
Baba T.

****

Cynthia was still by the closed POS stand, standing alone under the weak yellow streetlight.
Detective Kalu watched from a safe undetectable distance, half-hidden behind a danfo bus.
His right hand stayed deep inside his pocket, fingers resting on the cold metal of his pistol — just in case.

Minutes crawled by. No one came.
Kalu could see the worry growing on her face.
The garage was slowly getting quieter — not completely empty, but that kind of midnight quiet that makes your heart race.
.
Then suddenly, a bike light appeared from the far end of the road.
Its bright beam cut through the darkness.
Three people were on it — Kenny was the one riding, with Saipon and Cobra behind him, both wearing dark glasses.

Kalu’s eyes narrowed. “Who wears shades at night?” he muttered to himself.

At first, he thought they were the ones the lady had been waiting for.
But everything changed the moment Cynthia saw them.

Her eyes widened.
She froze for half a second. Then—she ran.

“Ah, damn,” Kalu hissed, springing into action.

The bike roared louder and started chasing after her.
The men behind shouted something Kalu couldn’t hear clearly — but it wasn’t good.
Cynthia took a sharp turn into a narrow street, kicking off her slippers as she ran faster.
The bike narrowed on her and one of the men grabbed at her polo — the cloth tore, but she slipped free and kept running.

They turned the bike around, still after her.
Kalu followed on foot, running hard.
He was fast, but not fast enough.
Even the lady was running faster than him, her fear fueling her legs.

They finally cornered her near an open space under an overhead bridge.
A few beggars lay sleeping there, wrapped in nylon sheets.
Cynthia stopped, breathing heavily, looking left and right. There was no way out.

The men jumped off the bike.
Kenny stepped toward her with a wicked grin.
“You killed my brother and think you can just run?” he spat, each word dripping with venom.

They thought she’d be easy.
Barefoot, wearing only a torn and a baggy jeans that hung loosely on her waist — she didn’t look like someone who could fight back.

But they were wrong.

Two of the men circled her, cutlasses glinting under the pale streetlight. Kenny stood behind, grinning, waiting for his turn. Cynthia’s chest rose and fell, sand clinging to her toes. She said nothing — just watched their hands, their feet, the way they shifted weight.

The first man charged. She twisted to the side, dodging the swing by inches, and drove her elbow straight into his ribs. He gasped, folding over as his weapon slipped from his hand. Before he could recover, she kicked the side of his knee — a quick, precise strike. He went down hard, yelling.

The second one didn’t wait. He came in with a wild swing. Cynthia ducked, feeling the blade brush through the air above her head, and swept her leg across the sand. He lost balance and fell backward. She jumped to her feet, breath sharp, and kicked his cutlass away before he could reach it.

Kenny hesitated — just a blink — but that was enough. Cynthia grabbed a broken bottle from the ground and aimed it at him, her hand steady despite the tremor in her breath. “Whoever comes next,” she said, voice fierce, “I swear to God, I go finish you.”

From the shadows, Kalu froze. His jaw tightened as he watched. A barefoot woman, fighting off cutlass-wielding men with nothing but instinct and old karate reflexes — it didn’t even seem real. He was about to make his move when headlights suddenly cut through the darkness, flooding the scene with harsh white light.

A black Pathfinder Jeep suddenly stopped with a loud screech.
Before anyone could move, a man dressed all in black jumped out and ran straight to Cynthia. He grabbed her by the arm.

Kalu frowned. “Who is that?” he said quietly.

The two men in dark glasses stopped right away. When they saw the man, they stepped back and bowed a little — like they respected him.

That told Kalu one thing — they knew who he was.

Then Kenny came out from behind the bike, breathing hard and looking confused. “Who’s this guy?” he asked, trying to go closer.

The man in black pushed him back and held Cynthia tighter. They spoke in low, angry tones. Then suddenly — PRAA! PRAA!
The two men in dark glasses gave Kenny two quick slaps on the back of his head.

Kenny stumbled and held his neck, shocked and embarrassed.

Then the back door of the Jeep opened again.
Another man came down — wearing a white vest and black shorts.

He said a few quiet words that Kalu couldn’t hear, then walked around the Jeep and took Cynthia from the man in black. He held her gently and helped her into the back seat.

That was when the streetlight shone on him — and Kalu froze.
He knew that walk.

The limp.
The same man from years ago. Circle's Assassin.

The Limping Man.

Before Kalu could even draw his pistol, the Jeep sped off into the night — engine growling, tyres screaming.

Saipon, Cobra, and Kenny remained.
Kalu could see them arguing.
Then Saipon pointed his cutlass at Kenny.
Cobra followed.
They were about to strike him down.

That’s when Kalu stepped forward.
He raised his voice — firm, commanding, police tone:

"Nigerian Police! Nobody move or I blow your skull open!”

His voice echoed under the bridge.
The beggars woke up, confused and shouting.
Saipon and Cobra looked at each other — then bolted into the darkness before Kalu could even cock his gun.

Kalu ran closer, but they were gone — vanished into the night.

Only Kenny was left, breathing hard, blood on his face and ego shattered.
Kalu stood there, eyes burning.

"Well, who do we have here?" He said to the bewildered Kenny.


To be continued

dawno2008:
TBM baba, I swear I nearly killed myself with laughter and joy when I see as dem dey wipe ur bombom ,Kai I pity Una keeper,the guy tire to dey carry ball from net ,barca come make old Sanchez dey feel like him still dey arsenal ndoo,sorry,kpele 😂😂😂

And see as Kenny dey make my blood hot🤬 the guy na serious mumu pro max😳him come dey flex muscles like John Cena💪,wetin dey worry am sef? Even baba T sef go dey shame on him behalf from where him dey😤, anyways na prison dey come am slowly,🤔
And see as Cynthia don allow my guy Darous loose guide,and that over sabi cop don dey see the trails wey him dey find for long,Kai,baba story just dey start, Weldon TBM, always representing,you never disappoint 💯👏

Kenny mumu Na promax Na😂😂

[quote author=dawno2008 post=137035997][/quote]hmmmm. Life Na spoon

Chai... See as this my readers just escaped ... Assuming say I never write this update before the match ni, there's every chance there won't be any update today o... Eh.. see as dem wipe my team 4-1? This one worse

Continuation of Episode 17.






Detective Kalu had just finished going through the files of the limping man's case when his phone began to vibrate on the table. He sighed—he’d barely had time to rest since morning. The caller ID flashed Dr. Adeshina. That name alone told him it wasn’t a social call.

“Ah, Adeshina, long time my friend.” he said, leaning back in his chair.

But the doctor’s tone on the other end carried no warmth. “Inspector Kalu, there’s a situation here. A possible case of culpable homicide. The victim came in with a stab wound. We did everything we could, but he didn’t make it.”

Kalu sat up instantly. “Where?”

“Saint Patrick’s Hospital, Ojuelegba,” Adeshina replied. “And before you ask—yes, we’ve already treated the patient as required by law. You know the Compulsory Treatment and Care for Victims of Gunshots Act? We had to stabilize him first. But once he passed, we had to call it in.”

Kalu nodded to himself. That law was one of the few things working right in Nigeria’s justice system. It ensured victims got help before bureaucracy got in the way. Still, when someone died from a stab wound, it always led to more questions than answers.

“I’m on my way,” he said, grabbing his car keys.

He was about to leave when one of his junior officers, Corporal Saheed, knocked and poked his head in.
“Sir, we just received a call about some violent fight at J-One Bar. The caller said it’s pretty bad.”

Kalu rubbed his forehead. “You and Moses should handle that. I’m tied up with something else. Make sure you record statements from witnesses before the DPO hears it from social media.”

“Yes, sir.” The corporal saluted.

As Saheed left, Kalu turned off the light in his office and headed out. The night air was thick with the familiar scent of exhaust fumes and frustration. Lagos traffic don't even care if you were a detective or a deity—it will humble you.

It took him over forty minutes to get near Ojuelegba. As he turned into the hospital compound, his headlights caught a familiar figure standing by the walkway, near the parking lot. The young man’s face was hard to miss—Darous, the same young man who had shown up at his office earlier that morning to retract his statement about a certain case.

Darous looked tense, distracted. He wasn’t injured, but his eyes darted about like someone carrying too many pains. His clothes also looked rumpled but that doesn't really mean much.

Kalu frowned. “What’s this guy doing here again?” he muttered under his breath. Still, he brushed it off. Hospitals is a general place—anyone could have a reason to be there.

He parked, locked his car, and headed inside. The emergency ward smelled of antiseptic and fear. Dr. Adeshina met him at the door, still in his white coat.

“Thank God you came,” he said, pulling Kalu aside. “The victim didn’t survive. Knife wound to the abdomen. We tried to stop the bleeding, but…” He shook his head.

“Who brought him in?” Kalu asked.

Adeshina picked up the clipboard from the nurse’s station and flipped through it. “Three young men. One of them filled this form.”

Kalu’s eyes scanned the paper—and froze. Name of contact: Darous Emmanuel.

The detective’s heartbeat quickened. The same boy he’d just seen outside the hospital like minutes ago.

He looked up at Adeshina. “Did they leave any description of the incident?”

“Nothing clear. Just said it was a fight gone wrong.”

Kalu didn’t waste another second. He hurried back to the parking lot, just in time to see Darous mounting a bike and speeding away into the night.

“Perfect,” Kalu muttered, jumping into his car and following from a distance. He kept his headlights low and his siren off. Years of fieldwork had taught him patience was at times more effective than any bullet.

For several streets, he trailed the bike—until traffic showed its ugly head again. A long stretch of danfos, trailers, and impatient drivers blocked the road.

The bike Darous was on weaved between cars and disappeared from sight.

“Damn it!” Kalu slammed the steering wheel.

He waited for seven painful minutes, then decided to trust his instincts. Using the route he guessed the rider would take, he turned off the main road and entered a narrow street lit by yellow bulbs and gutter fires. After a few turns, he caught sight of the same red bike coming back in his direction — but Darous was no longer on it. It had dropped him off.

Kalu slowed down and waved at the bike man as he approached. He asked where he had dropped the young man off. The rider was hesitant at first, eyeing him suspiciously, but when Kalu handed him a thousand-naira note, his tongue loosened. He even offered to lead the detective to the exact spot.

He turned his bike around, and Kalu followed.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the same gate Darous had entered earlier. The bike man left immediately.

The gate was closed. Kalu parked his car beside an opposing fence. Then got out, looked around, then slowly walked up to the gate. The area was quiet, except for faint music drifting from a nearby street.

He was about to knock when he heard voices from inside — one of them was Darous, angry and upset. Kalu froze and leaned closer, straining his ears.
He couldn't pick out much from that distance then his instincts kicked in. He knew there are times you need to break the law to uphold the law. He scanned the perimeter and noticed a low fence by the side. Without a second thought, he climbed over it and landed softly behind what looked like the kitchen area. From there, he crouched close to the window, careful not to make a sound.

He caught snippets of a conversation—Darous talking to someone.

“Get up, I’ll help you,” Darous said.

“You will?” another voice replied—it was a woman’s.

Kalu leaned closer. Darous was giving her instructions—to go and wash up, change into his clothes, head to Mushin garage, and call a number he gave her. Someone would come for her there.

Using his detective sense, he began to connect the dots. The doctor’s report said it was a fight gone wrong—so this woman must be the one who killed the man at the hospital. And now, Darous was helping her run.

Kalu’s jaw tightened. Darous had fallen deep—too deep—into the Circle’s web.

He knew what the law said; he could walk in right now and arrest him for helping a murder suspect, maybe even for obstruction of justice.

But he didn’t move.

Not yet.

Because what he was hearing from Darous didn’t sound like an ordinary promise—it smelled of something bigger… something well planned.

And for Detective Kalu, the name Circle echoed in his head like a cold whisper.
The same group that had slipped through his fingers years ago.
The same people whose sins had pushed his elder brother to take his own life.

He was still processing his thoughts when the front door opened. A woman stepped out quietly, pushed the gate open, and slipped onto the empty street.

Kalu’s instincts kicked in. He decided to follow her. She might lead him straight to what he’d been chasing for years. Darous can wait—especially now that he knew his address, he could always come back.

He followed her on foot, moving as silently as a cat, blending with the shadows. His shoes barely made a sound against the rough pavement. She walked briskly, occasionally glancing over her shoulder.

When she got to a junction, she waved down a bike.

Kalu smiled faintly and flagged another one.

“Oga,” he said to the rider, “follow that red bike, but no let am notice say we dey follow am. I go give you five thousand.”

The bike man’s eyes widened.
“Five thousand? Baba, I fit follow am enter hell fire sef!”

“Just keep it cool,” Kalu warned. “No do like film.”

The rider laughed. “No wahala! Me I fit follow person reach heaven if money dey involve. Abeg hold tight make breeze no carry you.”

And with that, they started trailing her—slowly.

The ride through the road especially that time of the night was cold and almost freezing. Still the bike man kept talking nonstop.

“Officer, abeg, you sure say this woman no be your side chick wey run away?”

Kalu gave him a side-eye. “Just focus.”

The rider chuckled. “Oga calm down nah. I just dey confirm. You no go believe say one woman carry me chase her husband last week—she say make I no rest until we catch am. We follow husband reach one beer palor where he go meet him side-chick. The woman nearly kill the side-chick... Woman matter Na spiritual something ooo!”

Kalu sighed and muttered under his breath, “Just drive your bike, abeg.”

The rider laughed again. “No vex, oga. But if na money like this I dey see money every night, I go soon buy napep!”

After about fifteen minutes, the lady’s bike finally stopped near Mushin garage, beside a closed POS stand.

Kalu quickly signaled his rider to stop at the opposite side. He paid him the promised five thousand.

The man looked at the money and screamed, “Ahhh! Jehovah overdo... If this na dream abeg make I no wake up again oooo” Then he sped off, still shouting joyfully.

Kalu shook his head and crossed the road.

He got closer to where the woman stood, pretending to be focused on his phone. From the corner of his eye, he watched her closely.

His left hand brushed against his pocket, confirming the weight of his pistol.

Whatever she was waiting for, he was ready.


To be continued.

Drop your comments and reactions

Happy Sunday guys.

Episode 17- The Long Night.

Kenny’s face was stone. His eyes were burning. His fists clenched so tight the veins on his arms bulged.
“So Baba T died because of your lie?” Kenny’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“I didn’t plan to kill you before… but for this?” He pointed at Jude, his face twisting. “You have to go. A brother lost his life because of your stupid ajebutter pride?”

So he’d heard everything we’d been saying.
The air in the room suddenly went stiff. Even Saipon and Cobra were silent, their faces unreadable. Both of them looked like they were born in a fight ring — muscles everywhere, black shades on at almost midnight, and that cold grin that tells you they didn’t come to talk. Each held a cutlass that glinted under the weak bulb, and for a second, my living room stopped being a home. It became a war zone.
If you’ve ever watched Spartacus—that episode where Spartacus and Crixus fought Theokoles to the death just so rain could fall in Capua—then you’ll understand what that room felt like. The only difference was, this wasn’t Capua, and there was no Spartacus. It was Darous-us and Jude-us against Kenny-oles, Saipon-oles and Cobra-oles inside my Room-ua.

“If I ever joke about something that offends you, the best thing you can do is talk to me about it,” Kenny said, his voice shaking but cold. “If you don’t like something I’m doing, it’s your right as a friend to tell me. I’d stop… I swear I would. But instead, you chose to play fake—and because of that, my brother is dead.”

He took a slow step forward, eyes locked on Jude.

“Baba T was like my Taiwo came back from the grave,” he continued, voice cracking. “He completed me, man. That brotherly bond I lost since Taiwo died… Baba T brought it back. And now you’ve taken my second Taiwo from me?”

His fists tightened. The veins on his neck stood out.

“There’s no excuse for that. None. Nothing you say can justify it—to me or to anyone with sense.” He took another step, his eyes red now, breathing heavy. “You need to join them.”

Jude’s lips trembled. “Kenny, please—”

“Don’t,” Kenny cut in sharply, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t even try it.”

His hand twitched slightly—like he was one heartbeat away from doing something he couldn’t take back.

Funny how life flips in a heartbeat. Just twelve hours ago, Kenny was our brother, we were sharing jokes and laughs but… now he’s the nightmare standing between us and survival.

When I was younger, the only god I truly believed in was the god of thunder. But over time, after seeing how he let me down when I needed him most, I stopped following him. Still, I can’t lie—there were moments he came through for me so many times I lost count.

Now, with the odds stacked against us, it felt like the perfect moment for a prodigal son to go back home—to my father’s house, the god of thunder. So, in my head, I tried his number. It rang more than four times before one of his workers picked up and told me the god of thunder said they should tell me that the biblical prodigal son did not come back with people chasing him with cutlass to his father's doorstep. They said they will play me win or draw on Thunderbet and if their ticket wins, I can come back and they will accept me with open arms.

I was still thinking about that nonsense response when Kenny's voice cut through my thoughts.

“And the funny thing is this fool." He looked at me, " Is even entertaining this nonsense." he said, his voice carrying venom.

“K…Kenny wait—” I tried to step between them.

He raised a hand. “Darous, I respect you. But if you block my lane tonight, I go erase you too.”

Saipon chuckled. “Alaye, e no go even take one minute. Just gimme the go-ahead.”
Cobra added, “Make we wire am sharp sharp, no need long cap.”

The words hit hard. I could feel the room heating up with tension. Kenny wasn’t joking. His eyes had that deadly glow.

“Kenny, reason am na!” I shouted. “This one no be the way!”

He smirked. “Which way remain? You think say we fit go police station go cry? Or go graveyard beg Baba T spirit make e rest? No brother… the only way now na blood for blood.”

He moved closer to Jude.
“Remember wetin I tell you guys?” he said to his boys, smiling darkly.

Jude took a step back, stuttering. “Kenny, I swear, I no—”
Kenny charged at him.

I reacted first. I stepped between them, hand raised. “Kenny stop! This thing go pass wetin you fit handle!”

He turned that burning eye on me again. “So you dey threaten me? You wan die with am abi?”

That was when Saipon hissed. “Alaye, allow me sort this man. He dey talk too much.”

Kenny lunges forward to grab Jude and just like that — something snapped inside me. I remembered that day at the vault — the first mission with the Circle where I took down a man twice my size just to get a peek at a government vault. It wasn’t luck that saved me that day. It was survival instinct.

So I took my stance. Legs firm, eyes sharp. “Kenny, if una wan fight, make we do am clean. But this night, I no go allow you to kill anyone here. Not in my house.”

Cobra grinned. “You dey talk like you fit take all of us.”

“I don take worse,” I said.

Kenny spat on the floor. “You don run mad, Darous. But no wahala. Make we sort am na.... ”

Then, without warning, Saipon swung his cutlass straight at me. I dodged fast — the blade sliced the air right above my head and hit the wall with a loud clang!

Before he could raise it again, I rushed in and drove my elbow deep into his ribs. He groaned, stumbled backward, clutching his side.

Cobra came next, charging like a bull, cutlass raised high. I sidestepped and grabbed his arm, twisting it hard. The cutlass flew from his hand and before he could react, I pushed him forward — straight into my center table. The wood broke apart like biscuit under his weight.

For a short moment, it looked like I had everything under control.

Then Kenny’s voice tore through the air.
“Match am!”

Before I could even think, the lights went off. Total darkness.

My heart froze. NEPA no fail me like this na, I thought. Then, out of nowhere, I heard movement — fast footsteps, a body brushing past me, the door creaking open, then slamming shut.

“Jude!” I shouted into the dark. No answer.

A few seconds later, the light was back on— weak and buzzing.

And Jude was gone.

The front door hung half-open. My stomach sank. He’d killed the power and escaped — leaving me behind with three angry men and two cutlasses.

Kenny’s eyes met mine. His nostrils flared.
“So na like this una wan play am, abi?”

Before I could talk, Cobra grabbed me from behind, locking my arms tight. Saipon stepped in, his face full of rage, and drove his knee into my stomach. The air left my chest in one hard gasp.

They threw me to the floor like a bag of sand. My side hit the broken table. Pain shot through my ribs.

Saipon dropped his cutlass, pulled out a rope — the same rope they had brought for Jude — and began tying my hands behind my back.

Kenny paced slowly, breathing hard but calm again. And that calm was worse than his anger.

“You know say I like you, Darous,” he said quietly. “But you disappoint me. You betray the brotherhood.”

“I didn’t—”

SLAP!

The sound echoed in the room. My lip split open.

Cobra kicked my leg. Saipon hit my back with something heavy — maybe the broken table leg.

I spat blood, my vision spinning.

Kenny stopped pacing and looked around the room. His eyes narrowed.
“Wait… wetin go make me believe say Cynthia sef no dey this house? She dey here, abi?”

I kept quiet. My throat was dry.

“Cynthiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he suddenly screamed, his voice echoing through the whole house like a madman calling a ghost.

Then he started searching — tearing through the place like a man possessed.

He stormed into the kitchen first, flung the cupboard open, then came out again still shouting, “Cynthia! Cynthia where you dey hide?”

He barged into the bedroom next. I could hear drawers opening, things falling, hangers clattering on the floor. Then silence for a few seconds — before his footsteps returned.

Finally, he reached the bathroom.

The door creaked open.

And then I heard his voice — dark, low, full of venom.
“This cloth… na Cynthia cloth na?”

The whole place went dead quiet after that.
Even Cobra and Saipon stopped breathing for a second.

My eyes shut tight. Cynthia’s clothes. The same ones she wore to the bar and had dropped inside my bathroom after she took a quick shower.

Kenny stepped out slowly, holding the blouse between two fingers. His jaw tightened. “You hide her. You helped her escape.”

He paced around the room for some minutes as if he was deciding on what to do to me. Then he turned to his boys. “Beat am. Beat am till him spirit comot from him body, but no use matchet.”

The next few seconds were hell.

Cobra’s fist landed on my jaw. Saipon kicked me in the ribs. Another blow to my head. My body screamed but my mouth refused to. I just lay there, blood dripping, mind spinning.

Kenny leaned close. “Where is she?”

I spat blood. “I don’t know.”

He laughed — one long, mad laugh. “You dey loyal to a pvssy? A murderer? You forget say Baba T call you brother? You want to betray his memory by hiding that b*tch?”

He kicked me in the side. I coughed, pain flashing through my chest.

He raised his hand. “You see this cloth?” he said, waving Cynthia’s stained blouse. “This na the proof say you don betray your own blood. You no be brother again.”

My throat was dry. I couldn’t even form a sound. My eyes were swollen, half-shut, and everything around me had become a tunnel of pain and noise.

Then my main phone on the sofa buzzed. Right at the edge where Saipon was standing. He picked it up like a man checking a trophy and flashed the screen at Kenny.

“My second number,” he read loud, slow. “Who could be calling you with your second number?"

Kenny’s face changed from anger to a smile that had no warmth. He took the phone, thumbed the screen and put it to his ear.

On the other end, Cynthia’s voice broke like a small thing trying to hold a storm.

“Hello? Darous? Please… I know you said I shouldn't call you—” Her breath came fast. “ But I’ve been here for more than thirty minutes. I can’t find the driver. If you can help me call that man again please.”

The sound of raised voices in the background came through the line — "Iyana Ipaja, Iyana Ipaja... Oshodi, Oshodi..." Thick voice of a conductor filled the background. Kenny cut the call and gave the phone to Saipon.

He then let out a very loud laugh. A deep, slow laugh that rattled the floorboards. It was the laugh of a man who had closed his mind to mercy.

“Not only did you give her your phone, you even helped her arrange how to escape...You told her not to call you again,” he mocked into the phone, loud enough for everyone to hear.”

Kenny looked at Saipon. “Bring the phone here,” he said. Saipon handed it over to him.

Then I watched as Kenny pressed my thumb on the screen to unlock it. He scrolled through and called my second line—the one I’d given Cynthia when she left. She picked up right away and started talking, not even checking who was on the other end.

Kenny put the phone close to my face, so my own ears could hear what Cynthia was saying.

Cynthia on the line begged again. “Please. You said I should wait at this place...I've been here more than thirty minutes. The number you gave me is not responding. It's freezing here. Please, Darous—”

My mouth tasted of blood. I tried to get the words out. I tried to tell her to run, but my voice was too weak.

“Kenny!” I tried to shout, but the words couldn't form and when they eventually did, they came out weak. “Don’t… don’t touch her.”

Saipon muttered, “Boss, we can go pick her now. Make we finish everything once and for all.”

Cobra spat. “Once we catch her, we go find her boyfriend. No one go escape.”

Kenny looked at the phone again, thinking. I saw the cold calculation in his eyes. For a second, something like pity flickered across his face — but it died before it could grow.

"Abi make we finish this one first?" Cobra voiced out, pointing the Cutlass at me.

Kenny shook his head slowly. “No. Let him live. So he go feel the pain of betrayal. Make him see wetin go sup to the people wey him dey protect.”

Then he bent down, close to my ear. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“And better pray I find that b*tch at that Mushin garage. If not, the next time you hear a knock on your door, better pray say na Jehovah Witness and not me.”

He stood, turned to his boys. “Let’s go. The hunt just start. Lets find that b*tch.”

They walked out.

The door slammed.
The house felt colder after the slam, like the walls were waiting.

Now alone, fear gripped me hard. I wanted to shout after them, to beg them to stop. I wanted to grab my phone and call Cynthia, tell her where to hide. But Kenny had taken my phone… and my mouth was filled with blood.

I shut my eyes for a moment and reached out to the god of thunder again—not for myself this time, but for Cynthia. I begged him to protect her from Kenny’s claws that night. But the worker who picked the call said they’d lost big money because of me—the bet they placed on me to win the fight had failed. I didn’t even know whether to pity them or be glad they lost.

Outside, in the distance, a motorbike engine started. It sounded like a drum of doom.

Then silence.

I lay there, bleeding, breath shallow. My whole body felt like one giant bruise and all I could think of was one thing — if they find Cynthia before Chuka’s men do, she’s dead.

And maybe… so am I.

******

Damilgodwin:
in gheghe voice, gbim sizes na the one wae don scatter oo😁😁😁

😀😀

PrinceOFprince:
This man don take over again. This talented writer is back. After four years, the writing has immensely increased. The touch is more magical. Baba I doff my 🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠 you be living legend. This space is lucky to have you boss. Every episode Na banga. Like someone said. It's a rollercoaster of emotions. You first give us laff then later crying. An adult like me see as I dey cry. The Baba T demise pain me o. I feel am. I swear to God. But nothing spoil. Ride on my man. Make that Cynthia sha pay at the end of it all. That's my wish. Respect boss

The prince, I'm in support o. Cynthia must pay. Darous no even get sense for letting her leave....

Damilgodwin:
Oko Loko je 😂😂😂😂, but no be for gbim sizes oo 😁😁

which be gbim size

Damilgodwin:
Boss I am actually learning from this your master piece 😭😭

we are all learning my bro.. it's not easy. I'm praying for Jude ooo. Make God help am. Imagine what brought about this whole situation? If only he had found the courage to keep his mouth shut. I don dey suspect him since the time him and Kenny woke Darous up and begin to tell him how Toyosi was a bad girl and all sorts. I know real men don't really kiss and tell. He was only using that to cover up. But it's not supposed to be so. Ati 2 inches, ati 10 inches, Oko Loko nje.

Let's pray for him jare my bro... 😂😂😂

Let's meet on the next page for episode 17 and 18.
It's left to you how fast you want the story to roll out. I've kept my own end of the bargain.



Episode 16 — Ashes of Friendship

For a moment my brain refused to connect the dots. How? How did she get in? Then I remembered — the spare key. The one I always tucked behind the kitchen window, just around the corner. She knew about it. I had told her about it during one of our usual talks.

Her white blouse was soaked with brownish-red stains, and her blue bum shorts looked like she’d rolled on a battlefield. She was still in the same clothes from the bar. The same hands that had once held the knife now rested on her knees, trembling.

My chest tightened with anger. My head buzzed. After everything at the hospital, here she was — alive. Free. Waiting.

I didn’t know what to do. Call the police? Attack her? This was our Cynthia. The same woman who had cooked and laughed with us. Who had stayed late nights in that joint with us. When Jude’s love with her got serious, I was the one who advised him to stop bringing her to the joint. She had taken it hard at first, but eventually she stopped.

She had been our woman. The one who fed us when we were broke. The one who nursed me more than Jude did the night after I tried to take my life. She wasn’t even living with Jude back then, but she still came to my side. She brought me back from the edge.

But she had killed someone. No matter how we twisted it, Baba T was gone because of her. The thought of Baba T being dead suddenly hit me again like a fresh wound. Maybe I had been in denial since leaving the hospital, but now the reality cracked my chest open.

I dropped to my knees and began to weep bitterly.

“Baba T… Baba T…” my voice shook.

Cynthia stood slowly, walking toward me with careful steps. Her face was wet with tears. She knelt beside me.

“Please… please, I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking like broken glass. “I don’t even know how it happened. God knows I didn’t want to… it was like my head just turned. I regret it. I regret everything.”

She started sobbing, holding her stomach like she was holding herself together.

I looked at her, my tears still falling. “Cynthia… why? Why you go do us like this?”

She wiped her face with trembling fingers. “You think I planned it? You think I wanted to kill Baba T? No… no. I lost everything. Two months ago I did an abortion for Jude. The doctor warned me — said it may cost me my womb. But Jude begged me. Promised me forever. Promised me I was his one and only. I did it. And it cost me. I can’t have children again. My life… my womanhood… gone. All because I trusted him. Eight years of relationship gone.”

She gripped my arm, her nails digging in. “And then… I heard him at that bar talking about Toyosi. Talking about how she’s the next best thing. After everything. After my womb. After my blood. I don’t know what came over me. I swear to God I don’t mean… to.”
Her tears fell on my shirt. My anger started to melt into something else — pity. Deep pity.

“I can’t go home,” she whispered. “I don’t know what Jude or his friends will do to me. Please… help me.”
She kept begging for what felt like ten minutes, sobbing so hard she could barely speak.

I wiped my face and asked, “How did you even escape from the bar?”

She sniffed and sat back on her heels. “Those two drunk idiots that tried to pin me down? I overpowered them before the police came. Someone was already calling them, but I ran. You think I was joking when I said I learned karate?”

I just stared at her. She wasn’t joking. She had always bragged about that karate class.

I felt real sorry for her. But at the same time, helping her would be like betraying my friends — betraying Baba T’s memory. My stomach churned. She kept begging, knees pressed to the floor, tears cutting clean tracks down her face. I was still on my knees beside her, my own eyes wet. The room felt small and noisy and far away all at once.

Then my phone buzzed. Kenny’s name lit the screen. I lifted it without hesitation. I had planned to call him once I got home but the situation I met had taken my mind off it.
I put the phone to my ear.

“Kenny?” I said.

He sounded different — soft at first, but there was an edge under it. “I just went to Jude's house. No sign of him. Even that b*tch Cynthia no dey there too,” he said. He tried to make his voice easy, casual, like he wasn't hurting. But it didn’t work on me. I saw through the façade.

The memory of what Kenny did at the hospital hit me right there — how he’d nearly strangled Jude, throwing words like knives, blaming him for Baba T's death.

“Why you dey look for Jude?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“To make sure he's okay na. Trust me. I can't lose another friend this night. It will crush me totally,” Kenny said.

"But K, if there's anyone we need to be worried about right now, it's you..." I told him.

"Me? Darous, you are very funny. You underestimate the strength of Twins. If I can survive the loss of my Taiwo on the day we clock fourteen, then Baba T's death na small thing. And you know me na, one paracetamol like this and I go even forget who be Baba T.” He laughed.

I’m too old to be fooled by that. I know Kenny. So I told him I didn’t know where Jude was.

"You sure?" he blurted out.

"Yes. I got home like twenty minutes ago and I never rest since. I'm mentally drained," I stressed.

"Okay." He said. I was about to hit the red icon when I heard him talk. He must have forgotten the call was still on. He muttered — low but ugly. “If I catch any of them… if I catch that b*tch or Jude… it’s over for them.” The words slipped out like a blade.

Two other voices answered him. I heard them say I was lying. That I knew more than I said. Their tone was accusing and angry. My hands tightened around the phone.

I hit Jude’s number quick. Switched off.
I looked at Cynthia. Her hands were trembling inside mine. She kept begging, her eyes red and full of tears, asking me to be the good man in a bad night. Kenny’s words kept echoing in my head. I knew that tone — that calm way he talks before he does something crazy. People think Kenny is just the funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but I’ve seen the other side. It's as dangerous as anything you can think of. It was the night a drunk man slapped one of the bar girls because the girl was late to attend to him. Kenny switched like lightning. One second he was joking with us, the next, he was on the man, beating him till people had to drag him off. That night, I saw what he could do when his other side was on full mode. I didn’t want to see it again.

But still, helping her would make me a traitor to my friends. Letting her be found by Kenny would make me an accomplice to her death. I know what you’re thinking — I should just hand her to the police, right? But clearly, you don’t know Kenny. When that guy is on revenge mode, he stops being human. If I hand her over, he will make sure she joined our friend on that same one-way flight to the ground below.

There was no clean choice. Only messy ones with blood and shame on all of them.

I swallowed. My throat felt thick. I thought of how the boys would call me a coward. I thought of how the world would call me a monster for helping someone who stabbed our friend.

But in that moment, with Cynthia sobbing and Kenny’s words still in my ear, the choice felt simple in a way: if I didn’t move now, she would die. If I move, I’ll carry another kind of weight.

I stayed on my knees for one more second. Then I stood, wiped my face, and looked at Cynthia. I have to help her. I decided.

The only person I knew who could take this kind of problem away right now was Chuka.

I picked up my phone and called him.

He answered with his usual cold voice. “Hello.”

I explained everything. Every single thing that happened that day starting from the joint.

He listened quietly. Then he said, “You are one of us now. A Circle member. We always rescue our own. This is how it works.”

He gave me instructions. “Tell Cynthia to be at Mushin garage in thirty minutes. A car will be waiting. I’ll send you the driver’s number. Give her a phone to reach him.”

I lowered the phone. My hands were shaking. The decision had been made. No turning back.

I looked at Cynthia. “Get up,” I said softly. “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widened. “You will?”

I slid open the center-table drawer and pulled out an old Nokia.
“Take this,” I said, pushing the phone into her hand. “Go wash up, grab any of my clothes that fit you, and take this.” I pressed two thousand naira into her palm. “Walk to Mushin garage and call this number.” I leaned in, voice low. “One condition — don’t ever call me again.”

She nodded quickly, tears dripping down her chin. “Thank you. God bless you. Thank you…”

She went into my bathroom and took a quick shower.

When she came out, she was wrapped in one of my towels. She went into the room where my wardrobe was, picked a polo and baggy jeans. She put on my cap.

When she stepped out again, she didn’t look like the same woman anymore. She looked like a stranger.

I stared at her. My heart was heavy. My hands were dirty. Baba T was dead. Cynthia was about to disappear. And me? I had just crossed a line I could never uncross.

The door clicked shut behind Cynthia. The room still carried the faint scent of her soap from the quick shower. I sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at nothing. My head became a hurricane of thoughts.

Then five minutes later — BANG! BANG! BANG!

A loud knock rattled the door.

I froze. My first thought was Cynthia forgot something. But that didn’t make sense. She didn’t even have a bag.

I stood up slowly, my chest tight, and walked to the door.

When I opened it, the sight before me wasn’t Cynthia.

It was Kenny.

He looked nothing like the Kenny I knew. His eyes were red, not from tears but from a fire burning behind them. His jaw was stiff. His fists were clenched.

“Where’s Jude?” he asked flatly, his voice a low growl. “I know you are lying. You know where he is.”

“I…I haven’t seen him since we left the hospital,” I said, trying to sound calm.

"What of Cynthia?"
He stared at me, unmoving.

" How am I supposed to know where she is when we both left her at the bar......"

His eyes scanned my face, searching for lies.

“You’re lying,” he said.

“I’m not, Kenny.”

For a moment, silence filled the doorway. His breathing was rough.

“I will avenge Baba T,” he said at last. “Even if it destroys me.”

I stepped forward. “Kenny, listen to me—an eye for an eye only makes the world go blind.”

He gave a strange little laugh — dark and bitter. “And do you know why we call some people blind? Because we can see. If everyone is blind, nobody will know who is blind.”

His words disturbed me.

“But why are you looking for Jude?” I asked quietly. “You nearly killed him at the hospital and now you are searching for him by this time of the night?”

“It’s not Jude I’m after, Darous,” Kenny snapped. “It’s that b***h he calls his girlfriend — the one who took Baba T from us. But if I don’t find her, Jude will pay. One way or another.”

Before I could speak again, he turned and stormed off into the night.

I shut the door and leaned against it, my knees weak. My mind began replaying the day: the police station, Baba T’s blood, Kenny’s scream, Cynthia’s tears. Now Kenny was hunting Jude.

No writer could script this day like this. Not even Theblessedman. Adigun Idowu, Darousmart, Darous Emmanuel or whatever shangoistic name he calls himself. Dem never born am well.

I dropped onto the sofa, my face in my hands. I was lost in thought, weighing what would happen to me if anyone ever found out I helped Cynthia escape from justice. I'm not so different from the Circle. Just a few weeks with them and I'm starting to behave like the owner of that dreadful network? How did I become this person? I muttered to myself.

It was just one thousand minus nine hundred and ninety-eight minutes to midnight when another knock landed on my door. In simpler un-mathematical terms, it was two minutes to midnight.

This time the knock was sharper, faster and heavier.

I jumped up, my heart pounding. I swung the door open.

It was Jude.

He stumbled inside like a man running from ghosts. His shirt was damp with sweat, his eyes wide and darting.

“Darous,” he gasped, “I reached house, I no see Cynthia. She don disappear. Kenny came with two guys looking for me. This wahala is too much, all because of that useless Toyosi—”

GBAM!

My palm landed across his face before I could even think.

He staggered back, stunned.

“Why did you slap me?” he asked, his voice trembling. He probably contemplated taking me on but he knew he was no match for me. He couldn't handle Kenny, not to talk of me.

“You dey craze? You want to blame someone else for your mess!” I shouted. “You slept with Toyosi, you used her to destroy another woman’s life, and because of you our friend is dead! Gone forever!”

I could feel my chest heaving as I spoke. My words echoed off the walls. Jude stared at me like a cornered animal.

"If you had just kept your mouth shut instead of bragging about how you fck her, none of this would have happened and Baba T would still be alive. You this bastard!" I roared.

Then, suddenly, he snapped.

“I didn’t even sleep with her!” he cried. His voice cracked. “She never allowed it. She only let me in because she said I looked like someone who had a bigger penis. But when she saw my penis, she almost pushed me outside. She made me sleep on the floor that night!”

My mouth fell open. For more than thirty seconds, I was unable to utter a single word. I was totally dumbstruck.

“Then why did you lie?” I finally said.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Because I didn’t want Kenny to laugh at me. You know how he is. He makes mockery of everything. Remember when I said the first time I had sex was when I clocked twenty-two. You remember how he taunted me for over two months... Making me feel less of myself.” He cleared the tears on his face with the back of his palms. "You remember the day after the party at your client's place. How he even asked Toyosi how our night went...you remember don't you?"

What Kenny said at the dinner table with Mrs Adeoye kept replaying in my head — and Toyosi’s response too. Her words echoed clearly: “It was educational. I learned how to dodge some challenges.”

I stared at Jude. “Then why did you keep shouting about her? Why make us believe you wanted her?”

“It was just ruggedy,” he said between sobs. “I only said that so you guys wouldn’t suspect anything. You know me — I can’t stand mockery for two days, not to talk of two months. Even when I asked you to help me get her number, remember how Kenny mocked me? He said the only thing I carried from the night with Toyosi, after sleeping with her, was the bedframe. Now imagine what he would’ve done if he knew I actually slept on the floor while she had the bed to herself.”

I almost laughed — a bitter, broken laugh.

“I’ve been nursing that ego wound since that night with Toyosi,” he said quietly. “Since then, I couldn’t even get my penis up for Cynthia. I didn’t want her to notice anything, so I started keeping my distance… but now she thinks I’m trying to dump her.”

My mind started processing everything slowly—each memory slicing through me like a blade. This whole mess… it was all my fault. I was the one who dragged everyone into this madness. One stupid interview that I did for these people, and then that party I insisted we all attend. They followed me—blindly and faithfully—like goats to the slaughterhouse, because of our friendship. If only I had left them out of it and gone with just Tiffany and Toyosi, maybe Baba T would still be alive. Maybe everything wouldn’t be this broken.

Now the bond that once held us together is gone. Kenny is out there, scouring every corner of the city for Jude. Cynthia—Jude’s own girlfriend—is on the run for her life because of the chain of decisions I set in motion.

And Jude… he just sat there, broken, weeping like a child, muttering the same words again and again through tears and snot,
“I didn’t even sleep with her… I didn’t even sleep with her… I didn’t…”

I bent low, trying to calm Jude down, searching for words that could maybe pull him back from that dark place. But before I could even open my mouth, the door burst open with a violent bang.

Kenny stood there.

And behind him—two shadows. Saipon and Cobra. Street men everyone in the area knew too well. The kind you don’t want to owe, the kind you don’t want to cross. Both of them stood tall and cold, each gripping a cutlass that caught the faint light in the room, gleaming like death itself.

To be continued.

dawno2008:
Kai, TBM nor you be you again?, walahi you too good,what a ride,you really did a big one on me from smiling like mumu to squeezing face like say I wan mess for public 😂
From sharing laughers and strong bond to crying and wailing within a twinkle of eye😔, TBM you are really a gifted writer,do knows how to carry readers along, seriously you really know how to handle my mumu button,😂😂😂

I love the chemistry or biology between Darous and Tiffany, typical classic true love story,though this genZ generation fit nor fit understand , and for det Kalu,make senior man no go jeopardize Darous passive income ooo😂😂😂,(who no like money nau)🤗
Baba I dey ya back like hunchback, anywhere you go ,I follow 💯😂,like mtn👏,shey make we still dey expect another update today ni,🤔
TBM you to much🍺.
And for Cynthia,I nor dey take nonsense,she allowed anger control her, she's a weak dick loving slowpoke😏,make dem open kirikiri gate for her joor😔

😂😂😂 The next update is ready, boss. I’ll be dropping it soon. Just tired of always having to split long episodes into two before posting — it’s really exhausting.

When naira land literature section was still alive...

Abdulreheem:
Police never arrest people’s for this case ?

I wonder too jare. With all the chaos happening in that environment, no one has been arrested yet.... The police can do better...

Meedon:
Cynthia needs to be arrested. Who send am go do abortions for Jude. She should be sentence to life imprisonment

abi o. Who send her?

Damilgodwin:
Hmmm, e b like say I get anti-dote ooo😁😁, no worries. Kill them, I go use Tiffany beauty for the waking up process 😁😁

Oya Na. Let's see how it goes.... 😂😂😂😂

Meedon:
We are now in page 5

done my boss. I stayed all night cooking this. I hope it's worth it.

Continuation of episode 15.


The doctor came out of the emergency unit after more than an hour. His eyes told the story before his mouth even opened.
We rushed toward him the moment we saw the white coat.

“I’m sorry. He lost too much blood. The knife tore through his stomach badly. We tried… but we...we lost him.”

The words hit us hard.
Kenny dropped to the ground, tears pouring down his face uncontrollably. Jude buried his face in his hands, shaking all over. My chest felt like it was on fire. Our friend, our brother, Baba T… he was gone.

Still trying to accept what had happened, the nurse led us down the narrow corridor. My legs felt heavy, like they were made of cement. Every step felt so slow. No one said a word. Only Kenny’s silent sobs broke the quiet.

Then the nurse pushed open the door.

There he was.

Baba T.

Lying on the bed. Still. Quiet. Lifeless.

The hospital sheet covered him up to his chest, but even in death, his round belly pushed the fabric up, like he was still reminding us of who he was.

Our Baba T. Our brother. Our friend, now gone, unable to move again. His strong hands, never to lift again.

My chest burned as I stared. Just hours ago, that same belly was bouncing as he laughed at Kenny’s foolish jokes. Just hours ago, he was raising his glass, spilling beer as he shouted, “To life, my guys!” And now… life had left him.

Baba T loved Arsenal with all his heart. He could argue about them for hours, never backing down. It was more than a team to him — it was part of who he was.

Now he lay still on that bed. His hands, once raised in joy, were silent. His voice, that fierce cheer, gone. I looked at him and felt my heart break. The man who loved us so much was gone, and I wondered if he knew how much he was loved — how much his passion had meant to all of us.

Kenny broke down first. His cry tore through the room, raw and ugly. He stumbled forward, gripping the edge of the bed. His tears poured like a broken tap.
“No, no, no… Baba no do us like this. No leave us, abeg. We just dey laugh together. You no fit just turn log of wood like this. Baba, talk nah!”

Jude sat in the corner, his head in his hands, trembling like a leaf. I leaned against the wall, my eyes aching. Tears started to fall, slow and heavy.

It hit me then — hours ago, four of us were joking at the bar, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. And now, only three of us were crying like children at the foot of a hospital bed, staring at the lifeless body of the fourth. The holy book was clear — the gap between life and death is so small, just a split second.

Kenny’s voice cracked again, shouting into the silence.
“That man na my brother! My only brother for this world! You know how many nights me and Baba dey share one plate of garri? When I no get where to lay my head, na him carry me. When life wan crush me, na Baba hold me steady. Who else I get for this city? WHO?!”

His voice shattered me. I covered my eyes, but tears still leaked through. You know like every friendship circle that consist of more than three or more people. There are always the ones who are closer to each other than to the rest of the group. When you don't see one of you on time, you always know who to ask from that same circle where he his. That was Kenny and Baba T just like what Jude was to me also.

I stared at Baba T’s face. His lips pale, his eyes closed, his chest still. The same mouth that used to throw endless jokes and argue like his life depends on it. The same chest that carried so much laughter for us. Gone just like that.

Baba T was older than all of us. The “senior man” of our circle. But he never pulled rank. He treated us as equals, as brothers. He had no family but us.

He was an orphan. A widower. A man who lost his wife to breast cancer. That was how he got engaged to bottles of beer. That bar where he fell tonight… that was his second home.
You see let me tell you, behind every drunk man you see in a bar, there’s always a story. Baba T’s story was his wife’s death. He never truly recovered from her loss.

And despite his scars, he gave us joy.
We used to mock his belly all the time. Kenny would slap it from behind and say, “Baba, this your belle deserve its own zip code.” Jude would sometimes rest his head on it like a pillow when he got too drunk to stand. Me? I’d laugh and say, “Baba T, I know one day, the Hubble space telescope will eventually locate another planet inside that your belly?”

He never got angry. He would just chuckle, rub it with pride, and say, “Una go die young, all of una.” Then he’d buy us another round.

But now… who would buy us that round again? Who would laugh the loudest? Who would take the jokes?

The weight crushed me. I walked to the bed, touched his cold hand, and whispered,
“Baba, why you take this knife for us? Why do you have to chest everything for us? We are lost without you..... ” My tears dropped on his skin. For the first time in years, I cried uncontrollably.


Kenny slammed his fist against the bedframe, trembling with grief.
“This man held us together! He was the glue of this circle! Without Baba, we’ll fall apart. You hear me? We’ve don dey break apart. Who will settle our fights? Who will make us laugh? Baba, please, wake up!”

His words echoed through the ward like thunder. Nurses peeked inside the door, then quietly left us alone with our pain.

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, lost in grief. Then, suddenly, Kenny snapped. His sorrow turned to anger. He spun around sharply and looked straight at Jude.

“You!” he roared, his voice shaking the walls. “Na you kill am! Na you cause all this! If no be your yeye cheating, Baba for dey alive today!”

Before I could move, Kenny charged at Jude. He slammed Jude to the ground with the strength of a madman, his fists raining down.
“You thief my brother from me! God punish you!”

Jude screamed, struggling, but Kenny’s madness was stronger. His blows landed without mercy. Then, like a wild dog, Kenny bent low and sank his teeth deep into Jude’s arm. Blood spurted. Jude howled in pain.

I rushed, grabbing Kenny’s arms, pulling him back with all my strength.
“Kenny stop! Stop! This one no go bring Baba back!” I shouted, but he fought me like a man possessed.

Even as I dragged him off, Kenny twisted his body and sank his teeth deeper before finally letting go. Jude rolled to the corner, clutching his bleeding arm, gasping.

Kenny stood in the middle of the ward, shaking, his face wet with tears, his voice broken.
“My life don spoil! My brother don die! Baba suppose grow old with us, dey gist, dey drink. Now coffin go carry am! Tell me how I go live with this pain? Tell me how I go laugh again without my Baba?!”

The room was filled with our cries.
Three broken men.
One silent body on the bed.

And right there, I knew it —
Our circle was broken forever.

Life had just divided us into two: the days when Baba T was alive… and every day after this one.

The ward eventually quieted down after Kenny’s outburst. He was still sobbing, his face swollen with tears and anger. Jude sat on the floor, holding his arm where Kenny’s teeth had sunk deep, blood staining his shirt.

Later that night, we filled out the hospital forms, answered the doctor’s questions, and gave Baba T’s details as best as we could. Kenny managed to tell the doctor his full name — Babatunde Omitunde — the name that gave rise to the nickname, Baba T

By the time I stepped out of the hospital, the night had fallen heavy. The city noise felt far away. My shirt was wet with tears and sweat, but my heart was heavier than all of it.

When I finally got to the entrance of my compound, I pushed the gate weakly, climbed the front door stairs slowly, and reached my door. I slotted the key, twisted, and entered.

The sitting room was dark. I flicked the switch and froze.

She was there.
Cynthia. Sitting on my couch, her eyes full of pity. She was still in the same blood‑stained clothes from the bar, the ones she wore when she stabbed Baba T.


To be continued.

Your reactions matters. Drop comments on your thoughts. Can we even justify Cynthia's actions?

Like I said, each page will now consist of 2 episodes. How fast we move on this story now largely depends on your reactions. I'll try my best to keep my own end of the bargain. I hope you do yours. Fill the pages with likes and comments. They are fuel. I'm telling you.
Happy weekend guys.


Episode 15 – Beginning of the End

The whole bar froze. Nobody made a sound. Even the music playing from the small speaker at the corner suddenly sounded too loud.

Cynthia’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Answer me!" she thundered. "Toyosi is her name? The girl you’ve been cheating on me with, Jude?”

She began walking towards us, slow, steady, each step heavier than the last. The knife in her right hand caught the dim light, flashing like it was alive. Her eyes—two burning flames—were fixed only on Jude.

Kenny, ever the clown, tried to force a joke.
“Ah ah, Cynthia, calm down nah. You don dey watch too much African Magic. Na film you dey act?”

We almost sighed in relief—almost. Until Cynthia laughed.

It wasn’t a laugh of someone amused. It was sharp, cold, and short, the kind of laugh that makes your blood crawl. Suddenly, every single one of us went stiff. Even Kenny swallowed hard, his smile dying on his lips.

“You… Kenny,” she hissed, her voice shaking with fury. “You want to use this to catch cruise? You think this is a joke?”

Before anyone could answer, she snatched up an empty beer bottle from a nearby table. The sound of glass exploding on the tiled floor made all of us jump like school kids caught stealing meat from the pot. Our hearts pounded; the air in the room turned heavy.

“Does that look like I’m here to joke?” she screamed. Her chest was rising and falling as if her lungs were on fire. “I’ve been standing there." She pointed at the window close to where we sat. "for the past five minutes… listening to all of you.”

Nobody dared move. Nobody dared speak. The rage in her eyes wasn’t normal—it was wild, something words could never fully capture.

She raised the broken neck of the bottle in one hand, the knife still in the other. Our skin prickled with goosebumps.
The whole bar had already scattered. Customers ran out, chairs fell, bottles rolled on the floor.
But we were pinned. That corner of the bar was where we always sat, And now, there was no way out. We couldn’t even try the window—iron burglary proof was right there.

“You see…” she continued, her voice lower now, but sharper. “If you want to catch a man spilling his secret, just follow him to the midst of his friends when they are drinking. One drink and he will start telling you all his life secrets.”

At that moment, none of us could breathe. Our throats were dry. Every time she moved, every sound she made, the room shook with tension. And all our eyes—every single one—turned to Jude..

I raised my hands slowly. “Cynthia, abeg calm down. We fit talk this thing.”

She snapped at me like thunder.

“Don’t you dare open your mouth!” she screamed. “You knew!. You knew what he was doing, and you said nothing. You covered for him.”

I stepped back quickly. The rage in her eyes made my chest tighten.

“Do you know he hasn’t touched me for over a week?” she shouted. “Do you!?”
I shook my head.

“With that thing between his legs, he still had the guts to use it on another woman?” Her voice cracked, but her anger only grew stronger.

“Do you know how many abortions I’ve done for this b**stard? My parents keep asking when I’ll bring home my fiancé, and each time I bring it up, he waves me off. Do you know what that means for a woman?”

Her words came like hot iron on bare skin.

“I’m thirty-four. No husband. No child. Eight years of my life… wasted!” Tears rolled down her face, but her grip on the knife didn’t weaken. “And now he wants to dump me for another woman.”

Jude tried to step forward, voice shaking. “Cynthia, please, calm down. Let’s talk at home—”

“Home?!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “Today, Jude, you will leave this earth!”

She raised the knife higher, her other hand still clutching the broken bottle. “Whoever tries to stop me will follow him. I don’t care anymore. I’m ready to die today — but I promise you, Jude will not live a second longer than me.”

The whole room froze. Jude’s back pressed against the wall, sweat dripping down his face. Kenny’s usual funny smile had disappeared — he was trembling. Baba T’s jaw dropped; he looked like he had seen a ghost.

Me? My legs felt weak, my palms sweaty, but I forced myself to stay calm, to find a way to stop her.
But Cynthia wasn’t blinking. Her rage had swallowed her whole.
I just stood there, shocked. This wasn’t the Cynthia I knew. The Cynthia I knew was soft, quiet, the kind of woman who always swallowed her words and always begged Jude even when he was clearly at fault. I had seen her cry for his forgiveness more times than I could count. But the woman standing in front of me now, with a knife in one hand and a broken bottle in the other, was a stranger.
If I could put her appearance into the perspective of someone you know, it would be that of Taraji P. Henson. Cynthia, standing there, was almost a perfect replica of that emotional scene with Taraji in Tyler Perry’s Straw—the very scene that brought tears to the eyes of nearly everyone who watched it.

It was as if all the years of pain had finally boiled over, and I couldn’t tell whether to pity Cynthia or fear her.

Then Baba T stepped forward.

He wasn’t shouting. His voice was low, steady, almost fatherly.
“Cynthia… listen to me.”

She glared at him, but he didn’t flinch.
“I’m not here to judge you. I hear your pain, I see it. But think about what you’re holding in your hands. Think about what you’re about to do. There’s no coming back once you cross that bridge.”

Her breathing was heavy, her hands shaking. “Baba, forget it. I’ve crossed a lot of bridges for this fool many times. This thing is too much. All of you can’t understand what I’m going through right now. Today is the last day for him.”

But Baba T took another step, palms open, his voice softer.
“I know betrayal hurts. I know what it’s like to lose everything. But you’re still alive, Cynthia. You still have tomorrow. Don’t throw it away because of one man. Don’t let this pain turn you into somebody you’re not.”

His words hung in the air. Even Kenny’s eyes blinked fast, hearing him talk.

But Cynthia’s eyes were burning. She snapped at him.
“Baba T, shift! This one no concern you! If you talk again sef, I go forget Jude and follow you join!”

He sighed, still calm. “It concerns all of us, Cynthia. Because when you do something like this, it won’t just be Jude you destroy. You’ll destroy yourself too. I beg you, hand me the knife and the bottle, please. Let’s talk.”

For a moment, her eyes flickered — something almost like doubt — but then her jaw tightened.
“No! Today is the end for this fool!”

Then it happened.

Cynthia charged toward Jude, the knife gleaming under the dim bar light as she rushed at him.

Before I could move to stop her, Baba T stepped in front of Jude.


The blade sank into his stomach.

The whole place froze.

Baba T’s eyes widened. He staggered back, staring down at the knife buried in his belly. Blood spilled like water from a broken sachet.

“Oh god of thunder!” I shouted, rushing to him.

Cynthia gasped, her voice breaking for the first time. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean—” she stuttered as she dropped the broken bottle in her hand.

But Jude tackled her to the ground quickly, pinning her hands with all his strength as two men who had been hiding by the door rushed to help him.

Me and Kenny grabbed Baba T quickly before he could fall to the floor. His shirt was already soaked, blood spilling too fast. I pressed my hands around the knife still stuck in his big round belly, but when I looked down, his intestines were already pushing out.
God no… Baba T, stay with me!” I cried, my voice breaking. Kenny was shaking hard, his hands covered in blood as he tried to hold the knife in place.

He coughed, blood running from his mouth. His hand reached for mine, but it was weak and trembling.
“Don’t… let me…” he whispered, his voice fading as he fought for breath.

We didn’t think twice. We grabbed the keys of one customer’s car outside and lifted him in with the help of Jude. Kenny was crying openly, his hands pressed hard against the wound, but the blood just wouldn’t stop.

I drove the car like a man losing his mind, horn screaming, leg pressing hard on the throttle. In the back, Jude and Kenny were pressing on the wound, but blood kept pouring. Kenny was sobbing, his cries ripping through the car. I held the wheel so tight my knuckles hurt, trying not to fall apart. Jude was shaking, eyes wide, frozen by fear. Everything was moving too fast, like time itself was running out.

When we finally got to the hospital, we carried him in, screaming for help. Nurses rushed him to the emergency room. We sat in the lobby, our hands covered in his blood, our shirts too. Kenny’s prayers echoed through the lobby. Our hearts pounded, each beat heavy with the fear and anticipation of what was happening inside the emergency room.

Minutes felt like hours. The smell of disinfectant burned my nose. Kenny was pacing back and forth, muttering, “He can’t die… he must not die.” Jude sat in a corner, shaking, his hands trembling with fear.


*******

From the moment Darous stepped into his office, Detective Kalu’s instincts stirred.

The boy looked the same — that unsure smile — but something was off. The Darous who had spoken to him at the party was gone. Now, he sat there in front of him, claiming that everything he told him at the crime scene was just the words of a drunken man.

Kalu leaned back in his chair, studying him. Only one force in this city had the power to twist a man’s words that way. The Circle.

And when Kalu spotted the G-Wagon outside, his suspicion hardened into certainty. A bricklayer driving a G-Wagon? Impossible. Darous doesn't strike him as someone that can be involved in yahoo yahoo and most importantly someone like him couldn’t rent a four-hundred-thousand-naira car without a hand pushing him from behind.

The Rolex watch on his wrist sealed it. The Circle had been on contact with him.
Darous tried to hide it well, but Kalu had spent too many years reading men. He caught every tremble in his voice, every nervous shift of his eyes, the tightness in his jaw. Lies always lived in the body before they reached the lips. That was why he had spent years in police college — not just learning laws, but also learning men and their behaviours.

So he set a trap.

“Let me grab a paper from the next office,” Kalu had said casually, before leaving the room.

He didn’t go far. Through the slit of the blinds, he watched what Darous would do.

Darous hesitated at first, then moved. The boy crept to the cabinet, pulled out a file, and opened it with shaky hands. His eyes darted quickly over the pages. He thought he was being clever.

Kalu’s heart broke.

It wasn’t shock — he had expected this. But watching it confirmed how deeply the Circle had sunk its claws.
They always found the brightest minds and bent them into puppets. All for the promise of crumbs.
For a moment, the detective’s chest breathed heavy. The boy was another casualty of a society that had failed him.

When Kalu finally re-entered, his face showed nothing that can make Darous suspicious. He let Darous believe the act had gone unnoticed. What Darous didn’t know was that Kalu had already prepared two versions of the statement he gave him at the crime scene— the original statement he had spoken that night was locked away separately.

Kalu had been chasing the Circle for over a decade. He knew their games and their patterns. He had survived their assassins, their traps more than once, he had even crossed path with their most feared killer — the Limping Man. That night, Kalu had been seconds from death before he fought back, a bullet tearing through the assasin’s leg. The assassin limped away into the darkness, and the underworld gave him his new nickname. The Limping man.

Kalu lived differently because of that. If the Circle knew he had a wife and daughter, they would have buried them by now. He saw them only on arranged weekends. He always disguises himself with fake beards and strange clothes whenever he wants to visit them. He even made sure his only daughter-Naomi-never beared his surname. He had given her his late mother's maiden name. It was the only way to keep them alive and safe.

The Circle definitely had something on Darous—a threat, a secret, a weakness. Kalu could see it in the boy’s eyes, in the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of it. That made the boy valuable.

This wasn’t just a case file anymore. This boy might be the key to breaking apart the entire Circle.

Kalu sat up straight in his chair, watching Darous leave the office with a fake boldness in his eyes. He let him think he had fooled the old detective. Let him believe he had escaped.

Now Kalu knew what he had to do. He needed to find out what the Circle was using to control Darous. Once he had that, he could turn it around, win Darous’s trust — and then make his move.


*******

Typicool8:
E don enter page 5 o TBM

😀😀😀😀😀.


From now on, Na two episode per page. It now depends on you guys how you want this story to be run. Either fast or slow. But don't worry, the next update will drop today.

Damilgodwin:
Please Boss Darous you will just have to re-edit ooo. Nothing must happen to my calm jude

if you want to save your favourite character, send 2 BTC to my wallet 😀😀😀 or I'll start killing them one by one... 😀😀😀

Episode 14 continuation.


A few hours later, she drove into the compound in the same black GLE she’d used at the party. Tiffany stepped out of her Benz in a plain gown, the kind that didn’t try too hard—yet it shaped her in a way no man could ignore.
Nothing too loud—just that calm, soft elegance she always carried. The fabric flowed with her steps, and even the evening breeze seemed to respect her presence. Her hair was packed neatly, a little gloss on her lips, sandals on her feet—yet she stood out like a diamond hidden inside sand.

The moment she opened the car door and kissed me, I felt the eyes of one of my neighbours burning holes into my back. The man froze, pretending to adjust his slippers, but his eyes didn’t move. I could almost hear the thought running through his head: “Na bricklayer get this kain babe? How?”

I didn’t blame him. Tiffany wasn’t the type to dress to be noticed—she just got noticed, effortlessly.

When Tiffany walked into my apartment, her eyes moved from wall to wall, scanning everything. Small sitting room. Old tiles. Simple chairs. I saw her face drop, quick like a battery going flat.

“This is where you live?” she asked.

“Err… yes. Welcome to my palace.” I tried to joke, but the smile didn’t reach her face.

She folded her arms. “But you own a G-Wagon?”

I scratched my head, torn between lying and telling the truth. I sighed. “Oh, that one. I… uh… rented it for the party.”

“Whaaaat?!” she almost screamed.

“Why are you shouting na?” I raised my palms. “Everybody does it. Even your celebrities rent cars.”

Her eyes narrowed like knives. “You rented a car worth seventy million naira just to show off at a party?”

“Noo. Not seventy million. I paid only four hundred K for it.”

“Oh my God…” she gasped, shaking her head. “Can you hear yourself, Darous? You are obviously more dumb than you care to admit.”

Her words stung, but I tried not to show it. I forced a smile, hoping to calm her.
“Tiffany, calm down. It’s not like—”

“Calm down?!” She cut me off, her voice sharp as a slap. “You’re living in this… this place, and you’re throwing away money just to fake a lifestyle that’s not yours? Are you mad?”

My chest tightened like someone had tied a rope around it. I tried to speak, my voice low.
“Look… it’s not about being fake. It’s about—”

She cut me off, her words like bullets. “No, it is fake. You wanted to impress people who don’t even care if you exist. And you think that makes sense?”

I raised my hands like I was surrendering to the police. “Tiffany, please. It’s not like that. I just—”

“I don’t think I can be with a man who lies and lives a fake life. I can’t. Obviously you men are the same breed everywhere...”

Her words hit me like a slap. I felt my throat close up, but I forced a smile. “Okay… but at least you can’t deny I made you laugh."

“Laugh?” she snapped. “You think laughter will pay rent? You think jokes will buy food? Why not just become a comedian if that's what you really want out of your life?”

I was speechless. The atmosphere was thick, my walls echoing with her anger.

“You are more foolish than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. You are even worse than my ex-boyfriend. All of you are birds of—”

“Hey… will you just shut the fvck up?” I roared. That was the height of it. I can take any kind of insult in my life, but here’s where I draw the line. Don’t ever compare me with your ex. I hate that more than I hate poverty itself.

“What did you just say to me? Darous?” Tiffany snapped, stepping closer, her perfume hitting me sharp. “I dare you to tell it to my face.” Her anger was burning. Every breath from her nose felt like hot steam rising from a boiling pot.

I gritted my teeth, heat rising in my chest. “This is about survival! About respect! Nobody sees you in this city unless you shine. Nobody listens to your story if you look broke. They’ll step on you, spit on you, and keep walking like you don’t exist. I’m tired of being invisible!.”

Her eyes widened, but I pressed on, my voice shaking now, half anger, half pain.
“You think I like wasting money? You think I enjoy living in a place like this, struggling to pay bills? I’ve worked myself half-dead on construction sites just so people won’t call me a failure. But no matter what I do, it’s never enough. People respect the car, not the man inside it!.”

Silence. She just stood there, arms folded tighter. I felt my throat burning, but the words kept coming out. I couldn't control it.
“That G-Wagon… it wasn’t about showing off. It was about finally walking into a place and not feeling small. For once, people looked at me like I mattered. For once, I wasn’t just ‘Darous the bricklayer’.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “But here I am again — exposed. Foolish like a clown in front of you.”

Tiffany’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her face had softened, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t died.

“You can call me stupid, call me mad,” I said, my voice low now, almost breaking. “But all I ever wanted was to be seen… to feel like I belong.”

I dropped onto the chair, covering my face with my hands. My chest heaved. For a moment, the whole room was quiet, except for the hum of the generator outside.

Then after some moments of silence, Tiffany whispered, “Darous… you don’t need a G-Wagon for me to see you.”

But I didn’t look up. Because deep down, I wasn’t sure I believed her, because the moment all those words left my mouth, I knew I’d messed up. My anger had gotten the best of me, and now the room felt heavier. I hated myself instantly. This was Tiffany — the same sweet girl who had driven all the way here just to spend time with me. She came to laugh, to catch a vibe, not to sit in this thick air we’d created.

I almost give myself a knock on the head right there. Why did I let anger win? Why did I turn what could’ve been a soft evening into this?

But one thing life had taught me: when a woman who likes you is upset, you don’t try to act like a boss, you don’t try to be the macho man. That’s a losing game. Here's a tip on what really works. You lean in, you breathe, you play the victim — but so gently she won’t even realize that’s what you’re doing.

So I leaned forward, my voice low and calm, like water.

“Tiffany… I’m sorry. You’re right. I was stupid. But you don’t know where I’m coming from. You don't know my background.”

She folded her arms, eyes are now getting soft but they still carry some hidden fury in them. “ Oya, tell me. Because right now all I see is just another copy of every other irresponsible guy out there."

I swallowed hard and started talking slowly.

“I grew up in a polygamous home. Food was never enough. My father, bless his soul… he tried, oh he tried, but most times we managed with whatever came our way. Even if it was garri without sugar. At least, we ate something.”

Her eyes softened a little. She sat down opposite me, still silent.

“Then my father died,” I continued, “and everything scattered. No university, no college. I couldn’t. I just started bricklaying. Carrying blocks when my mates were carrying textbooks.”

Tiffany’s face changed, the fury completely leaving.

“Then I came to Lagos, after few months, I was tired of life. I almost killed myself ” My voice cracked deliberately. “But my friend Jude found me. Took me in, gave me shelter, gave me hope. That’s how I survived.”

Her lips parted. She was no longer angry; she was listening.

“So when Mrs Adeoye called me for that job… I worked with all my heart. She paid me more than I ever expected. And when she invited me to her party… I just… I didn’t want to look like the odd one out. You know the saying: fake it till you make it. That’s what I did.”

I lowered my head, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Tiffany. If I hurt you with my foolishness. I didn’t mean to.”

Silence. Her breathing slowed. I looked up. The fire in her eyes was gone. Pity had replaced it.

She sighed deeply. “Maybe… I was too harsh on you. I judged you before knowing your story. I’m sorry too.”

I nodded slowly, my chest loosening. “Thank you.”

Then she looked me straight in the eyes and said something that shocked me.

“You know… I was once in your shoes.”

I frowned. “You? No way. You? The elegant Tiffany? You don’t look like someone who ever suffered. In fact you look like someone who only knew the location of her building after it had been completed”

She smiled bitterly. “Don’t be fooled. I came from a very wealthy family. My father was a successful lawyer. He worked for powerful people, made good money. I was his only child. He loved me more than life itself.”

She paused, then her voice dropped.

“But when trouble came, he lost everything. His own brother betrayed him and sold him to the wolves. Like I told you that night, he even went to prison. His reputation gone. His name spoiled. My father died in prison and that same uncle stripped me of all my inheritance. You’d think a lawyer would protect his only child with ironclad documents. But it happened anyway, my uncle found a way to strip me of everything. I was thrown to the streets.”

I blinked, shocked. “You? On the street?”

“Yes. I slept in uncompleted buildings. I wrapped myself in torn cloth so men wouldn’t see me as an attractive prey. I lived like that for almost a week until Toyosi found me.”

Her eyes glistened as she smiled. “That girl you saw at the party with me… Toyosi is my savior. She picked me up from the street, gave me clothes, gave me food. Even the business I’m running today, she gave me fifty million naira to start. The car outside?… it was hers too. Everything… she gave me. I'm forever in her debt.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Wow. That’s… that’s crazy. What about your mother?”

She chuckled sadly. “My mother? I never knew her. She had a mental crisis after giving birth to me. They call it Postpartum psychosis. My dad and her separated afterwards. He raised me alone. My uncle later told me she had died.

"And you believe him?"

"Honestly… I don’t know who to believe anymore.”

For a while, we both sat there, two wounded souls, trading scars like war veterans. The tension had melted into something deeper.

She leaned closer. “So please, stop faking it. Don’t waste your energy pretending. Put it into building yourself. You have talent, Darous. Don’t destroy it with lies.”

I nodded, feeling touched. “I hear you. And… thank you for opening up to me also.”

She smiled faintly, then stood up. “I actually came here to… give you a proper chance to complete the job we started on Saturday night when we slept together. To be honest, you made me feel really good that night but it was unfair of me to leave you like that and just sleep off.”

Her words sent my blood rushing.

“But now,” she sighed, “my mood is gone. Maybe next time.”

She leaned over and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. Just like that, the tension melted away. We spent the next hour curled up, watching the final episode of Alice in Borderland. Then, right at the peak of the suspense, my generator coughed, grumbled, and went off on its own. Not because of fuel — no. It was simply my generator’s way of telling me, “Guy, after five years of loyal service, abeg go and buy another one.”

One good thing about dating a girl that has her own car is you don’t have to stress yourself trekking long distance to see her off. And you also escape those neighbor’s suspicious eyes, the ones that always think you two just finished having sex. Truth is, many times like ours, boyfriend and girlfriend can spend hours inside a room without even touching each other at all. There's more to this life than just hammering each other in the name of sex every time.
So I stood by and watched as she drove out in her sleek Benz. And for the first time, I didn’t just see a fine woman. I saw someone carrying scars like mine. It hit me—this girl actually cared. She loved me. And before I knew it, I was falling for her too.

It was around 3 p.m., evening already pushing its way in, when I walked back inside and my phone buzzed. Binance notification. I opened it and almost fainted — 3 ETH had just dropped. The Circle just paid me for the mission at the detective's office. Even though I still felt somehow bad for lying to Mr Kalu, but man must survive. I told myself as I converted the Ethereum to naira.

At last, all the stress of the day had produced something good. I leaned back on my sofa, smiling like a man that just hit jackpot. Without wasting time, I sent some money to my siblings, then marched straight to the generator shop. Got myself a brand new one and some other things.


“Later that evening, I called the boys to our usual joint. With the money in my account, I could have carried them to one fine resort like the place I first met Tiffany. But her words kept echoing in my head—no more fake life. So I told myself: forget resorts, forget rented cars. Just me and my guys, the way we always do.

The table was filled with beer bottles, grilled fish, and roasted meat.

Kenny, in his usual clown mode, pointed at me.
“See this Darous. You carry G-Wagon go party, but na keke you dey take come here. Abeg, na two people dey live inside you?”

The boys exploded in laughter.

I leaned back, sipped my drink slowly, then shot back:
“Kenny, at least me I dey switch rides. You, na only one vehicle you get since dem born you—your two left legs.”

The whole place shook with laughter, people at other tables turning to look at us like we were mad. Kenny held his head.

Baba T almost fell off his chair laughing. “Correct comeback!”

Kenny held his chest, pretending to faint. “Jesus, e pain me o!”

We laughed so hard that drinks nearly spilled off the table.

Jude, smiling like a satisfied goat, leaned back.
“Forget una own. My own na Toyosi. That girl na gift from heaven. Best night I’ve had in years.”

“Ehn ehn!” I shouted. “Jude don collect oil for head. No wonder him dey shine like new tyre.”

Everybody roared, banging the table.

“Darous, I like this babe ah swear,” Jude continued. “But I forgot to collect her number that day... abeg, help me tell Tiffany to send you her number na.”

Before I could even answer, Kenny nearly fell off his chair laughing.
“Jude, you dey craze? So after you claim say you knack Toyosi, na only bedframe you carry commot? You no even fit carry her number join?”

The boys scattered, choking on their drinks.

Then Baba T added the finishing strike.
“Wait o… Jude, how person go talk say him sleep with woman but no collect her number? No be juju be that?” He ended it in that Asari-Dokubo’s meme tone.

The whole bar collapsed with laughter. Jude just smiled faintly, probably thinking of what to say.

I was about to come to Jude's rescue when a sharp but familiar voice cut through the laughter.

“So… Toyosi is her name. The girl you’ve been cheating on me with?”

We all turned.

Standing at the door was Cynthia — Jude’s girlfriend. The same Cynthia we had all crowned “wife” for more than two years. She wasn’t just Jude’s girl; she was our girl too. She cooked for us, laughed with us, sometimes even scolded us like we were her younger brothers.

But this Cynthia standing at the door tonight was not the same one we knew. Her hair was scattered, her eyes red and wet like she had been crying for hours. Her chest rose and fell fast, like someone running on fumes. Her hand trembled slightly, but her grip on the knife was firm — the kind of grip that told us she had already decided what to do with it.

And in her right hand… was a knife.

Not just holding it — gripping it tight. This wasn’t kitchen play. This was rage. This was pain. This was heartbreak walking into our room, wearing the face of a woman we thought we knew.


To be continued.

Next update drops when ever we reach page 5. Thanks y'all. I appreciate all those that have been dropping encouraging comments since. Esheey gan.

Episode 14 – Behind the Smiles

The door cracked open just as my fingers brushed the file. My soul nearly jumped out of my body.

A woman dressed in full police uniform poked her head in.
“Good morning, Inspe—” Her voice stopped the moment she saw me frozen in Kalu’s office. My hand was stiff in the air, hovering like a student caught cheating in an exam.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Ermm… Mr Kalu told me to wait here,” I blurted, finally finding my voice. “He’s in the other office.”

“Alright. Thank you,” she said, and the door clicked shut behind her.

I let out a long breath. My heart was hammering like a pestle pounding yam inside a mortar. I glanced back at the file. One page stuck out — messy handwriting, rushed notes. I squinted and picked out the lines:

“…limp… left leg… exit… 19:52… Ebenezer, shot once… 4 witnesses so far. Gunshot wound… no exit wound…”

My ears picked sounds of footsteps approaching. I scrambled back into my chair. Kalu walked in holding a blank sheet.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Write everything you just told me. Keep it clear.”

My palms were still damp as I wrote. I rushed the lies out, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremble in my writing. He took the paper without looking at my face, slid it into the file, and said: “You can go now.”

I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. I left the office.


---

I returned the G-Wagon to the rental office. The man behind the desk checked the clock and whistled.
“Oga, you’re three hours late. That’s extra thirty K.”

“Thirty K?” I gasped.

He nodded. “Yes. Ten K per hour. Check your contract.”

I bit my lip, paid, and walked out. So the car that had already swallowed 400k opened its mouth again and collected another 30k — all because I wanted to play big man for one night. And the fuel money? Close to forty thousand naira gone.

By the time I reached home, my head was banging. I tore off my shirt, dropped my phone, and collapsed on the bed. Before sleep could take me, I typed everything I’d seen in Kalu’s file and sent it to Chuka. I also told him I’d withdrawn my earlier statement — hoping that would take the assassin off my back.

His reply came in minutes:
“Good job. Payment will come soon. Rest.”

For once, those words sounded like a lullaby to my battered mind.


---

Hours later, I was deep in sleep when my phone rang. I cracked one eye open, yawned, and dragged the phone closer. The name on the screen almost chased sleep away completely — Tiffany.

I cleared my throat and put on my smoothest voice.
“Hello, Miss International Trouble.”

She giggled. “International what?”

“Trouble. Because since the day I met you, I’ve been suffering from PTSD… Post Tiffany Stress Disorder.”

“You this guy…” She burst into loud laughter.

“I swear, I’m about to open a GoFundMe for therapy. I’m traumatized.”

“Darous, you’re crazy.” She laughed again, and I joined her.

Then she asked, “So, what are you doing?”

“Right now? I’m stretching my back on the bed. But if you want, I can quickly stand up and start washing plates, just so I look responsible.”

Another round of laughter. She shook her head through the phone.
“You’re so unserious. Anyway… I’m kind of bored. I feel like paying you a visit today. I want to know where you live.”

I sat up immediately. “Wait… visiting me? Like physically? In my own humble abode?”

“Yes,” she said, laughing.

“You coming with your friend?”

“Nooo. I’m coming alone. Just send me your address.”

I hesitated, then typed it in and sent it. The moment the message delivered, I shot out of bed like a soldier on parade. Plates — washed. Pots — washed. Every washable thing in the house — washed. I rearranged the sitting room, took a long shower, and even put on the generator. My humidifier did the rest, filling the air with a fresh scent that made my small apartment smell like one of those showrooms in Lekki.