Whispers in the Rain

By Rose Chukwudi

The rain was loud against the zinc roof of the abandoned warehouse in Garki. As Adaeze’s phone buzzed, she glanced at the cracked screen: Breaking News: Nepal Parliament Dissolved Amid Corruption Scandal. She snorted. “Same script, different country,” she muttered. 

Almost immediately, a voice cut through the darkness. “You came.” Ibrahim stepped out from behind a stack of wooden crates. His face was tense, his white kaftan soaked through.

“You shouldn’t have called me here,” Adaeze said, hugging her coat tighter. “Your boss is looking for me. You know that, don’t you?”

Ibrahim’s jaw tightened. “Senator Danladi won’t hurt you. He just wants those files back.”

Adaeze’s laugh was bitter. “Files that show he stole relief funds for flood victims? You think I’ll just hand them over?”

“I’m asking you because I…” Ibrahim stopped, words hanging heavy in the damp air. “…because I love you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Only the rain pitter-pattered. Adaeze’s eyes softened, but her voice was sharp. “Love isn’t hiding while people starve. Love isn’t serving a man who builds mansions in Dubai while children swim to school.”

Ibrahim stepped closer, desperation in his eyes. “You don’t understand. He raised me. Paid my school fees when my father died. Without him, I’d be nothing.”

Adaeze shook her head. “That’s not loyalty, Ibrahim. That’s bondage.”

A car engine roared outside. Headlights sliced into the warehouse. Adaeze froze. Ibrahim cursed under his breath.

“They followed me?” she whispered.

“No,” Ibrahim said, pulling her behind the crates. His hands trembled as he reached into his pocket...not for a weapon, but for a flash drive. He pressed it into her palm.

“Take it. If anything happens to me, you run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

Her eyes widened. “What’s on it?”

“Proof. Bank transfers. Land deeds. Contracts. Everything.”

Boots echoed at the entrance. Men’s voices barked orders in Hausa. Adaeze’s heart pounded.

“You betrayed him?” she whispered with a dry throat.

“I chose you,” Ibrahim said, his eyes burning with something between fear and resolve. “I chose the truth.”

Just then, gunshots shattered the night, and splinters rained down from the crates. Adaeze gasped, clutching the flash drive to her chest. Ibrahim turned to her, shouting over the chaos: “Run, Adaeze! Run!”