By Adebanke Abel
Dawn broke over Lagos, spreading burnt orange streaks across the horizon like a warning. Inside her flat, Adé sat cross-legged on the floor, the hem of her designer wrapper tangled around her ankles, her back resting against the cold wall. Around her, case files and wrinkled photographs lay scattered like forgotten memories—half war plan, half graveyard.
She held one photo in her hand longer than the others. It was faded now, a Unilag snapshot of better days—Ify’s arms draped lazily around her shoulders, both of them laughing like nothing could ever go wrong. His eyes in the photo still carried that fire. Still hers, even now.
“You were supposed to fix everything,” she muttered, her finger tracing the edge of his smile. “But you ran. So I’ll fix it all—without you.”
She rose slowly, the stiffness in her knees, a reminder of how long she’d sat there, haunted. She gathered the files and tucked them into her briefcase. She had work to do—and for once, it had nothing to do with clients. She got to work an hour later, her steps down the hallway were quiet but purposeful. She passed by her assistant’s desk just as Chidinma was pouring her morning Lipton.
“Don’t book me for anything today,” Adé said, not stopping.
Chidinma looked up, startled. “Should I ask—?”
“No,” Adé said, pushing open the glass door to her office. “But by noon, get me everything you can find on TDollar Holdings and a contact at Sahara Reporters. Don’t use the office line.”
Chidinma blinked. “Okay, madam.”
The door shut behind her with a soft but final thud. Adé dropped into her chair, opened her laptop, and began typing furiously. Every keystroke was a warning shot. The evidence she'd gathered on Nneka’s fake investment trips to Dubai was damning—bank transfers, hotel logs, a receipt for a luxury watch gifted to a man Nneka had once claimed was her “cousin.” She uploaded the files to a cloud server under a pseudonym: “Iroko’s Daughter.” It was time to leak the first piece, just enough to stir interest. The big blow would come later.
"No one dare threaten me. Even if you were innocent, I'll still end up burning you down. Not to now talk of how hardened a criminal you are. You want to subject myself and my late father to ridicule over again, because of what? Just get ready for me. You also want to destroy my Ify.... My Ify? is he really mine? He left me years ago..."
She went silent for a while. She wasn’t going to call. That would be too easy. Too soft. No. Ify needed to see her again without filters, without warning. She needed to look into his eyes and see if guilt still lived there—or something more. Love. Regret. Fear. She didn’t care. She just needed the truth.
The restaurant on Bishop Aboyade Cole was a quiet one. Tucked between a pharmacy and a tiny art gallery, it was where Ify reportedly held meetings for his NGO when he was in town. Low traffic. No drama. Just whispers and rice. She got there early. Sat near the window. Ordered Chapman. But didn’t drink it. Time passed slowly. The kind of slow that made your heart ache. And just when she’d begun rehearsing her exit, the door creaked open and the air in the room shifted. She adjusted her dark shade and pretended as if she was sipping her drink. The scent of the same cologne he used to wear in school floated toward her—clean, woodsy, unbothered. He walked past her, paused, and then turned.
“Adésuwa?”
His voice was older. Deeper. But still cut clean through her. She lifted her head slowly. He was really looking good — No! Breathtaking, Handsome or Sexy is the word — He also looked tired. Hardened. But those eyes? Still fire. Still hers, if she reached. She said nothing at first. Just stared. Then her gaze dropped to his hand. He was holding a napkin, one that had her name scribbled on it.
Her mouth opened on its own accord “You kept that?”
His throat moved like he was swallowing stones. “Twelve years. I never got to say—”
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Not here.”
He couldn't peel his eyes off her as he grudgingly made his way to the people he was meeting with. She kept staring at him from where she sat — thank God for the shade that protected her from constituting nuisance in public. He also turned around to check if she was still there with clear admiration in his eyes.
Adesuwa couldn't believe that he would turn out to be this good looking with all the nice body features. She didn't know when she mistakenly smacked her lips. It's been ages since she allowed her thought travel wildly about a man, and it was shocking to her to know that she had really missed a man's touch and attention.
Even though she got their attention on a daily basis by bending and breaking them to her will. She couldn't wait for his meeting to be over. They had a lot of things to iron out. She could not stop her heart from fluttering as she thought about this.
