The Dice – 21stcenturybelle

The Dice #49

Three years later…….

“I always thought what you said and did about how you feel was because of the prediction of your dice. I never knew you were speaking from your heart. I never knew you had the same feeling I had for you. I was never bold enough to confront what I felt for you. I was safe in the cocoon of our friendship and did not want anything to destroy the bond we shared.

Dunni laughed bitterly. How foolish I was., I lost you in the end, lost you as a friend and the bond we shared. Is there any place in your heart to forgive me? I am not asking that we go back to what we had, but start something new. A new friendship.

“Hey, babe, a girl I had not noticed sauntered towards Moses with a kiss on his lips while handing him a glass of champagne, gazing through her long false lashes at Dunni with curiosity.

“Thanks, darling, meet Dunni, she used to be my partner at Architex Designs. Dunni, meet my fiancée, Jessica Audu.”

Duuni had never felt this humiliated in her life. She wished the ground would open and swallow her. She’d bared her heart and soul and was rejected. Karma – she was being paid for in her own coin. This must have been how Tade felt when she returned his ring. She could hear the crack of her heart, and she knew she was not going to survive this.

She braved a smile and shook hands with Jessica, pleased to meet you.

Moses watched Dunni intently, the pain in her eyes and the heartbreak she tried to hide. He knew that false smile and confidence from the extra hunch of her shoulders. He knew she was breaking from the double blink of her eyes at intervals. He knew the moment she turned to leave that a tear had escaped, and she was trying to leave with her dignity intact.

How complicated could their love be? He had healed and moved forward but like a sucker for punishing himself he wanted to see her again. Just behold her beauty and go home to torture himself some more. What he had not envisaged was that they were two hurt hearts beating for each other, but with so many obstacles in their path.

He could no longer go ahead with this farce of a fake engagement. Jessica was his pretend fiancée, and she acted the part so convincingly that she could have fooled him, too.

Dunni looked for the nearest exit as she made her escape. She has concluded her work for the night. She gave her speech about the project and managed to make a fool of herself before Moses and his fiancée, drank more wine than she should have. At least she was sensible to call an Uber to take her home and arrange for her car to be sent to the office on Monday.

Just a few minutes into the safety of her living room, she heard her doorbell. There could only be two people who Sule the security will let in without checking with her, Ola and his wife. She had not bothered to remove Moses; he had not been to her house in three years. So, she did not have to worry.

Pulling her 4-inch open-toe silver Jimmy Choo sandals from her feet and pulling her braids up with a hair band, she went to the door and was shocked to see Moses. One part of her was glad he followed her, but then she remembered he was engaged and could never be hers.

She stood at the entrance of her door, not letting him in.” What do you want, Moses?”

“Please, can I come in?”

Dunni smiled sadly at how things had changed between them. Moses would take strides in here like he owned the place, first looking for the remote control to put on the TV to CNN or whatever sports he was crazy about. He loved Formula 1 and the NBA. He was one of those few guys who missed out on receiving the spirit of football. Then he will make his way to her kitchen to help himself with whatever there was to eat, which was most of the snacks.

That changed in the year she was with Tade, she learnt how to cook and never looked back. She is now into eating healthily. Vegetables and fruits are constant in her house. She was his ex-partner; their friendship was dead, making her maybe an ex-friend, and she was never his girlfriend, so she could not earn the tag ex-girlfriend.

Moses stood outside waiting for her to let him in. He did not miss the puffiness of her eyes, which indicated she had been crying.

Dunni reluctantly let him in, still stunned that he was in her house and curious about what he had to say.

“How are you?” he asked, watching her closely.

“I am fine, and you?” If he came all the way for a small talk, that was his problem. Two can play the game.

“As fine as can be.”

“How is New York treating you?”
“New York was brilliant. Although I moved back to Lagos six months ago.” Moses watched her reaction closely to his revelation. The surprise and the hurt that followed in her eyes pleased him.

“You did?” This was news to Dunni. There was no indication or information that the award-winning New York Architect was in Lagos. She learnt the hard way from her relationship with Tade to check some of the gossip columns occasionally, but she must have slipped back to her old habits. It was an upheaval task to open anything apart from the architectural journals.

“I told Ola not to tell you. I thought it was better than the way.”

“Hmm, she grunted, so why tell me now?” To think he had been in the same city as her for six months and found no need to contact her.

“How is Tade? Surprised you never married him.”

She shrugged. One of life’s mysteries. It did not happen. But we remain friends.

Moses knew all that; he knew she met him regularly at Ocean View restaurant on Friday nights, and that had made him stay away when he came. It looked like they were trying to make it work, but he may have been wrong with Dunni’s confession earlier today.

There was a moment of silence when the small talk had ceased. Dunni watched Moses, determined not to break the silence. She had never been able to do it in the past, but just like how everything had changed between them, she did not feel any need to break the silence.

“I have stopped using my dice.”

“I know you gave it to me, remember.” She did not tell him that sitting at her dressing table is the Dice and how pathetic that she speaks to it every morning and night, but it had become a guiding light for her. She also would never admit that the Dice was always right. Which was why she was more confused when it alluded to her and Moses getting married, and she concluded that the only part the dice ever failed in the past and the present was where she and Moses were concerned. Every other situation was on point.

“Changed the dice to a gold dice now engraved with diamond stones.”

Against all her resolve to remain civil with Moses. Dunni burst into fits of giggles.

“You stopped using the dice but now use a gold and diamond dice? I have had a long day and want to rest. I am not interested in your dice, fiancée or anything that has to do with you.”

While Dunni was ranting, Moses had invaded her personal space with a ring and a stone in the form of a dice engraved with diamonds.

“Will you marry me?”

Dunni was unsure if this was one of his many jokes.

“If you must know, I still asked the dice this time.” But you gave it to me. The Dice lives in my heart. It is the guiding light to my life, and it is never wrong, but I could be wrong when I do not take the necessary actions at the right time or do not take any action at all.

She wiped the tears that fell down her cheeks. What about Jessica?

Jessica is my cousin’s best friend and my pretend fiancée since I came back. It kind of put those sharks away from hounding me. She gets settled for every outing including her love sucked up boyfriend with new clothes and accessories. She almost ran me bankrupt, though.

This elicited laughter from Dunni. “I should have been charging you for all those plus one outing in the past.

“That was me creating every moment to be close to you and keeping the barracudas away. Just one season, I turned my back, and the biggest of them came and swept you off my feet.

No talk of sharks and barracudas. Adunni Adesida. I have always loved you and will love you for eternity. Would you do me the honour of spending the rest of your life with me?

“Yes, Moses. I love you from forever and want to spend my forever with you but….

Moses looked alarmed, and Dunni had to laugh this time.

But no long courtship, no fanfare wedding, no….

She did not finish her words as she could feel Moses’ mouth devouring hers in a kiss she’d only experienced in her dreams.

The END

The Dice#48

Landing at JFK airport, Dunni’s heart pounded with nervous anticipation. The air was crisp, the unfamiliar scents of jet fuel and New York traffic sharp in her nose. She made a stop at her hotel to freshen up and drop her luggage, but she was too excited to see the surprise on Moses’ face that the thought of resting before setting out was unappealing.

The drive to Moses suburb felt endless. Her heartbeat was in rhythm with the passing mile markers. His neighbourhood was as she’d imagined — spacious, the scent of cut grass lingering in the cool air. His house stood tall and sleek, framed by perfectly manicured lawns. Space. Always space. That was something they both had in common.

She rang the bell, hands trembling. Over the last four weeks, she had changed her mind many times, but when she remembered Moses’ sacrifice, she knew this trip was something she had to make. She was about to leave when the door opened.

Becca. The scent of her perfume reached Dunni first, floral and overpowering. Didn’t Moses say they were just work colleagues and nothing more? Yet she was staying at his New York residence.

“Hi. You must be Dunni,” Becca said, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Moses didn’t mention we were expecting anyone.”

“We?” Dunni caught the word instantly.

“I was in town… thought I’d say hello.”

“Ahhh.” She cooed. “He’s out of town but will be back in two days. You can come then.” She spoke with a saccharine sweetness so overdone it nearly made Dunni gag.

“Not to worry. I’ll call him,” Dunni fibbed. She didn’t want to let Becca have the upper hand.

She turned to leave. Her heart felt crushed, breath tight in her throat. She willed the tears not to fall and was lucky to have made it to the car. Thankfully, the driver had insisted on waiting. Dunni returned to her hotel, heart heavy, yet her eyes remained dry. She wasn’t going to torture herself any longer. She would return home and put Moses behind her for good. Some things were never meant to be. A few days later, she flew home.

When Ola asked how the trip had gone, she lied and explained she could not make the trip.

Dunni knew no one else would ever fit the space Moses had carved within her heart. And if life led them down different paths… then she would walk alone. Some loves were etched too deeply. Although she tried to forget him, it was his face she still found in her dreams. Dunni threw herself into her work, letting it consume every part of her. She’d always been a workaholic — but now, she took it to extremes. Work became her outlet to drown the pain, and Ola’s insistent pleas to rest fell on deaf ears.

The Dice #47

Dunni was back home. Though her body had healed, her mind remained tangled in restless knots. Her tranquil home, once her safe space, now seemed smaller somehow, the air thick with unspoken thoughts threatening to suffocate her. The faint scent of lavender oil drifted from the diffuser on the dresser, meant to calm her, but instead it stirred an ache she couldn’t name.

At night, the dreams came. It was always Moses reaching out to help her out of the forest. She told herself they were tricks of her weary mind. Yet more than once, her fingers hovered over her phone, yearning to bridge a gap that felt impossibly wide. A wall, invisible but impenetrable, stood between them now. She had to accept that it was no longer the same with them. He had moved on, and she had to do the same.

A soft knock stirred her from her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called in an upbeat tone that was the opposite of how she felt. She was not ready to deal with her mum’s insistent “how are you?” and prying eyes trying to probe into the recesses of her soul as she tried to hide the fear and anxiety stemming from her recent ordeal. She still wondered why Maami always knocked before coming in. They were the only ones in the house, and just answering required more energy than she could explain. She was comfortable with gestures and grunts and could not muster the energy to engage in small talk. She had limited her visitors to almost none, wearied by their attempt at small talk and look of pity.

Her mother entered, the warm, spicy aroma of “asaro” palm oil yam porridge with spinach filling the air, wrapping the room in something comforting and familiar.

“Maami, you don’t need to treat me like an invalid. I’m perfectly fine now,” Dunni protested, pushing herself up against the pillows. Her stomach grumbled in defiance. “At this rate, I’ll be two sizes bigger by the time I return to work.”

“Maybe you should start going to the gym,” her mother teased, setting the tray down with a gentle smile.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“Oti o, you that need more flesh on these your bones. I only said gym to get you to leave the house. Going out and meeting people will do you good.”

“The gym sounds like a good idea,” Dunni agreed with her mother. “But I feel so lazy. I can barely jog around the house, not alone get on a treadmill.”

An unbidden image of Moses flashed through her mind, shattering every resolution to put him at the back burner of her mind. His signature handsome grin adorning his face, eyes crinkling with mischief as he tugged her out of the house to gym classes, promising to suffer through them with her. The scene was so real, she did not know when a sigh slipped from her lips.

Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “What is it, my daughter?”

“Nothing, Maami.”

Moses wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss with her mother or could bear to unpack the too many unsaid words and too many wounds beneath the surface. Stewing under the weight of what could have been better than facing her reality of what she had lost. She took a spoonful of the porridge, savouring the spiciness that brought tears to her eyes. Tears of the pain she felt in her heart than from the pain on her tongue.

Having Tade in her corner did nothing to assuage the deepening wound from the loss of Moses, and her current ordeal only magnified her loss. She could picture Moses’ reaction clearly at every scene as her day unfolded, had he been here. She was exhausted from beating herself for destroying their friendship. She would give anything to have him back in her life – colleague, neighbour boyfriend, husband or anything.

Tade had been visiting, trying, perhaps too hard to mend what had broken. He’d even shared a revelation that Dr. Larry was their long presumed-dead father. A fact traced back to her own birth certificate. But the news barely registered. She was happy for him, but as for their relationship, it was a ship that had sailed. Trust was a fragile thing, and theirs had shattered into irreplaceable pieces.

“You’re my self-appointed doctor,” she’d teased him when he’d asked to remain friends. But it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t Moses, and he never could be.

“Oh! Sorry, Maami — I didn’t realise you were there,” Dunni said, startled, blinking rapidly

“You were far away. Are the nightmares still coming?”

“No, Maami,” she lied smoothly.

In truth, they came each night. It was always ending the same way. Moses, arms wrapped around her like a sanctuary in the storm, at other times, or he reaching out to her from the depths of a forest. She wrote them down as her therapist advised, but never mentioned the ending. Some connections felt too sacred to speak aloud.

On her way out of the room, her mother paused at the door, “How’s Moses? I haven’t heard from him since he left the hospital.”

Dunni stilled.

“Maami… Moses is in the US,” she murmured, her voice measured and cautious.

Her mother frowned. “I don’t know about the US. But he was in that hospital for three days and three nights while you were asleep and not responding. He never left your side until you woke.”

She was about to correct her mum for the umpteenth time. Maami will never use the word coma. But what she heard just sent a tremor rippling through her. “Are you sure?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“Why would I lie? That boy is a gem. They say he flew in, even entered that, Salisa Forest.”

“Sambisa, Maami,” Dunni corrected automatically. Her mother always seemed to have another version of it — sometimes Samisam, sometimes Bisam.

“Moses? In Sambisa?” she whispered, awe colouring her voice. It was something Moses might’ve done if he were still in Nigeria… but from the US? The thought was dizzying.

“Why haven’t you called him?” Maami asked, a deep frown furrowing her brow.

“I’ve been focusing on recovery,” she replied, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. She wasn’t ready to unravel the threads of their estranged friendship or discuss with her mother what happened before he left.

Her mother gave a knowing smile. “Hmm. I hear you.”

When she was finally alone, Dunni’s heart thundered. She wasn’t imagining it. Moses had been there. It was a bittersweet moment. Glad that she was not crazy, but sad their friendship had slowly faded. This did not stop the warmth surging through her, threatening to swallow her whole. Without ever touching her, Moses had marked her for life.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

“Hey, Gimbiyan Sambisa!” meaning queen of Sambisa, Ola’s teasing voice rang out — a nickname he’d coined since her return. “How are you doing? Hope you’re getting all the rest you need.”

“I’m good. Maami has been spoiling me silly. I’m already dreading how I’ll cope when she leaves.”

“No rush back to work,” Ola assured her. “We’ve got your projects covered.”

Dunni did not argue with Ola, although she was growing crazy from sitting at home, but she also was not up to returning to work yet. The sudden flashbacks, the way she froze at the sound of a door shutting, running water, or even the rustle of leaves in the evening were all signs of the trauma that clung to her.. She hesitated, her pulse quickening. Then she asked softly, demanding the truth, “My mother said Moses was at the hospital.”

Silence hummed on the line.

“But… you saw him when you woke up,” Ola remarked. “You asked if you were home .”

“I don’t remember.”

But her tone sharpened as she fired the questions like an investigator. “When did Moses arrive? When did he leave? And don’t tell me to ask him.”

She could almost see Ola shrugging.

Ola hesitated, always careful not to tread too deeply into their tangled history. They needed to figure it out themselves without the help of anyone.

“He landed the day after you were kidnapped. Left the day you woke. He recruited the rescue team.”

Her breath caught. Tears pricked her eyes. Moses. He had done all of that for her. A truth settled deep within her. Moses was etched into her heart. She longed for him still, and the belief that no one could ever replace him both reassured and terrified her.

“I want to see him,” she whispered. “But it must be a surprise. Will you help me?”

Now that Dunni was beginning to understand just how deep Moses’ love ran, Ola no longer hesitated. “Of course. What do you need?”

“An address.”

The moment they hung up, Dunni called the travel agency, her voice trembling with resolve. The trip was booked, and she just had to wait to complete her treatment.

The Dice #46

Tade was less than thrilled about the birthday dinner his mother had planned. Since when did she start organising dinners for his birthday, especially now that he was an adult? The only reason he’d shown up was because he had nothing better to do. Three days earlier, he’d tried booking a flight to the U.S., but their travel agent couldn’t seem to find one. She’d muttered something vague about unavailable flights, but it didn’t make sense to him.

This was the first birthday he and Tide would spend apart. Not even when she was heavily pregnant with the twins had they skipped celebrating together. Somehow, they always found a way to connect.

The venue was Roisaree, one of Ikoyi’s more upscale restaurants. While other restaurants were moving into Lekki and beyond. Roisaree had stationed itself in Ikoyi, near the affluent Banana Island neighbourhood. It was owned by a mixed-race Lebanese-Israeli woman from the famous Lawani family of Lagos Island, who married into the prominent Kusimo dynasty of Isale Eko. She had done well for herself, and the restaurant rivalled any other on the Island. After much pressure, she opened two additional branches, one in Ikeja on the Mainland and another in Asokoro, Abuja.

His mother was already seated when he arrived, dressed in a flowing white guinea bou-bou embroidered with teal thread. Her long, texturised hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and her caramel skin glowed, almost defiant in its radiance. It was hard to believe she was over fifty, let alone a grandmother.

Tade greeted her with a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and took his seat.

“Have you ordered anything?” he asked, pausing to take in the softly lit room. It wasn’t too crowded, which he appreciated.

“You didn’t book the whole place?” he teased. Molade was known not to do anything in half measures.

“Just half,” she replied without missing a beat.

He managed a small smile. “And here I was thinking you were softening. Losing your edge.”

“I’m so sorry to disappoint,” she said. Her voice carried a faint sadness, but her gaze remained steady and unyielding, the way he remembered.

Their relationship had never fully recovered after she disapproved of Solape. Even after Solape’s death and despite her repeated olive branches, things remained distant. Still, he knew she was there for him, and she adored his daughter, her only granddaughter, unconditionally.

“What?” Tade’s face lit up as he saw Tide approaching. Dressed in a fitted teal-blue knee-length gown that subtly echoed their mother’s teal embroidery, and white Michael Kors wedge sandals that gave her an extra four inches of height, she placed her teal clutch on the table. Hugging their mother first, before making her way to her twin.

“I should’ve known you had a hand in this dinner,” he said, teasing but visibly pleased.

“I could see your scowl from thirty yards out,” she quipped. “What’s got you all twisted up like you’re sitting on pins?”

“Please ask him,” their mother chimed in dryly.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Being kidnapped for dinner when I’d rather be at home eating fish pepper soup made by Chef Rita and a bottle of champagne, wishing myself a happy birthday while throwing a wish your way since you refused to pick up my call.”

“You know, try sha, why were you looking for tickets three days before and not earlier?”

“I was waiting for your plan, meet me in Seychelles, Maldives or Cape Verde or whatever weird place you intend to choose this year.”

For the last decade and more, they had hopped to very unpopular destinations, long before they became a Lagos outbound destination. Tide did all the groundwork and just announced, expecting him to drop everything he was doing and be there, which he always did. It was a mystery that Efosa allowed her to do her thing. It was an unwritten rule that their birthday was theirs alone. Solape, ingeniously, chose to celebrate his birthday a week earlier.

Tide placed her order, Linguine ai Frutti di Mare. Fresh linguine pasta delicately tossed with wild-caught tiger prawns, tender calamari, Scottish diver scallops, and Mediterranean mussels, all simmered in a white wine, cherry tomato, and garlic infused broth. The dish was finished with a touch of Calabrian chilli, a hint of lemon zest, and a drizzle of cold-pressed Sicilian olive oil. She thanked the waiter and joined the conversation.

They had a great time catching up. It was lovely to be all together in one place after a long time, but they did not fail to notice their mothers’ quietness as the evening went on.

“Mom, is the food not okay?” Tide asked, her tone laced with concern. She and Tade exchanged a glance. They’d both noticed their mother picking at her meal.

“I try new dishes… and struggle to enjoy them,” Molade said with a soft shrug.

“Want to order something else?” Tade offered, already motioning for the waiter.

“No, I’m fine,” she said, then paused. “But there’s something I need to share. And I am afraid it’ll shock you. I’ve had a few weeks to process it, but it’s still… big.”

“Are you sick?” Tade asked quickly, concern etching his features. It was the kind of expression Molade wished she could frame. It was a glimpse of the son who, somewhere deep down, still loved her as he had before Solape came into their lives.

For the next ten minutes, Tade and Tide listened in stunned silence as their mother recounted how she’d found Dr. Lanre Braitwaite listed as the doctor who took delivery of Dunni Adesida.

“Mom!” Tade objected, getting frustrated with his mother’s insistent need for background checks.

“You are still doing this, your FBI moves.” The girl does not want to have anything to do with me, so you can rest now. I hope you are happy.”

Tide gestured to him to calm down. “Let’s hear what mum has to say.”

Molade told them about her visit to his office and how, by sheer coincidence and shock, she had met him there.

“Mom, who is he?” Tide asked, her brow furrowed.

“He’s your father,” Molade said quietly, the words dropping like a bomb between them. “I didn’t know he was alive. It was not until I saw the birth certificate, dated well after his supposed death. I was told he’d died, but it turns out that wasn’t true.”

She took a shaky breath. “I went to see him, but… the meeting didn’t go well.”

“Why didn’t he ever contact us?” Tide asked, her voice a whisper.

“Because he never knew you existed,” Molade replied. “When he met Tade, he got curious about your name, which is his middle name, and the surname… it all clicked, especially when he found out I was your mother. He’s been out of the country most of the time, doing medical outreach programs, but he’s back now.”

Tade and Tide sat frozen. It was too much to absorb all at once. How were they supposed to process the fact that their father wasn’t dead—had never been dead—and they were only finding out in their thirties?

“When can we see him?” Tide finally asked.

“He’s here,” Molade said softly, gesturing toward a man seated at another table.

The man stood and walked over to their table at Molade’s gesture. Tears filled his eyes. He didn’t just have one child. He had two grown ones. And grandchildren.

“I’m so sorry,” he began, voice trembling. “If I’d looked for your mother… if I’d even tried… I would’ve found you. I can’t give you back the years we lost, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to be part of the years ahead.”

Tide was crying now. Tade, still stunned, only nodded. The realisation hit him slowly—the man he had randomly met weeks ago, who had reacted so strangely upon hearing Molade’s name, was his father. There were so many questions, so much to catch up on.

Anyone watching might have thought it was just an intimate family dinner. They would never have guessed it was a reunion of life after death, of a family finding its way back to itself.

The Dice #45

Molade Thomas tossed her phone into the drawer. She knew she should pick up the call, but she wasn’t ready to have a conversation with Lanre. They have all been busy the last couple of weeks following the aftermath of the rescue of Dunni as well as the mad dash to set up the Sambisa Minning company.
She could understand the need for the children to know their dad was alive, but did not understand the urgency. If the children had survived 30-plus years of their lives without their father, what would a few weeks’ delay change? She’d tried many times in her head, replaying the different scenarios of how to broach the subject with them. Tide was away in the US, and it was crucial to reveal the information to them at the same time.

She tried envisaging each child’s reaction. Tade was the cool one who would take the information and need more time to reflect, while Tide would be the first to find her voice and start firing questions, showing excitement and start planning the first meeting. When she’s done, Tade will take over with a third-degree questioning. She was, however, unable to ascertain whether they would be easily forgiving, considering the role she playedin accepting their father’s death without seeing the grave or contacting his family. She believed her dad’s report and forged on with her life.

Molade is transported to a moment when the twins were 10 years old. They had returned from school in preparation for a Father’s Day event at school.
“Mummy, Daddies are to come to school for Father’s Day next week,” Tide announced, the appointed spokesperson for the moment. They had a pattern where they took the lead in speaking interchangeably. In the earlier days, as a mum, she used to play mind games about who would be the spokesperson for the moment, but gave up when she never got it right.
“Your daddy is in heaven. He can’t come.” Molade explained. It was something they had all come to terms with.

“Can’t we get another daddy to come for us, or rent one?” Molade almost choked on her food.

“Rent a dad?” she asked bewildered.

“Yes, can’t you rent anything?” Tide asked sounding more grown up than her 10 years of age.

Molade was more shocked at how transactional she sounded.

“I saw it in a movie. The man rented a girlfriend to take home.”

” And where did you see this movie?”She asked troubled at what the children were being exposed to.

“Auntie Felicia was watching it on Africa Magic.” Auntie Felica was their housekeeper doubling as the twins nanny. She made a mental note to discuss with the housekeeper.

“You can’t rent a human being. It borders on lies. If you have to rent, then the relationship is not true, and you are expecting both parties to pretend.”
After a long pause, “You are right, mum. I saw that in the movie too.”
Not one to give up, she followed relentlessly. “We still need a dad, though, for Father’s Day.”

“I will talk to grandpa to see if he can come.”

Even though Tade seemed disengaged from the conversation, they responded simultaneously.

“No! “they both chorused.

“No one has a daddy with grey hair like grandpa in our class,”said Tide with frown.

“Uncle Jamiu can come,” Tade offered logically.

“That sounds like a plan. What do you say, young lady?” Any idea from her twin was always the best idea.

“Yeah, we could do that, but he must dress like a daddy.”

“How do daddy’s dress?” Molade asked curious.

“Hmmm like grandpa, but without grey hair,” Tide responded nodding confidently.

Back to present day.

Molade made up her mind, she would tell them in person. She reached for her phone to call Tide. When Tide’s call suddenly came through.

“I was just about to call you,” Molade said.

“I wasn’t sure if this was a good time, considering all your numerous meetings, but I took the risk,” came Tide’s voice from the other end of the phone.

“So, what were you calling me for, mum?” Tide added.

“Can’t I call to greet you?” Molade chuckled, feigning offense.

“Mum, it’s Monday, not Sunday, I know you, this is no social call,”Tide interjected.

Molade could not but release the laughter still refusing to admit any guilt. “Okay, you go first.”

“Efosa and I are relocating back to Nigeria. We arrive a few days before Tade and I’s 33rd birthday. Tade doesn’t know yet. It’s a surprise. Please plan a dinner anything with him on that day but make sure he doesn’t have a surprise plan of his own.”

“You two ask more of me than my biggest business deals.”

“Nah! Not the woman who took down a whole entity and is now building a mining company on grounds others feared to tread. I am learning from the best.”

“Yeah, yeah my lips are sealed, Mum,” Tide laughed, the sound bouncing down the line.

“Fine. I’ll try.”

“Promise to keep him in the country, whatever it takes.”

“I’ll try, Tide. I’ll try. I still can’t promise to tie your brother up and make sure he does not leave the country on whatever shenanigans you two always do on your birthday.”

“Bye Mum, love you!”

Molade sighed with relief. She could not have come up with a better plan. She had barely put down her phone when Lanre barged into her office followed by her staff apologising.

Molade, waved off her apologies while focusing on Lanre.
“Your choice of entry into my office is becoming boring,” Molade stated drily.
“Maybe you should tell your staff to stop trying to prevent me from coming in or pick up your damn phone.”
Molade raised her head with a piercing gaze, the kind that could bore a hole through steel. Lanre gazed back unfazed, taking his seat in front of her without an invitation. Molade stared back, resolving not to speak, playing the silent contest of power game.
“Have you told the children?”

The question made her stomach tighten. A bitter taste coated her tongue of regret. She hated that she had to crush whatever hope flickered in his voice, but time was something she needed. You don’t just walk into someone’s life and announce that their dead father is alive. This wasn’t just a confession, it was an upheaval.

“This is life altering, Lanre,” she muttered quietly in disgust. “Can you think beyond yourself and about how they would process this information. The emotions… Shock. Anger. Grief. Disappointment. Betrayal. Maybe even relief. But I can’t predict it. I want to tell them at the right time, in a way that won’t undo everything I’ve built over the years with them. I haven’t always been the best mother, but I’ve always been present. Always fought for their best interest. This could shatter the relationship we’ve built.”

What she did not say was this would shatter what is left of the fickle relationship she had with Tade. He had not forgiven her for her disapproval of his dead wife.

Lanre’s voice was steady. “The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to convince them why you held the information from them. They are adults. Telling them the moment you found out will build their trust and bring them into the journey with you as you navigate this new reality. You would build a connection of dealing with something new together, not let them feel left behind.”

Molade gave a faint smile, Lanre had spoken well but it was easier said than done.

“You always had a way of putting things into perspective.”

“And we’re in this together,” he assured her.

A quiet warmth touched her chest, a thawing sensation, like the first signs of rain after a long, harmattan season. But she fought to keep her composure. She was, after all, Molade Thomas.

“Give me a week,” replied Molade curtly. This was not the time to breakdown.

Lanre stood up. He seemed to want to say more but decided against it.

“I’ll wait for a week. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll speak to the young man myself.”

Molade caught the weight behind his words. A subtle threat delivered calmly. Thirty years had passed, and they were no longer the same people. Strangers, bound only by memory and a broken bond. Technically, they were still married. What did that even mean now? Was he married to someone else? Would she need a divorce? Could you be married and not really married?

For so long, she had worn her widowhood like armour, dignified, untouchable. Now, that armour felt like a lie. She wasn’t a widow, but she wasn’t exactly a wife. An ex-widow? A returned from the dead spouse?

The Dice #44

It had been three days.

Dunni was still heavily sedated, her breath shallow, her chest rising and falling in a slow, fragile rhythm. The hospital room pulsed with a low mechanical hum of monitors, IV drips, distant voices muffled behind thick walls. The acrid bite of antiseptic hung in the air, layered over the stale bitterness of Moses’ untouched coffee cooling on the side table.

He sat slumped in a hard white turned brown plastic chair, unshaven, eyes sunken with exhaustion. No one could convince him to leave. Her mother came and went, slipping home to rest and return. Ola stopped by once a day — though Moses had barely noticed the passage of time.

“Man, you need to get out of here and clean up,” Ola urged, voice rough as he leaned against the doorframe. “You look bad enough to send her into another coma if she wakes up and sees you.”

Moses didn’t flinch. His gaze remained fixed on Dunni. “At least when she wakes, she’ll see me. You should’ve seen how she clung to me after the rescue. Wouldn’t let go until they sedated her. How I look will be the least of her worries.”

Ola folded his arms, exhaling through his nose. “And even now, I think she knows you’re here.”

A tired smile ghosted across Moses’ lips. “Her body’s asleep, but her heart… maybe it remembers.”

Ola let out a dry chuckle. “Three days in the hospital and now you’re suddenly a doctor, huh?”

Moses gave a weak laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll leave when she opens her eyes. Until then… this is where I stay.”

“You need a break, bro.”

Moses ran a hand down his face, stubble rasping against his palm. “I can’t. I see the way Tade’s been looking at me, but this isn’t about him. We all want her to recover. Dunni is my heart — always has been, always will be. Married or not… that doesn’t change. Her wellbeing comes first.”

Ola’s tone softened, a note of caution threading through his words. “But she chose him. We’ve got to respect that.”

“I do,” Moses said quietly, voice taut with barely masked ache. “But you don’t just stop loving someone after sixteen years. That would take another lifetime.”

Ola’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen with a grimace. “More lies. Now they’re claiming the military rescued the women… saying a terrorist bomb went off by accident. We both know that’s nonsense.”

Moses nodded grimly. They all knew the so-called cleanup crew or whatever they truly were had their own reasons for wanting that land. The government’s line about building a factory to foster development, erase the land’s dark reputation, and attract foreign investors reeked of spin. Putting up smokescreens for the citizenry was their usual modus operandi. But in this country, strange was normal.

Then a soft moan broke through the sterile hush. Both men’s eyes flicked to Dunni as her eyelids fluttered, lashes trembling, then slowly parted. Her gaze roved the room, glassy but aware.

“What’s… happening?” she whispered, voice dry and cracked. “Am I… home?”

Moses was already leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “If you call this hospital bed home… then yes.”

A choked laugh caught in his throat, relief crashing through him like a wave. He hadn’t realized just how tightly the fear had coiled inside him until now.

Across the thin hospital blanket, Dunni attempted to lift her hand playfully but a sharp gasp escaped instead.

“That hurts,” she murmured, a crease deepening between her brows as pain flickered across her features.

“Easy,” Moses murmured, voice gentling. He shifted closer, instinctively protective.

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “The others?” she asked, her words fragile, every syllable laced with effort. Another shadow of pain crossed her face.

“They’re safe,” Moses answered softly. “I’m… I’m sorry about your friend.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching. “I have to find her family,” she whispered. “She had a son.”

“As soon as you’re strong enough,” Moses replied quickly, knowing her too well. His fingers hovered, then pressed the call button. “But first… you need to rest.”

A soft chime echoed, and within moments the door swung open. Nurses bustled in, the crisp rustle of linens and muted clink of equipment filling the space.

“Out,” one of them ordered, already moving to the bedside.

Moses and Ola exchanged a look, then stepped out into the hallway.

Outside, Moses stretched, knuckling the back of his neck. The adrenaline had left him drained. “My work here is done,” he said with a weary grin. “Catching the next flight out.”

“Won’t you say goodbye?” Ola asked.

Ola shook his head. “Nah. I’ve done what I came here for. No point making it awkward. She’s safe — that’s all that matters. Now I can finally sleep. Win-win.”

The Dice #43

Operation Desert Storm

02:25 – Leave with the rescued.
The message blinked on Segal’s phone. It was from MI Bello—the team they had collaborated with.

“We have 55 minutes to get any rescues out of the area.”

Segal barked the update to his men as they made their way, dropping into the dark night from the helicopter crouching in the shadows, their forms melting into the dark night like leopards stalking prey. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth. The oppressive silence was only broken by the soft rustle of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal birds.

Sambisa was nothing like the media had described—a dense jungle, impenetrable and mysterious. In reality, it was a harsh, raw land littered with makeshift tents cobbled together from cut trees and dry leaves. The widely circulated tale of a mangrove forest, rivers winding like silver serpents, and wild animals prowling in the underbrush was a myth—this was no Colombian Amazon jungle. There were no meandering waters or echoing caves here—just hilly terrain and tall trees, spaced wide enough to reveal a dark, visible sky.

The first raindrops hitting their skin, soft as whispers. Then came the deluge—a torrential downpour that masked the distant thrum of the helicopter blades as it touched down ten miles from the settlement. Rain mixed with the earth, the night was deadly still, yet heavy with expectation and the rush of adrenalin in anticipation of the rescue mission.

The team would walk the rest of the way. The women were close.
Thanks to two embedded informants inside Boko Haram, the rescuers had a flow of intel—risky, erratic, but crucial. The weather had made surveillance harder, but the women had arrived recently, and they couldn’t afford to wait.

Inside one of the ragged tents, the women huddled together, frightened and despondent, with hope ebbing away with each passing moment. The air was sour with sweat, fear, and unwashed bodies. Muddy rainwater crept in, soaking their already threadbare clothes. Some of the women looked barely alive—dehydrated lips cracked open, skin dull and stretched over bones, the light in their eyes long extinguished.

They had overheard enough to know there would be no negotiations. The government had taken a hardline stance, vowing to rescue them, but days had passed, and no one had come.

Dunni stared blankly ahead. Since they had left Lana’s body behind, she hadn’t spoken, eaten, or blinked. The others tried to coax her, their voices cracking with desperation. But she looked through them, eyes wide open, dry, and unblinking.

She was the first to sense the shift—a rustle, a shadow. Then the men emerged like ghosts, signalling silence. Dunni didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them, as they rounded up the women, gently nudging those barely awake. Some eyes sparked with hope.
Dunni’s remained lifeless.

The extraction took fifteen minutes. Then they vanished into the forest, boots silent on the soggy ground, as if the rescue had never happened.

For Moses, time froze. Rain pummeled him, cold and stinging, but all he saw was Dunni—a ghost of the woman he once knew. She was alive. That was enough for now. He would get her the best care: emotional, physical, and mental. Although he had no claim on her and months had passed with no contact, their friendship-or—or whatever it could have been—was buried beneath silence and time. But none of that mattered now. He was here to ensure she made it home safely.

What he hadn’t prepared for was the void in her eyes as she passed him without even a flicker of recognition.

The team hustled the women into the helicopter with an urgency that left Moses perplexed but made sense a few minutes after when a huge explosion ripped the ground below a few minutes into the sky rocking the helicopter. Moses looked below at the flames and smoke bellowing up.

“What was that?” he shouted at Segal.

“They bombed the place. That’s why we had 55 minutes.”

Moses shuddered. What if they hadn’t made it tonight? Would any of the women still be alive?

Inside the rented chopper, he wrapped Dunni in a blanket, holding her close. His tears mingled with the rain still clinging to his face. She didn’t look at him, but her body eased slightly, her eyes fluttering closed for the first time.

“She lost her friend,” said a woman beside them quietly. “Since then, she hasn’t spoken, eaten, or even slept. Your wife will need you now.”

Moses gave a bittersweet smile at the word wife. If only…

He wished he could rewind time to the beginning, when they first became friends. When he should’ve told her she was his future. The thought of what she had endured crushed his heart.

“How are you?” he asked gently.

“I’ll be fine,” she shrugged. “We saw hell. Minute to minute, we didn’t know if we’d live. I’m leaving this country. Going to my family abroad. I’m done.”

He didn’t blame her.

The government had refused to negotiate. Their “rescue mission” had barely begun many days after the kidnapping, and they hadn’t even located Sambisa.

Segal, ever professional, contacted MI Bello to have ambulances waiting.

As the chopper landed, medical teams from Tade’s hospital were already in position.

Tade was there. He ran to them, eyes locking on Dunni. Moses refused to let her go, her head tucked under his chin, still unresponsive.

“She’s been like this since we picked them up,” Moses said. “She’s in shock.”

Tade’s voice trembled, though he forced calm into it. “Let’s get her to the hospital.”

He stretched his hand toward her. Dunni flinched, retreating deeper into Moses’s arms.

That should’ve made Moses feel something like joy. But all he felt was grief.

She wasn’t here—not really.

“Will she be okay?” Moses asked with uncertainty.

Tade met his eyes, his own filling with sorrow.

“She’ll get help. Therapy, trauma care, and any care required. She’ll come back. She’s strong. Soon we’ll have the no-nonsense fireball back.”

He tried a smile. Moses managed a weak one in return.

He would give anything to see her whole again.
To wipe away every memory of the horror she endured.

To bring Dunni—not this hollow shell—back from the dark.

The Dice #42

“Since when did you start poking your nose into my business dealings?”
“Mom, this is not some business game, merger, acquisition, or cold profit projection. We are talking about human lives—wives, mothers, sisters, and aunties… not cows. Though these days, it feels like cows get more sympathy than missing women.”

“Tade, I do not have all morning to listen to your political speech on the failed state and how you and I sit on opposite sides of the fence, yet you benefit from the returns of my business and connections.”

Tade ran his hands through his low afro in frustration.
“I want Dunni rescued tonight. I’m unsure what the rescue team hired by her office is doing. We were told to back off, that they had it covered, but it’s been three days, and I’m going out of my mind.”

Their conversation was halted by a ruckus at the door, with the receptionist attempting to stop a man from entering.
“I’m so sorry, ma. He walked straight in after I asked if he had an appointment.”

Molade gazed at her receptionist in disgust. She’d deal with her later. She didn’t get to where she was by entertaining people who couldn’t do their jobs regardless of the obstacles.
“How can I help you?” she asked coolly, addressing the man like they had never met.

Tade stared at the man, trying to place the face—then it hit him. The man from the restaurant who acted strangely when he mentioned his mom. He watched his mother’s indifferent demeanour.

“To what do I owe the honour of your time and presence? Last, I remember, you wanted nothing to do with me.”
She was never going to tell him about the children. That ship had sailed when he threw her out of his office a few weeks ago.

“Dr Larry,” Tade stood up to greet him. “Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t know you knew my mother. I was just about to leave.” Turning to his mom and putting his hands together in a pleading gesture, “Do something for me.”

Molade nodded, grateful that Tade took the cue to leave. She had no intention of letting him know that the father they all believed was dead was, in fact, very much alive—especially since that father had wanted nothing to do with her. If they had survived all these years without him, they certainly didn’t need him now.

As soon as the door closed behind Tade, Molade asked sharply, “To what do I owe this visit? Last time we met, you wanted nothing to do with me.” She had no idea why he was there, but she wanted him gone faster than he barged in. She could only imagine the stress her receptionist was under. She’d have to have a serious conversation with her. Her time was up—she’d be transferred to another department. Such carelessness couldn’t be condoned, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault.

“I would’ve liked the young man to stay. This concerns him,” Lanre said.

Molade’s head snapped up from her screen. “Why would you want to talk to him?”

“Molade, I don’t have time for games. Why is Tade bearing my middle name and surname?”

Against her earlier decision not to tell him, she saw there was no point in pretending anymore. He’d figured it out.
“Because he is your son,” she said calmly, almost daring him to react.

Lanre sat down, stunned into silence. A thousand thoughts ran through his head. His heart raced. He had suspected it but didn’t want to believe it.

“He has a sister,” Molade added.

Lanre stared at her like she was mad. A sister? Was she trying to pin another child on him?

“Tade has a twin sister,” she clarified, reading the question in his eyes.

They hadn’t been together for over thirty years, but Molade knew Lanre like she knew herself—the slight twitch of his mouth when he was sceptical, the double blink in his left eye when he was processing information, the way his right brow arched when he finally understood. He had aged—salt-and-pepper hair and beard—but he was still the same handsome man she once loved. One day, he was gone—vanished. Her father later told her he was dead. Something in her died that day, too. It was the children who kept her sane while she threw herself into the family business to numb the grief.

“If you’re in doubt, do a DNA test.”

“Have you told them I’m alive, now that you know?”

“No. The way you threw me out of your office, I figured there was no point. They’ve survived without you till now. They can continue without you.”

The words cut deep. In one second, he was a father—not to one, but two grown children. Possibly even a grandfather. It was a lot.

“Did you ever try to visit my grave after they told you I was dead?”

“No,” Molade said quietly, realizing how foolish she’d been to trust her father blindly. He never accepted Lanre, the son of a cocoa farmer, into their elitist world.

Lanre had only come to confirm his suspicions, suspicions sparked when he saw Tade weeks ago. Two children, in their mid-thirties, whom he knew nothing about. But he couldn’t blame her entirely—he walked away. That she was told he was dead was his fault, too. He’d made no effort to contact her. She was dead to him then. But in cutting her off, he had lost so much more.

“When are you going to tell them? I’d like to meet them. Do you have a photo of the girl?”

Molade passed him her phone. The woman in the photo was stunning—a feminine version of the boy. He’d never have guessed they were his. While he trusted Molade wouldn’t lie about something so serious, he’d still do a DNA test. He couldn’t afford to pour his heart into a lie, not after losing so much time.

“These kids weren’t hidden. They’ve been on magazine covers, blogs—you name it. I’m surprised you never saw anything.”

“You were dead to me, Molade. I didn’t want to hear or see anything about the Thomas family. I stayed away—spent most of my time abroad, doing aid work. My work became my life.”

What he didn’t say was that work was his way of numbing the pain of losing her.

Molade winced. He must really hate her. And she couldn’t blame him. Her family had treated him horribly.

“When will you tell them?” Lanre asked again. “There’s no point delaying. I’ve already lost enough time.”

“Tade is going through hell right now. His fiancée was kidnapped.”

“Is that the girl who was with him when I saw him?”

“I suppose. Her name is Dunni. You delivered her.”

Lanre’s brows furrowed. “How’s that?”

“I saw her birth certificate. That’s how I found out you were alive.”

“Is that what happens now? People submit documents to marry into your family?”

“Not exactly,” she said, trying to deflect. “But we do our checks. You never know who’s coming in for love or for what they can get.”

“You learned from the best—your dad,” Lanre said dryly. Molade glared at him.

“That my father was wrong about you doesn’t mean there aren’t wolves out there.”

“This Dunni girl—what’s the situation?” Lanre asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Molade briefed him, leaving out her personal business involvement and the planned operation.

“We’ll have to wait until it’s over,” Lanre said, standing and handing her his card. “You can reach me on either number. I’ll be out of the country for the next few weeks, but let me know when it’s safe, and I’ll come back.”

Molade got up to walk him out, but Lanre waved her off.
“Don’t worry. And please, show that lady some mercy. There was nothing she could’ve done to stop me. I know how this works—and you’ve probably already decided to fire her. But for the sake of what we once shared, keep her. Sometimes, you win loyalty that way.”

Molade stood frozen. Who was Lanre to walk back into her life and start telling her how to run a business she’d built and sustained for over thirty years without him? The audacity.
But deep down, part of her smiled—because, somehow, he still cared.

The Dice #41

The last light of the sun bled into the horizon, staining the sky in hues of orange and deep purple. The air was thick, carrying the dry scent of dust and sweat, mingling with the distant smoke that curled in ominous tendrils. Each breath Dunni took felt heavier than the last, her limbs screaming in protest. She had been the strong one, the one whispering words of courage to Lana, forcing a smile when despair threatened to choke her. But now, her strength was slipping away like sand through clenched fingers.

She turned to check on Lana, and the sight froze her blood.

“Lana,” she whispered, her voice barely above the whisper of the evening breeze. “Lana?” Her fingers trembled as she reached out, tapping her friend’s arm. No response.

A cold wave of dread swept through her, sinking deep into her bones. “Lana, wake up!” she pleaded, her voice rising with each desperate call. Her hands shook as she grasped Lana’s shoulders and shook her gently, then violently.

Two men rushed toward her, their faces shadowed in the dim light. One reached out to check for a pulse, the other bent to lift Lana’s body. But Dunni flung herself over her friend, clutching her with a strength she didn’t know she had.

“No! Get back!” she screamed, her voice raw with anguish.

More hands came, rough and unyielding, prying her away. She fought, kicked, thrashed, her cries splitting the silence of the night like a shattered mirror.

“She’s just sleeping,” she muttered, her breath hitching. “She’ll wake up soon. She just needs to wake up.”

She rocked herself, hugging her knees, her eyes wide and unfocused. Around her, the other women stood in silence, their faces carved with sorrow and fear. They had all learned to speak without words—through glances, through the weight of shared suffering. But Lana had been her anchor, the only voice that had kept her sane in this madness. Now, that voice was gone.

The men started rounding them up. A shadow loomed over her, his face set in hard lines.

“Tashi mu wuce.” His voice was like a hammer striking cold steel.

Dunni barely heard him. She was drowning in a haze, floating outside herself, her body refusing to move. The man barked again, his tone sharper. When she didn’t respond, a pair of hands seized her, yanking her up. She flailed, her screams cutting through the heavy night air.

Then she caught a whiff of the man holding her—an unbearable stench of unwashed flesh and dried blood. Her stomach turned, and a wave of nausea drained the fight from her. Her body slumped, her strength leaving her as quickly as Lana had. Satisfied, the man set her down roughly and walked away. She staggered forward, joining the line of women who marched onward, their feet dragging through the dust, their silence heavier than the darkness that surrounded them.

Three days had passed. Three days of hell.

Tade stood in his office, his phone pressed to his ear, his body thrumming with restless energy.

“What’s the update?” he demanded, his voice clipped. His chief security officer’s voice came through, laced with tension.

“It’s all over the news. The women were taken by Boko Haram. They’re being held in Sambisa Forest. The president has vowed action, but you know how these things go.”

Tade clenched his jaw, flipping through news channels. The flickering screen showed sensationalised reports, shaky footage, talking heads spewing government promises. It was all noise, all propaganda. None of it had hastened the rescue of Dunni and the rest of the high-profile women.

A different kind of war was raging beneath the surface.

Information was surfacing about lithium and gold buried beneath the Sambisa Forest. Molade Thomas, the richest woman in Africa, had already set her sights on the land. She had partnered with Senator Isiaku Balla, a man whose interests were as murky as the waters he waded in. To the world, they spoke of conservation, a grand plan to turn the forest into a game reserve. But Tade knew better.

Molade had an instinct for wealth, an almost supernatural ability to sniff out opportunities before anyone else. And if she was interested in Sambisa, it wasn’t for the wildlife.

She had been working her way into Borno for months, weaving a web of influence, waiting for the perfect moment. Now, with the hostage crisis unfolding, she had the perfect excuse to move in. Her trucks, loaded with aid for displaced civilians, were a front. She had already reached out to the army, the police, an independent security agency—offering ‘assistance’ in the rescue mission.

But Tade had heard whispers of another plan. One that would erase Sambisa Forest from existence.

Bello’s voice cut through his thoughts. “We move in tomorrow at midnight. If the hostages aren’t out by then, we bring them out ourselves.”

Tade exhaled slowly, his hands clenching into fists. “Twenty-four hours, MI Bello. Bring her back.”

The Dice #40

They were already in the air when Segal’s voice cut through the deafening roar of the chopper’s blades. “Change of plans! New coordinates—Sambisa Forest!”

Moses felt the cold sweat trickling down his spine, soaking into his shirt. His pulse pounded in his ears. Sambisa. The very name was enough to freeze his blood. A place so feared, that even the military hesitated to enter. Whispers of its horrors drifted through barracks and villages alike—dark, dense, a fortress for terror. There was no turning back now. The original destination he thought was supposed to be on the outskirts of Abuja. How had they ended up heading deep into Borno?

His throat went dry as his mind flickered to Dunni. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. She was out there somewhere, and now, they were hurtling toward the belly of the beast.

Segal moved to his side, his face grim. “I’ve been contacted by Andrew Akande. His wife was taken too.” He thrust a phone into Moses’ hands. A picture illuminated the screen—Dunni standing beside a woman he didn’t recognize. The image was taken on the first day of the conference. A sharp twist coiled in his gut. The helplessness gnawed at him. He had to get her out. He had to.

“The husband wants us to rescue her as well,” Segal continued. “And as many of the women as we can. The numbers change the dynamic. It’s Boko Haram. They’re asking for ransom—ten million naira per head and a hundred motorbikes. I’ve called for more men and more resources. We’ll have two bigger helicopters. We move in at midnight tomorrow.”

Dunni’s limbs burned with exhaustion. How long had it been—four, maybe five days? Time blurred together in the endless cycle of movement. They travelled by night and hid by day. The dry, smoky air clung to her skin, mingling with the scent of sweat and fear. Her lips were cracked, her throat raw. Hunger gnawed at her insides. The last thing they had eaten was stale, crumbling bread, its rancid taste still clinging to her tongue. But they had no choice. Strength was a necessity, not a luxury.

She glanced at Lana, her heart tightening. If they weren’t rescued soon, Lana would run out of medication. The consequences were too grim to contemplate.

A voice interrupted her thoughts. “What medication is your friend on?”

Dunni’s head snapped toward the sound. The voice was smooth, impeccable English with the slightest trace of an American accent. She squinted at the man before her, his eyes warm beneath the folds of his turban. Her shock was visceral. The contradiction unsettled her.

“We are not savages,” he said with a chuckle.

Under different circumstances, the joke might have been amusing. But here, surrounded by masked men and the echoes of suffering, it felt absurd.

“No one will be hurt,” he continued. “Those who have been… it was a necessity. To ensure obedience.”

Dunni stared at him. Had she seen him before? The faces around them changed constantly. The men who had captured them were long gone, replaced by new ones. There was no pattern.

“Diabetes,” she finally answered.

She had always believed that a closed mouth led to a closed destiny. Perhaps, just perhaps, this man could help.

“I’m a doctor. Harvard-trained.”

The accent made sense now. But nothing else did.

“Do you still practice?” Her voice held suspicion. If he was a real doctor, what was he doing here? Why was he with them?

“Yes,” he said briskly, then turned, his voice slipping seamlessly into the local dialect as he spoke to the others. Gone was the American twang.

Dunni’s stomach twisted with unease. She watched him blend back into the crowd, his posture no different from the rest. “Did you hear him?” she asked Lana.

Lana barely stirred. Her voice was a whisper. “No.”

Fear spiked through Dunni. “Are you okay?” she asked again, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I don’t think I’ll make it,” Lana murmured. Her words were fragile, breaking against the heavy air. “Tell my son… I love him. Tell my father… to raise him as his own. With his twins.”

“Stop,” Dunni said fiercely, her hands trembling as she grasped Lana’s frail fingers. “You will make it. You will see your son again. That doctor—he’ll help us.”

“If he’s a doctor, I’m in America right now,” Lana muttered weakly, attempting a joke. She lifted her water gourd, but it was empty.

“I’ll get more.”

Dunni pushed forward toward the men. She held up the gourd in a silent plea. A grunt of acknowledgement, a rough hand snatching it away. “Go. Someone will bring it.”

She hesitated. This group was different. Their garb was just as tattered, their faces just as covered, yet there was an air of refinement. Educated men in the ranks of terror. She returned to Lana, sitting beneath the meagre shade from the mango tree, the heat pressing in on them like a suffocating blanket.

Night fell. They moved again, trudging deeper into the unknown. Dunni’s feet throbbed, her body weak, but she pressed on. They were given stale bread once more. She nibbled half and hid the rest for Lana. They scavenged as they walked—wild berries, bitter fruits, anything to sustain them.

A man approached, a blackened gourd in his hands. “Diabetes.”

Lana eyed the liquid warily. It smelled acrid. But she was too weak to care. If they wanted her dead, they would have killed her already. She drank it in one gulp, wincing at the foul taste.

“What was that?” Dunni asked, noticing Lana’s expression twist in disgust.

“Death potion,” Lana rasped. “To make my passage to the beyond easier.”

“Stop with the jokes!” Dunni snapped, her voice cracking. The fear of losing Lana made her skin prickle, goosebumps rising along her arms. They had only known each other for days, yet their fates were entwined forever. She shuddered at the thought of delivering a message of death to Lana’s family.

“It’s a local remedy,” the man said. “Herbs used for diabetes.”

Dunni narrowed her eyes. “If it works, why isn’t it in hospitals?”

His face darkened. “We don’t value what our ancestors left behind. Western medicine overshadows what is more potent.”

Dunni had no reply. A part of her wondered if he had just handed her friend a death potion.