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.”
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.
“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 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.”
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.
The wheels of Moses’ plane touched the tarmac in Lagos, screeching against the runway as the plane jolted to a halt. He barely noticed the humid, suffocating air of the city as it surged through the plane’s opened doors. His phone was already in hand, pressed to his ear, his voice taut with urgency. “Ola,” he barked, “any updates?”
Ola’s reply was clipped and tense, words tumbling over static. Segal and his team were closing in, only a few hours behind, but Moses couldn’t afford to wait. Time was a blade at his throat, and Dunni was out there—lost, vulnerable, and in the clutches of God-knows-who.
He shoved his way through the airport terminal, ignoring the crush of people and the cacophony of shouting voices. His cab—hastily hailed when Ola’s driver got stuck in Lagos’ infamous traffic—smelled of stale leather and sweat. The city outside was chaotic: swarming markets, honking horns, the metallic screech of brakes. Moses sat rigid, his heart pounding like a war drum. He’d been running on adrenaline since the distress call, and the edges of his vision were blurring from exhaustion. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
As the cab screeched to a halt in front of the office, he flung a fistful of cash at the driver and bolted inside. The staff greeted him with a mixture of concern and awe—faces that had been colleagues now watched him like a general marching into battle. He barely nodded back, his mind too consumed to acknowledge their strained smiles.
In Ola’s office, the stench of stale coffee and stress hung heavy in the air. The dim light caught the cluttered desk, littered with maps, files, and a half-eaten meat pie. Ola was hunched over his phone, his voice sharp and brittle. When he finally hung up and looked up at Moses, his face was lined with exhaustion.
“I’ve got bad news,” Ola began, his voice low but trembling with frustration. “The tracker Tade gave Dunni? Found. In Nasarawa. Four hours from Abuja. But…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “It was with some random guy who bought it off someone else. A dead end. The federal security’s been no help. Even the president’s speech has done nothing. We’re on our own here.”
Moses’ gut twisted, and he couldn’t breathe for a moment. His hands gripped the edge of Ola’s desk. “Send everything we have to Segal,” he ordered. “He’s landing in three hours. Once he’s here, we move.”
The hours dragged like a slow bleed. By the time Segal and his team arrived, the tension in the room was so thick it seemed to choke the air. Segal was a hulking presence, his piercing eyes sweeping over the gathered intel with practised efficiency. He worked like a machine, dissecting details, issuing orders, and refusing to work with an external party who’d contacted him. “Trust is everything,” Segal growled. “This mission can’t afford leaks.”
Still, despite Segal’s expertise, there was no ransom demand, no claims of responsibility. Theories were swirling like a dark fog, but none felt concrete.
By Day 3, Moses was unravelling. Every passing second felt like a noose tightening around his neck. The air in the office allocated to Segal and his team was suffocating, filled with the hum of computers, the murmur of voices, and the bitter smell of stale coffee. Then, Segal’s team uncovered a faint thread of hope.
“Drone footage picked up a group moving further up north,” Segal announced, his voice crackling with restrained intensity. “Cross-referencing coordinates from the bomb site… This could be it.”
Moses’ heart leapt to his throat as the room erupted into a frenzy of action. The air buzzed with urgency, commands flying back and forth. Maps were marked, and plans laid. He felt like an outsider in the chaos, a spectator to his nightmare. Segal’s glare silenced his questions at one point, and Moses retreated, swallowing his frustration.
Then, Segal’s shout shattered the air: “Matza Otah! Get the helicopter—we’re moving out!”
Moses lunged forward, his voice rising over the chaos. “I’m coming with you.”
Segal turned, his face dark with disapproval. “No,” he snapped. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll slow us down.”
“I’m not staying behind!” Moses roared, his fists clenched. “I can’t sit here waiting for scraps of information while Dunni is out there! I’m coming!”
Segal stared him down, his expression stern and unyielding. Finally, with a grunt, he relented. “Fine. But you stay in the helicopter, wear a vest, and do not step out unless I tell you. Do you understand?”
Moses nodded, his jaw tight. “Let’s go.”
By 1:30 AM on Day 4, the helicopter’s blades roared to life, slicing through the stillness of the night. The cold metal of the bulletproof vest pressed against Moses’ chest, and the thrum of the engines vibrated through his body. Outside, the darkness stretched endlessly, punctuated only by the faint glow of distant fires.
This was it. The rescue was beginning—and failure wasn’t an option.
Dunni and Lana have been holding their hands during the bus ride. They journeyed all day, stopping at intervals for the women to pee. Some were brave enough and escaped in the bushes, but one lady was not too successful, and for the second time in the same day, they encountered another lady shot in cold blood. “anyone who tries escape again will be killed,” he locked his gun, and they shuddered with fear. The bus came to a stop, and they were asleep to file out, being stripped of every form of jewellery they had on them and led into the bush. As they walked, most women had to take off their heeled shoes as it was almost impossible to walk in the forest with them. A cold chill washed over Dunni when the jewellery with the tracking device was taken off her. She hoped the guy taking the jewelries off them stayed with the group, they would be fine. Her hopes were dashed when he returned to the bus, and they watched the bus drive off, killing every hope of being found. “I need to take my diabetes shot,” she heard Lana talking to one of the guys who looked at her blankly. She pointed to her bag, removing the injection and gesturing to her upper left arm. Another guy was screaming to keep moving, but Lana stood her ground and repeated what she said earlier. He nodded. She rolled her sleeve upwards, hitting her arm and administered the dose. “When is the next one, Dunni asked worriedly. “Tomorrow, same time. How many do you have with you? 7 days’ worth. I always carry it in my bag. Dunni did know the obvious show of relief on her face. “We’ll be out before you know it.” She encouraged her friend as they resumed walking, rushed by the guy with them to join the others. Dunni was struggling to remain optimistic. Every iota of hope diminished by every step into the forest.
They had walked for the better part of the day, they were not allowed to rest, Dunni could see the exhaustion on the other womens face giving her a glimpse of what hers looked like. The perfectly made face of some of the women all disappeared beneath a cake of brown powder smeared with sweat, others had trickles of black kohl forming a path below their eyes, nose and disappearing to their chin. Just about that time, Dunni felt she could no longer go on. One of the guys leading them backed the order to stop. They were approaching a settlement, and another town dog hope was rising. This could be their deliverance of escape; instead, everyone did their duties as if they had not noticed the strange entourage arriving, and the women almost dropped due to exhaustion. He gestured with his guns that they should sit, looking around at the bare floor of red sand with no chairs. He backed, “ ku zauna” gesticulating with his gun. The women all sat down while a middle-aged woman from nowhere came up to them with a clay pot of water that she passed to the women, who took sips and passed it to the next, an untold understanding that the water was all they would have and the importance that everyone had some to get their strength back. Dunni looked into the woman’s eyes, wondering whether they could get any help from her. She skirted her eyes above them, looking everywhere but hers. While she was still trying to take in the environment, looking for landmarks to know where they were, another of the men was barking at others to stand up. Dunni wondered what was happening back at home, whether her mum or siblings had heard, she could not entertain the idea that she would not make it back home and choose to keep her hope alive that not matter what they would be found and rescued.
Dunni and Lana held hands tightly during the endless bus ride, their palms slick with sweat but refusing to let go. The bus was packed with fear and silence, interrupted only by the occasional sobs of women who couldn’t mask their despair. The journey stretched through the day, punctuated by hurried stops where the women were ushered out to relieve themselves. Some, driven by desperation and bravery, attempted to slip into the surrounding bushes, hoping for freedom. But freedom came at a cruel price.
The first attempt ended with a gunshot that echoed through the trees. Now, for the second time that day, Dunni saw another woman fall. Her lifeless body crumpled into the dirt as the rest of the women stood frozen in terror.
“Anyone who tries to escape again will be killed,” the man with the gun barked in surprisingly impeccable English, his voice devoid of emotion as he locked the weapon. The metallic click sent a shiver through the group. No one dared to look directly at him, but every head nodded in terrified compliance.
As the bus finally halted again, the women were rudely awakened and ordered to file out. Bleary-eyed and stumbling, they were stripped of their jewellery—rings, necklaces, bracelets—anything that glinted. Dunni felt a cold dread seep into her bones as her bracelet and necklace with the hidden tracking device were taken. Her heart clung to a desperate hope that the man collecting the items would stay with them. But her hope crumbled when he returned to the bus, taking their last tether to the outside world. The bus roared to life and drove off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and despair.
“I need to take my diabetes shot,” Lana’s voice was soft yet firm, addressing one of the armed men. He stared at her blankly, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion. She pointed to her bag and mimed injecting her upper arm. Another man yelled for them to move, but Lana stood her ground. Her unwavering defiance drew a nod of reluctant approval, and she quickly retrieved the syringe, rolling up her sleeve.
Dunni watched as Lana administered the dose, her movements steady despite the palpable tension. “When is the next one?” Dunni whispered, her voice trembling with worry.
“Same time tomorrow,” Lana replied, stuffing the syringe back into her bag. “I have seven days’ worth. I always carry it with me.”
Dunni exhaled, the relief on her face impossible to hide. She squeezed Lana’s hand. “We’ll be out of here before you know it,” she said, her tone resolute even though her heart wavered. Lana nodded, but neither woman fully believed it.
The group was hurried along again, their captors shouting and waving their guns. The forest swallowed them as they trudged forward. For hours, they marched through the unforgiving terrain. The ground was uneven, roots and branches snagging at their feet. Many women abandoned their heeled shoes, walking barefoot despite the sharp stones and thorny underbrush.
Dunni’s legs burned with every step. Exhaustion weighed on her like an anchor, but she forced herself to move. Around her, faces that had been carefully made up now bore streaks of sweat and grime. Tears carved paths through smudged eyeliner, and the forest air clung to them, heavy and oppressive.
Just when she thought she could go no further, a barked order from the front halted their progress. They stumbled to a stop, gasping for breath. Ahead, a small settlement came into view. Hope flickered faintly in Dunni’s chest. Perhaps this was a village where they could be helped or at least noticed.
But as they entered the settlement, her heart sank. The villagers moved about their tasks as though the group didn’t exist. Women hauling water pots and men tending to livestock avoided eye contact, their faces carefully blank.
“Ku zauna!” one of the armed men commanded, gesturing with his gun. The women obeyed, sinking onto the bare, sunbaked earth. The red sand clung to their damp skin.
A middle-aged woman emerged from one of the huts, carrying a clay pot of water. She moved silently, passing the pot from one woman to the next. Each woman took a small sip, the unspoken understanding of scarcity preventing anyone from taking more than their share. When the pot reached Dunni, she hesitated, meeting the woman’s eyes. There was something there—sympathy, perhaps—but the woman quickly looked away, her expression hardening.
Dunni’s mind raced as she scanned the settlement. Were there any landmarks or signs showing where they might be? Her thoughts drifted to home—her mother and her siblings. Had they noticed her absence? Had they sounded the alarm? She couldn’t let herself think otherwise.
“Stand up!” a voice barked, dragging her back to the present. The group rose shakily, their bodies protesting every movement. As they were herded further into the forest, Dunni clung to one thought: they would be found. They had to be.
Dunni feels a profound connection with Lana at the leadership conference until chaos erupts from an explosion. They face terrifying uncertainty as masked men take them away, leading to fear and despair.
It was Day 2 of the 21st Century Belle Leadership Conference, and though Dunni had given her presentation on Day 1, she was already counting down the days until she could return home.
The sessions were engaging, and every speaker brought something fresh, real, and relatable, weaving in stories from their own lives that hit home for Dunni. Yet, despite enjoying every moment, she missed the familiar rhythms of Lagos—the sounds, the streets, the comfort of her own space. The conference was thoughtful, with breaks that let her stretch her legs and chat with others, a welcome change from the typical back-to-back presentations that drained you more than they inspired. This one felt human.
She had found an unexpected friend in Lana, a strikingly beautiful woman from Lagos who, like her, had left a young child behind to attend. Lana was magnetic, the kind of woman whose beauty stopped people in their tracks—effortless, commanding attention wherever she went. But it wasn’t her looks that bonded them; it was the immediate sense of kinship, the ease of their connection like they had known each other for years.
As Dunni entered the conference hall, she spotted Lana waving her over, a seat saved with a warm smile. It brought back memories of school days when saving a seat for a friend felt like an unspoken promise of loyalty. She waved back, feeling the comforting embrace of sisterhood. They were in their early thirties now, their lives busy and complicated, but here, in this moment, the connection felt as pure as those simpler days.
Just as Dunni settled into her seat beside Lana, an ear-splitting blast ripped through the hall, shattering the tranquil hum of conversation. The noise was deafening, a sudden explosion of sound that rattled the walls and sent glass raining down like jagged shards of terror. Screams tore through the air, blending with the harsh shatter of windows as the hall erupted into chaos. Dunni’s breath caught in her throat, her heart seizing as a thick cloud of dust surged from the east entrance, swallowing the space where Lana had stood just minutes before.
Time seemed to slow as her mind struggled to process the nightmare unfolding before her. The dust was suffocating, its gritty taste filling her lungs. The cries of the wounded echoed, mingling with desperate shouts for help. She locked eyes with Lana, their shared terror flashing like lightning. They reached for each other, but their hands never met in the madness.
Then, through the choking fog, a group of men stormed in. They moved with a chilling precision, their bodies clad in military camouflage, faces hidden behind masks. The glint of guns in their hands made Dunni’s blood run cold. The panic was overwhelming, a thick, palpable fear that hung like smoke. The men’s voices, calm yet commanding, cut through the cacophony. They ordered the women to stand and leave the hall. They claimed it was for their safety that they were being taken to a safer part of the city.
But Dunni’s gut twisted with doubt. Their tone was too calm, too rehearsed, like a predator lulling its prey. Covered in dust and trembling, she followed Lana as they were herded into a shiny, new 50-seater bus. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of dust and sweat. The rest of the women—those still able to walk—stumbled behind them, the fear etched deep into their faces.
Dunni’s heart raced as the bus doors slammed shut behind them, the sound final, like a trap closing. The distant screams from the hall echoed in her mind, growing faint as the bus pulled away. Her mind spun with a thousand questions. Was this a rescue, or were they walking straight into something far worse? She could feel Lana’s hand brushing against hers, a silent plea for reassurance, but Dunni had none to give. They were now locked in a fate neither could control, hurtling toward the unknown.
As soon as the bus rumbled to life, a tense silence fell over the passengers, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Then, piercing through the stillness, one of the masked men barked an order, his voice sharp as a whip. “Submit your phones!” The demand echoed through the bus, leaving confusion and fear etched on the faces of the women. A murmur of disbelief rippled among them, their wide eyes darting in uncertainty.
One woman hesitated, her hand trembling over her phone. The man’s impatience snapped—without warning, a gunshot rang out, deafening and brutal, slicing through the air like a violent scream. The metallic scent of gunpowder mixed with the acrid stench of sweat and fear. The woman slumped forward, and suddenly, the cold reality crashed down on Dunni with the weight of a thousand stones. This wasn’t a rescue team. They were being kidnapped.
Seated at the very back, Dunni’s pulse pounded in her ears, her heartbeat deafening in the thickening tension. Her hands moved quickly, almost on instinct. Before she could second-guess herself, she sent the emergency code to Ola and Moses, her fingers flying across the screen. The code they had devised for life-or-death situations was simple, but she had never imagined she would need to use it. Yet, despite the terror freezing her bones, she was surprised at how clearly it came to her. A number to press on repeat.
Her fingers shook as she reached for her necklace, feeling its familiar coolness against her skin. It was still there. Relief washed over her, but only for a moment. Her bracelet—she felt for it next. Intact. She turned to Lana, sitting on her left, her eyes wide with fear. Without a word, Dunni slipped the bracelet from her wrist and fastened it onto Lana’s right wrist. Lana stared at her, puzzled, but Dunni’s voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in close.
“For whatever it is worth, don’t take it off until you are safely home.”
Before Lana could respond, the masked man loomed over them. His presence was suffocating, his gaze cold. Without hesitation, he ripped the phones from their hands, his rough touch burning like fire against Dunni’s skin.
As he moved on, Lana’s tears began to fall, slow at first, then unstoppable. Her chest tightened, her breath shaky as her mind spiralled.
“My son…” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper beneath the suffocating weight of despair that hung in the air. “He didn’t want me to come.”
Dunni reached out, gently clasping her trembling hands. No words were needed between them. Yesterday, their world had been filled with light—talking, laughing, full of life and possibilities. But now, the silence between them was heavy, thick with fear.
“You will see your son again and hold him in your arms,” she reassured her new friends, even though their grim reality suggested otherwise
Dunni grapples with Moses’ absence while distancing herself from Tade, who seeks reconciliation after his dishonesty. As they reconnect over shared experiences, Dunni contemplates moving forward while navigating her emotional turmoil and safety.
Days blurred into weeks. Then they turned into months. The absence of Moses lingered in Dunni’s life like the slow, painful removal of a bandage from a raw wound. Every word, every moment, was a reminder of him. Moses seemed to be everywhere—his name would pop up in casual updates from Ola. At first, Dunni had taken his calls, but soon she stopped, and Moses, catching on, gradually disappeared until there was nothing left of their connection.
She threw herself into work, continuing her volunteering with young artists, and added volunteering at a women’s shelter she had recently found. Anything to fill the void he had left behind. One would have expected her to make up with Tade, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to answer any of his calls or see him, no matter how many messages he left. Even when she saw Toni at the art club, Dunni ensured she was always occupied with another parent when he showed up. One would think Tade would get the message, but the more she avoided him, the more persistent he became, his calls multiplying as if he could wear her down by sheer insistence.
Dunni tried to rationalize his actions, to understand why he’d hidden his family’s wealth from her. But no explanation eased the sting of betrayal. She had always despised being blindsided, which had shaken her to the core this time. How could she trust Tade again after this?
She reluctantly agreed to dinner with a fellow volunteer from the women’s shelter tonight. She was exhausted, her mind clouded with too much to do, but she had run out of polite excuses to cancel. While waiting for Joy, she distracted herself by scrolling through her phone, aimlessly flipping through old pictures. Then she saw a photo of her, Moses, and Ola taken in their first year together. The three looked so young, confident, and certain they could conquer the world. Her heart clenched painfully at the sight of Moses’ face. What would her life have been like if things had been different?
She dropped her phone on the table, frustrated with herself. Why was she torturing herself like this? For every step she took to push Moses out of her mind, she seemed to take ten steps backwards, dragged back into the aching void he had left behind. She had lost her best friend.
Looking around the restaurant, she saw strangers laughing and smiling, their faces bright with joy. But how many of them, she wondered, were carrying their own silent burdens, masking their pain with laughter and busy schedules?
She sighed, lost in her thoughts, when she suddenly felt a presence beside her. She looked up, and Tade was standing in front of her.
“Can I sit?” he asked.
“I’m expecting someone,” Dunni replied, her tone clipped.
“No worries. I’ll leave as soon as she comes,” Tade said, ignoring the cold edge in her voice.
It was on her lips to ask how he knew her dinner companion was a woman, but she held back. The sooner he left, the better.
“Tade, I don’t want to do this here,” she said, her voice weary.
“I’ve tried so hard to see you, and you’ve made it impossible. I didn’t realize it could be harder to meet you than the governor of Lagos.” He chuckled at his own joke, but Dunni wasn’t amused.
“I can’t be bought,” she said, her tone flat.
“I know,” Tade replied, his voice soft, filled with remorse. “I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do to make it right.”
“You can’t just walk back into my life, apologize, and expect everything to be fine,” she snapped. “It’s not fine. I almost lost myself in this relationship, only to find out you lied to me.”
“Tade, it’s over. I can’t go back to what I thought we had.”
Tade nodded, his expression one of deep regret. “I understand. I should have told you the moment you said yes. I wanted to, but things kept happening, and then time passed, and I was scared. I could tell you afterwards if we married quickly, but that was wrong. I should never have taken that choice from you—it was yours to make.”
He paused, looking at her with a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. “All my life, I’ve been judged by my family’s wealth, and I wanted to be known for what I’ve achieved, not for what my mother’s money could buy. I loved that you wanted me for me, not for my status. When I realized you didn’t know who I was, I wanted it to stay that way. Every day, I fell deeper in love with you.”
His sincerity and the raw emotion in his eyes chipped away at the walls Dunni had built around her heart. But she wasn’t ready to let him in. Not yet.
“I don’t know if I can return to what we had,” she whispered.
“Please, just think about it,” Tade pleaded gently. “I’m willing to wait.”
Dunni glanced at her watch, wondering out loud what was keeping Joy.
Tade hesitated, then with a sheepish grin, he confessed, “About that… I kind of arm-twisted Joy into setting this up. She’s my cousin’s best friend.”
Dunni couldn’t help but laugh at his boyish grin. “So, if Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, the mountain comes to Mohammed?”
“Exactly,” Tade said, his grin widening. “So, can I join you for dinner?”
“Do you need to ask, considering you’ve already invited yourself?” Dunni teased, a small smile playing on her lips.
Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Tade opened up about his family, his upbringing, and how he’d built his hospital after returning from the U.S. He shared stories about his first marriage, the grief of losing his wife, and how he had struggled with widowhood. Despite his wealth and the seemingly perfect life he portrayed, Dunni realized that Tade had faced his own challenges, and things weren’t as glamorous as they appeared from the outside.
They fell into a routine, meeting for dinner once a week and catching up on life. While Tade was still trying to win her back, Dunni had moved on emotionally. She wasn’t interested in rekindling their romance—friendship was all she had to offer now.
During one of their dinners, Dunni ran into Dr. Larry B., the doctor who had delivered her as a baby.
“Good evening, sir,” Dunni said, curtsying like any well-mannered Yoruba girl.
“Ah, Adedunni Adesida! How are you? And how’s your mother? And your siblings?” Dr. Larry B. asked warmly.
“They’re all fine, sir. I thought you were in America?”
“I am, but I’m here for my annual free medical service initiative. How nice to see you!”
Dunni realized she hadn’t introduced Tade as he was about to leave. “Oh, Dr. Larry, meet my friend, Tade Braithwaite.”
Dr. Larry’s interest was immediately piqued. “Braithwaite, from Lagos?”
“Yes,” Tade replied, sensing the curiosity in the doctor’s tone. “My late father was Olanrewaju Braithwaite, and my mother is Molade Thomas. Do you know them?”
Dr. Larry’s face paled as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“Are you alright, sir?” Dunni asked, concerned.
“I… I have to go,” Dr. Larry stammered, his voice shaking. “My guests are waiting.”
And with that, he hurried off, leaving them both in stunned silence.
“I thought that was weird,” Dunni commented, her brow furrowing. “Do you think he knows your parents?”
Tade shrugged, his eyes scanning the bustling restaurant around them. “A lot of people know my family. I hope he isn’t one of those with an axe to grind. The business world can be ruthless, not for the faint-hearted. I didn’t know much about my father, but my mother and grandfather. They were cut from the same cloth—strictly business, no room for sentiments.”
Dunni leaned back in her chair, the candlelight flickering between them. “I’m in the business world too, remember? And it’s not as bleak as you’re making it. Sure, it’s tough, but there is always a way.”
Tade raised an eyebrow. “It depends on what that way is. Try bidding for and executing government contracts. Now, that’s a whole different beast—lucrative, yes, but it’s not just about your expertise. It’s all about connections. Friends and family turn on each other all the time. Betrayal is a currency. Sometimes, people don’t just lose money—they lose their lives. The pressure breaks them, heart attacks, strokes. It’s not uncommon.”
“Our experience at Architex Designs seems to be different.”
“You architects must have it easy. From what you’ve told me, your contracts seem to come purely from recommendations. You don’t have to wade through the murky waters.”
Dunni smirked. “Moses got our first government contract through a recommendation, yes. From a job we did for a bank. Ola and Moses used to handle the contract chasing, but now it’s all on Ola. I keep offering to help, but he always refuses.”
Tade shook his head, his tone serious. “Let him handle that side of things. You might be shocked at what really goes on behind closed doors.”
“If that was supposed to scare me, it hasn’t,” Dunni said, eyes gleaming with challenge. “If anything, you’ve just lit a fire under me. I’m going to ask Ola again.”
Tade groaned, rubbing his temples. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I can see the wheels turning in your head already. I’ve just set you on your next contract mission, haven’t I?”
Dunni bit her lip to keep a straight face, but her mischievous grin broke through.
“I’m not buying that innocent look, Dunni. I know you too well now.”
She laughed, her shoulders shaking. “You’re catching on fast. But seriously, I’ll be in Abuja next week for a conference. Maybe I’ll try my hand at some lobbying while I’m there.”
Tade’s expression shifted, concern clouding his features. “Drop the details of your conference location for security reasons. When do you leave? I’ll get a bracelet sent over, nothing flashy, but something to track your location without drawing attention.”
Dunni tilted her head. “Tade, I’m going to Abuja, not a war zone. Yeah, there’ve been some bomb blasts, but the government has it under control.”
Tade’s eyes narrowed. “What news do you listen to, baby girl? If your government has it as ‘under control’ as you say, we must live in different countries. Wear the bracelet. It’ll help me sleep better at night, knowing I can track your coordinates if anything happens. Phones can be taken or smashed, but no one notices cheap jewellery.”
Her mind flashed back to a memory—Moses had once given her a necklace with a small heart pendant embedded with a chip for emergencies. He was always cautious, especially after the abduction of foreign workers from a construction site in Northern Cameroon a couple of years back. He’d insisted she wear it whenever she travelled, citing incidents of kidnappings by MEND militants in the southern part of the country.
“I actually have something similar,” Dunni said, tapping her chin. “Moses gave me a necklace with a tracker. He was paranoid back then, too, after that kidnapping of the oil workers. It hasn’t left my drawer in years, but I think I’ll take it on this trip.”
Tade nodded approvingly. “Good. Take the necklace, and I’ll send the bracelet as a backup. Wear both.”
Dunni chuckled and raised her hand in a mock salute. “Yes, sir. Anything else, Commander?”
Tade smiled, but his eyes held a seriousness that lingered as they finished their dinner.
Dunni tossed and turned all night, sleep eluding her. Tade’s betrayal gnawed at her—he had hidden his family’s wealth, a truth he had kept from her. His calls had been relentless, but she couldn’t answer. And today, Moses was leaving, the thought of it tearing her apart. He had been away six long months out of the country, but this felt different. It felt final. Their strained relationship only deepened the ache in her chest, and she couldn’t understand why it had come to this. Moses had been a constant in her life for so long that she couldn’t imagine a world without him.
As the first light of dawn crept into her room, she was almost grateful. She scrambled out of bed, moving slowly as she readied herself for work. Today was packed with meetings, and she was determined to wrap them up by 3 p.m. so she could rush to the airport to see Moses off. The plan was to meet Ola and Moses at the airport after sharing a farewell dinner at Cactus Restaurant the night before. She had gone through the motions of that evening, trying to maintain a facade of normalcy, pretending that everything was as it should be.
But the day slipped away from her faster than she anticipated. After her last meeting in Lekki, she raced to her car, eager to beat the traffic and get to Murtala Mohammed International Airport. But as she hit the Third Mainland Bridge, the standstill traffic stopped her. A tanker accident had blocked the road, and despite no casualties, the wait for it to be cleared felt like an eternity. Desperation clawed at her as she realized she wouldn’t reach the airport in time. She texted Ola, heart heavy with disappointment, and reluctantly turned her car around.
But halfway through her retreat, something inside her snapped. She spun the car around again, determined to get to that airport no matter how long it took. If she missed Moses, it wouldn’t be because she didn’t try; it would be because fate had decided it wasn’t meant to be. But at least she would know she had given it everything.
At the airport, Ola stayed by Moses’s side while waiting for check-in. Moses kept glancing at the entrance, his eyes betraying the anticipation he couldn’t hide.
“Dunni’s been stuck in traffic for four hours,” Ola informed him, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation. “She had to turn back.”
Moses’s shoulders slumped, disappointment etched on his face.
“You need to let her go,” Ola said gently but firmly.
“I know,” Moses replied, his voice low, staring into the distance. He could fix anything—anything but this. His heart clenched at the mere mention of Dunni’s name, a pain he knew would only dull with time. Until then, he would wear his grief like a heavy cloak, carrying it with him as he moved forward.
He hugged Ola tightly before walking to the boarding gate, not daring to look back. He would have seen Dunni walking through the revolving door if he had.
She arrived just as Ola was leaving. “You made it,” he said, a touch of surprise in his voice.
“Yeah,” she replied, her tone hollow. “But what good did it do? He’s already gone through the gates.”
“Yes,” Ola confirmed, watching her carefully, trying to gauge her emotions. She simply shrugged, her voice empty. “I made it, though.”
Ola handed her the small pair of dice Moses had left for her. “He asked me to give you this,” he said softly.
And that was when Dunni’s composure shattered. The tears came, a torrent of grief she had been holding back for too long.
“I’ll walk you to the car park,” Ola offered, knowing no words could ease the pain between these two friends who were so clearly meant to be together yet were now worlds apart.
21stcenturybelle 