————— Chapter 1 —————
“Still nothing?”
The question landed like a slap.
Not loud.
Not violent.
But sharp enough to cut skin.
Bisi pretended she didn’t hear it.
She kept washing the plates in the sink, her hands moving slowly inside the soapy water.
Behind her, her mother-in-law sucked her teeth loudly.
“Five years, eh? Five whole years.”
Silence.
Then the final blow.
“What exactly are we feeding you for in this house?”
Bisi blinked fast.
Don’t cry.
Not again.
Not this early in the morning.
If you asked anyone in their street at Surulere, they would tell you one thing:
“Kunle and Bisi? Ah! Those two love each other die.”
And it was true.
They were that couple.
The type that shared one umbrella when it rained.
The type that held hands crossing the road like teenagers.
The type that still said “thank you” after every meal.
But love…
Love didn’t stop people from talking.
And in Nigeria, marriage without a child is like a party without food.
People don’t respect it.
They met in university.
Not in some romantic way.
Not cinema style.
Very ordinary.
Very real.
Kunle had been broke.
Not “no airtime” broke.
Not “borrow transport” broke.
Real broke.
The type that calculated whether to eat twice or once a day.
The type that wore one pair of jeans for three years.
The type that walked from hostel to class because bus money was luxury.
That was Kunle.
Final year Engineering student.
Skinny.
Serious.
Always tired.
Always hustling.
Bisi was different.
Soft face.
Always neat.
Accounting student.
Laugh that sounded like bells.
She used to sell chin-chin and zobo inside campus to support herself.
That was how they met.
One afternoon, Kunle fainted during lecture.
No food.
No water.
Just stress.
Everybody walked past.
Except Bisi.
She bought him bread.
Pure water.
Sat beside him till he woke up.
“Don’t faint and die in class abeg,” she had joked.
“Who will buy my chin-chin?”
That was how it started.
From that day, they became two bodies, one shadow.
When he didn’t have food, she shared hers.
When her rent was due, he fixed generators at night to help.
When he nearly dropped out because of fees, she sold her gold chain.
Nobody knew.
He found out years later.
He cried like a baby.
“I will never forget this in my life,” he told her.
And he meant it.
After NYSC, life was hard.
Very hard.
One small room.
Leaking roof.
Shared toilet with six tenants.
They slept on mattress on the floor.
Sometimes no light for two weeks.
But they were happy.
Happy in that crazy, struggling, laughing way poor couples understand.
They promised each other:
“One day, we’ll laugh about this.”
They married in that same room.
No big wedding.
Just family.
Small rice.
Plastic chairs.
Love full everywhere.
People mocked them.
But they didn’t care.
They had each other.
Then God blessed Kunle.
Big contract.
Promotion.
New job.
Money started coming.
They moved to a better flat.
Bought car.
Life finally softened.
Everything was aligning.
Everything…
Except one thing.
A child.
Year one — nothing.
“Relax, it will come,” people said.
Year two — nothing.
“Maybe stress.”
Year three — still nothing.
That’s when whispers started.
Year four…
People stopped whispering.
They started talking loudly.
“Maybe she tied her womb in her village.”
“I heard she aborted before.”
“Maybe she’s cursed.”
“Maybe she’s barren.”
Barren.
That word.
It followed Bisi like perfume.
Everywhere.
Church.
Market.
Family meetings.
Even in her sleep.
And the worst part?
It wasn’t strangers.
It was inside her own home.
Kunle’s younger sister, Titi, had moved in “temporarily.”
Temporary had turned to two years.
Titi didn’t hide her mouth.
“Brother, you sure you want to waste your life like this?”
“Other men have two children already.”
“You need a second wife.”
Sometimes she said it in front of Bisi.
Like Bisi was invisible.
Like she wasn’t human.
⸻
Then Mama Kunle came for “a short visit.”
Short visit turned permanent.
And from the day she stepped into that house…
Peace packed its bags and left.
⸻
Every morning:
“No child.”
Every afternoon:
“Other women are giving birth like rabbits.”
Every night:
“Kunle, I need grandchildren before I die.”
If Bisi laughed too much:
“Women without children are always carefree.”
If she rested:
“That’s why your womb is lazy.”
If she ate meat:
“You want to be fat but can’t give us baby.”
Nothing she did was right.
Nothing.
⸻
But Kunle?
Kunle never changed.
Not once.
Every night he still held her.
Still kissed her forehead.
Still said,
“It’s us against the world, remember?”
One night she cried into his chest.
“What if I really can’t give you a child?”
He lifted her chin.
“Then we adopt.”
She blinked.
“I didn’t marry you for your womb, Bisi. I married you because you saved my life.”
Tears rolled down her face.
“But your family—”
“My family is you.”
But love…
Even strong love…
Can still be tested.
And the real war…
Hadn’t even started yet.
Because Mama Kunle was about to make a decision.
One that would shake the entire house.
And force Kunle to choose:
Blood…
Or love.
————— Chapter 2 —————
The day the trouble truly started, it began like any normal Tuesday.
Quiet.
Ordinary.
Deceptively peaceful.
Bisi woke up before everyone, as usual.
5:07 a.m.
She tied her scarf, slipped her feet into her slippers, and tiptoed to the kitchen.
Cooking early had become her survival strategy.
If food was ready before Mama Kunle woke up, there would be fewer insults.
Less supervision.
Less commentary.
She lit the stove and started boiling yam.
The house was still.
That soft, calm silence before sunrise.
For a few minutes, she allowed herself breathe.
Just breathe.
Maybe today will be peaceful, she prayed silently.
Maybe today nobody will talk about babies.
Maybe today—
“Bisi!”
Her body stiffened.
Too late.
Mama Kunle’s voice.
Sharp like cracked glass.
“I’ve been calling you! Are you deaf?”
“I’m coming, Mama,” Bisi said quickly, wiping her hands.
She rushed to the sitting room.
Mama Kunle was already dressed.
Wrapper tied tight.
Bible in hand.
Face serious.
Too serious for that early morning.
Something was wrong.
“I’m going out,” she announced.
“Okay, Mama.”
“We’re going somewhere.”
“Where, Mama?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
She just stared.
Long.
Hard.
Then—
“To see a prophet.”
Bisi’s heart dropped.
⸻
By 7 a.m., they were already inside a keke.
Mama Kunle refused to explain anything.
She just kept muttering prayers under her breath.
Titi sat beside her, scrolling her phone and smirking like she knew something.
Bisi felt like a goat being taken to the market.
Nobody asked her opinion.
Nobody explained.
She was just… cargo.
⸻
The “church” was not really a church.
It was one small building squeezed between two shops.
Faded banner outside:
“MOUNTAIN OF FRUITFUL FIRE MINISTRY – BARRENNESS DESTROYED HERE”
Her stomach tightened.
Women were already sitting outside.
Lots of them.
Some crying.
Some holding babies.
Some looking ashamed.
Bisi wanted the ground to open and swallow her.
Mama Kunle dragged her inside like a child.
“This is my son’s wife,” she announced loudly to the usher.
“Five years. Nothing.”
People turned.
Stared.
Whispered.
Bisi’s ears burned.
She wished she could disappear.
⸻
Inside, the prophet sat on a plastic chair like a king.
Big ring.
Big belly.
Big voice.
“What is the problem?” he asked dramatically.
Mama Kunle answered before Bisi could open her mouth.
“She is blocking my grandchildren.”
Blocking.
Like she purposely locked her womb.
“She looks fine outside,” the prophet said, squinting at Bisi.
“But spiritually… hmm… something is wrong.”
Bisi swallowed.
“I’ve done hospital tests, sir,” she said quietly. “Doctors said everything is normal—”
The prophet banged the table.
“DOCTORS?!”
Everybody jumped.
“You people trust doctors more than God!”
Mama Kunle nodded vigorously.
“I told her!”
The prophet leaned forward.
“Some women carry spirit husband. Some have evil altar in their father’s house. Some wombs are tied spiritually.”
Every word felt like a slap.
Then he looked straight at her.
“You must do deliverance. Seven days fasting. Special seed. And cleansing bath.”
“How much is the seed?” Titi asked immediately.
“Two hundred thousand.”
Bisi blinked.
Two hundred thousand?!
For what?!
But Mama Kunle didn’t even hesitate.
“We will pay.”
⸻
That night, Kunle came home tired and dusty from work.
He dropped his bag.
“Kemi, I’m home—”
He stopped.
He saw her eyes.
Red.
Swollen.
“What happened?”
She tried to smile.
“Nothing.”
“Bisi.”
That voice.
The one that said don’t lie to me.
She broke.
Everything spilled out.
The church.
The prophet.
The money.
The humiliation.
The “spirit husband”.
By the time she finished, she was shaking.
Kunle stood up slowly.
Very slowly.
Dangerously calm.
“Where is my mother?”
⸻
Mama Kunle was eating groundnuts when he entered.
“Mama, you took my wife to one fake prophet?”
“He’s not fake!”
“You paid two hundred thousand?!”
“For your future!”
“For my future or your pride?!”
She gasped.
“You’re shouting at me because of this woman?”
Kunle’s voice cracked.
“No. I’m shouting because you embarrassed my wife!”
“She’s barren!”
“STOP CALLING HER THAT!”
The whole house went silent.
Even Titi froze.
Kunle pointed at his chest.
“When I had nothing, this woman fed me. When I couldn’t pay fees, she saved me. When everybody mocked me, she stayed.”
His voice broke.
“If she never gives birth till we die, I will still choose her.”
Mama Kunle stared like he slapped her.
“You will choose woman over your mother?”
Kunle didn’t blink.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Dangerous.
Mama Kunle’s eyes darkened.
Something changed inside her that moment.
Not pain.
Not understanding.
Something worse.
Resentment.
Deep.
Cold.
Calculating.
She stood up quietly and went to her room.
No shouting.
No drama.
Just quiet.
And somehow…
That quiet scared Bisi more than anything else.
Because sometimes…
The loud enemies are not the most dangerous ones.
It’s the quiet ones.
The ones who start planning.
⸻
That night, as Bisi lay beside her husband, she couldn’t sleep.
Her heart kept racing.
Something wasn’t right.
She could feel it.
Like the house itself was watching her.
Like something bad was coming.
And somewhere in the darkness…
Mama Kunle was awake too.
Staring at the ceiling.
Whispering to herself.
“If she won’t give us a child willingly…”
“We will find another way.”
————— Chapter 3 —————
Two weeks after the prophet incident…
The house changed.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
And that was worse.
Mama Kunle stopped shouting.
Stopped insulting.
Stopped calling Bisi “barren woman” every morning.
At first, Bisi felt relieved.
Maybe Kunle’s words touched her heart.
Maybe things would finally get better.
Maybe peace had come.
She didn’t know that sometimes…
Peace is just silence before war.
⸻
That morning, Bisi was washing clothes in the backyard when she heard laughter inside the sitting room.
Strange laughter.
Female.
Soft.
Girly.
Not Titi.
Not Mama Kunle.
She wiped her hands and peeked through the window.
A young girl sat on the sofa.
Maybe twenty-three.
Light skin.
Long braids.
Tight gown.
Too tight.
She was laughing and covering her mouth shyly.
Mama Kunle sat beside her, smiling like she had just won a lottery.
Bisi’s stomach tightened.
Who is that?
She walked inside.
Immediately, the room went quiet.
Too quiet.
Mama Kunle forced a smile.
“Oh, Bisi. You’re there.”
“Yes, Mama… good morning.”
“This is Ngozi,” Mama said casually. “My friend’s daughter. She just moved to Lagos. She’ll be staying with us for some time.”
Bisi blinked.
Staying?
With us?
Since when do strangers just move into the house?
Ngozi stood up quickly and greeted.
“Good morning, Aunty.”
Aunty.
The word hit Bisi like a slap.
Aunty?
Why not Sister?
Why not Madam?
Why Aunty?
Why was she looking at her with that fake respect?
Something wasn’t right.
⸻
That night, Bisi told Kunle.
“Your mum brought a girl home today. She said she’ll stay here.”
Kunle frowned.
“What girl?”
“She said her friend’s daughter.”
He sighed.
“You know my mum. She likes helping people.”
But Bisi couldn’t shake the feeling.
Helping?
Or replacing?
⸻
Three days later, the signs became clearer.
Ngozi didn’t behave like a guest.
She behaved like…
A wife.
She cooked for Kunle without asking.
She served his food.
She ironed his shirts.
She even called him “Brother Kunle” with a sugary voice.
“Mummy said you like your tea strong.”
“Mummy said you don’t like pepper too much.”
“Mummy said you wake up by 6.”
How does she know all this?
Why is Mama telling her all this?
Why not me?
Bisi started feeling like a visitor in her own marriage.
⸻
Then one afternoon, she overheard them.
She was passing Mama’s room when she heard whispers.
Mama Kunle’s voice.
Sharp.
Low.
Serious.
“You see my son?”
“Yes, ma,” Ngozi replied softly.
“That is your future husband.”
Bisi froze.
Her heart stopped.
Her ears rang.
“I understand, ma.”
“I didn’t train you for nothing. You’re fresh. You’re strong. Not like some people whose womb has expired.”
They both laughed.
Laughed.
Like her pain was a joke.
Bisi’s legs nearly gave way.
So this is it.
Replacement.
They were planning her replacement.
Inside her own house.
While she was still alive.
⸻
That night, she didn’t eat.
She didn’t talk.
She just lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.
Kunle noticed.
“Bisi… what’s wrong?”
She turned slowly.
“Are you going to marry another wife?”
He sat up.
“What kind of question is that?”
“Answer me.”
“Of course not!”
She burst into tears.
“They brought a girl to replace me!”
“Who?!”
She told him everything.
Every word she overheard.
Every laugh.
Every plan.
Kunle’s face darkened.
He stood up immediately and marched to his mother’s room.
“Mama!”
Mama Kunle looked up calmly.
“Yes?”
“Why are you telling that girl she will marry me?!”
Mama didn’t even deny.
“You need children.”
“I have a wife!”
“You need children!”
“I said I have a wife!”
“Will love give you heir? Will love carry your name? Will love give me grandchildren before I die?!”
Kunle’s voice shook.
“So you want me to betray the woman who built my life with me?”
“You call it betrayal. I call it survival.”
Silence.
Then she said the most painful thing.
“If she loves you, she will step aside peacefully.”
Kunle’s hand hit the wall.
“Never.”
Then he said something that shocked everyone.
“If you force this nonsense, I will leave this house with my wife.”
Mama Kunle stared.
“You will leave your mother?”
“Yes.”
The word landed heavy.
Final.
Real.
For the first time…
Fear flickered in her eyes.
Because she knew one thing.
Her son doesn’t bluff.
⸻
But that night…
As everyone slept…
Mama Kunle sat in the dark again.
Thinking.
Planning.
Whispering.
“If love won’t remove her…”
“Then something else will.”
And outside…
Ngozi was smiling at her phone.
Typing a message:
“Aunty said the plan will start soon.”
————— Chapter 4 —————
That same week, Mama Kunle stopped fighting Kunle openly.
That alone scared Bisi.
Because Mama Kunle was not the type to give up.
She only changed strategy.
⸻
One Friday evening, Mama Kunle cooked.
That was the first red flag.
She hadn’t cooked in months.
She prepared Kunle’s favourite soup—the one Bisi learned to cook during their university days when they had nothing.
Egusi.
Plenty meat.
Plenty oil.
She served Kunle herself.
Smiling.
“Eat well, my son. You look stressed.”
Kunle laughed.
“Thank you, Mama.”
Bisi felt a cold chill.
Mama Kunle never served food without an agenda.
⸻
That night, Kunle became… strange.
Not drunk.
But not himself.
His eyes were heavy.
His speech slow.
He complained of heat.
“My head is spinning,” he muttered.
Bisi rushed to him.
“Should I get you water?”
Mama Kunle cut in sharply.
“No. Let him sleep. Men get tired too.”
She grabbed Kunle’s arm.
“I’ll help you to the guest room. Bisi, leave him.”
Bisi frowned.
“Why the guest room? Our room is—”
“He needs space!”
Mama snapped.
Bisi froze.
Kunle weakly said,
“Bisi… just let me rest small.”
Her heart started racing.
Something was wrong.
⸻
As Mama Kunle dragged Kunle away, Ngozi appeared from nowhere.
Already dressed.
Hair loose.
Perfume heavy.
Too ready.
Bisi’s chest tightened.
This was not coincidence.
This was a plan.
⸻
Minutes later, Bisi heard Mama Kunle whisper angrily.
“Go inside now.”
“I’m scared,” Ngozi said softly.
“Don’t be stupid. Men don’t remember anything when herbs work.”
Herbs.
Bisi’s knees almost gave way.
So this was it.
Drug him.
Put another woman in his bed.
Then blame fate.
Or blame alcohol.
Or blame Bisi.
⸻
Bisi ran to the kitchen and poured the leftover soup into the sink.
Her hands were shaking.
She didn’t know what Mama Kunle put inside his food.
But she knew one thing—
She could not let Kunle be alone.
She rushed back to the guest room.
As Ngozi was about to enter.
“STOP!”
Her voice cut through the house.
Mama Kunle spun around.
“Are you mad?!”
Bisi stood between the door and Ngozi.
“You will not enter that room.”
Mama Kunle laughed mockingly.
“You think you have power here?”
“This is my husband.”
“He is not in his senses!”
“That is why you should leave him alone!”
Ngozi suddenly started crying.
“I didn’t do anything! Aunty forced me!”
Bisi turned sharply.
“What?”
Ngozi panicked.
“I swear! I didn’t know she put something in his food!”
Mama Kunle slapped Ngozi.
“Shut up!”
That slap changed everything.
Kunle stirred inside the room.
“What… what is going on?”
Bisi rushed to him.
“Kunle, can you hear me?”
He looked at her face.
Confused.
Then suddenly alert.
“Why is Ngozi here?”
Silence.
Heavy.
Deadly.
Mama Kunle’s face drained of colour.
Kunle sat up slowly.
“Mama… what did you put in my food?”
Mama Kunle opened her mouth.
No words came out.
Ngozi dropped to her knees.
“I’m sorry! I swear I didn’t touch him! Nothing happened!”
Kunle stood up shakily.
“So you wanted to turn me into a rapist?”
That word landed like thunder.
“So you wanted to disgrace me?”
“So you wanted to destroy my marriage?”
Mama Kunle screamed.
“I WAS DOING IT FOR YOU!”
“No,” Kunle said coldly.
“You were doing it for control.”
He turned to Bisi.
Tears were streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Then he faced his mother again.
“You will leave this house tomorrow.”
Mama Kunle staggered back.
“You will choose her over me?”
Kunle didn’t shout.
That was worse.
“I already chose her years ago.”
⸻
That evening, Mama Kunle sat alone.
The plan had failed.
But her hatred had not.
Evening came with dust and tiredness.
The kind of Lagos evening where the sun hung low and orange like it was too tired to shine again.
The gate creaked open.
Car horns outside.
Generators humming.
Bisi was in the kitchen, stirring soup absent-mindedly, her mind far away.
Kunle had not spoken much since morning.
Mama Kunle had not spoken at all.
And that silence?
It was louder than shouting.
⸻
The front door burst open.
Heels clicked loudly.
Handbag dropped on the chair.
“Jesus Christ, this traffic will kill somebody one day!”
It was Kemi.
Kunle’s younger sister.
Sharp mouth. Hot temper. Zero patience.
The kind of person who entered a room and the room adjusted itself.
But today…
She stopped.
Because the house felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Too heavy.
She looked at her mother sitting stiffly in the parlour like someone mourning.
“Mama… what happened?”
Mama Kunle didn’t answer immediately.
Then slowly…
She began.
And she twisted everything.
Carefully.
Skillfully.
Poison sweetened with tears.
“She wants to send me away.”
“She says I disturb her peace.”
“She has turned your brother’s head.”
“She wants to remove me from my own son’s house.”
“She’s controlling him.”
Every sentence sharper than the last.
By the time she finished, Kemi’s jaw was tight.
Her eyes dark.
But instead of exploding…
She surprised her mother.
She exhaled.
Calm.
Too calm.
“Relax, Mama.”
Mama Kunle looked at her.
Kemi adjusted her bag.
“This night is not for noise.”
A slow smile spread across her face.
“Let Kunle go to work tomorrow first.”
“Then I will deal with her properly.”
Mama Kunle’s lips curved.
Understanding.
They didn’t say anything else.
But something wicked had just been agreed on.
⸻
Morning came quietly.
Kunle dressed for work.
Kissed Bisi’s forehead.
“Rest, okay?”
She forced a smile.
“I will.”
He left.
Gate shut.
Car drove off.
And the house changed.
Immediately.
Like a mask had dropped.
⸻
Bisi was sweeping the living room when she heard it.
“Kemi… leave me—”
Before she could finish, the broom was kicked out of her hand.
It slid across the floor.
She looked up.
Kemi stood there.
Arms folded.
Face hard.
“So you’re the one trying to scatter my family.”
Bisi blinked.
“What?”
“My mother told me everything.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Kemi, please, it’s not like that—”
“SHUT UP!”
The shout hit the walls.
“You want my brother to send his own mother away?”
“No! I only said Mama should just—”
SLAP.
Her head snapped sideways.
She tasted blood instantly.
“Kemi—”
Another slap.
“You think because you followed him during university days you now own him?!”
“I never—”
The next thing she knew—
Kemi pushed her.
Hard.
Bisi lost balance and fell to the floor.
Her elbow hit tiles.
Pain shot up her arm.
Before she could stand—
Kemi climbed on her.
Started hitting.
Left.
Right.
Slaps.
Punches.
Wild.
Angry.
Years of bottled hatred.
“Manipulating witch!”
“Control freak!”
“Destroyer!”
Bisi raised her hands to protect her face.
Crying.
“Please stop— please—”
Mama Kunle stood by the wall.
Watching.
Not stopping anything.
Instead—
“Beat her well!”
“Yes!”
“Let her learn!”
“Disrespectful girl!”
“Teach her sense!”
Bisi couldn’t believe it.
Her own mother-in-law…
Cheering while she was being beaten.
⸻
Ngozi froze at first.
Then panic swallowed her.
This wasn’t scolding anymore.
This was real beating.
Bisi’s lip had split.
Blood.
She was crying helplessly.
“Ngozi help me—”
That was when Ngozi ran.
Not phone.
Not call.
She ran barefoot.
Through the compound.
Through the gate.
To the estate security post.
“Please come! They’re killing somebody! Please come!”
⸻
Two security men rushed back with her.
They entered just as Kemi raised her hand again.
“HEY!”
“STOP THAT!”
They pulled Kemi off Bisi.
One held her back.
“Madam! Are you mad?! You want to kill her?!”
Kemi struggled.
“She deserves it! Leave me!”
Mama Kunle quickly changed tone.
“Ahn ahn, it’s just family matter—”
“Family matter ke? This one is assault,” one guard snapped.
Bisi lay on the floor.
Bruised.
Shaking.
Wrapper torn.
Crying quietly.
She had never felt so small.
So alone.
⸻
Later…
She walked slowly to the nearby pharmacy.
Cleaned her wounds.
Got small stitches on her eyebrow.
Bandages on her arm.
Painkillers.
The pharmacist kept asking, “Are you okay?”
She just nodded.
Because what explanation was there?
⸻
When she returned home…
The house was quiet again.
Like nothing happened.
Kemi was waiting.
Leaning against the wall.
Arms crossed.
Watching her enter with bandages.
Their eyes met.
Long.
Cold.
Then Kemi walked close.
Very close.
Whispered into her ear.
“If you tell my brother it was me…”
Her voice dropped lower.
“I swear to you…”
“The beating you saw today will be small compared to what I will do tomorrow.”
She smiled.
“No word. Not one.”
Then she walked away like nothing happened.
⸻
Bisi stood there alone.
Heart pounding.
Body aching.
Tears gathering again.
Kunle would soon come back from work.
And she didn’t know what was worse—
Telling him…
Or keeping quiet.
————— Chapter 5 —————
Morning dragged itself into afternoon like an old woman carrying firewood.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes every small sound loud.
The ticking clock.
The fridge humming.
The ceiling fan creaking.
And Bisi’s slow breathing.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her bandaged arm.
Her eyebrow throbbed.
Her lip stung.
Even her ribs hurt when she inhaled too deeply.
Every part of her body reminded her of the morning.
Of Kemi’s fists.
Of Mama Kunle’s voice cheering like it was a boxing match.
“Beat her well!”
She shut her eyes.
Tears slid down quietly.
Not loud crying.
Just tired tears.
The kind that come when your heart is too weak to scream anymore.
⸻
In the kitchen, Mama Kunle and Kemi were laughing.
Laughing.
Like nothing happened.
Like somebody hadn’t almost died on that floor hours ago.
That laughter hurt more than the beating.
⸻
By 4 p.m., Bisi started panicking.
Kunle would soon be back.
She kept rehearsing it in her head.
Should she tell him?
Should she lie?
Should she say she fell?
But why should she lie?
Why must she protect the same people hurting her?
Yet…
Kemi’s threat echoed.
“The beating you saw today will be small…”
Her body shivered.
What if they actually killed her next time?
What if Kunle wasn’t around?
What if security didn’t come?
Fear sat heavy in her chest.
⸻
Evening.
Gate opened.
Car horn.
Kunle was back.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
She quickly wore a long-sleeved top to hide the bandage.
Tied scarf to cover the eyebrow.
But the swelling?
Impossible to hide completely.
⸻
Kunle entered smiling.
“Bisi! I’m home!”
She forced her voice steady.
“Welcome…”
He walked closer.
Stopped.
Squinted.
“Why are you tying scarf inside house?”
“No… nothing. Cold.”
“Cold? In this heat?”
He stepped closer.
Lifted her chin gently.
That was when he saw it.
The swelling.
The slight cut near her lip.
His smile vanished.
“What happened to your face?”
Silence.
Her throat closed.
Behind him, she could feel eyes.
Watching.
Mama Kunle.
Kemi.
Standing in the corridor.
Listening.
Waiting.
Daring her.
⸻
“I… I slipped,” she said softly.
Kunle frowned immediately.
“Slipped?”
“Yes… bathroom floor.”
He didn’t believe it.
“Bisi, look at me.”
She couldn’t.
Because if she did…
She would cry.
And if she cried…
Everything would spill.
⸻
Before he could press further, Mama Kunle entered dramatically.
“Ahn ahn, my son, welcome! You look tired. Come and eat first.”
Too cheerful.
Too fast.
She grabbed his bag.
Distracting him.
Pulling him away.
“Food is getting cold.”
Kemi added casually,
“Yes, brother. She said she slipped since morning. We even told her to be careful.”
The lie came so smoothly it scared Bisi.
They had rehearsed it.
Together.
Like a team.
Against her.
⸻
Kunle still looked unsure.
But he sighed.
Long day.
Headache.
Work stress.
He let it go.
“For now.”
But his eyes kept returning to her.
Suspicious.
Worried.
Confused.
⸻
That night, Bisi lay awake beside him.
Night settled fully over the house, thick and heavy like wet cloth.
The generator outside coughed once, then steadied into its usual tired hum.
Kunle slept beside her, one arm flung across his forehead, exhausted from the day.
But Bisi’s eyes stayed open.
Wide.
Dry.
Her body hurt everywhere.
Each time she shifted, pain shot through her ribs.
Her eyebrow throbbed under the plaster.
Her arm burned where the skin had scraped the tiles.
She stared at the ceiling fan turning slowly.
Round.
Round.
Round.
Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying it.
The shove.
The fall.
Kemi’s weight on her chest.
Mama Kunle’s voice.
“Beat her well!”
She pressed her lips together to stop herself from sobbing.
Because if she cried too loudly, Kunle would wake up.
And if he woke up…
She didn’t even know what she would say anymore.
⸻
Around midnight, Kunle stirred.
Half-awake.
He reached for her automatically like he always did.
His hand touched her arm.
She flinched.
Hard.
He woke instantly.
“Bisi?”
She froze.
He sat up.
“Why did you jump like that?”
“No… nothing.”
But his eyes had adjusted to the darkness.
He could see her outline.
Stiff.
Curled into herself.
Like someone protecting wounds.
“Come here,” he said softly.
She moved closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like an old woman.
He noticed.
“Why are you walking like that?”
Silence.
“Bisi…”
His voice changed.
Serious now.
“What really happened today?”
Her chest tightened.
Behind the bedroom door, the house was quiet.
But somehow she still felt watched.
Threatened.
Kemi’s whisper came back:
“The beating you saw today will be small…”
Her heart pounded.
If she spoke…
Tomorrow might be worse.
If she kept quiet…
This might never stop.
⸻
Kunle touched her face gently.
His thumb brushed the swelling.
She winced.
He pulled back immediately.
“You’re in pain.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a fact.
He stood up and switched on the bedside lamp.
Soft yellow light filled the room.
And everything became clear.
The scarf.
The bandage.
The way she couldn’t straighten her arm.
His face hardened.
“Remove it.”
“What?”
“The scarf.”
“Kunle, it’s fine—”
“Remove it.”
His voice was calm.
But dangerous.
She slowly untied it.
The stitched cut showed.
Purple swelling around her eye.
His jaw clenched.
“Bathroom floor did this?”
She couldn’t answer.
He looked at her arm.
“Show me.”
“It’s nothing—”
“Bisi.”
She rolled up her sleeve.
Bruises.
Finger marks.
Scratches.
Clear.
Undeniable.
Not a fall.
A fight.
No.
A beating.
⸻
Kunle stepped back like someone punched him.
“Who touched you?”
Silence.
He raised his voice slightly.
“WHO TOUCHED MY WIFE?”
Tears spilled immediately.
“I don’t want trouble…”
“I asked you a question!”
She started shaking.
“I’m scared…”
That broke him.
He softened instantly.
Cupped her face.
“I will never let anything happen to you. You know that. Tell me.”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened again.
Nothing came out.
Because fear had built a wall in her throat.
⸻
Just then—
A floorboard creaked outside.
Very soft.
But enough.
They weren’t asleep.
They were listening.
Waiting.
Her courage collapsed.
“I… I really slipped,” she whispered again.
Kunle stared at her.
Long.
Searching.
He knew.
He knew she was lying.
But he also knew something else—
She was afraid.
Afraid inside his own house.
And that scared him more than anything.
⸻
He switched off the light slowly.
Lay back down.
But he didn’t sleep.
His eyes stayed open in the darkness.
Staring at the ceiling.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Because something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And whoever did this…
He would find out.
⸻
Outside the room…
In the corridor…
Mama Kunle and Kemi stood quietly.
Listening.
When they heard no shouting…
No confrontation…
They relaxed.
Kemi smirked.
“See? She’s scared.”
Mama Kunle nodded.
“Good.”
Then she muttered under her breath,
“She will learn her place in this house.”
⸻
But inside the bedroom…
Kunle’s eyes were still open.
Wide.
Burning.
For the first time since his marriage…
He began to suspect that the enemies in his life…
Were not outside.
They were sleeping under his own roof.
⸻
And morning was coming.
With consequences.
————— Chapter 6 —————
Dawn came quietly.
Too quietly. The kind of morning that feels like the world is holding its breath.
No birds. No hawkers.
Just that pale grey light slipping through the curtains like a warning.
Bisi hadn’t slept.
Not even for one minute.
Her eyes were swollen.
Her body ached like she had been hit by a bus.
Beside her, Kunle finally slept around 4 a.m.
But it wasn’t peaceful sleep.
He kept turning.
Grinding his teeth.
Muttering.
Like his spirit already knew something was wrong.
⸻
By 6 a.m., Bisi slipped out of bed carefully.
Every step hurt.
She wrapped her scarf again.
Long sleeves.
Long skirt.
Cover everything.
Hide everything.
Hide the shame.
Hide the bruises.
Hide the truth.
She moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast like nothing happened.
Because that was what “good wives” did.
They bled quietly.
And still cooked.
⸻
Mama Kunle was already awake.
Sitting in the parlour.
Counting her prayer beads.
But her eyes?
Sharp.
Watching.
Calculating.
When she saw Bisi limping slightly, she smiled faintly.
Not sympathy.
Satisfaction.
“So you’re alive,” she said dryly.
Bisi said nothing.
Just kept walking.
Mama Kunle added,
“Next time, learn not to disrespect elders.”
The words landed like hot oil.
Bisi gripped the tray tighter.
Her knuckles turned white.
But she swallowed it.
Because survival sometimes means silence.
⸻
Then Kemi entered.
Stretching like she slept like a baby.
“Good morning everybody.”
Her eyes met Bisi’s.
Slow.
Mocking.
She smirked.
“Hope your body is not paining you too much.”
Bisi froze.
Mama Kunle chuckled.
Low.
Cruel.
Kemi came closer and whispered as she passed,
“Remember what I told you.”
“If you talk… I’ll finish what I started.”
Then she walked away like nothing happened.
⸻
But something had changed.
Because this time…
Bisi didn’t cry.
She didn’t shake.
She didn’t look down.
She just stared at their backs.
Long.
Quiet.
Something hard was forming inside her.
Something new.
Something that wasn’t fear.
⸻
Later that morning, Kunle came out dressed for work.
Tie half-done.
Still distracted.
Still watching her.
He sat at the table.
Didn’t touch his food.
Just kept looking.
“Bisi.”
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
Her heart skipped.
She walked slowly.
He held her wrist gently.
Then he turned her palm upward.
She winced.
There were faint nail marks there too.
He hadn’t seen those last night.
His eyes darkened.
“This one too… you slipped in the bathroom?”
She couldn’t speak.
Before she could answer—
Mama Kunle cut in quickly.
“Ahn ahn, my son, why are you interrogating her like police?”
Kemi added casually,
“Women bruise easily na. Maybe low blood.”
Low blood.
Kunle looked from one face to another.
Something wasn’t adding up.
At all.
⸻
Then something happened.
Small.
But suspicious.
Very suspicious.
Ngozi entered quietly with water.
But her eyes met Kunle’s.
And she quickly looked away.
Too quickly.
Like someone hiding something.
Her hands were shaking.
The glass rattled on the tray.
Kunle noticed.
“Ngozi.”
She froze.
“Sir?”
“Why are you shaking?”
“I… I’m not, sir.”
He stared at her.
Long.
Hard.
The kind of stare that pulls truth out of people.
Mama Kunle quickly snapped,
“Leave that girl alone. She’s always nervous.”
But now Kunle was watching everyone.
Carefully.
Like a detective in his own house.
⸻
As he picked up his car keys, he turned suddenly.
“Bisi.”
“Yes?”
“I might come back early today.”
Mama Kunle stiffened.
“Why?”
He smiled slightly.
“No reason.”
But there was definitely a reason.
⸻
The gate closed behind him.
Car drove off.
Silence returned.
And immediately—
Mama Kunle’s voice changed.
Sharp.
“Hope you didn’t say anything yesterday.”
Bisi said nothing.
Kemi stepped forward.
“If my brother even smells the truth…”
She dragged her finger across her neck.
Threat.
Clear.
Direct.
⸻
But outside the compound…
Kunle didn’t go to work.
He parked two streets away.
Turned off his engine.
Sat quietly.
Thinking.
Remembering every bruise.
Every strange answer.
Every forced smile.
Then he picked up his phone.
Dialed one number.
Estate security.
“Good morning. This is Mr. Adebayo from Block C.”
“Yes sir.”
“I want to ask you something.”
“Yesterday… did anything happen in my house?”
There was silence on the other end.
Then hesitation.
“Sir… are you sure you want to know?”
Kunle’s grip tightened.
“Yes.”
And whatever the guard said next—
Made his face go cold.
Dead cold.
⸻
Back in the house…
Mama Kunle smiled wickedly.
“Today will be peaceful.”
She had no idea…
The storm was already turning back toward her.
Fast.
————— Chapter 7 —————
Kunle didn’t speak for a long time after the security man finished talking.
He just sat there inside the parked car, engine off, windows rolled up, Lagos heat pressing against the glass.
But he didn’t feel the heat.
Only cold.
Cold spreading slowly from his chest to his fingers.
“Sir… we had to separate them,” the guard had said.
“Your sister was on top of madam. Hitting her.”
“Your wife was bleeding.”
“We even followed her to the pharmacy.”
“We thought you knew…”
Thought you knew.
Those three words kept echoing.
Thought you knew.
So they beat his wife.
In his house.
While he was at work.
And everyone acted normal when he came back.
A small laugh escaped him.
Not funny.
Not sane.
Just shock.
The kind of laugh a man makes when something inside him breaks quietly.
⸻
Inside the house, Bisi was washing plates slowly.
Her body protested every movement.
Water touched the cut on her hand.
She hissed.
But kept washing.
Because if she stopped moving, she would start thinking.
And if she started thinking…
She might pack her things and run.
⸻
Mama Kunle and Kemi were in the parlour, gossiping like market women.
“See how she’s pretending to be quiet,” Kemi scoffed.
“She thinks silence will save her.”
Mama Kunle smirked.
“Fear is good. It will reset her brain.”
They laughed.
The kind of laugh that makes walls uncomfortable.
⸻
Ngozi stood by the window.
Heart racing.
Something didn’t sit right.
Since morning she’d felt… uneasy.
Like bad news was coming.
Like when thunder gathers before rain.
She kept looking at the gate.
Waiting.
Without knowing why.
⸻
Then—
The gate opened.
Car horn.
Everyone froze.
Kemi frowned.
“Didn’t he say he’ll close late today?”
Mama Kunle sat up straight.
“He forgot something maybe.”
But something about the way the car stopped…
Was different.
No music.
No normal relaxed movement.
Just silence.
Heavy footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Like someone walking into war.
⸻
Kunle entered.
Didn’t greet.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t drop his bag.
He just stood there.
Looking at everybody.
One by one.
First Mama.
Then Kemi.
Then Ngozi.
Then finally…
Bisi.
His eyes softened when they landed on her.
Then hardened again when he turned away.
“Everybody sit down.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Nobody argued.
They sat.
Even Mama Kunle.
⸻
“I have a question,” he said.
Silence.
“If you lie to me…”
He dropped his keys on the table.
The sound was sharp.
“I will know.”
No one breathed.
He turned to Kemi first.
“What happened in this house yesterday morning?”
Kemi didn’t even blink.
“Nothing.”
He nodded slowly.
Turned to Mama Kunle.
“Mama?”
She clicked her tongue.
“Family talk. Women’s matter. Why are you behaving like policeman?”
He nodded again.
Slow.
Then—
“Ngozi.”
Ngozi jumped like someone called her from sleep.
“S-sir?”
He held her gaze.
“You’re the only one I haven’t asked.”
Her lips trembled.
Mama Kunle snapped,
“Why are you asking a small girl—”
“Mama,” Kunle said quietly.
But the warning in that one word was loud.
Very loud.
The room went still.
He looked back at Ngozi.
“Tell me the truth.”
Silence.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Ngozi’s eyes filled.
“I’m sorry, sir…”
Mama Kunle stood up immediately.
“EHEN?! What is she sorry for—”
Ngozi burst.
“They were beating her!”
Everything exploded at once.
“I couldn’t watch! Aunty Kemi pushed her down! Mama said they should beat her! She was crying! I ran to call security! They would have injured her more!”
Dead silence.
The kind that hums in your ears.
⸻
Kunle didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t shout.
Which was worse.
Much worse.
He just turned slowly.
Looked at his mother.
Looked at his sister.
And for the first time in his life…
They saw something in his eyes they had never seen before.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
Not pain.
Something colder.
Something final.
⸻
“You touched my wife,” he said quietly.
No one answered.
“You raised your hands on her.”
Mama Kunle tried to speak.
“My son, she’s exaggerating—”
“Don’t.”
One word.
Sharp like blade.
She stopped immediately.
⸻
He walked to Bisi.
Lifted her sleeve gently.
The bruises showed.
He faced them again.
“If I ever… EVER… see one more mark on her body…”
His voice cracked slightly.
“…I will forget that you are my mother.”
That hit.
Hard.
Mama Kunle staggered back like she’d been slapped.
“KUNLE!”
“I mean it.”
No shouting.
Just truth.
“I can survive without peace. I cannot survive watching my wife suffer.”
Kemi scoffed.
“So you’re choosing her over blood?”
He looked at her.
Cold.
“She is my blood.”
That shut her up.
⸻
Then he said the words nobody expected.
“Kemi, pack your things.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“You’re leaving today.”
“Are you mad?!”
“Today.”
She laughed nervously.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
Silence fell heavy.
Mama Kunle started wailing.
“You want to scatter this family because of a woman?!”
Kunle replied calmly,
“No, Mama.”
“You scattered it yesterday.”
⸻
And Bisi stood there…
Watching.
Heart racing.
Because for the first time since she entered that house…
Someone was finally fighting for her.
⸻
But just as Kemi stormed toward her room angrily—
She turned back.
Eyes dark.
Pointed at Bisi.
“This is not over.”
Her voice was low.
Dangerous.
“You think you’ve won?”
A small smile curled her lips.
“Let’s see.”
⸻
And somehow…
The way she said it…
Didn’t sound like a threat.
It sounded like a promise.
————— Chapter 8 —————
The house did not sleep that night.
Even the walls felt awake.
Listening.
Waiting.
⸻
Kemi packed like a storm.
Drawers slamming.
Boxes crashing.
Zippers ripping shut.
Every sound aggressive.
Violent.
Intentional.
Like she wanted the whole house to feel her anger.
Mama Kunle followed her from room to room, wailing dramatically.
“My children have turned against me!”
“Because of one woman!”
“One barren woman has scattered my home!”
She didn’t even lower her voice.
She wanted Bisi to hear.
Every word.
Every insult.
Like knives thrown from the corridor.
⸻
Bisi stayed in the bedroom.
Sitting quietly on the edge of the bed.
Hands folded.
Heart racing.
She should have felt victorious.
Kemi was leaving.
The beating had been exposed.
Kunle had defended her.
She should feel safe.
But instead…
She felt afraid.
Because women like Kemi didn’t leave quietly.
They left with plans.
⸻
Kunle stood by the window, watching the gate.
Watching movers carry Kemi’s boxes out.
His jaw tight.
His face unreadable.
Bisi walked to him slowly.
“You didn’t have to send her away because of me…”
He turned sharply.
“Because of you?”
He almost laughed.
“Bisi… they beat you.”
She looked down.
“I can manage—”
“No.”
His voice firm.
“You’ve managed enough.”
Silence.
Then softer—
“I should have protected you earlier.”
Something in his tone broke her heart.
She shook her head quickly.
“You’ve always protected me.”
But deep down…
They both knew that wasn’t true.
Not fully.
Not until now.
⸻
Outside, Kemi dragged her last box to the car.
She didn’t hug anyone.
Didn’t greet.
Didn’t pretend.
She just stopped at the door.
Turned slowly.
Her eyes found Bisi.
Long.
Cold.
Deadly.
“You think you’ve won?”
She smirked.
“This house will reject you by itself.”
Then she walked out.
Gate slammed.
Car drove off.
Dust rose.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
⸻
For the first time in months…
The house felt bigger.
Quieter.
Less toxic.
Even the air felt lighter.
Ngozi smiled while sweeping.
Humming.
Mama Kunle didn’t talk much.
Didn’t insult.
Didn’t complain.
She just sat quietly.
Thinking.
Planning.
Because if there was one thing Mama Kunle hated…
It was losing.
⸻
Three days passed.
Peace.
Real peace.
Bisi almost forgot what tension felt like.
She laughed more.
Cooked freely.
Slept better.
Kunle came home early every day.
Sometimes they even sat outside together like old times.
Talking.
Teasing.
Dreaming again.
It felt like university days.
Before marriage.
Before family pressure.
Before the word barren became her shadow.
⸻
Then it happened.
Small.
But strange.
⸻
That evening, Bisi went to take the trash out.
As she stepped outside the gate—
She saw it.
Her heart dropped.
Kemi’s car.
Parked across the street.
Engine off.
Lights off.
But inside—
Someone was sitting.
Watching the house.
Her.
She froze.
The driver’s window rolled down slowly.
Kemi’s face appeared.
Smiling.
Not friendly.
Not normal.
Just smiling.
Like someone watching a movie she already knew the ending of.
Then she drove off.
Slowly.
Without a word.
⸻
That night, Bisi couldn’t sleep again.
Because something told her—
Kemi hadn’t left.
Not really.
And whatever she was planning next…
Would be worse than fists.
Worse than shouting.
Worse than humiliation.
Because this time…
It would be quiet.
Smart.
Dangerous.
⸻
Meanwhile…
In another part of town…
Kemi sat inside a small herbal shop.
Dim light.
Strong smell of incense.
An old woman grinding something black in a bowl.
Thick paste.
Dark.
Ugly.
Kemi’s voice was low.
Cold.
“I don’t want to beat her again.”
She slid money forward.
“I want her gone.”
The old woman looked up slowly.
“Gone… how?”
Kemi’s lips curved.
“However you do your things.”
Silence.
Then the old woman smiled.
Showing brown teeth.
“There are many ways to remove a wife from a house…”
The pestle hit the bowl.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
“And none of them make noise.”
⸻
Back at home…
Bisi turned in her sleep.
Suddenly uneasy.
Like someone just walked over her grave.
⸻
Something was coming.
And this time…
It wasn’t a fight.
It was war.
————— Chapter 9 —————
Peace, Bisi soon discovered, can be very deceptive.
It doesn’t always mean safety.
Sometimes it’s just silence before something worse.
⸻
For four days, nothing happened.
No insults.
No shouting.
No slamming doors.
Mama Kunle suddenly became… calm.
Too calm.
She stopped complaining about food.
Stopped muttering about grandchildren.
Stopped calling Bisi barren under her breath.
Even when Bisi delayed breakfast, she didn’t talk.
She would just smile.
That smile scared Bisi more than the insults ever did.
Because Mama Kunle was not a quiet woman.
She was fire.
So if fire suddenly turned cold…
Something was cooking somewhere.
⸻
One morning, Bisi woke up with a strange heaviness in her body.
Her head throbbed.
Her limbs felt weak.
Like she carried cement bags all night.
She sat up slowly.
“Maybe stress,” she muttered.
She forced herself out of bed.
Went to the kitchen.
Prepared tea.
But halfway through slicing onions, her vision blurred.
She grabbed the counter.
The room spun.
Ngozi rushed in.
“Aunty Bisi, you okay?”
“I’m fine… just dizzy.”
But she wasn’t fine.
Her heart was beating too fast.
Then too slow.
Then fast again.
Cold sweat covered her back.
⸻
Mama Kunle entered quietly.
Watched her for a second.
Then said casually,
“Maybe it’s your body rejecting you.”
Bisi frowned weakly.
“What do you mean, Mama?”
She shrugged.
“Some women’s bodies know when they’re not meant to stay in a house.”
The words were soft.
But they carried something dark.
Something intentional.
⸻
That afternoon, Bisi vomited twice.
Couldn’t eat.
Couldn’t stand long.
Even her skin felt hot.
Kunle came home early and panicked immediately.
“Why is she like this?!”
Ngozi answered quickly,
“She has been weak since morning, sir.”
Kunle touched Bisi’s forehead.
Burning.
“Why didn’t you call me?!”
She tried to smile.
“I didn’t want to disturb you…”
“Disturb me ke? You’re my wife!”
He carried her to the car himself.
Mama Kunle watched from the doorway.
Quiet.
Expression unreadable.
⸻
Hospital tests.
Blood work.
Drip.
Doctor checking charts.
Then confusion.
“Her results are… strange,” the doctor said.
Kunle frowned. “Strange how?”
“No infection. No malaria. No typhoid. Nothing.”
“Then why is she this weak?”
The doctor shook his head.
“We can’t find a medical reason yet.”
Kunle felt something cold crawl up his spine.
No reason?
How does a healthy person suddenly collapse with no reason?
⸻
They returned home late.
Bisi exhausted.
Half asleep.
Kunle helped her to bed gently.
Covered her.
Sat beside her.
Holding her hand.
He wasn’t smiling anymore.
Something wasn’t right.
First the beating.
Now sudden sickness.
Too many coincidences.
And he didn’t believe in coincidences.
⸻
Around midnight, he went to get water.
As he passed the corridor…
He heard whispering.
Low voices.
From Mama Kunle’s room.
He slowed down.
Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
But then he heard Kemi’s voice.
His heart skipped.
Kemi?
But she moved out.
Why was she here?
He stepped closer quietly.
Door slightly open.
Light inside.
Kemi sat on the bed.
Mama Kunle beside her.
Between them—
A small nylon bag.
Filled with dark powder.
Kemi said softly,
“You said three days, right?”
Mama Kunle nodded.
“Her body will start failing small small.”
Kunle froze.
His blood turned to ice.
Mama Kunle continued,
“By the time anybody understands what’s happening, it will look like natural sickness.”
They both laughed quietly.
Soft.
Cruel.
Satisfied.
Kemi added,
“She wants to chase us away from our own house? Let’s see how she survives first.”
Kunle’s heart slammed against his chest so hard he thought they would hear it.
His wife.
They were talking about his wife.
Like she was an enemy.
Like she wasn’t human.
Like she wasn’t the woman who starved with him in university.
The woman who sold her jewelry to pay his project fee.
The woman who stood by him when he had nothing.
They wanted her gone.
Permanently.
⸻
His hand tightened around the cup until it almost broke.
For the first time in his life…
He didn’t see them as family.
He saw strangers.
Dangerous strangers.
Inside his house.
Sleeping under his roof.
Plotting murder.
⸻
Behind him—
Floorboard creaked.
Mama Kunle’s voice stopped.
“Did you hear something?”
Kunle stepped back quickly into the shadows.
Heart racing.
Because now he knew.
This wasn’t family drama anymore.
This wasn’t jealousy.
This was something darker.
Something wicked.
Something that could end his wife’s life.
And if he didn’t act fast—
He might wake up one day…
And Bisi wouldn’t wake up at all.
⸻
Inside the bedroom, Bisi turned weakly in her sleep.
Murmuring his name.
“K… Kunle…”
Like her spirit was calling for help.
⸻
And Kunle made a silent promise in the dark:
Anybody.
Anybody at all.
Who tries to harm his wife again…
Will regret ever knowing him.
Even if that person…
Is his own mother.
————— Chapter 10 —————
The next morning, Kunle woke up before dawn.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t eat. He just watched Bisi sleep, fragile and pale, her chest rising and falling slowly under the sheets. Her lips whispered his name in dreams, and his heart clenched.
He had made a promise last night. A silent, deadly promise. Anyone who tried to hurt her again… would pay. Even his own mother.
⸻
Bisi stirred awake, weak but aware. She looked at him, eyes wide.
“You… you didn’t sleep?” she whispered.
“I can’t,” he said quietly. “Not with what’s happening.”
Her hand reached for his. Weak, trembling. “Kunle… I don’t want you to hate your mother because of me.”
He squeezed her hand tightly. “I don’t hate her… yet. But if she hurts you again, I will make sure she regrets it.”
Her heart thumped. His voice was calm, but there was an edge in it—a warning sharp enough to cut through steel.
⸻
Mama Kunle was already up, pretending to prepare breakfast. She hummed a soft tune, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Kunle noticed it immediately. That smile meant plotting.
He walked past her. Quiet. Purposeful.
“Good morning, Mama,” he said, calm, but with a weight that made the air heavy.
Mama Kunle froze for a moment. Then forced a laugh. “Good morning, my son. How’s your wife?”
Kunle didn’t answer. He kept walking to Bisi’s side, helping her sit on a chair.
⸻
Meanwhile, Bisi’s body was still weak. Every movement made her wince. Kunle held her close, refusing to let her fall.
Mama Kunle watched. Something like calculation danced across her face. Then she muttered under her breath:
“Two days and she’ll be gone. Just two days…”
⸻
Later that night, Kemi, who had returned secretly from her “banishment,” crept into the house. She tiptoed down the corridor, listening for anyone.
She had brought more of the dark powder. Plans. Juju. A way to make Bisi permanently weak.
⸻
Kunle did not sleep that night.
He lay on the edge of the bed, eyes open, listening to Bisi’s breathing.
Too slow.
Too weak.
Every time she shifted, his heart jumped.
This wasn’t ordinary sickness. He knew it now.
Something was wrong.
Something was being done to his wife.
And whoever it was… would regret it.
⸻
By 4 a.m., the house was silent.
The kind of silence that feels suspicious.
Kunle carefully slipped out of bed and stepped into the corridor to drink water.
That was when he heard it.
A faint shuffle.
Like someone dragging slippers softly against the floor.
He froze.
Everyone should be asleep.
Mama’s door was closed.
Ngozi was snoring faintly from her room.
So who was moving?
He switched off the kitchen light and stood in the dark.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then he saw a shadow.
By Bisi’s door.
Crouching.
Sprinkling something.
Kunle’s heart slammed.
He moved closer quietly.
Step.
Step.
And then the light from the window hit the person’s face.
“Kemi?!”
She froze.
Her hand still stretched forward.
A small black nylon in her fingers.
Powder.
Charms.
His blood boiled instantly.
“What are you doing in my house?” he growled.
Kemi stammered. “I… I just came to see Mama—”
“At 4 a.m.?” he snapped.
She tried to hide the nylon behind her back.
Too late.
Kunle grabbed her wrist hard and snatched it away.
The smell was strange. Herbal. Bitter.
His eyes darkened.
“You’re trying to kill my wife.”
“No! No! It’s not—”
“Shut up!”
His voice thundered through the house.
Mama Kunle rushed out.
Ngozi too.
Everyone gathered.
Mama Kunle’s face went pale when she saw Kemi.
“You came back?” she whispered.
Kemi started crying. “Mama… I just wanted to help—”
“Help who?!” Kunle roared. “By poisoning my wife?”
Bisi coughed weakly from the room.
That sound alone shattered whatever mercy he had left.
He pulled out his phone immediately.
And dialed.
“Hello, police? Yes. This is an attempted murder case.”
The whole house went silent.
Even Mama Kunle gasped.
“KUNLE! She’s your sister!”
“She stopped being my sister the day she tried to kill my wife.”
⸻
Twenty minutes later, a police van stopped outside.
Red and blue lights flashing.
Estate neighbors peeped through their windows.
Whispers everywhere.
Two officers came inside.
Kunle handed them the nylon.
“I caught her pouring this at my wife’s door. My wife has been mysteriously sick for weeks. I want a full investigation.”
The officers turned to Kemi.
“Madam, you’ll come with us.”
She dropped to her knees.
“Kunle please! Please don’t arrest me!”
But Kunle’s face was stone.
“If anything happens to Bisi, I will not forgive myself.”
They cuffed her.
Mama Kunle cried. “She’s your blood!”
Kunle replied coldly, “And Bisi is my life.”
⸻
As they dragged her out, one officer asked calmly,
“Where did you get this charm from?”
Kemi kept quiet.
The officer tightened his grip.
“Talk. Now.”
She broke down.
“A baba… a native doctor… he prepared it…”
Kunle stepped forward immediately.
“Take us there.”
⸻
At dawn, the police van stopped in front of a small muddy shrine at the edge of town.
Red cloths.
Animal bones.
Strange markings.
Kunle felt anger boil in his chest.
This was where they brought evil to his home.
The officers stormed inside.
The old native doctor tried to deny everything.
But when the police showed him the powder and threatened arrest for conspiracy and attempted murder, he panicked.
“It’s reversible! It’s reversible!” he cried.
“Then reverse it,” Kunle said dangerously.
⸻
The man mixed herbs, water, and something bitter.
Chanting nervously.
He prepared a liquid antidote.
“This will neutralize what was done… give her small small… she’ll regain strength.”
Kunle didn’t trust him.
So the police collected everything as evidence.
Both the baba and Kemi were taken into custody.
⸻
Back home, Kunle sat beside Bisi.
He gently lifted her head.
“Drink this… please.”
She obeyed weakly.
Minutes passed.
Nothing.
Then—
Her breathing steadied.
Her hands stopped shaking.
Color slowly returned to her lips.
Kunle’s eyes filled with tears.
For the first time in weeks…
She looked alive.
⸻
Mama Kunle stood at the door.
Watching.
Silent.
Guilt creeping in.
Because deep down…
She knew.
If Kunle hadn’t caught Kemi today…
Bisi might have died.
And her son would never have forgiven her.
⸻
That evening, the house felt different.
Quiet.
Heavy.
Police had taken statements.
Kemi was detained for attempted murder.
The baba too.
Mama Kunle sat alone in the sitting room.
No power.
No control.
Just fear.
Because now she understood something clearly.
Kunle was no longer the quiet boy she could manipulate.
He had become a man ready to fight the whole world for his wife.
And anyone who tried again…
Would face the law.
Not mercy.
————— Chapter 11 —————
By evening, the whole compound already knew.
Police van.
Handcuffs.
Shouting.
Neighbors peeping through curtains.
“Kemi arrested… attempted murder… juju…”
The story spread like harmattan fire.
Mama Kunle sat in the sitting room, wrapper tied loosely around her chest, eyes swollen from crying.
But it wasn’t just tears.
It was anger.
Hot.
Bitter.
Dangerous anger.
Every time her phone rang, it was another relative.
“Ehn? Police carried your daughter?”
“What kind of disgrace is this?”
“How can Kunle arrest his own blood sister?”
“Is that wife using his head?”
Each call poured petrol into her heart.
By the tenth call, she wasn’t crying anymore.
She was fuming.
“This girl has destroyed my home…” she muttered. “Destroyed everything…”
⸻
Kunle returned from the police station exhausted.
His shirt was rumpled.
His eyes red.
He had spent hours writing statements, signing papers, explaining everything.
They said Kemi could face serious charges.
Attempted murder.
Criminal conspiracy.
Maybe even prison.
He didn’t feel happy.
He didn’t feel victorious.
He just felt… tired.
All he wanted was peace.
He stepped into the house quietly.
Mama Kunle was waiting.
Sitting upright.
Like a judge.
“So,” she said coldly. “You are back.”
Kunle nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
“Where is your sister?”
“At the station.”
Her lips trembled.
“And you left her there?”
“Yes.”
“Like a criminal?”
He looked straight at her.
“She acted like one.”
The words landed like a slap.
Mama Kunle sprang up.
“You are wicked!”
Kunle blinked.
“What?”
“You are wicked, Kunle! Heartless! That girl is your sister! Your blood!”
“And Bisi is my wife!” he shot back. “She almost died, Mama!”
“She did not die!”
“But she could have!”
They both stared at each other.
Breathing hard.
Years of respect hanging by a thin thread.
⸻
Mama Kunle pointed toward the bedroom.
“That girl has finished you. Since she entered this house, you stopped being my son.”
Kunle laughed bitterly.
“Because I protect my wife?”
“Because you choose her over your family!”
“No, Mama. I choose what is right!”
“What is right? Sending your sister to prison?!”
“If the law says so, yes!”
She staggered back like he stabbed her.
Then her face changed.
From anger…
To something darker.
Something traditional.
Dangerous.
She untied her wrapper and retied it tightly — the way older women did when they were about to curse.
Kunle’s heart skipped.
“Mama…”
Her voice dropped low.
“If you don’t drop those charges tomorrow…”
She pointed at him.
“I will disown you.”
He went still.
“I will stand in the village square and swear you are no longer my son.”
Silence.
“And I will curse you.”
The air felt heavier.
Even the ceiling fan sounded louder.
“I carried you nine months,” she continued, voice shaking. “If you disgrace me like this… if my daughter sleeps inside cell because of you… may everything you love leave you.”
Kunle swallowed.
“You will know no peace. Your home will scatter. Your children will suffer.”
“Mama, stop—”
“I will call your ancestors! I will swear for you!”
“Mama!”
Her voice rose.
“DROP THE CASE OR FORGET YOU HAVE A MOTHER!”
⸻
The words echoed.
Ngozi, standing by the corridor, started crying quietly.
Bisi, weak but awake inside the room, heard everything.
Her heart broke.
She tried to sit up.
This was because of her.
Because she married Kunle.
Because she didn’t give them a child yet.
Now mother and son were tearing each other apart.
⸻
Kunle’s eyes were wet now.
But his voice remained firm.
Low.
Controlled.
“Mama… if someone tried to kill me… would you forgive them because they are family?”
She said nothing.
“If someone poisoned you… should I beg the police to release them because they’re my wife?”
Still nothing.
He stepped closer.
“Kemi didn’t slap Bisi. She didn’t insult her. She tried to end her life.”
Mama Kunle looked away.
“I almost lost my wife,” he whispered. “Do you know what that feels like?”
Her hands trembled.
“But you are asking me to pretend nothing happened.”
Tears rolled down his face now.
“I can’t, Mama. I just… I can’t.”
⸻
She screamed.
“Then you are not my son!”
The words hit harder than anything.
“From today, forget I gave birth to you!”
Ngozi gasped.
Mama Kunle walked toward the shrine corner and grabbed her Bible and traditional beads.
“I swear—”
Kunle rushed forward and held her hands.
“Enough!”
His voice thundered.
The whole house froze.
“Enough, Mama.”
He was shaking now.
Not from fear.
From pain.
“You can disown me if you want.”
Silence.
“You can curse me if you want.”
Tears streamed down.
“But I will not drop the case.”
Dead silence.
“Because if I do…”
He looked toward Bisi’s room.
“I will lose myself forever.”
⸻
Mama Kunle slowly sank into the chair.
Defeated.
But her eyes…
They were not soft.
They were not forgiving.
They were cold.
Burning.
Full of something dangerous.
“If you do this…” she whispered, “don’t blame me for what happens next.”
Kunle frowned.
“What does that mean, Mama?”
She didn’t answer.
She just turned her face away.
And began to pray quietly under her breath.
⸻
From the bedroom doorway…
Bisi watched everything.
And for the first time…
She felt something worse than sickness.
Fear.
Because a wounded mother…
Is sometimes more dangerous than an enemy.
————— Chapter 12 —————
The house changed after Kemi was taken away.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… heavy.
Like someone had covered the whole building with a dark cloth.
Nobody laughed anymore.
Nobody played music.
Even the birds that usually perched on the fence in the morning seemed to disappear.
Silence lived there now.
⸻
Mama Kunle stopped eating.
At first, they didn’t notice.
Ngozi thought she wasn’t hungry.
Kunle thought she was just angry.
But by the second day, her plate remained untouched.
Third day.
Same thing.
Fourth day.
Still nothing.
Only water.
Sometimes not even that.
She tied her wrapper loosely and dragged a small wooden chair outside the house.
She refused to stay indoors.
Rain fell that evening.
She didn’t move.
Ngozi rushed out. “Mama, come inside na, you’ll catch cold!”
“I’m fine,” she muttered.
“Mama—”
“I said leave me!”
She slept outside.
Mosquitoes whining around her ears.
Cold wind biting her skin.
Still… she didn’t move.
⸻
When Kunle returned from work that night, he froze at the gate.
His mother was lying on a mat outside.
Under the open sky.
Like someone nobody cared for.
“Mama…”
She turned her back to him.
He knelt beside her.
“You haven’t eaten?”
Silence.
“Mama, this is not healthy.”
Still silence.
Then finally—
“My daughter is sleeping on a prison floor,” she said quietly.
Her voice cracked.
“And you want me to eat rice?”
Kunle closed his eyes.
“Mama…”
“She was crying today.”
His chest tightened.
“She held the bars and was shouting ‘Mummy, take me home.’”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“But you…” she looked at him with pain, not anger now, “you are sleeping peacefully.”
He couldn’t speak.
Because he wasn’t.
He hadn’t slept properly in days.
⸻
At the station earlier that afternoon, Mama Kunle had visited Kemi.
The image refused to leave her head.
Kemi behind bars.
Hair scattered.
Eyes red.
“Mummy, please… I don’t want prison… I swear I didn’t mean to kill her… mummy please take me home…”
Her daughter shaking like a child.
Begging.
Crying.
Calling her name.
It was that sound that broke her.
Not pride.
Not shame.
Just… that sound.
A mother can survive anything.
But not her child begging.
⸻
Back at home, Bisi watched everything quietly.
Her heart was breaking.
Mama Kunle looked smaller now.
Weak.
Her cheeks sunken.
Her wrapper hanging loosely like it belonged to someone else.
Even when rain poured, she refused to come inside.
Even when the sun burned hot, she stayed outside.
Like she was punishing herself.
Or punishing everyone.
⸻
That night, Bisi couldn’t sleep.
She turned and turned on the bed.
Her body still weak from what happened.
But her heart felt heavier than the sickness.
She whispered into the darkness,
“God… is this my fault?”
Because if she had just endured…
If she had just kept quiet…
Maybe Kemi wouldn’t be in jail.
Maybe Mama wouldn’t be starving herself.
Maybe this house wouldn’t feel like a funeral ground.
⸻
The next morning, she dragged herself to the sitting room.
Kunle was drinking tea silently.
Eyes tired.
Face drawn.
She sat beside him.
“Kúnlé…”
He looked up.
She held his hand.
“Please… drop the case.”
He went still.
“Bisi—”
“Please.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I can’t watch Mama like this.”
“She tried to kill you.”
“I know.”
“She almost succeeded.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because she’s still your sister.”
Silence.
“And Mama is dying slowly because of this.”
He looked away.
“She hasn’t eaten for days,” Bisi continued. “She’s sleeping outside like someone homeless. I feel guilty just watching her.”
“Bisi, don’t take this on yourself—”
“I am already taking it on myself!”
Her voice broke.
“I don’t want this family destroyed because of me.”
⸻
He stood up, pacing.
Frustrated.
Torn.
“If I drop this case… what message am I sending?” he said. “That anyone can hurt you and go free?”
“She won’t come back here,” Bisi said softly.
He paused.
“What?”
“She won’t come back.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I heard Mama telling Ngozi. Even if you release her, Kemi will go and stay with her friend. She’s too ashamed to come home.”
Silence.
“So… you’re not even doing this to protect me anymore,” Bisi whispered. “You’re just hurting yourself… and your mother.”
The words hit deeper than she expected.
⸻
That evening, he went to the station.
Long process.
Papers.
Signatures.
Statements.
Finally—
He withdrew the case.
The officers warned him.
“Are you sure? This is serious.”
He nodded.
“I’m sure.”
But as he walked out…
His heart felt heavy.
Like he had just buried something important.
Justice… maybe.
⸻
When Mama Kunle heard, she cried for the first time.
Not angry tears.
Relieved tears.
She finally ate.
Just pap.
But she ate.
And everyone in the house breathed again.
Like oxygen had returned.
⸻
But one thing didn’t return.
Kemi.
She didn’t come home.
Didn’t call.
Didn’t text.
Nothing.
Like she vanished.
Even Mama Kunle began to worry.
“She said she’ll stay with a friend first…” she told Ngozi.
But her voice carried fear.
Because guilt doesn’t disappear.
It grows.
And shame can make people do unpredictable things.
⸻
That night, Bisi lay beside Kunle.
The house finally quiet.
Peaceful.
But not safe.
She could feel it.
Something wasn’t settled.
Something wasn’t finished.
Some storms don’t end.
They just pause.
⸻
And somewhere in the city…
Kemi sat alone in a dark room.
Phone in her hand.
Eyes cold.
Not crying anymore.
Not weak anymore.
Just… thinking.
Planning.
Because some people don’t learn from mercy.
They learn revenge.
And this time…
She wasn’t coming back as a victim.
————— Chapter 13 —————
The city was quiet that evening, but Kemi’s mind was anything but.
She sat in her friend’s small living room, hair messy, clothes still wrinkled from the police van. The bruises on her arms stung, but that wasn’t what kept her awake.
Her friend, Funke, poured her a cup of warm tea. “Kemi, I can’t even believe your own brother sent you to jail...”
Kemi took the cup but didn’t drink. She stared at the floor, jaw tight. Then she finally spoke, voice low and bitter.
“Because of that stupid wife of his!”
Funke shook her head. “You attempted murder. Poisoning Bisi. Kemi, why—why go this far?”
Kemi smiled, a small, dark curl of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You remember all those years ago?”
Funke froze, her eyes narrowing.
“When Kunle was still in university,” Kemi whispered, leaning closer, “I told you a secret. I made him a promise. My brother… he would marry you. I promised you that, remember?”
Funke’s lips parted slightly, shocked. “Kemi… that was years ago! Why are you bringing it up now?”
Kemi’s hands trembled slightly as she clenched them together. “Because I had to make it happen. And she—Bisi—she… she got in the way.”
Funke’s expression changed, concern creeping in. “Kemi, are you saying…”
“I made her… infertile,” Kemi said coldly, the words sharp like knives. “I did what I had to do so my brother could never have children with her. That way… he’d never be tied to her fully, never completely happy. Then you could step in. Years of planning, Funke. YEARS.”
Funke gasped. “You… you can’t be serious! Bisi? Barrenness? That’s… that’s insane. You actually did that?”
Kemi shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Do you know how easy it was? Back then, when I helped in the kitchen during their early years of marriage, I added just a little something into her meals. Not enough to kill her. Just… enough to stop her from conceiving. Kunle never suspected a thing. Bisi… she suffered quietly, thinking it was just fate. Can you imagine her face when she kept failing? Perfect. Perfect for my plan.”
Funke stared at her, eyes wide. “So all these years… all her pain, her suffering… it was for this?”
Kemi nodded. “Yes. And now that I’m out, I can finish what I started. I’ve been in prison, but it didn’t stop me. Soon… soon Kunle will see that I was right all along. Bisi’s misery is just the beginning.”
Funke leaned back, uneasy. “Kemi… do you even feel anything for Bisi? Or is this just about you and your… obsession with your brother’s marriage?”
Kemi laughed softly, bitterly. “Obsession? No. Control. Revenge. You know me. I don’t do things halfway. This was my plan years ago, and nothing—NOTHING—will stop me now.”
Outside, the city hummed quietly. But inside that small apartment, two women sat plotting, a dangerous plan stretching across years, ready to explode at any moment.
And somewhere, far away, Bisi had no idea that the roots of her suffering had been planted long before she even walked into Kunle’s house.
The clock ticked. Plans were being sharpened. And the story was far from over.
————— Chapter 14 —————
The morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains, but the house felt heavy. Mama Kunle sat rigidly on the edge of the dining table, her wrapper tied tight around her chest, hands pressed together as if holding back a storm. Ngozi hovered nearby, hesitating with every step.
“Mama…” Ngozi began softly. “Is everything okay?”
“No!” Mama Kunle snapped, eyes blazing. “Everything is NOT okay. This girl, Bisi… she is ruining my son’s life. And if you have even an ounce of loyalty to this family, you will help me fix it.”
Ngozi swallowed, feeling her stomach tighten. “Mama, I… I can’t hurt her. She hasn’t done anything to me. She’s kind to everyone here.”
Mama Kunle leaned forward, her voice dropping low, icy and threatening. “Kind? Kind to you, maybe, but she is controlling my son. She is stopping me from guiding him. Do you know what that means? That means our family, everything I worked for, is slipping away!”
Ngozi shook her head. “I can’t do it, Mama. I won’t betray Bisi like that.”
Mama Kunle’s eyes narrowed. “You WILL do it. Or I swear… I will send you back to your village. Back to your parents. Do you hear me? You are part of this house, Ngozi, and you will obey me. If you can’t, be ready to go back.”
“But what about the university uncle kunle wants to enroll me for?”
“You will kiss it goodbye!” Mama Kunle replied.
Ngozi’s heart thudded painfully. She had always loved this family, and Kunle treated her like his own sister, but Mama Kunle’s words struck deeper than she expected. She bit her lip, trying to stay calm. “Mama… please… this isn’t right. Bisi has done nothing. Even when she was sick, even when the household was chaotic, she was patient…”
Mama Kunle slammed her hand on the table. “Enough! You will do as I say! I don’t want excuses. This family will bend to my will, and if my son cannot do it, then you will!”
Ngozi took a step back, tears pricking her eyes. She couldn’t imagine betraying Bisi, but Mama Kunle’s wrath was suffocating. “Mama… I… I can’t. Please don’t make me.”
“Then you leave me no choice,” Mama Kunle hissed. “Back to your village you go. Pack your things. I will get someone else!!”
Ngozi looked at the ground, heart breaking, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t betray Bisi—not after everything she had seen her endure.
Mama Kunle’s jaw tightened. For a moment, silence filled the room.
⸻
Meanwhile, across town, Kemi sat with Funke, bruised and quiet, but her mind was alive with plots. “We’ve waited years,” she whispered, tracing the rim of her tea cup. “And now… now we take the final step.”
Funke leaned forward, eager and a little afraid. “Are you sure about this, Kemi? Bisi… she hasn’t done anything to you.”
Kemi’s eyes hardened. “She ruined my plans. She has Kunle. You were supposed to have him. She turned my brother against me. She has to pay.”
Funke nodded slowly. “So… what’s the plan?”
Kemi smirked. “First, we make sure her house is unstable. Our mother is already desperate for a child … Ngozi can’t do a simple task she was brought in for. The person who can do it - is you! When the time is right, I strike. Funke… we finish what we started.”
Funke raised her brows; flabbergasted.
“Like, you want me to sleep with kunle??”
————— Chapter 15 —————
Back at Kunle’s house, Ngozi still lingered, feeling torn. Mama Kunle had left the room, muttering curses under her breath. She pressed her hands to her face, heart heavy. She had always wanted to do what was right, to keep peace. But now, loyalty to Bisi and fear of Mama Kunle were pulling her in opposite directions.
And little did anyone know… Kemi had already begun moving her pieces across the board.
The house was calm… but only for now.
Chapter 13
Ngozi did not sleep that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, Mama Kunle’s voice echoed in her ears.
“You will do it. Or you will go back to your village.”
“Forget university.”
“Forget this house.”
She lay on the thin mattress in the small room beside the kitchen, staring at the ceiling, her heart heavy.
How could she betray Bisi?
Bisi who always added extra meat to her plate.
Bisi who bought her textbooks.
Bisi who called her “my small sister.”
And now Mama wanted her to help destroy that same woman’s marriage.
Ngozi turned to the wall and cried silently.
“I can’t… I just can’t…” she whispered.
Before dawn, while everyone was still asleep, she packed her small Ghana-Must-Go bag. Two dresses. Sandals. Her certificates.
That was all her life could fit into.
She wiped her tears, opened the back door quietly… and left.
No goodbye.
No note.
Just fear and heartbreak.
⸻
By morning, Bisi noticed first.
“Ngozi?” she called from the kitchen. “Ngozi, help me pass the onions.”
No answer.
She checked the room.
Empty.
The mattress folded.
Cupboard open.
Gone.
Her chest tightened.
She rushed to the living room. “Mama, have you seen Ngozi?”
Mama Kunle didn’t even look up from where she was cracking palm nuts.
“She left,” she said flatly.
“Left? Left where?”
“She couldn’t do what I asked her to do. Useless girl. Let her go. I will get someone better.”
Bisi stared at her, shocked. “Mama… she’s just a child. Where will she even go?”
Mama Kunle shrugged. “Not my problem. If she can’t obey, she shouldn’t stay.”
Bisi’s heart broke.
Something felt wrong.
The house suddenly felt emptier… colder.
Like a storm was gathering.
⸻
Across town, inside Kemi’s friend’s apartment, the air smelled of perfume and conspiracy.
Funke stood before a small mirror, adjusting her blouse nervously.
“I still feel bad about this,” she muttered. “Kunle is married, Kemi. What if this backfires?”
Kemi rolled her eyes.
“You’re too soft. That softness is why Bisi stole your destiny.”
She reached into her handbag and brought out a tiny container.
Dark. Thick. Oily.
Kayamata.
“Rub this,” Kemi said calmly.
Funke frowned. “On my body?”
“Your face. Neck. Just a little. It makes men restless. They won’t even understand why they want you. Trust me.”
Funke hesitated.
“This thing… does it really work?”
Kemi smirked. “Do you think I play with important matters?”
Slowly… reluctantly…
Funke dipped her finger into it and rubbed it lightly across her cheeks and neck.
A strange sweet scent filled the room.
Kemi watched like a general sending her soldier to war.
“Good,” she said. “Now go to his office. Tell him you’re job hunting. Smile. Be soft. Be familiar. That’s all.”
Funke picked up her handbag.
Her heart was racing.
Fear.
Guilt.
Excitement.
All mixed together.
She walked to the door.
Paused.
Turned back.
“Kemi… once this starts… there’s no going back, right?”
Kemi’s lips curled slowly.
“No going back.”
Funke opened the door…
…and stepped out into the bright morning sun.
The plan had officially begun.
Back at home, Bisi stood at Ngozi’s empty room doorway, worry flooding her chest…
While Mama Kunle chewed her palm nuts like nothing had happened.
Unbothered.
Unmoved.
Completely unaware that while one girl had escaped the house…
Another woman was already walking straight toward it…
Carrying destruction in her perfume.
————— Chapter 16 —————
Something was wrong.
Bisi felt it in her chest the way harmattan dust sits in the throat — dry, uncomfortable, refusing to go away.
Ngozi had never disappeared like that before.
Not without telling her.
Not without hugging her goodbye.
Not without saying, “Aunty Bisi, I’m going to market o!”
This silence was different.
This one felt like fear.
⸻
She tried calling Ngozi’s number.
Switched off.
Again.
Switched off.
Her heart began to race.
She walked to Mama Kunle.
“Mama, please… what exactly did you ask Ngozi to do?”
Mama Kunle hissed. “Why are you disturbing me since morning because of one small girl?”
“She’s not ‘one small girl.’ She’s family!”
Mama Kunle laughed dryly. “Family? Hah. Then maybe she should have behaved like family. I told her to help me handle something important. She refused. So let her go.”
“What ‘something important’?”
Mama Kunle’s eyes flickered. Just for a second.
Then she looked away.
“Mind your business.”
That answer chilled Bisi more than anything else.
⸻
Meanwhile…
Kunle’s office.
Funke stepped out of the bus slowly, adjusting her hair.
The Kayamata scent still lingered faintly on her skin.
Sweet. Warm. Strange.
She touched her cheeks nervously.
“What am I even doing…” she muttered.
But she kept walking.
Each step felt heavier.
Like destiny dragging her forward.
⸻
Inside the office, Kunle was restless.
He didn’t understand why.
He had barely slept the night before.
His mind kept replaying Funke’s face from years ago.
Her laughter.
Her smile.
Random memories he hadn’t thought about in years suddenly flooding back.
He tapped his pen on the desk.
Focus, Kunle. Focus.
Then —
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
The door opened slowly.
Funke stepped in.
Sunlight hit her face.
Kunle froze.
For two full seconds… he forgot what he was doing.
She looked… different.
Glowing.
Soft.
Hypnotic.
Something about her scent made his head feel light.
His throat went dry.
“Funke…?”
She smiled shyly. “Hi, Kunle. Sorry to disturb you. I… I came to ask if there are any openings. I’m looking for a job.”
Her voice sounded gentle. Almost musical.
Kunle stood up immediately. Too quickly.
“Yes! I mean— yes, of course. Sit. Please sit.”
His heart was beating strangely fast.
Why was he nervous?
This was just Funke.
Just an old friend.
So why did it suddenly feel like the room had become smaller? Hotter?
He kept staring at her lips.
Her neck.
Her eyes.
And he didn’t even know why.
Funke noticed.
Her fingers tightened on her bag.
Kemi was right…
It was working.
Too well.
⸻
Back home…
Bisi finished cooking but couldn’t eat.
She kept glancing at the gate.
Waiting.
Hoping Ngozi would walk in smiling and say, “Aunty I just went to see my friend.”
But nothing.
The house felt empty.
Too quiet.
Even Mama Kunle seemed unusually calm.
Which scared Bisi more.
Because Mama was never calm unless she was planning something.
⸻
At the office…
Kunle leaned closer across the table.
“You know what,” he said softly, “even if there’s no vacancy… I’ll create something for you.”
Funke blinked.
“Really?”
“Yes. I… I don’t know. I just feel like… we shouldn’t lose touch again.”
His voice sounded unfamiliar.
Even to himself.
Like someone else was speaking through him.
Funke stood slowly. “Thank you, Kunle. I’ll come back tomorrow then.”
As she turned to leave—
Kunle’s chest tightened suddenly.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
He didn’t even know why he called her back.
He just didn’t want her to go.
Not yet.
“Come earlier tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe… we can have lunch together.”
Lunch?
Kunle never did lunch meetings.
Never.
But the words slipped out easily.
Naturally.
Like he couldn’t stop himself.
Funke nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
She walked out.
And the moment the door closed—
Kunle exhaled hard like he’d been holding his breath for minutes.
His hands were shaking.
“What is wrong with me…?” he muttered.
But deep inside…
Something had already shifted.
Something dangerous.
Something unnatural.
The hook had entered.
And he didn’t even know it yet.
⸻
That evening…
Bisi stood at the balcony, staring at the empty compound.
Her chest heavy.
Ngozi gone.
Her husband distracted lately.
Mama acting secretive.
She whispered to herself,
“God… what is happening to my home?”
She didn’t know…
But back in the Funke house…
Funke smiled at her reflection… “you need to see how he smiled at me and wanted to impress me”.
Kemi whispered in her ears,
“Good. It has started. Soon you will be his woman and mother of his kids”. A wicked smirk on her face.
————— Chapter 17 —————
The change did not happen loudly.
It didn’t come with thunder or shouting.
It came quietly.
Soft.
Slow.
Dangerous.
Like smoke filling a room while everyone was still sleeping.
⸻
The next afternoon, Kunle found himself checking the time every five minutes.
11:42am.
11:47am.
11:53am.
He couldn’t focus on anything.
Files piled up on his desk untouched.
His secretary knocked twice to remind him of meetings.
He waved her away.
His mind kept drifting to one thing.
Funke.
Her smile.
Her scent.
The way she looked at him.
It made no sense.
He loved Bisi.
He knew he loved Bisi.
So why was his heart racing like a teenager waiting for a crush?
He rubbed his face.
“What is wrong with me?”
Then his phone buzzed.
Funke: “I’m downstairs.”
His chest jumped.
Immediately.
Like electricity.
Without thinking, he grabbed his car keys and rushed out.
⸻
Funke stood outside the building in a simple yellow dress. Nothing flashy. Nothing dramatic.
But when Kunle saw her —
His breath caught.
Everything else blurred.
She smiled softly.
“Hi.”
Just one word.
But it hit him like music.
“Hi… you look… nice,” he said, stumbling over his words.
She laughed gently. “Thank you.”
They got into the car.
Silence.
But not the awkward kind.
The heavy kind.
Charged.
Every time her arm brushed his… his body reacted before his brain could think.
⸻
They stopped at a small restaurant not far from the office.
Kunle never came here before.
But somehow today, it felt perfect.
Private. Quiet. Hidden.
They talked.
About school days.
Old lecturers.
Funny hostel stories.
Funke laughed easily.
Touched his hand when she laughed.
Leaned closer when she spoke.
And each touch burned into Kunle’s skin.
He kept staring at her lips.
Her eyes.
Her neck.
His heart thumped harder and harder.
He didn’t even notice how long they had been there.
Two hours passed like ten minutes.
At some point, he forgot he even had a wife waiting at home.
Forgot Bisi’s face.
Forgot everything.
All he could see was Funke.
⸻
Back home…
Bisi set the table.
6:30pm.
Kunle usually returned by 5:30.
She checked the gate again.
Nothing.
She called him.
He declined.
Her chest tightened.
She called again.
This time he picked.
“Hello?”
His voice sounded distracted.
Far away.
“Baby, where are you? Food is ready.”
“Oh… I… I’m still at work. Something came up. Don’t wait for me.”
Work?
But she could hear restaurant noise behind him.
Plates clinking. People talking.
She paused.
“…Okay.”
The call ended.
And for the first time since their marriage…
Kunle had lied to her.
⸻
At the restaurant, Funke smiled when he hung up.
“Your wife?” she asked gently.
Kunle shifted. “Yeah… just checking on me.”
Funke lowered her eyes. “Oh… sorry. I don’t want to cause problems.”
Immediately Kunle felt protective.
“No! No, you’re not. It’s nothing. You deserve my time too.”
The moment he said it—
Something in him should have felt wrong.
But instead…
It felt right.
Too right.
The Kayamata scent lingered between them like a spell.
His willpower melting slowly.
⸻
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Lunch turned into daily meetings.
Meetings turned into dinners.
Dinners turned into late-night drives.
Then secrets.
Then stolen touches.
Then hands holding longer than they should.
Kunle started smiling at his phone more.
Started locking it.
Started stepping outside to take calls.
Started coming home late.
Every night.
⸻
Bisi noticed everything.
She noticed the distance first.
Then the silence.
Then the coldness.
He no longer hugged her when he returned.
No longer asked about her day.
No longer ate her food with excitement.
One night, she dressed nicely and cooked his favorite egusi soup.
He barely tasted it.
“I’m tired,” he said flatly, heading to bed.
No kiss.
No smile.
Nothing.
She stood there, holding the spoon, fighting tears.
This was not the man she married.
This was not her Kunle.
⸻
Across town, Kemi watched everything unfold with satisfaction.
Funke had just sent her a message:
“He can’t stay away from me anymore.”
Kemi smiled slowly.
“Good,” she whispered.
“Now the real damage begins.”
⸻
That night, Bisi lay awake beside her husband.
He had turned his back to her.
Phone glowing under the blanket.
Smiling at something.
Someone.
Her heart cracked quietly in her chest.
She didn’t know what was happening.
But she knew one thing.
She was losing her husband.
And she didn’t even know to who.
————— Chapter 18 —————
The distance grew teeth.
It began to bite.
Not loudly. Not violently.
But slowly… mercilessly.
⸻
Bisi noticed the perfume first.
It wasn’t hers.
Kunle stepped into the bedroom one night, loosening his tie, humming softly.
That humming.
He used to hum like that only when he was extremely happy.
Extremely satisfied.
Extremely at peace.
But it hadn’t been because of her in weeks.
As he bent to remove his shoes, the scent drifted toward her.
Sweet. Warm. Almost intoxicating.
Her stomach twisted.
“Did you change your perfume?” she asked casually.
Kunle stiffened for half a second.
Then recovered.
“Ah… someone sprayed something in the office today. Probably stuck to my shirt.”
He didn’t look at her when he said it.
That hurt more than the answer.
⸻
The next day, Bisi went to the office unannounced.
Not to spy.
Not to fight.
Just to surprise him with lunch like she used to.
She stood at the reception.
“Good afternoon, I’m Kunle’s wife.”
The receptionist smiled politely. “Oh… he just stepped out.”
“Stepped out?”
“Yes, with a lady. They left about twenty minutes ago.”
The words felt like hot oil poured into Bisi’s ears.
“A lady?”
The receptionist hesitated. “I think her name is… Funke.”
Bisi’s fingers tightened around the food flask.
Funke.
She knew that name.
Kunle mentioned her once.
An old school friend.
She forced a smile. “Oh… okay.”
She walked out calmly.
Only to sit inside her car and finally let the tears fall.
⸻
Across town, at a quiet lounge, Kunle sat across from Funke again.
But this time the air was different.
Thicker.
Closer.
His eyes no longer avoided her body.
They lingered freely now.
Unashamed.
Funke leaned forward slightly.
“Are you sure this is okay?” she asked softly.
Kunle swallowed.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“But I can’t stay away from you.”
The words shocked even him.
He wasn’t that man.
He never chased women.
He never strayed.
But whenever Funke was near, his thoughts felt hijacked.
Like something else was steering his body.
His mind.
His desire.
Funke reached for his hand.
This time, he didn’t pull away.
⸻
At home, Mama Kunle noticed too.
But instead of anger… she smiled.
“Hmmm,” she muttered to herself.
“Maybe this is God’s answer.”
If Bisi couldn’t give her a child…
Perhaps someone else would.
She didn’t know about Kemi’s manipulation.
She didn’t know about Kayamata.
But she saw opportunity.
And Mama Kunle never ignored opportunity.
⸻
That evening, Bisi confronted Kunle gently.
“Are you seeing someone?”
Silence.
He looked at her.
Then away.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because you’re not here anymore,” she whispered.
“I’m standing in front of you… but you’re not here.”
Kunle’s jaw tightened.
“I’m just stressed.”
“Stressed people don’t smile at their phones at midnight.”
That hit.
Hard.
For a moment guilt flickered in his eyes.
Then it vanished.
“You’re overthinking.”
He walked past her.
Into the bedroom.
Closed the door.
⸻
Bisi stood alone in the living room.
Her marriage was slipping through her fingers like sand.
And she didn’t know how to hold it.
She knelt down slowly.
For the first time in a long time…
She prayed with desperation.
“God… if something is not normal… expose it.”
⸻
That same night, Funke sat in her room staring at herself in the mirror.
The Kayamata container sat on the table beside her.
Half empty.
She touched her face slowly.
“He’s completely hooked,” she whispered.
Her phone buzzed.
Kemi.
“Well?”
Funke typed back:
“He said he can’t stay away from me.”
There was a long pause.
Then Kemi replied:
“Good. Next step… we break her completely.”
Funke’s heart skipped.
Break her?
She swallowed.
This was no longer just seduction.
This was war.
⸻
The next morning, Kunle woke up restless.
Sweating.
His dreams had been strange.
He couldn’t remember them fully.
But he remembered one thing clearly.
Funke.
Always Funke.
He picked up his phone immediately.
Typed her name.
Then paused.
For one second…
Bisi’s face flashed in his mind.
The girl who suffered with him in university.
Who stayed when he had nothing.
Who defended him against his own family.
His chest tightened painfully.
Confusion battled desire inside him.
But then…
His phone buzzed.
Funke:
“Good morning. I miss you already.”
And just like that…
The confusion faded.
Desire won.
He smiled.
And replied.
⸻
Somewhere far away…
Ngozi sat at a small roadside bench in another town.
Crying.
Hungry.
Scared.
She had left to protect Bisi.
But she didn’t know the real danger had already entered the house.
And this time…
It wasn’t Mama Kunle.
It wasn’t threats.
It wasn’t pressure.
It was something darker.
Something unnatural.
Something that had already wrapped itself around Kunle’s heart.
And it was tightening.
Slowly.
————— Chapter 19 —————
Love did not die in one day.
It decayed.
Quietly.
Like fruit left in a dark corner.
⸻
Kunle started coming home late.
Not because of meetings.
Not because of traffic.
But because leaving Funke now felt like withdrawal.
His body reacted when he was away from her.
Restless.
Irritable.
Uneasy.
He found himself checking his phone every few minutes.
Waiting.
Craving her messages.
When they didn’t come fast enough, his heart would pound strangely.
Like panic.
Like hunger.
And when she finally replied —
Relief.
Warm.
Addictive.
⸻
At the office, staff began to notice.
“Sir, should we schedule that client meeting?”
“Later.”
“Sir, the investors—”
“Reschedule.”
He was distracted.
Because Funke was now working there officially.
Her desk strategically placed close to his office.
She didn’t even have to knock anymore.
She just walked in.
Smiling.
And every time she entered, the air shifted.
Kunle would forget what he was doing.
Forget deadlines.
Forget consequences.
Forget Bisi.
⸻
That evening, Bisi prepared his favorite meal.
Ofada rice.
Ayamase sauce.
She arranged the table carefully.
Lit a small candle.
Not for romance.
For reconnection.
When Kunle walked in, she stood up immediately.
“I made your favorite.”
He looked at the table.
Then at her.
Instead of warmth… irritation flashed across his face.
“I’m not hungry.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“You didn’t eat at the office either.”
“How do you know that?”
The sharpness in his tone startled her.
“I just… assumed.”
He loosened his tie aggressively.
“Bisi, please. I’m tired. Stop monitoring me.”
Monitoring?
The word hit her like a slap.
“I’m your wife,” she said quietly.
“And I’m not your prisoner,” he snapped.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Even he seemed shocked at himself.
But instead of apologizing…
He walked past her.
Again.
⸻
In her room, Mama Kunle listened carefully.
She heard the tension.
The raised voice.
And instead of worry…
She smiled faintly.
“Change is coming,” she whispered.
If another woman could give her a grandchild,
Then so be it.
She did not ask questions.
She did not investigate.
All she saw was possibility.
⸻
Meanwhile, Kemi sat in Funke’s apartment.
“So?”
Funke looked uncertain.
“He’s hooked… but sometimes he looks confused. Like something is fighting inside him.”
Kemi scoffed.
“That’s normal. The charm is working.”
Funke hesitated.
“What if it goes too far?”
Kemi’s eyes hardened.
“Did Bisi think about you when she married him? When she started enjoying what should have been yours?”
Funke looked down.
Old wounds resurfaced.
Years ago, she and Kunle were close.
Very close.
But Bisi came.
And everything changed.
Kemi leaned forward.
“This is your chance. Finish it.”
⸻
That night, Funke sent Kunle a message.
“I feel lonely.”
He responded immediately.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
Five minutes later, he was already in his car.
He didn’t tell Bisi where he was going.
Didn’t leave a note.
Didn’t care.
⸻
When he arrived, Funke opened the door slowly.
Soft music played in the background.
Dim lights.
Her face glowing unnaturally smooth.
He stepped inside like a man under hypnosis.
“Kunle…” she whispered.
He reached for her immediately.
But as his fingers touched her skin —
A sudden sharp pain shot through his head.
He staggered.
Grabbing his temple.
“Ahh!”
Funke panicked.
“What’s wrong?”
His vision blurred.
For a split second…
He saw Bisi.
Crying.
Praying.
Then darkness.
He collapsed.
⸻
Funke screamed.
“Kunle!”
She shook him.
No response.
Her hands trembled as she called Kemi.
“It’s not supposed to happen like this!”
Kemi’s voice on the other end went cold.
“Did you use too much?”
“I used the normal amount!”
“Foolish girl…” Kemi muttered.
“The charm is binding his spirit. If his body rejects it—”
“What does that mean?” Funke cried.
“It means if we don’t stabilize it… he could lose his mind.”
⸻
Back at home, Bisi felt it.
A sudden heaviness in her chest.
She woke from sleep abruptly.
Sweating.
Her heart racing violently.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
She picked up her phone to call him.
It rang.
And rang.
No answer.
She closed her eyes tightly.
“God… expose whatever is hidden.”
⸻
Outside Funke’s apartment, thunder rolled across the sky.
Rain began to fall.
Heavy.
Relentless.
Inside, Kunle’s body lay still on the floor.
His breathing shallow.
His lips moving faintly…
As if whispering something.
Funke leaned closer.
And froze.
Because the name he was whispering…
Was not hers.
It was Bisi’s.
————— Chapter 20 —————
The rain did not stop.
It poured like judgment.
Like something above had finally grown impatient.
⸻
Funke knelt beside Kunle’s body, shaking.
“Kunle! Wake up! Please wake up!”
His breathing was uneven.
His eyelids fluttered weakly.
But he did not open them.
Her hands trembled as she dialed Kemi again.
“He’s still not waking up!”
On the other end, Kemi’s voice was tight. Controlled. But afraid.
“Listen carefully. Do NOT call a hospital.”
Funke’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“If doctors start asking questions, you think we can explain this?!”
“But he could die!”
“He won’t,” Kemi snapped quickly — too quickly.
There was a pause.
Then lower, darker:
“Unless his spirit is fighting too hard.”
⸻
Back at the house, Bisi could not sit still.
She had tried calling Kunle seven times.
No response.
Her chest felt heavy, like someone was pressing a stone against her heart.
Mama Kunle walked past her calmly.
“He’s a grown man. Stop behaving like a desperate woman.”
Bisi swallowed.
“I just feel something is wrong.”
Mama scoffed. “You always feel something. Pray about it.”
But Bisi didn’t answer.
She was already grabbing her bag.
“I’m going to his office.”
Mama rolled her eyes. “Waste of time.”
⸻
At Funke’s apartment, panic was growing.
Kunle suddenly inhaled sharply.
His body jerked.
Then his eyes opened.
But something was different.
They looked… distant.
Unfocused.
“Kunle?” Funke whispered cautiously.
He stared at her for a long second.
As if trying to remember who she was.
Then slowly, he pushed himself up.
“What happened?”
Relief flooded her. “You fainted. Maybe stress.”
He touched his head.
His memory felt foggy.
Broken into pieces.
He looked around the dim room.
The music.
The candles.
Her.
And suddenly — guilt stabbed through him.
“What am I doing here?”
Funke’s heart skipped.
“You came to see me.”
Silence.
His breathing grew uneven again.
“I… I shouldn’t be here.”
He stood up abruptly.
But his legs were weak.
He nearly fell again.
Funke rushed to hold him.
“Don’t go. You need to rest.”
He pulled away.
“No.”
This time his eyes were clearer.
Stronger.
“I need to go home.”
⸻
Outside, thunder cracked violently.
Funke’s stomach dropped.
She could feel it.
The charm was weakening.
⸻
Meanwhile, Bisi had reached Kunle’s office.
The security guard shook his head.
“Madam, he left hours ago.”
Her heart dropped.
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No, ma.”
She stood there for a moment, breathing hard.
Then something told her to check one place.
Funke’s address.
She had seen it once.
On a document.
She didn’t know why she memorized it.
But she had.
⸻
As Kunle drove home in the rain, his head throbbed violently.
Flashes of recent days flooded him.
Late nights.
Cold words to Bisi.
The way he snapped at her.
The way he ignored her calls.
Shame began creeping in.
“What have I been doing?” he muttered to himself.
But another voice inside him whispered differently.
Go back to Funke.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“No.”
⸻
At that exact moment, Bisi arrived at Funke’s apartment building.
Her hands were shaking.
She didn’t know what she was expecting.
But her spirit told her this was where she needed to be.
She climbed the stairs slowly.
Each step heavier than the last.
When she reached the door, it was slightly open.
Rain blew lightly into the hallway.
She pushed it gently.
Inside, candles still flickered.
The room smelled unfamiliar.
Wrong.
Her heart pounded.
“Hello?”
No answer.
She stepped further in.
And that’s when she saw it.
On the center table.
A small container.
Half-open.
With a strange oily paste inside.
And beside it —
A photo.
Of her.
Her face scratched across with red ink.
⸻
Bisi froze.
The air shifted.
The realization hit slowly.
Then fully.
“This wasn’t ordinary,” she whispered.
Her marriage had not been breaking by chance.
It had been attacked.
⸻
Behind her, footsteps approached in the hallway.
Heavy.
Fast.
She turned.
And came face to face with Funke.
Rain-soaked.
Eyes wide with shock.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Bisi’s voice came out steady.
Cold.
“What did you do?”
Funke’s lips trembled.
“I… I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
That was enough.
Bisi understood everything.
And just as she was about to step forward —
Another voice echoed from the stairway.
“Bisi?”
Kunle.
He stood there, pale, confused…
And slowly realizing exactly where he was.
The three of them locked eyes.
And the storm outside roared louder.
Everything was about to explode.
———— Chapter 21 ————
The thunder cracked so loudly the building shook.
Kunle stood at the entrance, drenched, breathing hard. His eyes moved from Bisi… to the scratched photograph on the table… to Funke’s trembling hands.
Silence stretched between them.
Bisi did not shout.
That was what made it worse.
She simply looked at him — not angry, not screaming — just deeply hurt.
“Kunle,” she said softly, “is this where you’ve been?”
Her voice broke at the last word.
Kunle’s throat tightened. He looked around the apartment as if seeing it properly for the first time. The candles. The strange paste. The photo of his wife defaced like an enemy.
His stomach dropped.
“I…” He struggled to speak. “I don’t remember how it got this bad.”
Funke stepped forward desperately. “It’s not what you think!”
Bisi turned slowly. “Then explain what I should think.”
Funke’s confidence — the seduction, the control, the boldness — had vanished. She looked small now.
“I only wanted… I just…” Her voice shook. “I loved him first.”
Kunle flinched. “What?”
Funke looked at him with tears now. “Before Bisi. In school. I liked you. I told Kemi. She promised me…”
The name landed like a slap.
“Kemi?” Kunle repeated slowly.
Bisi’s heart sank. She had suspected many things. But hearing his sister’s name tied to this made her knees weak.
Funke nodded helplessly. “She said you were meant to be mine. She said Bisi stole you. She gave me something… something to help you notice me.”
Kunle’s face hardened. “What something?”
Funke glanced at the container on the table.
Bisi picked it up carefully, disgust rising in her chest. “This?”
Funke couldn’t even look at her.
Kunle staggered back slightly, running his hands over his face. Memories flashed again knowing looks from Kemi. The day she suddenly supported his closeness with Funke. The way Mama stopped complaining once he started avoiding Bisi.
A cold realization settled in his bones.
“This was planned,” he whispered.
Bisi laughed painfully. “Of course it was planned. Do you think I didn’t see the way your sister looked at me? The way your mother suddenly stopped fighting when you started treating me like trash?”
Her eyes finally filled with tears.
“I stood by you when you had nothing. When we were counting coins to eat in university. When your mother said I wasn’t good enough. When your sister insulted me. I stood.”
Her voice trembled now.
“And you… you let them break me inside my own marriage.”
Kunle’s eyes filled. “Bisi, I swear to you, I didn’t know. Something felt wrong these past weeks. I wasn’t myself.”
Bisi wiped her tears angrily. “But you still chose her. You still chose to come here.”
That cut deeper than any shout.
Funke suddenly dropped to her knees.
“I didn’t mean for it to destroy you,” she cried. “Kemi said once you married me, everything would settle. She said you would forget her.”
Kunle looked at her in disbelief. “Forget my wife? The woman who built my life with me?”
Funke sobbed. “She said Bisi was barren. That she was a curse. That you deserved better.”
Bisi’s body stiffened.
That word.
Barren.
Even here. Even now.
Kunle’s face darkened with fury. “Who told you she was barren?”
Funke hesitated.
“Kemi said she made sure of it.”
The room went still.
Bisi’s breathing stopped.
Kunle’s hands slowly dropped to his sides. “Made sure… of it?”
Funke nodded weakly, crying harder. “Years ago. She said she handled it spiritually. So you would eventually leave her.”
The air felt heavy. Suffocating.
Bisi stepped back as if the floor had shifted.
All the hospital visits.
All the negative tests.
All the silent tears at night.
All the prayers she whispered alone.
Engineered.
Kunle felt something inside him break.
“My own sister?” His voice was barely audible.
Funke shook her head desperately. “I didn’t know she went that far! I only wanted you. I didn’t know she… did something to her.”
Bisi pressed her hand to her mouth, tears streaming freely now.
“So I’ve been blaming myself,” she whispered. “Thinking my body failed you.”
Kunle crossed the room in two steps and held her face gently.
“Don’t you ever blame yourself again.”
His voice cracked.
“I failed you. Not your body.”
Bisi searched his eyes, looking for lies. There were none. Only guilt. Only pain.
But pain didn’t erase damage.
Behind them, Funke’s crying filled the room.
“I’m sorry,” she kept repeating. “I’m sorry.”
Kunle turned slowly toward her.
“You didn’t just try to seduce a married man,” he said quietly. “You participated in destroying my wife’s peace. You let my sister manipulate you.”
Funke covered her face. “I thought if you loved me, everything would make sense.”
He shook his head.
“Love doesn’t begin with destruction.”
Outside, the rain finally began to slow.
Bisi stepped away from him gently.
“I need air,” she said softly.
She walked past him toward the door.
Kunle reached out, but stopped himself.
She had followed him through poverty. Through insults. Through humiliation.
Now she needed space.
As she stepped into the hallway, she paused.
Without turning back, she spoke.
“If what she said is true… if your sister truly did something to me…”
Her voice steadied.
“Then I won’t just cry about it.”
She turned slightly, eyes fierce through tears.
“I will fight back.”
And for the first time in a long time —
Kunle saw strength in her pain.
Not weakness.
Not desperation.
War.
And somewhere far away…
Kemi sneezed suddenly in Funke’s apartment.
A strange chill ran down her spine.
As if something had shifted.
As if the battle she thought she had won…
Was only just beginning.
———— Chapter 22 ————
The rain had stopped, but nothing felt washed clean.
Bisi did not return home that night.
Kunle sat alone in the living room, staring at the wall, replaying every word Funke had spoken.
Kemi handled it spiritually.
The sentence echoed like a curse.
The next morning, he confronted his sister.
Kemi didn’t deny it.
She laughed.
“You think you fell for Funke naturally?” she asked calmly. “I only helped destiny.”
Kunle’s hands shook. “Did you touch Bisi?”
Kemi’s silence answered him.
That was the day something inside him shifted permanently.
He cut her off completely.
But damage does not disappear just because truth is exposed.
And truth has consequences.
—
Weeks passed.
Bisi returned home, but she was different.
Quieter. Guarded.
She stopped asking where he was going.
Stopped asking why he came home late.
Stopped trying.
Kunle tried to fix things. He truly did. Flowers. Apologies. Promises.
But betrayal is a wound that bleeds slowly.
And then it happened.
Funke called.
Her voice was shaking.
“Kunle… I need to see you.”
He didn’t want to go.
But he did.
She was waiting at a small café, pale and anxious.
“What is it?” he asked, already irritated.
Funke pushed an envelope across the table.
He opened it.
Hospital results.
Positive.
His vision blurred.
“No.”
Funke nodded, tears forming. “I’m pregnant.”
The world felt like it tilted.
Kunle leaned back slowly.
His ears rang.
Pregnant.
After years of trying with Bisi.
After years of tears.
After accusations.
After pain.
Funke’s voice trembled. “I didn’t plan this part. I swear. I thought it was just… attraction. But I missed my period. I tested twice.”
Kunle stood up abruptly.
“This can’t be happening.”
But biology does not wait for emotional readiness.
He ran his hand over his face.
“How far?” he asked quietly.
“Six weeks.”
The number stabbed him.
Six weeks.
That was when he had been distant. Cold. Avoiding Bisi.
Six weeks ago, his marriage had been crumbling.
Now this.
—
When he got home, Bisi was in the kitchen.
Cooking quietly.
He watched her for a long moment.
This woman had carried his struggles.
His poverty.
His mother’s insults.
His sister’s wickedness.
And now this truth would crush her.
“Bisi,” he said softly.
She didn’t turn. “Hmm?”
“There’s something you need to know.”
She faced him slowly.
The way he was standing — stiff, pale — told her everything before he spoke.
“What did you do?” she asked quietly.
His silence confirmed it.
Her lips parted.
Then he said it.
“Funke is pregnant.”
The spoon fell from her hand.
It hit the tile floor with a sharp sound that echoed in the house.
For a second, she didn’t breathe.
Pregnant.
The word felt like a knife.
Her eyes slowly lifted to his.
“You’re joking,” she whispered.
He shook his head.
The kitchen suddenly felt too small.
Too tight.
Too loud.
Bisi laughed.
A strange, broken sound.
“So… the barren woman’s husband can produce a child.”
Her voice cracked.
Kunle stepped toward her. “Bisi, please—”
She raised her hand sharply.
“Don’t.”
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
“All these years… I blamed myself. Your mother blamed me. Your sister cursed me. And now…”
Her eyes filled, but she refused to let the tears fall.
“Now the proof is standing in front of me.”
Kunle felt sick.
“This isn’t proof of anything,” he said quickly. “You heard what Funke said. Kemi did something.”
“And it still worked enough for her to get pregnant,” Bisi snapped.
That hurt him — but not as much as it hurt her.
Silence swallowed the room.
Finally, she spoke again.
“Are you going to take responsibility?”
The question was heavy.
“Yes,” he answered.
Because he was not a coward.
Bisi nodded slowly.
“Of course you will.”
She walked past him toward the bedroom.
He followed. “Bisi—”
She turned sharply.
“I need space. Before I lose my mind.”
He stopped.
For the first time since their university days…
There was distance between them that felt impossible to cross.
—
That night, Bisi lay awake.
Pregnant.
The word echoed over and over.
Funke carrying the child she had prayed for.
Funke receiving the joy she had begged heaven for.
Something dark tried to grow inside her heart.
Jealousy.
Bitterness.
But beneath it…
A strange clarity began forming.
If Kemi truly interfered spiritually…
If her barrenness was manipulated…
Then this pregnancy wasn’t proof of her failure.
It was proof of sabotage.
And if sabotage could happen once…
It could be reversed.
Bisi sat up slowly in bed.
Her eyes no longer looked defeated.
They looked focused.
Across town, Funke placed a protective hand over her stomach.
Smiling through nervousness.
She believed this pregnancy secured her future.
But she didn’t know something important.
Pregnancy creates life.
But it also creates war.
And Bisi had just decided…
She would not lose again.
———— Chapter 23 ————
News travels fast in a house that has been waiting for it.
Mama Kunle found out before evening.
She didn’t hear it from Kunle.
She heard it from Kemi.
And Kemi told it like victory.
Mama Kunle screamed.
Not in anger.
In joy.
“My God has answered me!” she shouted, clapping her hands. “I said it! I said it! My son is not barren!”
She began to dance in the sitting room, wrapper nearly loosening from her waist.
Years of frustration melted into pride.
“Call her!” she ordered Kemi. “Call Funke for me!”
—
Later that evening, Funke stood at the gate, hesitant.
Mama Kunle rushed to receive her like royalty.
“My daughter!” she cried, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You have lifted my shame!”
Funke forced a shy smile.
“Good evening, Ma.”
“Evening? This is a glorious evening!” Mama Kunle replied loudly. “Come inside! Careful oh, don’t stress yourself. You are carrying my blood!”
She led her in like a prized possession.
Bisi was seated quietly in the living room when they entered.
Their eyes met.
Funke looked away first.
Mama Kunle didn’t.
Instead, she cleared her throat dramatically.
“Bisi,” she said, voice sharp with triumph, “you have heard the good news?”
Bisi nodded once.
“Yes, Mama.”
Mama Kunle sat down, pulling Funke beside her.
“This child must not grow in confusion,” she began. “A baby needs both father and mother under one roof. We cannot allow my grandchild to grow up in a broken home.”
The air thickened.
Kunle stiffened.
“Mama—”
But she raised her hand.
“I am speaking.”
She turned fully to Bisi now.
“You are an educated woman. You should understand. A man must protect his bloodline. If God has finally blessed him through another woman, will you now block destiny?”
The words landed like stones.
Bisi kept her face calm.
“What are you saying, Mama?”
Mama Kunle didn’t blink.
“I am saying you should allow Kunle to take a second wife.”
Silence exploded in the room.
Kemi smirked quietly in the corner.
Kunle stood up. “Mama, that is enough.”
But Mama Kunle was unstoppable.
“Enough? Enough of what? Enough of me protecting my lineage? Enough of wanting my grandchild raised properly?”
She pointed at Funke’s stomach.
“That child cannot be raised outside. My son will not be a weekend father!”
She turned back to Bisi.
“You are still the first wife. Nobody is chasing you. Just accept reality. Share your husband peacefully.”
The insult was calm.
Calculated.
Cruel.
Bisi inhaled slowly.
“So because I have not given birth yet,” she said softly, “I should now help welcome the woman who did?”
Mama Kunle leaned forward.
“It is not about you. It is about the child.”
Kunle’s voice trembled with anger. “Mama, stop.”
But Mama Kunle was not done.
“Funke will stay here for some time,” she announced. “She needs care. Proper care. I will not allow my grandchild to suffer.”
She turned to Funke sweetly. “You will move into the guest room tomorrow.”
Funke looked unsure. “Ma, I don’t want trouble…”
“There is no trouble!” Mama Kunle snapped. “This is your home.”
Bisi stood slowly.
Her movements were calm.
Too calm.
She looked at Kunle.
“Is this what you want?”
The question froze him.
“No,” he said immediately. “I didn’t ask for this.”
But he also didn’t reject it fast enough.
And that delay…
That tiny hesitation…
It cut deep.
Bisi nodded once.
“Good.”
She turned and walked toward the bedroom.
Mama Kunle scoffed. “See? Pride. That is her problem.”
Kunle ran after his wife.
Inside the room, Bisi was folding clothes into a small bag.
“What are you doing?” he asked, panic rising.
She didn’t stop folding.
“You heard your mother.”
“I didn’t agree!”
“You didn’t disagree,” she replied quietly.
He stepped closer. “Bisi, please don’t do this.”
She finally looked at him.
There were no tears.
And that scared him more than anything.
“Kunle,” she said softly, “I stayed through insults. Through accusations. Through beatings from your sister. Through spiritual attacks. Through shame.”
She zipped the bag.
“But I will not stay to compete for my own husband.”
His throat tightened.
“It’s not like that.”
She gave a small, sad smile.
“It always starts like that.”
From the living room, Mama Kunle’s voice echoed joyfully as she spoke to someone on the phone.
“Yes! My son’s second wife is pregnant!”
The words drifted into the bedroom.
And settled like a curse.
Bisi walked past Kunle with her bag.
He grabbed her wrist gently.
“Don’t leave.”
She removed his hand carefully.
“Decide what kind of man you want to be,” she whispered. “Then come find me.”
And she walked out.
Mama Kunle stared, stunned.
“Where are you going?”
Bisi paused at the door.
“To protect what is left of my dignity.”
The door closed behind her.
Funke’s smile slowly faded.
Because suddenly…
This victory felt heavier than she expected.
And Kunle stood in the middle of the house—
Realizing he was about to lose the one woman who had never left him.
Even in his worst days.
Now the house had a pregnant woman.
A celebrating mother.
A plotting sister.
And a husband standing at the edge of destruction.
But the war was far from over.
———— Chapter 24 ————
Funke sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on her stomach, the other scrolling through her phone. She had stopped going to the office.
“I can’t be stressing myself,” she had told Kunle softly. “This pregnancy is new. I need to be careful. I need to learn… I need to prepare myself properly as your wife.”
She emphasized the last two words gently.
Kunle shifted uncomfortably.
“Wife?”
Funke lowered her eyes shyly. “Is it wrong for me to think ahead? I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your family. I’ve been asking my friends questions… how to be a good wife, how to take care of a home.”
She reached for his hand.
“I want you to do things right. It would sound decent if people knew you took a new wife than you got a mistress pregnant”.
The words sounded innocent.
But they were strategic.
Kunle felt the pressure closing in from every side — his mother’s excitement, the pregnancy, Bisi’s silence, his own guilt.
—
Mama Kunle wasted no time.
One afternoon, she cornered him in the living room.
“This marriage must happen immediately,” she declared. “Before people start talking.”
“Mama…” Kunle rubbed his temples. “Everything is happening too fast.”
“Too fast?” she snapped. “She is carrying your child! What is fast about responsibility?”
He hesitated.
“And Bisi?” he asked quietly.
Mama Kunle scoffed.
“Bisi? Did she give you a child? Is she here? She left. A man cannot pause his life because of a stubborn woman.”
Kunle didn’t answer.
Because deep down…
He still loved Bisi.
But he was tired.
Tired of pressure.
Tired of choosing.
—
That night, Kemi visited Funke secretly.
She locked the door behind her and pulled out a small container from her handbag.
“You need reinforcement,” Kemi whispered.
Funke frowned. “I already used the last one.”
“And you see how he keeps mentioning Bisi?” Kemi replied sharply. “That means the hold is weakening.”
Funke’s eyes darkened.
“What do I do?”
“Rub this lightly on your neck and wrists before you see him,” Kemi instructed. “Don’t overuse it. Just enough to keep his head where it belongs.”
Funke nodded slowly.
“I don’t want to lose him now.”
“You won’t,” Kemi said confidently. “Not after everything.”
—
Across town, Bisi sat in her small apartment, staring at her silent phone.
Kunle had called.
Again.
And again.
She hadn’t answered.
Her friend, Tola, watched her carefully.
“He’s your husband,” Tola said gently. “If you still love him, go back and fight for your marriage.”
Bisi shook her head.
“I can’t beg to stay where I was humiliated.”
“But walking away doesn’t mean you stopped loving him.”
Bisi’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall.
“I gave that house everything. If he wants me, he knows where to find me.”
Still…
At night, she whispered his name into the dark.
—
Back at the house, Mama Kunle brought out bridal magazines.
“Simple introduction,” she suggested excitedly to Funke. “Nothing too big. We’ll do something bigger later.”
Funke smiled sweetly.
“I will do whatever you think is best, Mama.”
Mama Kunle beamed.
“This is how a daughter-in-law should behave.”
Later that evening, Funke walked into Kunle’s room softly.
She had applied the new mixture.
The scent was faint but warm.
Kunle looked up.
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes.
Desire.
Confusion.
Longing.
She sat beside him.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said gently. “Maybe we should make things official. It will protect the baby. Protect you.”
He swallowed.
“It feels sudden.”
She touched his chest lightly.
“Or maybe you’re afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of letting go.”
He didn’t respond.
She leaned in closer.
And this time…
He didn’t pull away.
For the first time since Bisi left, he held Funke without hesitation.
The charm was working again.
But as he kissed her—
Her fingers accidentally scratched across his chest.
Sharp.
Deep enough to sting.
He winced.
“Ouch.”
She laughed softly. “Sorry.”
But when she pulled her hand back…
There was a thin line of blood.
Kunle touched it absently.
And suddenly—
Something felt… strange.
A flicker of clarity.
Just for a second.
Like fog lifting briefly from his mind.
He stared at Funke.
And for a split second—
He saw not love.
Not destiny.
But pressure.
Manipulation.
And a question began forming in his mind.
Why do I only feel this way when she’s close to me?
Funke noticed the shift immediately.
Her smile tightened.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
Kunle blinked.
The fog returned.
“I’m fine.”
But somewhere deep inside—
A crack had formed.
And cracks…
Eventually widen.
———— Chapter 25 ————
Funke did not take chances.
After the tiny crack she sensed in Kunle’s eyes that night, she went straight into the guest bathroom, locked the door, and stared at herself in the mirror.
Her heartbeat was uneven.
“He almost slipped,” she whispered.
She opened her handbag quickly and brought out the small container Kemi had given her. The thick, scented mixture sat quietly inside, harmless-looking… but powerful.
She dabbed a little more on her wrists.
A little on her neck.
Then she rubbed some lightly along her cheekbones.
She inhaled deeply.
“Focus,” she told herself. “You are not losing now.”
When she stepped back into Kunle’s room, her energy had changed.
Soft.
Sweet.
Inviting.
Kunle looked up from his phone.
And immediately, his expression softened.
She walked toward him slowly, holding a small box.
“I brought you something,” she said playfully.
He raised a brow. “What is that?”
She opened it.
Cupcakes.
His favorite.
“You remembered?” he asked.
She smiled. “Of course. I’m not careless.”
He took one, tasted it, and nodded approvingly.
“Sweet.”
Funke leaned closer.
“Not sweeter than me.”
He chuckled.
The fog thickened again.
She sat beside him and rested her head lightly on his shoulder.
“I was thinking…” she began softly.
“Hmmm?”
“As your incoming wife… maybe I should start sleeping here.”
He froze slightly.
“In this room?”
She nodded gently.
“I need to feel close to you. And sometimes… pregnancy makes my body ache. I may need massages at night.”
She looked up at him, eyes vulnerable.
“You won’t refuse me, will you?”
Kunle hesitated for just a second.
Then the scent reached him again.
The warmth.
The pull.
“No problem,” he replied.
Funke smiled in quiet victory.
—
Later that night, when she had fallen asleep, Kunle stepped out to the balcony with his phone.
He stared at Bisi’s contact for a long time.
Then he dialed.
It rang.
And rang.
And just when he thought she wouldn’t pick—
She answered.
Silence.
“Bisi…”
More silence.
He cleared his throat.
“I wanted to tell you myself.”
A pause.
“I’m getting married.”
The words felt heavy even in his own mouth.
Still silence on the other end.
He forced a small laugh.
“It’s… it’s the right thing to do. There’s a child involved.”
Nothing.
He swallowed.
“What do you think?”
For a moment, he thought the call had dropped.
Then he heard her breathing.
Soft.
Controlled.
And finally—
“I’m happy for you.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
He waited for more.
There was none.
“I’ll send you the invitation,” he added awkwardly. “You should come.”
A longer pause.
Then quietly—
“Okay.”
That was all.
No anger.
No shouting.
No begging.
Just… okay.
He felt something twist inside him.
“Bisi…”
But she had already hung up.
—
Across town, Bisi slowly lowered the phone from her ear.
Her hands were shaking.
But she refused to cry.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall.
“I’m happy for you.”
The words replayed in her head.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She lay back and stared at the ceiling.
Then finally…
A single tear slid down the side of her face into her hair.
She whispered into the quiet room—
“God, if he was never mine… why did you let me love him this much?”
———— Chapter 26 ————
The house was alive again.
Music. Laughter. Guests. Wrappers swaying. Champagne popping.
Funke’s introduction ceremony was everything Mama Kunle had dreamed of. She moved around proudly, correcting caterers, directing relatives, smiling from ear to ear.
“My daughter-in-law!” she announced to anyone who cared to listen. “Carrying my grandchild!”
Kemi stood tall as chief bridesmaid, gele perfectly tied, makeup flawless. She looked victorious.
If anyone had told her months ago that Bisi would be out and Funke would be in, she would have laughed in disbelief.
But here they were.
Mama Kunle leaned toward her daughter and whispered, “We did well.”
Kemi smiled. “Of course we did.”
But what neither of them knew…
Was that Funke was playing her own game.
—
Later that night, after the guests had left and Kunle had retired early, claiming exhaustion, Funke sat in the dimly lit guest room scrolling through her phone.
A message popped up.
Frank: “How did it go?”
She smirked and typed back.
“Perfect. They swallowed everything.”
Within minutes, there was a soft knock on the back gate. She wrapped a shawl over her shoulders and slipped outside quietly.
Frank was waiting inside his car.
He grinned when he saw her. “Mrs. Kunle-to-be.”
She laughed lightly and got into the passenger seat.
“You should have seen them,” she said. “His mother is already planning naming ceremonies.”
Frank’s eyes gleamed. “Good. The deeper they invest emotionally, the easier it will be.”
He placed a hand on her stomach.
“And remember the plan.”
Funke nodded.
“Once I give birth, Mama Kunle will pressure Kunle to secure the child’s future. Property. Land. Assets.”
Frank leaned back, satisfied.
“And when everything is in the child’s name…”
“We sell quietly,” Funke finished. “Move abroad. Start fresh.”
Frank kissed her cheek.
“They won’t even know what hit them.”
Neither of them said the most dangerous truth out loud.
The baby she was carrying…
Was not Kunle’s.
It was Frank’s.
And the so-called heir Mama Kunle was celebrating…
Belonged to another man entirely.
—
Meanwhile inside the house, Kemi entered Funke’s room without knocking.
Funke quickly locked her phone.
“You look happy,” Kemi observed.
“I should be,” Funke replied sweetly. “Everything is falling into place.”
Kemi sat beside her.
“Remember what we discussed. After the baby comes, you must insist on security. Tell Mama that this generation is wicked. Properties must be documented in your child’s name.”
Funke widened her eyes innocently. “You think they’ll agree?”
Kemi laughed confidently. “My mother will handle Kunle. She knows how to bend him.”
Funke nodded slowly.
“Oh, I know.”
If only Kemi understood she wasn’t the mastermind anymore.
She was just another pawn.
—
Across town, Bisi sat in a quiet office painted in soft beige.
A framed certificate hung on the wall behind the therapist’s desk.
Dr. Adebayo.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” the therapist said gently.
Bisi stared at her clasped hands.
“I feel replaced,” she whispered.
“Rejected.”
Her voice trembled.
“I gave him my youth. My loyalty. My prayers. And now I feel like I was just… temporary.”
Dr. Adebayo nodded calmly.
“Have you been eating?”
Bisi shook her head slightly.
“Sleeping?”
“Not really.”
Her friend Tola had practically dragged her there after finding her crying in the dark two nights in a row.
“I don’t want to exist like this,” Bisi admitted quietly. “I don’t even recognize myself.”
The therapist leaned forward.
“You are grieving,” she said gently. “Not just a marriage. But the future you imagined.”
That broke something inside her.
Tears fell freely now.
“I still love him,” she whispered.
“And that’s okay,” Dr. Adebayo replied. “But loving someone should never destroy you.”
Bisi inhaled shakily.
For the first time in months…
Someone was choosing her wellbeing.
And maybe…
Just maybe…
That was the beginning of her healing.
—
Back at the house, Mama Kunle was already making plans.
“We must secure this child’s destiny,” she told Kunle firmly one evening. “Transfer that land document. Update your will. A child must not suffer.”
Kunle rubbed his forehead.
“Mama, the baby isn’t even born yet.”
“All the more reason!” she insisted. “Do you want evil eyes to interfere?”
Funke sat quietly, pretending to be shy.
But her eyes flickered briefly.
Satisfied.
Everything was aligning.
Mama was pushing.
Kemi was scheming.
Kunle was confused.
And Frank was waiting.
What none of them knew…
Was that secrets don’t stay buried forever.
And when the truth finally surfaces—
It doesn’t knock politely.
It explodes.
———— Chapter 27 ————
Bisi stepped out of the therapy building slowly, her handbag hanging loosely from her shoulder. The session had been heavy. Talking about her pain always left her feeling exposed — like a wound without a bandage.
As she reached the parking lot, she noticed a man standing near the entrance, looking uncertain. He glanced at the building sign, then at his phone.
“Excuse me,” he called gently. “Is this Dr. Adebayo’s office?”
Bisi nodded. “Yes. Second floor. You’re in the right place.”
He exhaled in relief. “Thank you. First time.”
She gave a small, understanding smile. “It gets easier.”
He returned the smile — polite, tired, sincere.
She walked to her car.
She didn’t know that would not be the last time she saw him.
—
Two days later, as she was leaving another session, she nearly bumped into him at the staircase.
“Oh,” he said lightly. “We meet again.”
“Seems like it,” she replied.
There was something calm about him. No arrogance. No pressure.
The following week, their timing aligned again — he arriving, she leaving.
Finally, one afternoon, he cleared his throat and spoke.
“My name is Daniel.”
“Bisi.”
He hesitated. “If you don’t mind me asking… does it ever stop hurting?”
She studied him carefully.
“Why are you here?”
Daniel looked down briefly.
“My wife passed away last year.”
Her expression softened immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Grief is… unpredictable.”
For the first time in a long while, Bisi felt seen — not judged, not blamed, not compared.
Just understood.
—
Over the next few weeks, they began sitting together briefly after sessions. Nothing dramatic. Just conversations.
He spoke about his late wife — how she used to sing in the kitchen.
She spoke about her marriage — how she had fought battles she didn’t even create.
He listened.
Really listened.
“At least you’re alive,” Daniel told her gently one evening. “You still have time to rebuild.”
She looked at him carefully.
“And you?”
“I’m learning to breathe again.”
Daniel was deeply spiritual. Not loud about it. Not performative. Just grounded.
One evening he invited her to a small midweek prayer gathering.
“No pressure,” he added quickly. “Just… peace.”
She went.
The quiet prayers, the soft worship, the calm voices — they steadied something inside her.
On nights when sleep refused to come, she sometimes called him.
“I can’t rest,” she’d whisper.
He would pray softly over the phone.
And somehow, she would drift into sleep.
—
Then one morning, Daniel called her unusually early.
“Can we meet?” he asked.
They sat at a small café near the therapy center.
His face was serious.
“I had a dream last night,” he said slowly.
Bisi stiffened slightly. “A dream?”
He nodded.
“I don’t say this lightly. But I believe the Holy Spirit showed me something concerning your husband.”
She sighed immediately.
“Daniel…”
“Please just listen,” he said gently. “What I saw wasn’t normal. There’s manipulation around him. Spiritual influence. He is not entirely himself.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Bisi, I’m not defending what he did. But he is under something.”
She leaned back, folding her arms.
“That is his cross to carry.”
He paused.
“If you don’t want him destroyed completely… pray. Fast. Intercede.”
Her voice hardened.
“I’m done fighting battles for a man who chose someone else.”
Daniel looked at her with quiet compassion.
“I understand. I just felt I should tell you.”
She stood up.
“I appreciate your concern. But I’m focusing on myself now. I need a job. I need my own apartment. I can’t keep staying at my friend’s place.”
And that was that.
She refused to look back.
—
Back at Kunle’s house, preparations were underway.
Mama Kunle was practically glowing.
“I’m throwing a celebration,” she announced proudly. “God has done it!”
Funke blinked. “Mama, it’s not even time for baby shower. I’m still months away.”
Mama waved her hand dismissively. “This is not baby shower. This is thanksgiving! My friends must come and rejoice with me.”
Soon the house was decorated again.
Women arrived in lace and gold jewelry.
Music filled the compound.
Mama Kunle stood before her guests proudly.
“For years I prayed! Today God has remembered my son!”
Funke smiled modestly, rubbing her stomach gently.
Kemi arrived late, dramatic as always.
She hugged Funke and whispered, “You’re doing well.”
Then she found her brother standing alone near the drinks table.
“You see?” Kemi said confidently. “Look how peaceful this house is now.”
Kunle didn’t answer.
“When it was Bisi, every day was tension. But now? Joy. Celebration. Unity.”
He stared at the ground.
“If she had given you a child, we wouldn’t have had all that drama,” Kemi continued.
Kunle sighed.
“It’s fine.”
But then quietly he added, “I just wish Bisi was still in my life.”
Kemi rolled her eyes.
“She changed her number. She moved on. You should too.”
He swallowed.
“She doesn’t even pick my calls anymore.”
“Forget her,” Kemi insisted. “You have a new family.”
From across the room, Funke was watching.
She noticed the softness in Kunle’s voice when he mentioned Bisi.
Her jaw tightened.
Later that night, after the guests left, she locked herself in the bathroom again.
She brought out the small container.
“I need to increase it,” she muttered.
If he was thinking about Bisi this much…
The charm was fading.
She applied more than usual.
On her neck.
Behind her ears.
On her wrists.
When she stepped into his room, the scent was stronger.
Kunle looked up.
His expression shifted almost immediately.
She climbed into his lap gently.
“Why are you so far from me these days?” she asked softly.
He inhaled.
The fog returned.
He wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m here,” he murmured.
She smiled against his chest.
For now…
He was hers again.
But somewhere far away, Bisi knelt beside her bed that same night — not to pray for him —
But to pray for herself.
And heaven was listening.
———— Chapter 28 ————
Funke’s stomach was beginning to show clearly now.
Mama Kunle was happier than she had been in years. Every morning she checked on Funke first.
“How is my grandchild today?” she would ask proudly, rubbing Funke’s belly.
The house now revolved around the pregnancy.
Kunle tried to behave normally, but something inside him was never fully settled. Sometimes when he looked at Funke from across the room, a strange uneasiness crept into his chest.
But once she came close to him, once that familiar scent surrounded him, the confusion faded.
And he forgot again.
—
One evening, Mama Kunle asked Kemi to take some food upstairs.
“Make sure she eats well,” she said firmly. “My grandchild must be strong.”
Kemi carried the tray upstairs casually. As she approached Funke’s door, she heard voices inside.
A man’s voice.
She froze.
“…once the property is transferred,” the man was saying, “we move immediately.”
Kemi frowned.
She pushed the door open.
Inside, Funke was sitting comfortably on the bed beside a man.
Frank.
He was holding a glass, relaxed as if he owned the place.
Kemi’s eyes widened.
“What is going on here?”
Funke stood up immediately.
“Kemi… listen—”
But Kemi was already angry.
“Who is this man?” she demanded.
Frank stood slowly, calm.
Funke hesitated.
Kemi’s voice rose.
“You are pregnant for my brother and entertaining another man in his house?!”
Frank looked amused.
“Entertaining?” he repeated.
“Yes!” Kemi snapped. “You are cheating on him!”
Frank laughed softly.
That only made Kemi angrier.
“What is funny?” she barked.
Frank leaned against the table casually.
“You people really believe that child is Kunle’s?”
The words dropped like a bomb.
Kemi blinked.
“What did you say?”
Funke closed her eyes briefly.
There was no point hiding anymore.
Frank shrugged.
“That baby is mine.”
The tray slipped from Kemi’s hands.
Plates shattered across the floor.
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
Funke crossed her arms.
“No. He isn’t.”
Kemi stared at her in disbelief.
“But… you’re marrying my brother!”
Funke gave a cold smile.
“That was the plan.”
Kemi’s voice shook.
“What plan?”
Funke spoke calmly now.
“The plan to secure your brother’s wealth.”
Frank nodded beside her.
“Once the baby is born, your mother will pressure Kunle to protect the child’s future. Land. Houses. Assets.”
Funke continued.
“Everything will be placed in the child’s name.”
Frank smirked.
“And once it’s done… we sell everything and disappear.”
Kemi’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
“You used us.”
Funke’s expression hardened.
“You used me first.”
That sentence ignited Kemi’s fury.
“You wicked girl!” she screamed, lunging forward.
She grabbed Funke’s arm.
“You trapped my brother!”
Funke pushed her away.
“Don’t touch me!”
But Kemi was already out of control.
“You brought another man’s child into my family!”
Funke slapped her.
Hard.
Kemi gasped.
Then she attacked.
The two women began fighting, grabbing hair, pushing each other.
Frank rushed forward.
“Stop! You’ll hurt the baby!”
But Kemi shoved him away.
“You fraud!”
Funke struggled to protect her stomach as Kemi pulled her hair.
“You think you can destroy my brother’s life and walk away?!”
Frank finally grabbed Kemi from behind and dragged her back.
“That’s enough!”
Funke stumbled back onto the bed, breathing heavily.
Kemi pointed at her, shaking with rage.
“I will tell Kunle everything.”
Funke laughed quietly.
“You think he will believe you?”
Kemi froze.
And that silence revealed her fear.
Because deep down…
She knew something was wrong with her brother lately.
Something unnatural.
And if he refused to believe her…
This house was about to become a battlefield.
Because the truth had finally escaped the room.
The only question now was—
Who would hear it first?
———— Chapter 29 ————
Mama Kunle had barely stepped into the sitting room when she heard shouting.
“Leave me!” Kemi yelled, trying to free herself from Frank’s grip.
Funke quickly glanced at Frank. In that split second, an evil idea flashed through her mind.
She suddenly threw herself backward and crashed to the floor.
“Ahhh!” she screamed loudly, clutching her stomach.
Everyone froze.
“Kemi is killing me! My baby!” Funke cried, tears streaming down her face as she held her belly dramatically.
Mama Kunle rushed forward in panic.
“Jesu! What is happening here?” she shouted.
Funke pointed a trembling finger at Kemi.
“She pushed me! She doesn’t want this baby to live! All because I invited my cousin to the house without telling her first!”
Kemi’s eyes widened in shock.
“What? That’s a lie!” she shouted. “Mama, she’s lying!”
But Mama Kunle was already furious.
“Kemi!” she thundered. “Have you lost your mind? You want to harm a pregnant woman?”
“Mama, I didn’t touch her!” Kemi insisted desperately. “She fell by herself!”
Funke began crying louder, rocking back and forth.
“My stomach… my baby… Mama Kunle please help me,” she whimpered weakly.
Frank quickly knelt beside her, pretending to panic.
“Mama, I think she’s bleeding,” he said anxiously.
That was enough to push Mama Kunle over the edge.
She turned to Kemi with blazing anger.
“You are wicked!” she spat. “Is this how I raised you? Jealousy has turned your heart black!”
Tears filled Kemi’s eyes.
“Mama… you know me. I would never hurt a pregnant woman.”
But Mama Kunle shook her head bitterly.
“From today, stay away from Funke. If anything happens to that child, you will answer to me!. The only reason I allowed you bully bisi was because she was unable to give me grand kids….but don’t ever try it with Funke oh!”
Kemi stood there in disbelief, watching as Frank helped Funke up.
As they walked away slowly, Funke secretly wiped her tears and shot Kemi a cold, victorious smile.
Kemi’s heart sank.
For the first time in her life, her own mother had chosen a stranger over her.
And Funke knew exactly what she was doing.
The rift between mother and daughter had finally begun.
———— Chapter 30 ————
That night, the house was unusually quiet.
Kemi sat alone in her room, her eyes red from crying. She could still hear her mother’s harsh words echoing in her head.
Meanwhile, in the sitting room, Funke sat beside Mama Kunle, pretending to rub her stomach gently.
Mama Kunle looked worried.
“Are you sure the baby is fine?” she asked.
Funke sighed softly.
“I don’t know, Mama… I’ve been feeling pains since that fall.”
Mama Kunle’s face tightened with anger.
“That girl has no respect anymore. Imagine raising your hand against a pregnant woman!”
Funke lowered her head, pretending to hesitate.
“Mama… please don’t be too hard on Kemi. Maybe she’s just angry.”
Mama Kunle scoffed.
“Angry about what?”
Funke looked away, as if she was reluctant to speak.
“It’s nothing…”
Mama Kunle leaned closer.
“Tell me.”
Funke took a deep breath.
“I think… she doesn’t like that Frank and I are planning a better future for this child.”
Mama Kunle frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Funke spoke carefully, planting the poison slowly.
“She said… once this baby comes, everything in this house will change. She said she won’t allow strangers to take over her brother’s property.”
Mama Kunle’s eyes widened.
“She said that?”
Funke nodded sadly.
“She thinks I’m here to take what belongs to her.”
Mama Kunle’s face darkened with anger.
“After everything I’ve done for that girl, instead of her to be praying for her own husband? She wants to drag your own with you!”
Funke placed a gentle hand on her arm.
“Mama, I don’t want problems in this house. But the stress… it’s not good for the baby.”
Mama Kunle shook her head firmly.
“No. I won’t allow anyone threaten my grandchild.”
Just then, Kemi walked into the sitting room.
The moment Mama Kunle saw her, her expression hardened.
“Kemi, come here.”
Kemi walked slowly toward them.
“Yes, Mama?”
Mama Kunle stood up.
“I have made a decision.”
Kemi’s stomach tightened.
“This house needs peace,” Mama Kunle said firmly. “And since you cannot control your jealousy, maybe you should find somewhere else to stay for now.”
Kemi froze.
“Mama… what?”
Funke quickly pretended to be shocked.
“Mama, no! Don’t send her away because of me.”
But the fake concern only made Mama Kunle more determined.
“I said what I said. Go and look for your own husband, kemi!”
Kemi’s voice trembled.
“You want me to leave my own brother house?”
Mama Kunle crossed her arms.
“It is for the good and safety of your brother’s child- yes.”
“For a child that is not even for broth-“ Before she could complete her sentence, Funke screams — feigning pain.
Mama kunle immediately checks on her and yells at kemi to leave as she is inconveniencing the baby.
Tears rolled down Kemi’s face as she looked at Funke.
Funke avoided her eyes, pretending to be uncomfortable.
But deep down, she was smiling.
Her plan was working perfectly.
Kemi turned slowly and walked back to her room, heart shattered.
Behind her, Funke gently rubbed her stomach again.
Soon, everything in this house would belong to her.
And Kemi would be completely out of the way.
———— Chapter 31 ————
The next morning, Kemi stood outside Kunle’s room, her heart pounding.
She knocked softly.
“Brother… please I need to talk to you.”
Kunle opened the door slowly. His face was cold, almost unfamiliar.
“What is it again, Kemi?”
Kemi swallowed.
“Kunle, that woman is not who you think she is. Funke is manipulating you. Something is wrong.”
Kunle frowned.
“Watch how you talk about my wife.”
Kemi stepped closer, desperation in her voice.
“Brother please listen to me. It was all planned with juju, you love her because we made it happen. It was Bisi you loved naturally. Funke; she’s using something on you… juju.”
Kunle’s face darkened instantly.
“Enough!”
Kemi flinched.
“You are insulting my wife because of jealousy!” Kunle shouted. “Funke is the best thing that has happened to me!. She made me a father!”
Kemi shook her head, tears forming.
“No… this isn’t you. You used to love only Bisi.”
But Kunle’s eyes were filled with anger.
“If you cannot respect my wife, then you cannot stay in this house.”
Kemi stared at him in disbelief.
“Kunle…”
“Leave!” he roared, pointing to the door.
“You want me to leave family house because of I’m telling you the truth?”
Kunle didn’t hesitate.
“I don’t love anyone else but Funke- my wife!.”
The words pierced Kemi’s heart like a knife.
Funke stood quietly by the corridor, pretending to be shocked. But inside, she was satisfied.
Kemi picked up her small bag slowly.
As she walked out of the compound, tears rolled down her face.
Meanwhile, across the city, Bisi knelt in her small living room, praying passionately.
“God, expose every evil working in that house. Let the truth come out. Please deliver my husband from the shackles of evil.”
Days passed.
One afternoon, Mama Kunle walked toward Funke’s room to call her.
But as she reached the door, she suddenly stopped.
The door was slightly open.
Inside, Funke sat in front of the mirror.
Mama Kunle watched silently.
Funke opened a small calabash container and dipped her fingers into a dark paste.
Then she began rubbing it slowly on her face and neck.
As she rubbed it, she whispered softly.
“Kunle will never leave me… you will always obey me, you will chose me over every one even your mother when it comes down to it, you will put every property you own in the name of me and Frank baby.”
Mama Kunle’s heart began to race.
“What is she doing?” she whispered to herself.
Quickly, she moved away before Funke noticed her.
Later that night, when the house became quiet, Mama Kunle quietly entered Funke’s room.
Her hands trembled as she searched.
Then she found it.
The small calabash container.
She stared at the strange black paste inside.
A cold fear ran through her body.
“God…” she muttered.
Without wasting time, Mama Kunle carried it to the backyard.
She poured kerosene on it.
Then struck a match.
The flame rose quickly as the charm burned.
“Whatever evil this is… it will not destroy my family,” she said firmly.
But inside the house…
Funke suddenly woke up from sleep.
Her eyes widened.
Something felt wrong.
She rushed to her room and began searching frantically.
The container was gone.
Her breathing became heavy.
“No… no… no!”
She ran outside.
The whole time; Mama kunle acted like she knew nothing.
Funke’s heart began to pound violently.
Panic filled her eyes.
“Who touched it?” she whispered angrily.
Because without that charm…
Kunle might start seeing the truth.
And if that happened…
Everything she had planned would collapse.
She immediately called frank to tell him about their current sudden misfortune and how to find a potential solution.
———— Chapter 32 ————
Funke did not sleep that night.
She lay beside Kunle, staring into the darkness, her mind racing like a storm.
The charm was gone.
She could feel it.
And now… Kunle was changing.
That alone was dangerous.
But what terrified her more was one thing—
Kemi.
If Kunle found her…
Everything would be over.
—
By morning, Kunle was already dressed.
“I’m going out,” he said, adjusting his watch.
Funke sat up immediately. “To where?”
“To find my sister.”
Her chest tightened.
“You don’t even know where she is.”
“I’ll find out,” he replied calmly.
That calmness unsettled her more than anger ever could.
Funke stood up and walked to him, forcing softness into her voice.
“Kunle… please. Think about your child. Stress is not good for me.”
Kunle paused.
For a moment, she thought she had him again.
But then he shook his head.
“This isn’t about stress. This is about doing the right thing.”
Those words hit her like a warning bell.
Doing the right thing?
Since when?
He picked up his car keys and walked out.
The door shut.
Funke stood frozen.
Then suddenly—
Her expression changed.
Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.
“This is not over,” she muttered.
—
Across town, Kemi sat in a small, poorly furnished room.
Her eyes were swollen.
She hadn’t slept properly since she was thrown out.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She hesitated… then picked.
“Hello?”
“Kemi… it’s me.”
She froze.
“Kunle?”
Her voice broke instantly.
“You remember me now?” she asked bitterly.
Kunle closed his eyes on the other end.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence.
Heavy silence.
“I need to see you,” he continued. “There are things I don’t understand.”
Kemi let out a shaky laugh.
“You finally want to understand?”
“Please,” he said quietly.
She wiped her tears.
“Come.”
—
Back at the house, Funke paced the room like a trapped animal.
Then suddenly, she grabbed her phone and dialed a number.
Frank picked up.
“You sound tense,” he said.
“They are about to find out,” she snapped.
There was a pause.
“How?”
“The charm is gone.”
“What?” Frank’s voice sharpened.
“Yes! And Kunle is going to see Kemi.”
Frank cursed under his breath.
“Then we don’t have time.”
Funke stopped pacing.
“What do we do?”
Frank’s voice dropped low.
“Then we move to the final plan.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“The properties?” she asked.
“No,” Frank replied.
“Something bigger.”
—
Meanwhile, Mama Kunle sat quietly in her room, holding her prayer beads tightly.
Her hands trembled.
“What have I brought into this house?” she whispered.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
For the first time…
She was afraid.
Not of Bisi.
Not of Kemi.
But of Funke.
—
Hours later, Kunle arrived at Kemi’s place.
He stepped inside slowly.
The moment Kemi saw him, all her anger melted into pain.
“You really sent me away,” she said softly.
Kunle looked around the small room.
Guilt flooded him.
“I don’t know what came over me.”
Kemi looked straight into his eyes.
“I do.”
Silence.
Then she said the words that changed everything—
“The child Funke is carrying…”
Kunle’s heart stopped.
“…is not yours.”
The room went completely still.
Kunle stared at her.
“What?”
Kemi stepped closer.
“I caught her with a man. His name is Frank.”
Kunle’s hands began to shake.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was,” she said, her voice breaking.
“They have a plan. To use that pregnancy to collect your properties… and disappear.”
Kunle staggered back slightly.
Everything around him felt unreal.
“No…”
Kemi pulled out her phone with trembling hands.
“I recorded part of their conversation that day,” she said.
She pressed play.
Frank’s voice filled the room—
“Once the property is transferred… we leave immediately.”
Kunle felt like the ground had been ripped from under his feet.
His world…
His marriage…
His reality…
All lies.
—
Back at the house, Funke stood in front of the mirror again.
But this time, there was no charm.
No protection.
Only fear.
Then suddenly—
A knock.
She turned.
Mama Kunle stood at the door.
Her face was no longer warm.
No longer loving.
It was hard.
Cold.
Disappointed.
“I know what you are,” Mama Kunle said quietly.
Funke’s heart skipped.
“What do you mean?”
Mama Kunle stepped inside slowly.
“I saw you.”
Silence.
“You brought darkness into my house.”
Funke’s eyes darkened.
For a moment… the mask slipped.
And the real her surfaced.
“You should have minded your business,” she said coldly.
Mama Kunle gasped softly.
But before she could respond—
The gate slammed outside.
A car door shut violently.
Footsteps.
Fast. Heavy. Furious.
Funke’s breath caught.
Kunle.
He was back.
And this time…
He knew the truth.
———— Chapter 33 ————
The gate slammed.
Kunle’s footsteps were heavy, fast, filled with something dangerous.
Funke stood frozen in the middle of the room.
Mama Kunle stepped back slowly.
The door burst open.
Kunle entered.
His eyes were no longer soft. No confusion. No fog.
Just fire.
“Funke.”
Her name came out like a verdict.
Funke forced a shaky smile. “You’re back early—”
“Stop,” he said sharply.
Silence swallowed the room.
Mama Kunle watched, her heart pounding.
Kunle stepped closer.
“Who is Frank?”
The air shifted instantly.
Funke’s lips parted… but no words came out.
“I asked you a question!” Kunle roared.
Her composure cracked.
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
Before she could finish, Kunle brought out his phone and pressed play.
Frank’s voice filled the room again:
“Once the property is transferred… we leave immediately.”
Funke’s face went pale.
Mama Kunle covered her mouth in shock.
Kunle’s voice dropped, low and deadly.
“The child you’re carrying…”
He stepped closer.
“…is it mine?”
Funke’s eyes filled with tears.
For a moment, she looked like she might lie again.
But then she saw it—
There was no way out.
So she laughed.
A cold, broken laugh.
“No.”
The word hit like thunder.
Kunle staggered back.
“No… no…”
“It’s Frank’s,” she said, her voice now empty. “It was always Frank’s.”
Mama Kunle let out a loud cry.
“God forbid!”
Kunle’s world shattered in that moment.
“You… you planned this?” he asked, his voice shaking.
Funke wiped her tears, but there was no remorse in her eyes anymore.
“Yes.”
Silence.
“You wanted a child so badly,” she continued. “Your mother made it easy. All we had to do was give you one.”
Mama Kunle collapsed into a chair.
“I did this…” she whispered. “I brought this into my house…”
Kunle clenched his fists.
“And the properties?”
Funke smirked faintly.
“We would have taken everything.”
That was it.
Kunle turned away, breathing heavily, trying to hold himself together.
“Get out,” he said quietly.
Funke blinked.
“What?”
“Get. Out.”
His voice rose.
“Before I forget that you are pregnant!”
Funke grabbed her bag quickly, panic finally setting in.
As she rushed out, Mama Kunle turned her face away in shame.
The door slammed behind her.
And just like that—
The illusion ended.
—
Days passed.
The house was silent.
Heavy.
Empty.
Mama Kunle barely spoke.
Kemi moved around quietly.
Kunle sat alone most of the time, lost in his thoughts.
Every corner of the house reminded him of one person.
Bisi.
Her laughter.
Her patience.
Her pain.
And how he had thrown it all away.
—
One evening, Mama Kunle finally spoke.
“We have to go and beg her.”
Kunle looked up slowly.
“I know,” he said.
Kemi nodded.
“She didn’t deserve anything we did to her.”
Silence.
Then Mama Kunle added, her voice breaking—
“If she doesn’t forgive us… I will understand.”
—
The next day, the three of them stood in front of a modest apartment building.
Kunle’s heart was beating fast.
“What if she refuses to see us?” Kemi whispered.
Mama Kunle wiped her tears.
“We will still beg.”
Kunle knocked.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
Bisi stood there.
She looked different.
Stronger.
Calmer.
But the moment her eyes met theirs—
Everything went still.
She said nothing.
Mama Kunle suddenly dropped to her knees.
“Forgive me!” she cried. “I have wronged you!”
Kemi followed immediately.
“I’m sorry, Bisi… please…”
Kunle stood frozen for a moment…
Then slowly, he knelt too.
“I was blind,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I hurt you. I betrayed you. I lost you.”
Bisi stared at them.
Her heart tightened.
“So now you remember me?” she asked quietly.
Tears rolled down Mama Kunle’s face.
“That girl deceived us… the pregnancy… it wasn’t even my son’s…”
Kemi added, “Everything was a lie. We destroyed our own home.”
Kunle looked up at Bisi.
“Please… come back home.”
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Bisi looked at each of them.
The people who had broken her.
The people now begging at her feet.
She took a deep breath.
And said nothing.
……if you were Bisi, would you forgive them and return to the MARRIAGE or would you never look back again??
…
THE END………………… Dear reader, I’m still writing more stories so kindly join our Reader’s club 👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼STORIESBYADA LOVERS❤️if you want to know when i add new stories. So you can come back to read up.
Drop a ❤️ if you are enjoyed this story.
Interesting ❤️❤️ pls hurry
ReplyDeleteSo it was his sister all along
ReplyDeleteThis is pure evil
ReplyDeleteMore chapters
I have refreshed so many times
Wonderful story
ReplyDeleteBeautiful story
ReplyDeleteMmmmm 21 please
ReplyDeleteWeldon the great writer
ReplyDeleteMore ink to your pen
So so interesting
ReplyDeleteSo interesting ❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteweldobe writer
ReplyDeleteInteresting
ReplyDeleteInteresting
ReplyDelete❤❤❤
ReplyDeleteInteresting
ReplyDeleteNext episode pls
So interesting, bisi not worry God is on your side.
ReplyDeleteVery educative I feel for Bisi l hope Hod wii hear her prayers
ReplyDeleteNext please
ReplyDeleteVery interesting, can't wait for further episodes. You are blessed.
ReplyDeleteNext episode pls, I can't wait
ReplyDelete♥️
ReplyDelete💓
ReplyDeleteGodis working for bisi
ReplyDeleteInteresting. More grease to your elbows.
ReplyDeleteInterested
ReplyDeleteHmmmm
ReplyDeleteI pray they should be exposed
Inspirational.
ReplyDelete