Chapter 39: Sunday Rice & Silent Fires
Surulere – Aunty Rose's Bungalow
Sunday Afternoon, 1:47 PM
The gate creaked open like an old friend welcoming them home.
Sunlight spilled across the small front yard—mango tree heavy with fruit, hibiscus blooming defiant red against cracked concrete walls, the smell of jollof rice already drifting from the kitchen window.
Aunty Rose stood on the porch in her favorite wrapper, arms wide before anyone even stepped out of the car.
"My babies!"
Becky was first—running, laughing, burying her face in Aunty Rose's shoulder. Maya followed, slower but no less eager, hugging from the side. Imani came last, slower still, eyes already shining.
Aunty Rose pulled her in tightest.
"You look tired, child," she whispered into Imani's hair. "But you're here. That's enough for today."
They moved inside in a warm tangle—shoes off at the door, voices overlapping, the house wrapping around them like a blanket that still smelled faintly of rosewater and palm oil.
Kings arrived twenty minutes later, arms full of cold drinks and a playlist already queued on his phone. He dropped everything to hug Imani first—long, swaying, the way only best friends do when too much time has passed.
"Missed you, trouble," he murmured.
"Missed you more," she whispered back.
They ate on the veranda—plates balanced on laps, laughter bouncing off the zinc roof. Jollof spicy enough to make eyes water, fried plantain golden, chicken falling off the bone. Kings told stories from uni days that had Becky and Maya in stitches; Aunty Rose pretended to scold but kept refilling plates anyway.
Imani let herself breathe.
For the first time in weeks, the weight on her chest lifted—just a little.
She pulled out her phone, snapped one photo: all five of them squeezed onto the wooden bench, mid-laugh, sunlight catching everyone's faces like they belonged exactly where they were.
Posted it to her private story.
Caption: Home is people. Not places.
Cross-cut – Anderson Estate – Main Driveway
Sunday Afternoon, 3:22 PM
Damian's phone buzzed while he was still in the garage.
He glanced down.
Imani's story.
The photo filled the screen.
Her head tilted toward Kings, eyes bright, mouth open in laughter. His arm slung casually around her shoulders. Becky and Maya flanking them like siblings. Aunty Rose beaming in the center.
Something hot and unfamiliar twisted low in Damian's gut.
He stared at the image longer than he meant to.
Then—
He got into the car.
Told the driver one address.
Surulere.
Cross-cut – Surulere Veranda
3:58 PM
The gate buzzer sounded.
Aunty Rose frowned. "Who's that now?"
Kings went to check.
Came back grinning wide.
"Uh… your fiancé just pulled up."
Imani's spoon froze halfway to her mouth.
Becky's eyes widened.
Maya whispered, "Oh this is about to be good."
Damian stepped through the doorway—still in yesterday's black shirt, sleeves rolled, jaw tight enough to cut glass. He looked wildly out of place among the plastic chairs and mismatched plates, yet somehow the room adjusted around him anyway.
Aunty Rose stood first.
"Welcome, my dear. You hungry?"
Damian blinked—caught off guard by the warmth.
"I… just came to—"
"Sit," she said, already pulling an extra chair. "Food first. Talk later."
He sat.
Because arguing with Aunty Rose felt suddenly impossible.
Kings leaned back, arms crossed, studying Damian with open curiosity.
"So," Kings said, voice light but eyes sharp, "you're the famous Damian Anderson."
Damian met his gaze.
"And you're Kings."
"Best friend since secondary school," Kings added, smiling slow. "The one who knows all her secrets."
Damian's fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
Imani noticed.
She hid a smile behind her glass.
Kings noticed too.
He leaned closer to Imani—deliberately—murmured something that made her laugh again.
Damian's jaw flexed.
Maya kicked Becky under the table.
Becky whispered, "He's literally turning green."
The conversation flowed—easy on the surface, electric underneath.
Kings asked Damian the questions everyone else was too polite to voice.
"How's married life treating you so far?"
"We're not married yet."
"Engaged life, then. You treating her right?"
Damian's eyes flicked to Imani.
She held his gaze—calm, unreadable.
"I'm trying," he said quietly.
Kings tilted his head.
"Try harder."
Aunty Rose tsked. "Enough grilling. Let the boy eat."
But the tension stayed—sweet and sharp, like too much pepper in good stew.
Cross-cut – Surveillance Room
4:12 PM
Victor watched the veranda feed.
Zoomed in on Damian's face every time Kings made Imani laugh.
The red countdown timer in the corner read:
00:07:52
He smiled.
Pressed record.
Back to Veranda – 4:45 PM
Plates cleared.
Sun dipping lower.
Imani stood to help Aunty Rose carry things inside.
Kings followed her to the kitchen doorway.
They hugged again—long, familiar, easy.
Damian watched from the table.
Every muscle locked.
When Imani came back out, waving goodbye to Kings and Aunty Rose, Damian was already standing.
"I'll take her home," he said to the driver who had pulled up behind his car. "Maya, Becky—ride with him."
Becky raised an eyebrow.
Maya smirked.
Aunty Rose caught Imani's elbow before she could leave.
"When you get a chance, go see your mother in the hospital, eh? She keeps asking for you."
Imani nodded—throat tight.
"I will. Promise."
They drove in silence at first.
The city blurred past.
Then—
Damian's phone rang.
Temi.
He answered on speaker—mistake.
"Damian! Where are you? Why are you at that girl's house in Surulere of all places? Do you know how it looks? You're lowering yourself—"
"Not now, Mother."
"You're embarrassing the family! Eating rice in some—"
"Mommy," Maya's voice cut in from the other car line—someone had conferenced her in. "You're embarrassing to look at right now."
Temi sputtered.
Damian ended the call.
Furious.
Frustrated.
He reached across the console, grabbed Imani's wrist—not hard, but firm.
Dragged her upstairs the second they reached the mansion.
Straight to his room.
Door slammed.
He rounded on her.
"Why would you post that picture with him?"
Imani blinked.
"Kings?"
"Yes, Kings." His voice dropped dangerously low. "Knowing you're my fiancée. You should pretend—for God's sake. You should have waited before messing around with your boyfriend—"
She laughed.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
Genuine.
Damian froze.
"Are you… jealous?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Five seconds.
"I'm not—"
"You are," she said, stepping closer. "You're so jealous you drove across Lagos on a Sunday because I posted a photo with my best friend."
Damian exhaled—harsh.
"He had his arm around you."
"He's gay, Damian."
Silence.
Absolute.
Damian stared.
Imani smiled—small, almost tender.
"Kings has been out since we were sixteen. He's not interested in girls. Never has been. He's family. That's all."
Damian looked at the ceiling.
Then at the floor.
Then—at her.
He had never felt so stupid in his life.
"I—"
She stepped closer.
Close enough to feel his heat.
"You thought I was… what? Cheating? On my fake fiancé who barely speaks to me?"
His throat worked.
"I didn't think—"
"You didn't ask."
A pause.
Then, quieter—
"I'm sorry."
The words sounded foreign in his mouth.
Imani searched his face.
Found something raw there.
She reached up—slowly—touched his jaw.
"You don't have to pretend you don't care," she whispered. "Not with me."
He caught her hand.
Held it against his skin.
Didn't speak.
Just breathed.
For once—not controlling.
Just… there.
Cross-cut – Surveillance Room
5:03 PM
The man watched the feed.
Damian and Imani—standing close, her hand on his face, his eyes closed.
The red timer:
00:04:19
He leaned forward.
Pressed a key.
A new message queued
He stood.
Adjusted his cufflinks.
Walked to the door.
Paused.
Looked back at the screen one last time.
Imani was smiling—small, real.
The man's expression didn't change.
But something flickered behind his eyes.
Not anger.
Not triumph.
Regret.
Brief.
Gone.
He stepped into the hallway.
The countdown continued without him.
And somewhere in the mansion—
A phone buzzed.
Imani's.
She didn't check it yet.
But the screen lit up anyway.
One new notification.
From an unknown number.
Subject line:
Your mother's hospital room. Live feed starting now.