Just like that, Esther was outside, pushing through the doors and away from the noise of her classmates. She needed air. Distance. Anything to silence the voices echoing memories she'd long since outgrown.
Her breath was shallow, a half-release of tension lodged somewhere between her chest and throat, when Steven stepped up beside her, hands tucked deep into his pockets.
"I'm really sorry about Sewa," he said quietly, eyes focused on her. "He tends to say things without thinking."
"It's fine," Esther replied, though the weight behind her words said otherwise. "I just wish he knew when to stop."
Yes, she'd once confessed her feelings for Steven. Yes, it had been dramatic and childish and all-consuming back then. But it was back then. She had grown, moved on, married a man she loved, and still, her old classmates couldn't seem to let the past die.
"I'll talk to him," Steven said, his voice firm with intent. "And don't worry, I get it. I really do."
But he didn't. Not truly. Not entirely. Part of him still lived in the past they had never actually shared. The part of him that had returned from abroad for one reason: to fix his mistake. To make Esther his.
And now, watching her stand there, still beautiful, still composed, he ached with the weight of everything he never said, and all the time he couldn't reclaim.
"Good," Esther said simply, though her eyes were somewhere else. Distant. Guarded.
Steven opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, another presence broke the moment.
Daniel.
He appeared without warning, stepping up with quiet authority, eyes locked on Steven. Not a word yet, but his presence alone said enough.
"Ready to go home?" Daniel asked, voice cool and even. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed Esther softly at the corner of her lips. A stake in the ground. A silent claim.
Esther blinked, startled. "How are you here…?"
"I had a meeting," Daniel replied, tone nonchalant. "Happened to see you."
He extended his hand toward her, and after a moment's pause, she slipped hers into it.
Without another word, the couple walked to the waiting black car, the driver already at the door. Esther gave Steven a brief, unreadable glance over her shoulder, one that said everything and nothing all at once.
And just like that, they were gone.
Steven stood alone on the steps, his fists tightening in the pockets of his coat. The bitter sting of defeat settled deep in his gut. He had watched the girl he once believed was his, the girl he returned for, walk away in someone else's arms. Again.
His breath came short, lips pressed into a tight line.
He'd canceled an engagement. Left a stable life behind. Built hope around a fantasy he should have let die.
Now, all he could do was stand there, jaw clenched, chest burning, watching the future he wanted drive off in another man's car.
And the worst part?
He hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye.
The drive home was stiff with silence. Esther could feel the weight in the air, unspoken but heavy. Daniel's grip on the steering wheel hadn't loosened once. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
By the time they reached the house, he walked in without a word, ignoring the greetings from the staff and even Lady Bell, who exchanged a puzzled glance with the housekeeper as he stormed up the stairs.
Esther followed quietly. Inside their bedroom, she made for the bathroom, needing space. But his voice cut through the air before she could reach the door.
"You never told me you'd be staying out late."
The tone was firm, controlled, but cold.
"I did," Esther replied, turning slowly. "I called. You didn't answer, so I sent you a voice message. Didn't you listen to it?"
Daniel didn't answer right away. He hadn't. Work and meetings had pulled him under, and guilt now tugged at him, but pride wouldn't let him admit it.
His silence stretched until another question came, blunt and direct:
"And Steven? Did you really choose to become a psychologist because of him?"
Esther stilled. The words stung, not because they weren't true, but because they came from the man she loved.
"You heard," she said evenly. "Yes, at first. But I grew to love it. I'm good at it. I don't regret choosing that path, not because of him, but because it became mine."
Daniel nodded once, but his eyes betrayed him. They still burned, still searched her face for something to quiet the unrest within him.
"I didn't tell you," she added softly, "because it's not important. Can we just not talk about Steven again, please? I want to focus on us. On our family. Not some past that died long ago."
"I want that too," he said, stepping closer and taking her hand.
But what came next shook her.
"That's why I've decided you should quit your job at the hospital."
Esther pulled her hand away, shocked. "What?"
"You'll keep running into him if you stay. This, whatever it is, won't stop. But if you leave, it all ends."
She stared at him, stunned. "Daniel, I'm not quitting my job over this. I know who I am. I know I'm your wife, and I haven't done anything wrong."
"I know that," he said, trying to stay calm. "I trust you. I do. But I don't trust him. The way he looks at you, it says enough."
"Then that's his problem, not mine. I'm not quitting because of someone else's feelings."
"I'm trying to protect what we have," Daniel insisted. "If it's about money, I'll find you something better. Anything you want."
"What I want," Esther said, her voice rising, "is for you to trust me enough to let me make my own decisions."
Daniel's shoulders slumped slightly. His voice softened. "I just… I can't have my wife working next to a man who still wants her."
Esther let out a hollow laugh, her eyes gleaming with restrained pain.
"Now you know how it feels," she said bitterly, eyes locked on his. "Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up every morning to her face?"
Daniel blinked.
"Your late wife," Esther continued, her voice trembling, "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to wake up every morning and the first thing I see is your late wife?" Esther's voice cracked as her gaze lifted to the framed portrait on the wall, elegant, perfectly lit, haunting.
"Morning, evening… she's always there. Staring right back at me." Her voice trembled now. "And the worst part?" Her eyes burned as she looked at Daniel. "Is having to swallow that pain, pretend it doesn't exist, shadow my mind and heart, as I make love to you in the presence of your late wife!"
Her hands shook as the words ripped out of her.
"Esther.." Daniel moved toward her.
"Don't you dare," she snapped, stepping back. "Don't you dare say a word. I have been patient, Daniel. I've taken every reminder of her in this house, in our bedroom for three whole months. Since the day we married!"
Her voice dropped, colder now. "And yet… her photos are still on every wall. Every corner of this house is hers. Not mine. Not ours. Hers."
Daniel's jaw flexed. "Esther, it doesn't have to get this far. They're just… photos."
"Just photos?" she echoed with a bitter laugh. "Have you ever considered how they make me feel? No, you only care about what you want. You're so mad about me working in the same space as a man I once liked, yet you expect me to be fine living every day with your wife's memory suffocating the walls?"
Daniel exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples, words failing him for a moment. Then, almost helplessly, he said, "They're still there… because of Betty. I didn't want her to feel like her mother's being erased. Replaced."
Esther stared at him. "Is that really it?" she asked softly. "For Betty… or for you? Maybe you haven't let go. Maybe you still feel guilty for moving on. Maybe I'm just a convenient placeholder, someone to warm the bed, but not the heart."
"That's not fair," he said, voice cracking.
"And this is?" Esther snapped. "You're willing to make me give up my life just because you're insecure about a man I left behind in high school?"
Daniel looked away, jaw tightening.
"I love you, Daniel. But I won't live like this. I won't be the one making sacrifices while her shadow haunts our home."
Before he could speak, she turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Daniel standing in silence, surrounded by memories he never thought to question.
And for the first time he wondered if holding on to the past had just cost him his future.
Morning came with the scent of fried plantain and eggs, but the warmth did nothing to thaw the ice between Esther and Daniel.
The dining room was bright, the clatter of plates and the soft humming of the help filling the space. Lady Bell was already seated, dressed in one of her signature morning gowns, flipping slowly through a magazine . Betty sat beside her, swinging her legs under the table, mid-conversation about a book she was reading for school.
Esther walked in last, dressed simply, her expression unreadable. She greeted no one, not out of rudeness, but out of restraint. Her eyes briefly met Daniel's, but she looked away just as quickly and took her seat without a word.
"Good morning, Esther mom," Betty said, grinning up at her.
"Good morning, Sunflower ." Esther smiled warmly at the child, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. But when Daniel, seated across from her, tried to hand her a napkin, she ignored the gesture and reached for her own.
Lady Bell glanced up over the rim of her glasses.
"Hmm," she hummed, eyeing them both. "Is it just me or has the weather turned quite frosty this morning?"
"I didn't feel cold," Betty said innocently, scooping another spoon of eggs.
"Neither did I," Daniel said, though his voice was low. He looked at Esther again, hoping for even a glance. None came.
Esther cut into her toast with exacting precision.
"You two didn't quarrel again, did you?" Lady Bell asked, casually closing the magazine . "Because this feels like one of those 'slept on opposite ends of the bed' mornings."
"Not now, Bell," Daniel said quietly, though not with anger.
Esther finally spoke, soft, but edged. "She's not wrong."
Daniel stilled. Even Betty paused, sensing the mood shift.
"I don't think breakfast is the best time for this," he said, his voice steady but strained.
"Of course not. Breakfast is too sacred to ruin with truths," Esther replied, lifting her cup to her lips without looking at him.
Lady Bell leaned back, watching her sister-in-law with a thin, curious smile. "I've always said you're a smart one, Esther. You know when to speak and when to let the silence speak for you."
Betty, puzzled, looked between the adults. "Are you two having the adults fight?"
"No, Sunflower ," Esther said quickly, softening her voice. "I'm just tired."
Daniel looked like he wanted to say something, but held back. The truth was, he didn't have the words yet. Not ones that could fix the silence, the sting of last night, or the look in her eyes when she spoke of photos and his late wife Marian.
Esther rose from the table soon after, kissed Betty's forehead, nodded at Lady Bell, and left the room without a single glance in Daniel's direction.
Lady Bell sipped her tea, then turned to her brother.
"Well, that was educational," she said, setting her cup down. "Let me guess, you made a decision on her behalf, without her consent?"
Daniel said nothing.
She tsked. "She may be sweet, but she's not docile, my dear. You'll need more than apologies and soft eyes to fix this one."
Betty looked up again. "Is Esther mom really tired, grandma?"
Lady Bell smiled and stroked the girl's hair. "Yes, sweetheart. But don't worry. Tired hearts eventually find their strength again."
And from across the table, Daniel silently hoped she was right.
The air in the hospital corridor was cool, sterile, and quiet. Esther stepped into her office with practiced ease, her heels clicking softly on the tiled floor. Her smile to the nurse at the desk outside was brief and polite, but lacked warmth. She still hadn't shaken off the weight of the morning silence at home.
She had just set her bag down when a knock came at the door.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Steven stepped in, crisp in a grey shirt and navy tie, the morning light sharpening the angles of his face. He barely paused before speaking.
"Good morning, Esther."
Esther looked up, a little startled by how quickly he'd appeared. "Dr. Steven," she returned, her tone polite but distant.
He paused, his brows arching slightly. "Dr. Steven? When did we become so… formal?"
"It's what's best," she replied coolly, rising to her full height behind the desk. "We should keep things strictly professional. I'd also prefer if you addressed me as Dr. Lewis from now on."
Steven's lips thinned into a faint, pained smile. "I see."
He tried not to show it, but the coldness in her tone stung. He understood, she was married, and his presence was clearly stirring more than just memories, but he couldn't help wanting to get closer.
"Dr. Lewis," he said stiffly, adjusting to her boundary. "I won't take much of your time."
He held up the file in his hand. "There's a case I'd like to assign to you. A child, trauma-related. Female. Seven years old."
Esther's brows drew together. "Why not handle it yourself? It's your patient, isn't it?"
Steven stepped forward, laying the folder on her desk. His voice softened. "I could, but I believe you're better suited for this one. I heard what you did for your husband's daughter." His eyes met hers. "And I know this child needs someone like you."
Esther hesitated. That kind of compliment, especially coming from him, was exactly the kind of line she wanted to avoid.
"I can't take on a new case right now," she said quickly, attempting to shut the door on any lingering connection. "Besides, it's not appropriate."
"Please," Steven said, his voice low, earnest. "Read the file first."
Something in his tone made her pause. Against her better judgment, she opened the folder. Esther's breath caught slightly as she read the details.
"She hasn't spoken since?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Steven shook his head. "Not a word. No eye contact with men, barely any with women. She's completely shut in. But I've seen you work. If anyone can reach her, it's you."
She looked up, folder still open between them. "You won't interfere in my work, while working on it" she demanded
"I won't ," he said quickly. Then more honestly, "I would try not to. The child needs you and I would try my best not to get in the way of her getting treated."
There was a long pause before she gave the smallest nod. "Alright. I'll take the case."
Steven's lips lifted in gratitude, but she cut him off before he could say more.
"And I don't need you to try not to, I want you to not to"
"Understood," he said, backing away with respect. "Thank you, Dr. Lewis."
He turned and exited the office, leaving the door quietly ajar.
Esther sat back in her chair, the case file in hand, her heart heavier than it had been moments ago.
Meanwhile, a pair of expensive heels touched down with an audible squish on the muddy road, their gleam almost mocking the crumbling terrain around them. Sarah stepped out of her brand-new car, paid in full from her late-night services to Alhaji, and navigated the puddles with practiced precision. Her makeup remained immaculate, untouched by the humidity clinging to the air.
Ahead, the dwarf-sized concrete house squatted like a forgotten thing, its zinc roof rusted and walls mottled with grime. Sarah wrinkled her nose but pushed through the warped door without knocking.
The stench of sweat, smoke, and something acrid hit her full in the face. She held her breath, pressing a manicured finger beneath her nose like a makeshift filter.
"You finally show up," came a voice from the far corner of the room.
She glanced over. John lay sprawled across a thin mattress on the floor, shirtless, if not entirely nude, and clearly unbothered by the squalor.
"Would it kill you to wear something?" she snapped, stepping fully inside and claiming the single plastic chair like a throne.
John grinned lazily. "I feel safest in my nature's clothing," he quipped, making no move to cover up.
Sarah rolled her eyes, resisting the instinct to stare where she shouldn't. "Whatever. I'm not here for your sense of freedom. I have a task for you."
That piqued his interest. "You?" he asked, sitting up slightly. "What happened to Amadou? Mr. Jalloh always sends him."
"Well, he's not here. I am. And let's get something clear, I got you back into this country. If not for me, you'd still be rotting in that slum in Guinea, scamming locals for scraps. So do yourself a favor and watch your tone."
She declared, holding firmly to her newfound authority. After sacrificing an entire week serving Alhaji just to get his worthless head back into the country, the last thing she would tolerate was John questioning her authority. His silence now was exactly as it should be.
"Alright, then," he said with a theatrical sigh. "What task, master?"
The sarcasm wasn't missed, but Sarah let it slide. She had bigger things to focus on.
"I need you to kidnap someone."
"Okay…" He scratched the back of his neck. "Who?"
"Esther."
There was a beat of silence, followed by his disbelieving laugh.
"You're joking, right? Esther Lewis? As in your sister? Daniel Lewis's wife?" His voice cracked with incredulity.
Sarah's expression didn't shift.
"That's correct," she said, voice flat as a blade. "You'll kidnap her. Today."
John blinked. "You've lost your damn mind."
Her eyes darkened. "No. I've lost my patience."
She leaned forward, every inch of her body sharp and deliberate. "This is not a request, John. Do it, or you'll answer to more than just me" she said, her voice cold and final.
The threat wasn't lost on him. Orders from above needed no explanation. If Alhaji was behind it, disobedience wasn't an option, and John knew better than to test that line.
He dropped his gaze, jaw tightening. "Where and when?"
"After work. I'll feed you the location. She tends to leave late." She paused, then added with quiet venom, "And don't just take her. I want her ruined."
John looked up, brows knitted.
"You want her…?"
"I want you to get your way with her. Film everything. Leave nothing to imagination." Her voice was ice. "Have it raw and painful as you could. I want scars"
And once those scars are seen by Daniel then he would regret his decision. When she have the tape leaks, Daniel Lewis would never look at his wife the same. And the rest? Her career, her reputation, her life'll be ash, when she leaked the video for the world to watch.
John stared at her. For once, even he looked disturbed. "That's dark, Sarah. She's your blood."
"She's a problem," Sarah said. "And problems need to be handled."
A long silence fell between them, broken only by the hum of a ceiling fan that did nothing to stir the heat.
Then John nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll do it."
Sarah stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. "Good. I'll be in touch."
She turned and left, heels clicking against the concrete. Outside, the air smelled cleaner, and her car gleamed like sin waiting in daylight. As she slid into the driver's seat, her lips curled into a smile.
Esther's wings would burn and she would have the world to witness it.