I arrived at Bose's house past noon, with nothing but the fragile hope of finding comfort. I wanted her arms, her shoulder, her quiet presence. If anyone could hold the weight of my sorrow without judgement, I thought it was Bose. But what I met there… it was like the ceiling of my world collapsing over me.
Her front door was unlocked. Strange, I thought. Bose never left her door open, not in this Lagos where thieves lurk like shadows. I knocked once. Twice. No answer.
"Bose?" My voice was weak, brittle, cracked from the ashes of the fire and the ache of too much hurts.
Silence answered me. So I stepped inside.
The sitting room was empty, the kitchen too. I didn't bother to tread carefully — why should I? Bose lived alone, and I had come here countless times before. But when I reached the bedroom door, slightly ajar, it was like lightning struck my chest.
What I saw… nearly stopped my heart.
A man's bare back, muscles flexing, his head bent low. His mouth was on hers. Bose's mouth. They were entangled on the edge of her bed, breathless, urgent.
At first I could not place him. My mind refused to. But then his voice came, rough and impatient:
"Stop teasing me."
And Bose — my Bose — responded with an irritated sigh. "I'm not teasing you. Why will you allow that stupid pig to hit you like this?"
That word — pig — sliced through me.
His reply was a dagger twisted into the wound. "Babe, I told you she'll pay. But right now, I'm so hard for you." He pinched her breasts, drew a moan from her lips, and she arched into him like she belonged nowhere else.
Officer Lagos had a way of stripping me bare. First love, then bruises, then fire. And still, I kept running towards the flame.
I stood there frozen, my hand against the doorframe, my tears slipping freely. I had begged myself to believe I was mistaken, but when she whispered again — "I wish we could do it in front of her, show her who you really belong to" — the truth came crashing down.
Raymond.
It was Raymond.
The man I had loved, the man who had broken me, the man who had beaten me — now pressing his body against the only friend I thought I could trust.
I could not move. My feet were rooted, as though Lagos itself had bound me there to suffer. I watched Bose pull him down, watched her legs lock around his waist, watched them move together in a fever of betrayal. Her head tilted back, her mouth fell open, and her eyes — God, Officer, her eyes — met mine.
She did not flinch. She did not panic. She smiled. A wicked, knowing smile. And then she cried his name as if calling down heaven itself.
Everything inside me broke into tiny pieces.
Almost a year and half ago, I met Bose as a fresh graduate, desperate for work, desperate to feed her sick mother. I took her in, taught her to sew, made her not just a worker but a friend. I gave her everything— my trust, my secrets, my bread. And she paid me back by stripping me bare, handing me over to shame.
I must have made a sound, because suddenly she rose, pulled the curtains back, and in a blaze of cruel confidence, flung the door wide open.
Her palm cracked across my cheek. "That's for hitting my fiancé," she spat. Her hand lifted again, but I was no longer frozen. My own slap landed across her face with a force that shook even me.
The room went silent. Raymond's naked body stiffened in shock. Bose's cheek burned red where my hand had marked her. For a moment, they both just stared.
Then fury overtook me. I pushed Bose aside and pounced on him — on Raymond. My fists, my feet, my nails, my teeth — I became a storm. I struck his face, his chest, his groin, anything my hands found. I was not Timi the victim anymore. I was something else, something raw and unrecognisable.
And Officer, I swear, I meant to kill him.
The world narrowed to the sound of my blows and his grunts of pain. Until suddenly—glass shattered. A bedside lamp. Bose had smashed it on my head.
But even then, I felt no pain. The ache in my chest had numbed everything else.
"Stupid girl," she hissed, trembling but unrelenting. "You think everyone is as foolish as you? He was giving you love, care, affection, and you wasted it with your complaints. Did you expect me to watch from the sidelines while something good passed me by?"
Her words cut sharper than the lamp.
I turned to her slowly, my face wet with blood and tears. "Since you think I'm a stupid pig," I whispered, "then I might as well act stupid. And dirty."
She stepped back, fear rising in her eyes. She had never seen me like that. Step by step, I drove her back until she was cornered against the wall. I clapped her other cheek. Raised my hand to strike her again but her hand shot out, desperate, clinging to my wrist. "Timi… please. Stop. I'm with child."
Those words struck me harder than any blow.
Even in my rage, even in my fury, I could not raise my hand against a pregnant woman. Not after what I had endured from Raymond.
I dropped my hand and I stepped away.
"You chose to betray me with this monster," I said, my voice cold as iron. "That was the biggest mistake of your life."
Her mouth opened to speak, but I cut her off. "Thanks to you, I lost my shop too. Don't ever come looking for me again."
Confusion then shook flickered on her face — but no remorse. None.
I walked out, leaving her and Raymond in their ruin, carrying only my broken self into the burning day.