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19/01/2025

ECHOES OF OUR LIVES

EPISODE 12🌟

The tension in the air was almost tangible as Thursday approached. Simi tried to distract herself with chores, but her mind kept drifting back to the danger looming over her family.

"Simi, abeg help me clean that table," Yetunde called from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mama," Simi replied, grabbing a cloth.

Bayo walked in, glancing at his daughter. "You no suppose dey stress yourself like this. Go rest small."

Simi shook her head. "Papa, I no fit rest. My mind dey think too much."

Bayo chuckled softly. "E good make person think, but no let am steal your peace. Things go settle."

Simi wanted to believe him, but the unease in her chest wouldn’t fade.

Later that afternoon, Dera showed up unannounced.

"Simi!" she called from the gate.

Simi hurried out to greet her. "Dera, you no even call before you come."

Dera rolled her eyes playfully. "You for tell me make I no come? Abeg, shift make I enter. I bring gist."

As they sat in the living room, Dera launched into stories about her recent escapades at work, making Simi laugh for the first time in days.

"But wait," Dera said, suddenly serious. "You dey okay? You still dey think about that gang matter?"

Simi nodded. "How I no go think? Them fit still come for us."

Dera leaned forward, her voice low. "Simi, I dey sure say police go handle am. But make you and your family dey careful. If you notice anything suspicious, no hesitate to talk."

Simi sighed. "I go try. Thanks, Dera."

At the police station, Hassan stood before his team, going over the plan for the raid.

"We move in pairs," he instructed. "The warehouse get multiple entry points, but we go focus on the back entrance. That’s where Kunle say dem dey offload their goods."

One of the officers raised a hand. "Oga, if na setup nko?"

Hassan frowned. "We no go take any chances. Everybody dey armed and ready. If anything dey suspicious, pull back immediately."

The room buzzed with tension as the officers nodded, their determination evident.

Meanwhile, in a lavishly furnished office, Chief Udeh sat behind a large desk, his expression unreadable.

"Ekene don report say police dey plan something," he said, his voice calm but cold.

A younger man seated opposite him frowned. "Chief, you think say na Kunle dey leak information?"

Chief Udeh smirked. "I sabi that boy. Him go do anything to save him skin. But no worry; I don arrange surprise for them."

He picked up his phone and made a call. "Make sure everything dey set for Thursday night. I no want any mistakes."

That night, Bayo called a family meeting.

"I know say everybody dey worried," he began, his voice steady. "But we go stand strong. We no go allow fear control us."

Yetunde nodded. "Bayo dey right. We go pray and trust God. But make everybody dey watchful. If una see anything wey no look normal, talk immediately."

Simi listened, her heart heavy. "Papa, you think say everything go end soon?"

Bayo placed a hand on her shoulder. "Simi, life no perfect. But I believe say this wahala go pass. Just hold on."

As the family went to bed, a figure moved stealthily outside their compound. The man crouched near the gate, speaking into a small device.

"Dem don off light for house. I go wait till signal come," he whispered.

Inside, Simi tossed and turned, unable to sleep. A sudden noise from outside made her sit up, her heart racing.

She tiptoed to the window and peered out, but the darkness revealed nothing.

"Maybe na my mind dey play tricks," she murmured, crawling back into bed.

Unbeknownst to her, danger was closer than she realized.

To be continued...

©️ El-Mira's Haven

19/01/2025

SISTER'S CROSSROAD

EPISODE 10🌟

Osahon sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at her phone. It was late, and the house was eerily quiet. Eghosa had stormed out hours ago after another heated argument about her "disobedience." He accused her of being disrespectful for suggesting they visit her parents together. His parting words echoed in her mind:

“You’ll learn to obey me, Osahon. One way or another.”

She clutched her phone tightly, her hand trembling. For weeks, she had tried to convince herself that this was just a phase, that Eghosa’s anger and control would subside with time. But the bruises on her arm, hidden beneath her long-sleeved dress, told a different story.

Meanwhile, Esohe was lying in bed, scrolling through her messages. Her thoughts drifted to her sister, and an uneasy feeling crept over her. It had been days since they last spoke, and Osahon’s silence worried her.

Before she could overthink it, her phone buzzed. Osahon’s name flashed on the screen.

“Osahon? Are you okay?” Esohe answered, sitting up immediately.

For a moment, there was silence on the other end. Then, a shaky voice broke through. “Esohe, I… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Esohe’s heart sank. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Osahon hesitated before whispering, “It’s Eghosa. He… he’s not the man I thought he was. He’s controlling, angry, and… sometimes, he hurts me.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Esohe clenched her fists, anger bubbling inside her. “He did what? Osahon, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was ashamed,” Osahon admitted, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t want people to think I failed at my marriage.”

The following morning, Esohe showed up at Osahon’s house unannounced. She found her sister sitting in the living room, her eyes puffy and red from crying.

“Pack your things,” Esohe said firmly, dropping her bag on the floor.

“What?” Osahon asked, startled.

“You’re leaving this house. You’re not staying here with that monster any longer.”

Osahon shook her head. “Esohe, I can’t. What will people say? How will Mama and Papa handle the shame?”

Esohe knelt in front of her sister, taking her hands. “Forget what people will say. Forget tradition. Your life is more important than anyone’s opinion. Please, Osahon.”

As they spoke, Eghosa walked in, slamming the door behind him. His eyes narrowed when he saw Esohe.

“What is she doing here?” he demanded, his voice cold.

“I came to see my sister,” Esohe replied, standing her ground.

Eghosa scoffed, pointing a finger at Osahon. “You’ve been telling her lies, haven’t you? Painting me as the villain?”

Esohe stepped between them. “You don’t need Osahon to paint you as anything. Your actions speak for themselves.”

Eghosa took a step closer, his jaw clenched. “This is my house, and you have no right to interfere in my marriage.”

“I have every right to protect my sister,” Esohe shot back. “You’re nothing but a bully hiding behind tradition.”

Osahon grabbed Esohe’s arm. “Please, don’t make things worse.”

Esohe turned to her sister. “Things are already worse, Osahon. You can’t keep enduring this.”

The confrontation ended with Eghosa storming out again, his anger simmering. Esohe spent the night with Osahon, trying to convince her to leave, but her sister remained torn.

“It’s not that simple,” Osahon whispered. “I took vows. I promised to stay through the good and the bad.”

Esohe sighed. “Marriage isn’t supposed to break you, Osahon. It’s supposed to build you up. Please, think about what I said.”

To be continued....

©️ El-Mira's Haven

18/01/2025

ECHOES OF OUR LIVES

EPISODE 11🌟

The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Simi stood by the balcony, the cool evening breeze brushing her face. Her thoughts were heavy, a mix of fear, relief, and uncertainty.

Yetunde joined her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Simi, you don’t have to carry everything on your mind alone. We’re here for you," she said, her voice soothing.

Simi nodded. "I know, Mama, but it’s hard. After everything, I still feel like there’s more danger ahead."

Yetunde sighed. "We go dey pray. God no go allow anything happen to us."

Simi leaned into her mother’s embrace, finding a small measure of comfort.

In a dimly lit room on the outskirts of the city, Ekene sat across from a figure dressed in all black. The tension in the room was palpable.

"You let am escape?" the man growled, his voice low and menacing.

Ekene shifted uncomfortably. "We no plan am like that. Police show up too quick."

The man slammed his fist on the table, making Ekene flinch. "You think I care about your excuses? That girl and her family don see too much. They need to be silenced."

Ekene hesitated. "But police dey watch them now. E go hard to move."

The man leaned closer, his eyes cold. "Find a way. Or I go find someone wey fit replace you.

The next day, Simi decided to take a walk to clear her head. The streets were bustling with life, hawkers shouting, children playing, and cars honking. Despite the activity, she felt isolated.

"Life dey continue like nothing happen," she muttered to herself.

As she strolled, her phone buzzed. It was Dera, her best friend.

"Simi! You don turn ghost? You no dey pick my call again," Dera’s voice rang out, half-joking but with concern.

"I’m sorry, Dera. Things don dey too much for me," Simi replied.

"Abeg, no yarn me excuse. I dey your side. Make we see," Dera said firmly.

Minutes later, Simi and Dera sat at a small roadside café. Dera listened intently as Simi recounted the events of the past few weeks.

"My dear, this one na serious matter," Dera said, shaking her head. "But you no go let fear control you. Those people no fit win."

"I dey try," Simi said, her voice trembling. "But the fear no go away."

Dera reached across the table and held her hand. "You strong, Simi. And you no dey alone. Anytime you need person to talk to, I dey here."

Simi managed a small smile. "Thank you, Dera. I need that."

Meanwhile, Kunle sat across from Hassan in the interrogation room. His face was pale, and his hands trembled slightly.

"I don already tell you say I get information wey fit help una," Kunle said. "But I need assurance say una go protect me."

Hassan studied him carefully. "You dey in no position to make demands. But if your information dey legit, we go make sure nothing happen to you."

Kunle swallowed hard. "The man wey dey control everything... him name na Chief Udeh. Him get big influence, and e no go easy to bring am down. But I sabi where him dey do him shady deals."

Hassan leaned forward. "Where?"

Kunle hesitated before answering. "An abandoned warehouse for the outskirts, close to the old train station. Dem dey meet there every Thursday night."

Hassan nodded, jotting down the details. "If this information dey correct, you fit help us break this gang. But if you dey lie..."

"I no dey lie," Kunle interrupted. "I just want to do the right thing this time."

Back at the station, Hassan gathered his team.

"We get intel on Chief Udeh's operation," he announced. "Thursday night, we go move. But we need to be careful; these people no dey joke."

One of the officers raised a hand. "How sure we dey about this Kunle boy?"

Hassan sighed. "We no get choice but to trust am for now. But we go be ready for anything."

That evening, Simi sat with her parents in the living room. Bayo was reading the newspaper, and Yetunde was knitting. The scene was peaceful, but Simi couldn’t shake the feeling of impending danger.

"Papa, you think say this thing go end soon?" she asked suddenly.

Bayo looked up, his face thoughtful. "Na only time go tell. But as long as we dey together, we go face anything wey come our way."

Yetunde nodded. "God dey our side. No matter wetin dem plan, e no go work."

Simi smiled faintly. Their faith and strength gave her a glimmer of hope.

Unknown to them, a shadowy figure sat in a car parked a short distance from their home, watching. A phone rang, and the man answered.

"Yes, I dey here. I go wait for the signal," he said, his voice cold and detached.

The trap was being set.

To be continued…

©️ El-Mira's Haven

18/01/2025

SISTER'S CROSSROAD

EPISODE 9🌟

The first few weeks of Osahon and Eghosa's marriage were a whirlwind of adjustments. At first, everything seemed perfect. Eghosa made grand gestures, buying Osahon expensive gifts, taking her out to fancy restaurants, and showering her with compliments. But beneath the surface, cracks were already beginning to form.

It started with small things. Eghosa didn’t like Osahon going out without informing him first.

“Why didn’t you call me before leaving the house?” he asked one afternoon when Osahon returned from visiting an old friend.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Osahon replied, surprised by his tone.

“It is to me,” he said firmly. “Next time, let me know. I don’t like surprises.”

Osahon apologized, brushing it off as a one-time issue.

Then came the financial restrictions. Eghosa insisted on handling all their finances, even Osahon’s personal income from her small business.

“I’m your husband now,” he said when she hesitated. “It’s my job to manage these things. Trust me; I know what’s best for us.”

Reluctantly, Osahon handed over her account details, hoping it was just another way Eghosa wanted to show his love and care.

By the second month, Eghosa began controlling who Osahon could talk to.

“I don’t like how often you’re on the phone with your sister,” he said one evening.

“Esohe and I have always been close,” Osahon explained.

“Yes, but you’re married now,” Eghosa replied. “Your priorities should change. Focus on building our home instead of gossiping all day.”

Osahon felt a knot in her stomach but didn’t argue.

The isolation became more apparent when Osahon missed a family gathering.

“Why didn’t Osahon come with you?” Esohe asked Eghosa when he showed up alone.

“She wasn’t feeling well,” Eghosa replied smoothly, but Esohe wasn’t convinced.

Back home, Osahon had been ready to go, dressed in a lovely Ankara gown. But Eghosa had stopped her at the door.

“You don’t need to go,” he said. “They’ll manage without you. Besides, I don’t like the way your sister always interferes in our matters.”

“But it’s a family gathering”

“I said no,” Eghosa interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Osahon sat back down, tears stinging her eyes.

By the third month, the emotional control turned into physical intimidation. One evening, after a disagreement about household expenses, Eghosa slammed his hand on the dining table, startling Osahon.

“Why do you always have to question me?” he snapped.

“I wasn’t questioning you,” Osahon said quietly, trying to stay calm.

“You were,” he retorted, his voice rising. “Learn to respect me, Osahon. I’m your husband, not your equal.”

Osahon shrank back, her heart pounding.

Esohe began noticing the change in her sister. Osahon’s once vibrant personality was fading. She rarely called, and when she did, her voice sounded subdued.

“Osahon, are you okay?” Esohe asked during one of their rare conversations.

“I’m fine,” Osahon replied quickly. “Just busy adjusting to married life.”

Esohe wasn’t convinced. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”

“I know,” Osahon said, but her tone lacked conviction.

One evening, after Eghosa had stormed out following another argument, Osahon sat alone in their bedroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized herself.

The confident, ambitious woman she used to be felt like a distant memory. She wanted to believe that things would get better, that Eghosa would return to the man who had swept her off her feet. But deep down, she wasn’t sure anymore.

To be continued...

©️ El-Mira's Haven

17/01/2025

ECHOES OF OUR LIVES

EPISODE 10🌟

The house was quiet the next morning, save for the faint sounds of Yetunde’s humming as she prepared breakfast. Simi sat by the window, staring at the street, her mind replaying the events of the previous night.

Her father walked into the living room, looking more tired than she had ever seen him. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes carried a mixture of relief and worry.

"Papa," Simi said softly.

Bayo turned, his face breaking into a faint smile. "You dey okay?"

"I dey try," she replied, hugging her knees. "But I no fit stop to think about wetin happen. If no be you and Kunle..."

Bayo sighed and sat beside her. "Simi, life no dey ever balance. Sometimes, you go face things wey go test your strength. But as long as family dey together, we go always find way."

She nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Later that afternoon, Hassan stopped by. He looked more relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes remained.

"How una dey?" he asked, sitting down.

"We dey manage," Yetunde said, offering him a glass of water.

Hassan took a sip and turned to Simi. "We don get plenty information from the boys we arrest last night. The gang wey Kunle dey follow na small piece of a bigger problem. The leader dey somewhere we never fit locate yet."

Simi’s heart sank. "So this thing never end?"

Hassan shook his head. "No, but we dey on top am. You no go be target again. I don arrange undercover officers wey go dey watch una house for some time."

"Thank you, Hassan," Bayo said sincerely.

Hassan’s expression softened. "Simi, you dey strong. No let fear control you. This fight na something we go win together."

That evening, Simi received an unexpected call. The number was unfamiliar, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Hello?" she answered hesitantly.

"Simi, na me Kunle," came the weak reply.

Her grip on the phone tightened. "Kunle? How you take get my number? Wetin you want again?"

"I dey police station," he said. "I beg, I no get anybody to help me. I just need person to hear my side."

"You dey serious?" Simi snapped. "After everything wey you do? You think say I go pity you?"

"I no deserve am," Kunle admitted, his voice cracking. "But I swear, I no plan make things go like this. I go explain everything if you fit come."

Simi hesitated, anger and confusion warring within her.

Simi told her parents about the call.

"Kunle fit dey play mind games," Yetunde warned. "You no suppose go."

"But Mama, wetin if him really get something important to talk?" Simi asked.

"Na risk," Bayo said. "But if you feel say you need closure, I go follow you go."

Simi nodded. "I just need answers, Papa. I need to know why he dragged me into this.

The next day, Simi and Bayo visited the station. Kunle sat in a small room, looking more fragile than she remembered. His face was still bruised, and his hands were cuffed to the table.

"Thank you for coming," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Talk quick. I no get time for stories," Simi said coldly, sitting across from him.

Kunle lowered his head. "Simi, I dey sorry for everything. The gang... dem no be people wey you go fit walk away from. I join dem because I no get choice. My family no get money, and dem promise me quick cash."

"You drag me into this mess because of money?" Simi snapped.

"No be like that," Kunle said desperately. "I swear, I no know say dem go use you as bait. When Ekene give me that order, I try to warn you."

Simi frowned. "You no try hard enough."

Kunle’s shoulders slumped. "I no get excuse. But I fit help you. I sabi some things about the leader. If police fit protect me, I fit talk everything."

Bayo spoke up. "You think say police go trust you after wetin you don do?"

Kunle met his gaze. "I no get anything to lose again. If I fit make am right, I go try."

After the meeting, Simi and Bayo relayed Kunle’s offer to Hassan.

"If him really get useful information, we fit use am," Hassan said. "But we go still keep am under lock and key. Make una no worry; we go handle this carefully."

"Good," Bayo said. "We no want any more danger near our family."

Hassan nodded. "Una dey safe. I go make sure of that."

As the family returned home, Simi felt a small weight lift off her shoulders. Kunle’s apology didn’t erase the pain, but it was a start.

That evening, as they sat together for dinner, Bayo said, "No matter wetin happen, we dey together. Na the only way we go fit survive anything wey life throw at us."

Simi smiled faintly. For the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of hope.

But deep down, she knew the journey was far from over.

To be continued…

©️ El-Mira's Haven

17/01/2025

SISTER'S CROSSROAD

EPISODE 8🌟

The wedding day arrived with all the pomp and grandeur Eghosa had insisted on. The Osagie compound transformed into a vibrant display of culture, with colorful fabrics draped over canopies, the aroma of pepper soup and jollof rice wafting through the air, and a live band playing traditional songs that made the guests sway to the rhythm.

Osahon looked stunning in her beaded traditional attire, her gele intricately tied to frame her glowing face. Yet, beneath the layers of makeup and the wide smile, Esohe could see the subtle tension in her sister’s eyes.

Mama Isoken was beaming with pride as she received guests, her laughter echoing through the compound. Pa Osagie, clad in a regal agbada, stood tall as he greeted relatives and friends, his chest swelling with pride.

“This is the kind of occasion I have prayed for,” he said to a group of elders. “Seeing my daughter marry such a fine man is every father’s dream.”

Esohe stayed in the background, her heart heavy as she observed Eghosa’s every move. He was the perfect host, charming the guests and ensuring everything ran smoothly, but his overbearing demeanor was hard to miss.

As the ceremony began, the elders blessed the union with prayers and traditional rites. Osahon knelt before her parents to receive their blessings, her hands trembling slightly as she held the kola nut.

“You are now a wife,” Mama Isoken said, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Be respectful, humble, and always remember that marriage requires patience.”

Osahon nodded, blinking back tears as she thanked her parents.

When it was time for Eghosa to speak, he held Osahon’s hand tightly, his grip firm. “Osahon is the light of my life,” he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. “I promise to cherish her, protect her, and provide for her.”

The crowd erupted in applause, but Esohe caught the flicker of unease in her sister’s eyes.

As the festivities continued, Esohe couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She watched as Eghosa subtly directed Osahon’s every move, where to sit, when to smile, and whom to speak with.

At one point, Esohe approached her sister, pulling her aside under the guise of fixing her headpiece.

“Osahon, are you okay?” she asked in a low voice.

Osahon forced a smile. “Of course. It’s my wedding day. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You can still walk away,” Esohe whispered urgently. “It’s not too late.”

Osahon’s smile faltered, but she quickly composed herself. “Esohe, please. Don’t ruin this day for me.”

Esohe sighed, stepping back as Osahon returned to the crowd.

As the evening wore on, the band played lively music, and the guests danced under the twinkling lights. Eghosa and Osahon performed the traditional couple’s dance, moving in sync as the crowd cheered them on.

Mama Isoken leaned over to Esohe. “Look at them. Don’t they make a perfect pair?”

Esohe forced a smile. “Yes, Mama. Perfect.”

But in her heart, she prayed that her sister’s decision wouldn’t lead to heartbreak.

When the festivities ended and the guests began to leave, Osahon and Eghosa stood at the compound’s gate, thanking everyone for coming. Osahon’s face was a mixture of exhaustion and relief, but Eghosa’s smile never wavered.

As Esohe watched them drive away in Eghosa’s car, she felt a pang of guilt for not doing more to stop the wedding. But a small voice inside her whispered that it wasn’t over, not yet.

To be continued....

©️ El-Mira's Haven

16/01/2025

SISTER'S CROSSROAD

EPISODE 7🌟

The weeks leading up to the wedding were nothing short of chaotic. The Osagie household became a hub of activity, with relatives coming in and out, vendors dropping off samples, and Mama Isoken supervising every little detail. Osahon tried her best to keep up with the whirlwind, but Eghosa’s overbearing nature left her feeling more like a passenger than a bride.

“Eghosa said he’s hiring a professional caterer from Abuja,” Mama Isoken announced one morning. “He insists on handling the decorations too.”

Esohe, who was helping clean the sitting room, scoffed. “Does Osahon have any say in her own wedding, or is Eghosa marrying himself?”

Mama Isoken shot her a warning look. “Esohe, mind your tongue. You know men like Eghosa just want everything to be perfect. He’s doing this out of love.”

Esohe muttered under her breath and went back to dusting.

Later that day, Esohe found herself sitting outside with Idemudia. He had come to visit her, despite the tension between him and her parents.

“How are you holding up?” Idemudia asked, noticing her weary expression.

Esohe sighed. “It’s been exhausting. Mama and Papa are acting like Eghosa is some kind of savior, and Osahon… she just looks tired all the time.”

Idemudia frowned. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“I’ve tried,” Esohe replied. “But she shuts me out. She thinks I’m being jealous or overprotective.”

“Maybe she just needs to figure it out on her own,” Idemudia suggested gently. “Sometimes, people have to make their own mistakes to learn.”

Esohe nodded but remained silent, her thoughts heavy.

As the wedding date drew closer, the cracks in Eghosa’s façade became more apparent. One afternoon, while finalizing the guest list, he and Osahon had a heated argument.

“Why is my friend Alero’s name not on the list?” Osahon asked, flipping through the neatly printed invitation cards.

Eghosa frowned. “I told you already, the list is too long. We need to cut down on unnecessary guests.”

“She’s not unnecessary,” Osahon shot back. “She’s my closest friend.”

“Osahon,” Eghosa said, his voice dangerously low, “I’m spending a lot of money on this wedding. The least you can do is respect my decisions.”

Osahon felt a lump rise in her throat. “This is my wedding too, Eghosa,” she whispered.

He leaned closer, his tone icy. “Don’t forget who’s making this all possible.”

Esohe overheard the argument as she walked past the room. She paused, debating whether to intervene, but decided against it. She knew her sister wouldn’t appreciate her meddling.

The family held a meeting a week before the wedding, inviting elders and close relatives to give their blessings and advice. The sitting room was filled with laughter and the rich sounds of traditional proverbs.

“Marriage is like planting a tree,” one elder said, sipping his palm wine. “If you don’t water it, it won’t grow.”

“Yes, but not too much water,” another chimed in, eliciting chuckles. “Too much care can choke the roots.”

Eghosa smiled politely, but Esohe noticed how his eyes never left Osahon. It wasn’t admiration, it was something darker, something that sent a shiver down her spine.

The night before the wedding, Esohe found Osahon sitting on their childhood bed, her wedding gown laid out beside her.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Esohe asked softly.

Osahon smiled faintly. “I guess so. It feels surreal.”

Esohe hesitated. “Osahon… if you’re having any doubts, it’s not too late to back out.”

Osahon’s face hardened. “Esohe, please. Don’t start this now. I’ve made my choice.”

Esohe sighed and sat down beside her. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I will be,” Osahon said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.

As Esohe left the room, she prayed silently that her sister wasn’t making a mistake she’d regret for the rest of her life.

To be continued....

©️ El-Mira's Haven

16/01/2025

ECHOES OF OUR LIVES

EPISODE 9🌟

Simi's heart pounded as she backed away from Ekene, her mind racing. The dim warehouse offered no escape route; the only light flickered above her, casting eerie shadows. Ekene smirked, stepping closer.

"You no suppose come here, Simi. But since you don come, we go settle everything now," Ekene said, his tone chillingly calm.

"Where Kunle? Kunle talk say him go dey here," Simi stammered, trying to hide her fear.

"Kunle?" Ekene chuckled darkly. "That fool no get say for this matter again. Na you we want."

Simi's breathing quickened as two other men stepped out from the shadows. Her phone was in her pocket, but she didn’t dare reach for it, afraid they’d notice.

Not far from the warehouse, Kunle was tied to a post in a small room. His face was bruised, and his lip was swollen. He had overheard Ekene's plan and cursed himself for getting Simi involved.

"I no go let dem hurt her," he muttered, struggling against his restraints.

A rusty nail jutted out from the post, and Kunle began rubbing the ropes against it, ignoring the pain as it cut into his wrist.

At the station, Detective Hassan sat in his office, piecing together the gang's movements. He had been tracking the graffiti symbol for weeks, and a lead had finally come through: an abandoned warehouse frequently used by the gang.

He called Bayo immediately.

"Bayo, I get address wey fit be their hideout. I dey suspect say dem fit use am to plan their next move," Hassan said.

"Give me the address," Bayo replied, his voice filled with determination.

Hassan hesitated. "Make sure you no go alone. I dey send team now."

"I no go wait. My pikin life dey risk," Bayo said firmly, grabbing his car keys.

Back at the warehouse, Ekene motioned for Simi to sit on an old wooden crate. She refused, standing her ground despite her trembling legs.

"Na stubbornness bring you here. You for stay house dey enjoy your small, safe life," Ekene said, his smile fading. "But now, you go pay."

"What I do una? Why una dey after me?" Simi asked, her voice cracking.

"Kunle mess up. You be the punishment," Ekene said simply.

Before he could say more, the sound of a car engine echoed outside. Ekene motioned for one of the men to check it out.

"Who dey come?" Simi asked, her hope flickering.

"Keep quiet!" Ekene barked.

Bayo parked his car a short distance from the warehouse, his heart racing. He spotted two men standing near the entrance and crouched behind a stack of crates, observing their movements.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Hassan.

"I don reach the place. Two of them dey outside," Bayo whispered.

"Hold on. My team dey come. No go inside yet," Hassan warned.

But Bayo couldn’t wait. The thought of Simi in danger drove him forward.

Inside the small room, Kunle finally broke free of his restraints. He crept to the door, listening for any sounds outside. Hearing none, he slipped out, wincing as the movement aggravated his wounds.

He knew Simi was in the main hall and silently made his way there, avoiding the men patrolling.

As Bayo entered the warehouse, he saw Simi surrounded by Ekene and his men. His blood boiled, but he forced himself to remain calm.

"Leave my daughter alone!" Bayo shouted, stepping into the light.

Ekene turned, surprised. "Who you be?"

"I be her papa. If una no leave her now, una go regret am," Bayo said, his voice steady despite his fear.

Ekene laughed. "You think say you fit do anything here? We dey control this place."

Before Ekene could act, a loud crash echoed through the warehouse. Kunle had knocked over a stack of metal pipes to create a distraction.

"Run, Simi!" Kunle shouted, appearing from the shadows.

Simi didn’t hesitate. She darted toward her father as Ekene barked orders to his men.

Just as chaos erupted, sirens wailed in the distance. Hassan and his team stormed the warehouse, guns drawn.

"Police! Everybody freeze!" Hassan shouted.

Ekene and his men scrambled, but there was nowhere to go. Within minutes, they were subdued and handcuffed.

Hassan approached Bayo and Simi, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "Una dey okay?"

"We dey fine. Thank you," Bayo said, holding Simi tightly.

Kunle, bruised and battered, limped toward them. "I dey sorry, Simi. I no mean make all this happen."

Simi looked at him, her emotions conflicted. "You betray me, Kunle. But I go thank you for saving me."

Hassan gestured for an officer to take Kunle into custody. "Him get plenty questions to answer."

As the gang members were loaded into police vans, Hassan turned to Bayo. "This na small win, but the fight never finish. The people wey dey control this gang still dey out there."

Bayo nodded. "We go dey ready."

Hassan smiled faintly. "You don try, Bayo. But next time, wait for backup."

"Anything to protect my family," Bayo replied.

As they drove home, Simi leaned against her father, exhausted but safe. Yetunde greeted them at the door, tears streaming down her face.

"Thank God say una dey okay," she said, pulling Simi into a hug.

For the first time in weeks, Simi felt a sense of peace. But deep down, she knew this was just the beginning of a much larger battle.

To be continued…

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