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Jumie Naths Stories, Garki, Garki (2025)

27/10/2025

“Choices”

Episode Eight

Lynett moved to Lagos and lived with a distant cousin who introduced her to the world of modelling. Her beauty opened doors. Men paid for her rent, her clothes, her lifestyle.

By twenty, she had turned manipulation into an art form.

She told herself she wasn’t evil—just smart. The world had taken everything from her, so she was merely taking it back.

At twenty-three, she met General Musa, a retired military man with connections in government. He became her “protector.” In exchange for companionship, she got access to wealth and influence. But like all powerful men, he wanted to control her.

When he became too possessive, she vanished. She knew how to disappear—how to reinvent herself.

And she did, again and again, until one day, at a diplomatic event, she met the President.

He was charming, authoritative, and very married. To Lynett, he was a challenge. To him, she was a thrill.

Their affair started in secrecy, whispers, late-night phone calls, private jets to “meetings.”

But Lynett wasn’t after love. She was after leverage. Being close to the president gave her access, power, and a sense of invincibility.

Still, when she met Edward Adedayo at that party gala, something stirred that she hadn’t felt in years.

Edward wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t loud, boastful, or easily impressed. He was calm, collected, a man of presence. When he looked at her, it wasn’t lust that filled his eyes, it was restraint. And that restraint fascinated her.

She remembered the first few seconds of meeting him.

His voice was low, confident. He didn’t linger.

But she saw the flicker in his eyes—a crack she knew how to widen.

All night, their glances crossed like sparks dancing on the edge of fire. When the president was pulled aside for a private conversation, she found someone to formally introduce her to him.

That night, as she sat beside the president, she found herself thinking about Edward, his steadiness, his subtle strength.

And when she later discovered that he was engaged, something in her tightened.

It wasn’t jealousy, it was determination.

Men had always come easily to her. They begged, they fought, they pleaded. But Edward resisted, and resistance to Lynett was an invitation.

She was at the wedding, she saw the smiles, the fairy-tale captions. She didn’t care.

Olivia might have the ring.

But Lynett had made up her mind.

She was going to have Edward Adedayo. Wife or no wife. President or no president.

No one was going to stop her.

Lynett took a slow sip of water, her gaze never leaving Edward’s. And Edward, unknowingly, had become her next obsession.

Meanwhile, Lynett went back to her hotel, her mind in a storm.

She had meant to tease him, to enjoy the thrill of danger. But the moment she saw him — that restrained gentleness in his eyes, that quiet authority — something in her stirred.
She hated it.

“Men,” she muttered, tossing her purse onto the bed. “They always think they can resist.”

She poured herself a drink, her reflection staring back at her from the mirror.
Beneath her confident smile, there was something else, a faint, haunting loneliness that even she didn’t understand.

She whispered to her reflection, “Don’t be weak now, Lynett. You always win.”

Olivia called Edward later that evening.

“Hi, honey,” her voice was warm, bright. “How was your business dinner?”

He forced a smile she couldn’t see. “It went well. How’s the conference?”

“Busy,” she said with a laugh. “But good. Are you eating well?” she teased.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Good. Don’t miss me too much, hmm?”

He hesitated. “Too late.”

She laughed softly, not knowing how true it was, but for the wrong reason.

When the call ended, Edward sat in silence, staring at the darkened window. He had everything, wealth, love, respect and yet something in him felt like it was cracking.

Edward decided to cut his trip short and return home. The thought of staying in the same city as Lynett unsettled him—he needed distance, space to think, to breathe. What he didn’t know was that Lynett had people watching him. The moment his flight details were confirmed, word reached her.

As soon as he left New York, she followed suit.

After all, the only reason she had come there in the first place was because of him.

Lynett had no plans of letting go. She intended to keep showing up in Edward’s life, again and again, until she got exactly what she wanted.

Back in Abuja, Lynett stood on a balcony overlooking the city lights, her phone in hand. She typed a message, paused, then deleted it.

She’d learned long ago that men like Edward were rare — the kind who truly loved, the kind who wrestled between duty and desire. And that made them the most dangerous kind of temptation.

As she turned to go inside, her assistant knocked. “Ma’am, the president wants to see you.”

She smiled faintly. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

But in her heart, she wasn’t thinking of the president.

She was thinking of Edward and what their next encounter would be like.

When Olivia returned home, Edward met her at the airport, smiling, arms open.

She hugged him tightly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, meaning it more than ever.

At home, she unpacked gifts for him, a tie, a new devotional, and a leather journal. “For you to write your thoughts,” she said playfully.

He smiled faintly, touched. “You know me too well.”

But that night, as she slept peacefully beside him, Edward lay awake staring at the ceiling. He thought of Lynett’s eyes, her words, her laughter, and guilt gnawed at him like an uninvited guest.

“Lord, help me,” he whispered into the darkness. “Don’t let me destroy what You’ve given me.”

Far away, Lynett began to set her plan in motion.

Because for her, Edward wasn’t just a man.

He was unfinished business.

Thanks for reading.
TBC
Jumie Naths Stories

26/10/2025

“Choices”

Episode Seven

The night Edward met Lynett, he had no idea what kind of fire he was letting in. Behind the flawless smile and graceful posture was a story soaked in pain, betrayal, and a kind of darkness that fed on control.

To understand Lynett was to walk through the ruins of her past—a past that shaped her into the woman who could look at another woman’s husband and think, mine.

Lynett was born in Houston, Texas, to a Nigerian father, Mr. Emeka Obiora, and an African-American mother, Felicia Hayes. Her father was a brilliant petroleum engineer, soft-spoken and deeply rooted in Igbo tradition. Her mother, on the other hand, was bold, assertive, and ambitious—a woman who thrived on attention.

Their love, passionate in the beginning, began to erode under the weight of cultural differences. Emeka was traditional, respectful, and wanted a quiet life. Felicia, however, wanted the limelight. She craved the excitement of parties, travel, and social validation.

Lynett grew up between those two worlds—one quiet and disciplined, the other loud and unpredictable.

She remembered nights when her parents would fight. Her father would retreat to his study, heartbroken, while her mother slammed doors and shouted about how she’d given up too much for this marriage.

At eight, Lynett watched her parents’ marriage collapse. Her mother fell in love with another man, a wealthy American businessman.

When her father discovered the affair, he didn’t rage. He simply packed a small bag, collected Lynett from her room, and said in a calm voice, “We’re going home.”

“Home? You mean to Nigeria?” the little girl asked, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “To where your blood calls you.”

Her mother didn’t even protest. She only said, “You can visit anytime you want, Lyn.” But Lynett knew that wasn’t true.

Nigeria was a world of noise and colour. The air was thicker, the people louder, and everything—from greetings to laughter—seemed amplified. At first, Lynett hated it.

She missed the supermarkets, the parks, the freedom of her old life. But her father’s love became her anchor. He told her folktales and called her “my jewel.”

“You’ll grow into a strong woman, Lynett,” he would say. “Don’t let anyone dim your light.”

For a while, she believed him.

Then, when she was twelve, everything changed.

Her father collapsed one evening while reading in the living room. By the time they got him to the hospital, it was too late. Cardiac arrest, the doctors said.

Lynett remembered sitting in the hospital corridor, clutching her father’s wristwatch and whispering, “You promised me you’d never leave me.”

After the funeral, her world became a revolving door of uncertainty. She thought her mother would come for her. She even wrote her letters filled with pleading words.

But her mother’s response came weeks later:

Lyn, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Things are complicated here. You have a new home now with your aunt. I know she’ll take good care of you. Be a good girl. Love, Mom.

That was the last letter.

Her Aunt Chinyere, her father’s older sister, lived in Port Harcourt with her husband, Uncle Ifeanyi, and their three children. At first, she was kind—warm even.

“Ah, our American princess!” she said the day Lynett arrived, pulling her into a hug. “We will take good care of you.”

Her husband smiled stiffly, eyes lingering a little too long.

Lynett noticed.

At twelve, she didn’t understand what that kind of gaze meant, but she knew it made her skin crawl.

In the early months, everything seemed normal. She was enrolled in school, given a small room, and joined her older cousins in daily chores. But soon, the cracks began to show.

Her aunt became cold, easily irritated. “Don’t bring that your oyinbo pride here,” she would snap. “You’re not better than anyone.”

And her uncle… her uncle’s eyes never stopped following her.

He was a man respected in the community. But behind closed doors, his mask slipped.

It started subtly. Compliments that made her uncomfortable. “You’re growing fast, Lynett. You’ll soon be a heartbreaker.”

Then the touches began. A hand brushing her shoulder too long. Standing too close when no one was around.

One evening, when her aunt traveled to Lagos for a wedding, and her cousins were out, it happened.

She was washing dishes when he came behind her. “You’re becoming a woman,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “Don’t fight me. I’ll take care of you.”

When she tried to scream, he clamped a hand over her mouth. The world blurred.

When it was over, she lay curled on the floor, trembling. He threatened her: “Tell anyone, and you’re out of this house. Do you want to live on the streets?”

She said nothing.

The next morning, he greeted everyone cheerfully at breakfast.

Lynett tried to tell her aunt what was going on, but each time she shut her up.

Weeks turned into months, and the abuse continued. Her older cousin, Kelechi, soon joined in. He was seventeen, arrogant, and entitled.

“Dad gets his way,” he once sneered, “so why can’t I?”

It continued for a year.

Once, when Lynett refused, he cried like a child, begging her. The next day, to make him stop, she asked for something—an expensive wristwatch. He bought it for her immediately.

She realized the effect she has on men, and they were willing to do anything just to be with her.

And that’s when the shift happened.

Lynett realized something—something dangerous.

She had power.

Men who were stronger, older, and supposedly wiser bent to her will when she wanted something. A look, a smile, a soft touch—and they melted.

She started to test it.

Her uncle would bring her small gifts to buy her favour: a new dress, a phone, and pocket money. She learned how to make him guilty, how to make him need her approval.

When she was fifteen, her aunt finally caught a whiff of the truth. One evening, she barged into Lynett’s room and shouted, “You are destroying my home! You witch!”

Lynett didn’t argue. She packed her bag and left that night, never to return.

Thanks for reading.
TBC
Jumie Naths Stories

25/10/2025

“Choices”

Episode Six

The sun shone with unusual brilliance that Saturday morning, gilding the church’s glass windows with streaks of gold. It was the kind of day poets wrote about—calm skies, soft breeze, and the hum of distant laughter. The day Edward and Olivia had prayed and planned for was finally here.

The church was tastefully decorated with white roses and lush greenery, giving off an air of quiet elegance. The guests filled the pews—politicians, business magnates, clergy men, family, and friends. The choir’s soft rendition of Great Is Thy Faithfulness floated through the air.

Edward stood at the altar in a finely tailored navy suit, his best man, Tolani, whispering occasional words of reassurance. His heart beat steadily, but his thoughts were a swirl of gratitude, nervousness, and something else—a whisper of a memory he refused to name.

Then the doors opened.

Everyone stood.

Olivia stepped in, radiant in her ivory gown, a lace veil cascading behind her. Her smile was gentle, serene—the smile of a woman certain she had found her home. Gasps rippled through the church. Even Edward’s breath caught in his throat.

When she reached him, he took her hand. “You look… perfect,” he whispered.

She smiled shyly. “And you look like a man who’s about to faint.”

He chuckled softly, the tension easing a little.

The officiating pastor, pastor Enoch, began the ceremony with warmth and humuor. “Marriage,” he said, “is not a contract; it’s a covenant. One built on love, patience, and grace.”

There were moments of laughter, tears, and heartfelt prayers. When it was time for the vows, Edward turned to Olivia, his voice low but steady.

“I, Edward Adedayo, take you, Olivia Chukwu, to be my wife. I promise before God and these witnesses to love, honour, protect, and cherish you—for as long as we both shall live.”

Olivia’s eyes glistened as she replied, “I, Olivia, take you, Edward, to be my husband. I promise to stand beside you in joy and in trials, to build with you, to pray with you, and to love you faithfully—all my days.”

When the pastor declared them husband and wife, the congregation erupted in applause. Edward lifted the veil, kissed her softly, and for the first time in months, he felt peace wash over him like warm sunlight.

The reception hall glittered with soft chandeliers and gold accents. Music played in the background as guests mingled and servers moved gracefully between tables.

Olivia was radiant, her gown replaced with a sleek champagne dress that shimmered under the lights. Edward looked every inch the proud groom, his hand resting lightly on hers.

They had just finished their first dance when a murmur spread across the room. The president had arrived, with the First Lady at his side. Edward had sent an invitation, but the president’s team’s response had been a maybe.

The emcee’s voice boomed, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome His Excellency, President Nwosu and the First Lady.”

Everyone rose, clapping enthusiastically. Edward and Olivia exchanged surprised glances as the president approached them, smiling warmly.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Adedayo,” the president said, shaking Edward’s hand firmly. “It’s an honour to be here. I couldn’t miss this celebration.”

“Thank you, sir,” Edward said with a slight bow. “We’re deeply honoured by your presence.”

Then the First Lady turned to Olivia. She was elegant, poised, her gold headwrap matching her husband’s tie. “My dear, you look stunning. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Olivia blushed. “Thank you, ma. It’s such a privilege to meet you.”

The First Lady smiled warmly. “You must join us for one of our women’s luncheons soon. We need young, articulate women in our circle—those with a good head on their shoulders.”

“I’m afraid we don’t need the president's presence to achieve that,” Edward said. “You’ll have to get used to a bit more attention now.”

“Good,” the First Lady said, touching her arm. “Someone will be in touch. Enjoy your day, my dear.”

As the presidential entourage moved toward their table, Olivia turned to Edward, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you know they were coming?”

Edward smiling. “I had extended an invitation to them out of courtesy. I didn’t know they would come.”

Olivia laughed softly, relief washing over her. “Well, I suppose our wedding just made the front page.”

“I’m afraid we don’t need the president's presence to achieve that,” Edward said. “You’ll have to get used to a bit more attention now.”

As the evening wore on, laughter filled the hall. Friends gave emotional speeches, the cake was cut amid cheers, and the couple danced again—this time surrounded by loved ones.

But somewhere across the room, a familiar figure watched them quietly—Lynett. Dressed in a soft lavender gown, she stood near the exit, her expression unreadable.

Her gaze lingered on Edward for a moment too long before she turned away, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile.

The honeymoon in Seychelles was everything they had hoped for—breathtaking beaches, quiet sunsets, and laughter that came easily.

On their first morning there, Olivia woke to find Edward on the balcony, staring at the ocean.

“Already awake?” she asked, wrapping the sheet around her as she stepped beside him.

He smiled. “I didn’t want to miss this view.”

She leaned into him. “Neither do I. It feels like we’re in another world.”

“For now, we are,” he said softly. “Let’s make it count.”

They spent their days exploring, swimming, and talking about the future—about children, travel, and shared dreams. Olivia didn’t want children, and Edward was okay with that. For the first time in a long while, Edward felt whole.

At dinner one night, Olivia reached across the table and said, “Thank God for Pastor Enoch for this union. I know you had options; if not for him and God, we won’t be here. We move in different circles.”

He smiled, his gaze soft. “Yes, Liv. I believe God orchestrated all this.”

Her heart swelled. “Then promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When the world gets noisy again, promise me we’ll always find our way back to each other.”

He nodded. “Always.”

Back home, married life unfolded with a gentle rhythm. They organized their schedules carefully, making sure neither traveled during the first three months. In those three months, they spent two weeks each month visiting Edward’s home in London, the UAE and Ghana.

Edward often worked from home, and Olivia, though constantly sought after for conferences and women’s leadership events, declined every trip. They cooked together, prayed together, and on weekends when they are home, they hosted small dinners.

Their evenings were filled with laughter, shared moments, and long conversations.

“You know,” Olivia said one night, lying on the couch with her head on his lap, “I think we should start something together, maybe a foundation for young professionals.”

Edward smiled, brushing her hair back. “I like that idea. Something that builds people, not just structures.”

“Exactly.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “That’s one of the reasons I married you—you think legacy.”

He laughed. “I married you because you remind me of what legacy is for.”

But as the fourth month approached, duty called again. Olivia had been postponing a major regional leadership meeting for weeks, and the organization was growing impatient.

One evening, as they sat over dinner, she brought it up. “Edward, the London meeting can’t wait any longer. I’ll only be gone five days.”

Edward looked thoughtful. “Five days?”

“Yes. I’ve already pushed it twice. If I cancel again, it’ll affect the program funding.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. You’ve been amazing these past months. Go, do your thing. I have to be in New York as well for ten days.”

She smiled. “Thank you, honey. Try not to miss me, sha.”

He grinned. “That’s impossible.”

They laughed, unaware of what the next few days would bring.

On the third day of Edward's stay in NewYork, he returned to his home in NewYork from a business dinner later than usual. The house was quiet. He loosened his tie, turned on the stereo, and poured himself a glass of wine. He’d just settled into the couch when he heard the doorbell.

He wasn’t expecting anyone.

Frowning, he walked to the door and opened it.

There she was.

Lynett.

Dressed in a simple cream dress, her hair pulled back elegantly, she stood with an air of calm confidence.

“Lynett?” he said, startled. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled slightly. “I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced. I was in the neighbourhood for a meeting and thought to say hello. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“How did you find me?”

“Let’s just say a little bird told me. Can I come in?”

Edward hesitated. Every instinct told him to send her away, but politeness overrode caution. “

Please… come in.”

She stepped inside, her perfume subtle but intoxicating. “You have a beautiful home,” she said, glancing around. “I can see Olivia’s touch everywhere.”

He nodded stiffly. “Yes, she has a good eye for detail.”

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him, her gaze steady. “You looked happy at the wedding, Edward.”

“I am,” he replied quickly. “Very happy.”

She smiled faintly. “That’s good. You deserve happiness.”

Her tone was soft, but something in her eyes made him uneasy.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, more out of courtesy than comfort.

“Water would be fine,” she said.

As he walked to the kitchen, he took a deep breath. Lord, help me keep my head.

When he returned, she was seated on the couch, her legs crossed elegantly. She accepted the glass with a nod.

“Thank you,” she said. “I won’t take much of your time. I just thought we should talk—there are things you should probably know.”

Edward’s brows furrowed. “Things I should know?”

“Yes.” Her smile disappeared. “About the president. And about me.”

His heart skipped a beat. “What else could there possibly be—aside from you being the president’s side chick?”

Lynett let out a low, confident laugh. “Oh, Edward… trust me, I’m much more than that. If I wanted the president to send his wife away and marry me, he would do it—without hesitation.”

He frowned. “Really? You seem very sure of yourself.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t seem sure, Edward—I am sure. But enough about the president. Why don’t we talk about us?”

He straightened, his tone sharp. “There is no us, Lynett.”

A knowing smile curved her lips. “That’s what you think… soon, Edward. Very soon.”

With that, she rose gracefully, adjusted her bag, and walked toward the door. The soft click of her heels faded down the hallway until the door shut behind her.

Edward sank slowly onto the seat, running a hand over his face. The air still carried her perfume—sweet, heavy, unsettling.

For a long moment, he sat there in silence, his mind spinning.

What have I gotten myself into? He thought, as the weight of her words settled over him like a dark cloud.

Thanks for reading.
TBC
Jumie Naths Stories.

24/10/2025

“Choices”

Episode Five

The ballroom shimmered beneath the glow of a thousand golden lights. Music floated through the air—smooth jazz, the kind that spoke of elegance and quiet power. Edward had attended many such events in his life, but tonight felt different. Perhaps it was the weight of his unease or the strange pull that had begun the moment he laid eyes on her—Lynett.

Now he knew her name. The woman in the black dress. The one who had stolen his peace since that first glance. She was elegance personified. Her deep black gown shimmered subtly under the lights, and when she turned, her eyes—grey, mysterious—met his for a heartbeat that seemed to stretch into eternity.

She was introduced to him later in the evening by one of the party executives.

“Mr. Adedayo, this is Lynett,” the man said, his tone full of deference. “She’s with the president.”

Edward extended his hand politely, though his pulse raced. “Ah, yes. We’ve met briefly.”

Lynett smiled, her voice smooth and confident. “We have, but it’s good to be introduced properly.”

There was a quiet strength about her, refined, observant, dangerous. Her dark eyes lingered a fraction too long before she withdrew her hand.

The man who introduced them excused himself, leaving the two of them momentarily alone near the edge of the ballroom. The hum of conversation filled the silence between them.

“So,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “you’re the famous Edward Adedayo everyone keeps talking about. The businessman who keeps politicians on their toes.”

Edward chuckled softly. “That’s a generous exaggeration. I prefer to think of myself as someone who minds his business, and prays the politicians mind theirs.”

Her laughter was low, melodic. “That’s a wise approach. But men like you rarely get to stay out of politics. Influence has a way of dragging people in.”

“Maybe,” Edward said, smiling faintly. “But I’ve learned that influence without peace isn’t worth much.”

Her eyes flickered with curiosity. “Peace. That’s not something you hear often in this circle.”

They stood like that for a moment; two strangers caught in an unexpected current. Edward could feel the old unease return—the one he’d ignored when deciding to come. There was something intoxicating about Lynett, and he hated that he was drawn to it.

They parted when the president entered the hall. The crowd applauded, and Edward took his seat among the dignitaries, his mind half on the speeches, half on the woman he couldn’t seem to stop watching.

Lynett moved gracefully, poised beside the president. She laughed when he spoke to her, nodded at the right times, but her eyes occasionally drifted toward Edward. Once, their gazes met across the room. It was brief—too brief for anyone else to notice—but enough to send a ripple through him.

Almost anyone.

At the far end of the ballroom, a man in a gray suit observed them with quiet amusement. His name was Bode Aluko—a lobbyist with a long memory and a grudge. He and Edward had crossed paths years ago during a business deal that had ended poorly for Bode. Seeing Edward here, so close to the president and now seemingly catching the attention of the president’s woman, made him smile wickedly.

“Well, well, Edward Adedayo,” he muttered under his breath, swirling his glass of wine. “This is going to be interesting.”

He watched the subtle glances between Edward and Lynett, cataloguing every gesture, every lingering look. In the game of influence, information was power, and tonight, he had stumbled upon gold.

When the president’s speech ended and after he paid his respect to him, Edward was among the first to leave. He made polite goodbyes, posed for a few photographs, and slipped into the waiting car that took him home. The city lights blurred past his window, but his mind remained at the ballroom—with her.

He leaned back in the leather seat and exhaled deeply. “Get yourself together, Edward,” he murmured. “You’re a man of influence, not a fool.”

But the echo of her laughter, the warmth of her gaze—it wouldn’t leave him.

When he reached home, the house felt too quiet. He loosened his tie, walked to the study, and poured himself a glass of water. On the desk lay the folder for the wedding venue confirmation. The reality of it brought both comfort and guilt.

He was getting married in a few weeks—to Olivia, a woman of grace and strength. A woman who had stood by him in prayer, who had restored his sense of purpose. He had promised to honour her, and he meant to keep that promise.

And yet, as he stood there, staring at the file, he couldn’t shake Lynett’s image from his mind.

The next morning, Olivia called. Her voice, warm and calm, filled his living room.

“So,” she said cheerfully, “how was the event? Did you get to meet the president?”

Edward forced a light laugh. “Yes, yes. It was all fine. You know how these things are—long speeches, lots of cameras, nothing new.”

She chuckled. “Did you at least enjoy yourself?”

“It was alright,” he said, glancing away. “I’m just glad it’s over. Too much noise for my liking.”

“I can imagine,” she said. “Well, I prayed for you before the event. I know how these political gatherings can drain one’s spirit.”

Her words pricked his conscience. He felt a surge of guilt, but he quickly masked it. “Thank you, Liv. You always know how to cover me.”

“That’s what partners do,” she said softly.

“Indeed,” he replied, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “You’re a blessing, Olivia.”

But over the following days, Olivia began to notice a subtle shift.
Edward still called, still sent messages, but something in his tone had changed. His laughter sounded forced, his silences longer. When she asked about wedding details, he brushed them off or changed the subject.

“Edward,” she said one evening after a particularly brief call, “is everything alright?”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Just work pressure. The quarter’s closing; you know how it gets.”

She nodded, though he couldn’t see her face tighten in worry. “I understand. Just… don’t forget to rest. You’ve been carrying too much lately.”

“I won’t, dear. Don’t worry about me.”

But she did. Every night, she prayed.

Three weeks passed, and the wedding preparations intensified. Olivia threw herself into the details—finalizing the guest list, choosing fabrics, meeting with the church decorators. It was easier to focus on tasks than to question the unsettling feeling in her heart.

“Maybe it’s just stress,” her friend Amara said one afternoon as they looked through invitation cards. “Every bride gets anxious before the wedding, so also the groom, sometimes.”

Olivia smiled weakly. “I hope that’s all it is.”

Amara studied her face. “Has he done something?”

“No,” Olivia said quickly. “Edward’s been… good. Just distracted, that’s all.”

“Men and their moods,” Amara muttered. “He’ll come around once the wedding’s over.”

Olivia nodded, though her spirit was not at rest. Each night, she knelt to pray, asking the Lord for peace. Sometimes she felt it for a moment, then it slipped away, replaced by a faint, unexplainable heaviness.

Meanwhile, Edward was fighting a battle of his own.

In the days after the gala, Lynett had called once—officially, to thank him for his presence at the event. Their conversation was short, polite… yet electric.

“It was good seeing you at the gala,” she said, her voice low. “You handled yourself with class. The president thinks highly of you.”

“I’m honored,” Edward said carefully. “It was a successful evening.”

There was a pause, then she added softly, “I hope it won’t be the last time we meet.”

Edward hesitated. “Perhaps not. But let’s keep it… professional.”

She chuckled. “Of course.”

When the call ended, Edward sat for a long time in silence, the phone still in his hand.

He knew he was on dangerous ground. The kind of ground that starts with curiosity and ends with ruin.

He prayed that night, asking God to cleanse his mind and strengthen his heart. But when morning came, she was still there—lodged somewhere deep in his thoughts.

By the time the wedding month arrived, the storm within him had quieted—but not vanished.

Olivia noticed his calm return and took it as a sign that things were finally settling. She smiled more, prayed more, and convinced herself that whatever tension she’d sensed before had been nothing.

Edward, on the other hand, threw himself into the final preparations with renewed focus, determined to move forward and bury every lingering distraction beneath the sacred vow he was about to make.

Yet somewhere, in the quiet corridors of his mind, Lynett’s laughter echoed like a haunting melody—soft, distant, but unforgettable.

And far away, in a well-furnished penthouse overlooking the city, Lynett sipped from a glass of wine, scrolling through her phone. Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she stopped at a picture of Edward shaking hands with the president.

“Soon,” she whispered to herself. “Very soon.”

What Edward didn’t know was that his brief encounter at the gala had set in motion a chain of events that would soon unravel everything he thought was secure—his marriage, his business, his faith, and his peace.

For the first time in years, the man who once thought himself untouchable was standing on the edge of a storm he could neither see nor control.

Thank you for reading
TBC
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