Episode 3: The Rules
618 Words
Rain pounded against the glass.
Chuka hadn't moved.
The photograph was still in his hand.
His eyes remained fixed on the five words written on the back.
She must never remember you.
The handwriting...
It tugged at something buried deep inside his memory.
He had seen those letters before.
Not recently.
Years ago.
But where?
His phone vibrated again.
TOBI CALLING.
Chuka ignored it.
He flipped the photograph over.
Amara smiled back at him.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
As though she carried none of the chaos he suddenly felt.
He looked at the handwriting once more.
Then he did something he hadn't done in years.
He called his mother.
She answered almost immediately.
"I knew you would call."
"Who wrote on the back of this photograph?"
Silence.
"Mother."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
His jaw tightened.
"There are five words written here."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
When she finally spoke...
Her voice was different.
"Bring it tomorrow."
"Answer my question."
"Tomorrow."
The call ended.
...
The next morning...
Amara stood outside the school gate, greeting her students one after another.
"Good morning, Miss Amara!"
"Good morning."
One little boy stopped in front of her.
"Miss?"
"Yes?"
"My mum said I should give you this."
He handed her a small nylon bag.
Inside were oranges.
Amara smiled.
"You didn't have to."
"Mum said you bought my books."
Her smile faded.
"Tell your mum she doesn't owe me anything."
The little boy grinned.
"She said you'll say that."
Before Amara could reply...
A black SUV rolled slowly past the school.
Its windows were heavily tinted.
It didn't stop.
It didn't honk.
It simply...
Slowed down.
For a brief moment.
Then drove away.
Amara frowned.
Something about it felt strange.
She watched until it disappeared around the corner.
"Miss?"
She blinked.
"Oh... let's go inside."
But for the rest of the morning...
She couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching her.
...
At exactly 10:00 a.m., Chuka walked into his father's office.
His mother was already there.
She looked tired.
His father didn't look up from the documents on his desk.
"You came."
"I want answers."
Chuka placed the photograph on the desk.
His father looked at it.
Then slowly turned it over.
The moment he saw the handwriting...
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But Chuka noticed.
"You know who wrote it."
"No."
"You're lying."
His father stood.
"I said no."
"You've never lied to me before."
His father's eyes met his.
"And today won't be the first."
The room fell silent.
His mother quietly picked up the photograph.
She traced the handwriting with her thumb.
Almost...
As if it hurt to look at it.
Then she whispered something so softly that Chuka almost missed it.
"It should have been destroyed."
"What?"
She looked up immediately.
"Nothing."
Chuka stared at both of them.
He had come looking for answers.
Instead...
He had found more questions.
His father pressed a button on the intercom.
"Send him in."
The door opened.
An elderly man walked inside.
Gray hair.
Perfect posture.
Calm eyes.
He wasn't dressed like a bodyguard.
Nor like a businessman.
He looked...
Familiar.
Very familiar.
The old man smiled.
"Good morning, Master Chuka."
Master?
Nobody had called him that since he was a child.
Chuka frowned.
"Do I know you?"
The old man's smile faded.
"You don't remember me."
His mother quietly looked away.
His father said nothing.
Then the old man spoke the words that made Chuka's blood run cold.
"I was there the day you first met Amara."
The room fell into complete silence.
But Chuka was certain of one thing.
He had never met Amara in his life.
...Had he?
To be continued...
- Writer
