Chapter Ten: The Third Option
1336 Words
Zara Okafor-Briggs
London
11:37 p.m.
Emeka doesn't repeat the question.
He doesn't need to.
He stands in the hallway outside my bedroom, one hand resting lightly against the doorframe, waiting.
Patiently.
As though he already knows my answer will come.
Eventually.
I step aside.
"You should come in."
He looks at the room once, then shakes his head.
"No."
His voice is quiet.
"The hallway is better."
For some reason, I understand.
A bedroom feels too personal.
Too intimate.
The hallway belongs to neither of us.
Neutral ground.
I step back out and close the bedroom door behind me.
We sit opposite each other against the wall, separated by a few feet of polished wooden floor.
The apartment is silent.
The city beyond the windows has long since gone to sleep.
I fold my hands together.
Then I begin.
"I found something in my old room."
He doesn't react.
"A hidden compartment behind the bookshelf."
Still nothing.
"It belonged to Adaeze."
His eyes remain on me.
Listening.
Not speaking.
"It was a journal."
I tell him everything.
About the hidden compartment.
The faded cloth.
The handful of entries.
The last page.
The line that hasn't stopped echoing in my head.
"If anything happens to me, don't let them make you into what they made me."
His expression tightens.
Only slightly.
I continue.
"I overheard our fathers talking."
I describe the conversation in Lagos.
The fragments.
If the press had discovered where she went...
...or who she went with.
At least Zara knows nothing.
His jaw shifts once.
Barely noticeable.
Then I tell him about the initials.
"At first I thought it was only an M."
I look directly at him.
"It wasn't."
Silence.
"It was M.A."
I keep going before I lose my nerve.
"I searched your family."
"Michael."
The name hangs between us.
"He knew my name before the video call."
I hear my own breathing.
Steady.
Controlled.
"I think Adaeze told him about me."
The apartment falls completely silent.
I have finished.
Emeka hasn't moved once.
He hasn't interrupted.
He hasn't corrected me.
He simply...
Listened.
Minutes pass.
Or maybe only seconds.
Time has become unreliable.
Finally, he speaks.
"Yes."
One word.
Nothing more.
I wait.
Then—
"Michael and Adaeze were together."
The sentence lands gently.
It still changes everything.
"For how long?"
"Fourteen months."
Longer than I expected.
Long enough to become serious.
Long enough to become dangerous.
"They kept it hidden."
His voice remains calm.
"They believed they could manage it."
I almost laugh.
Not because it's amusing.
Because hope is always reckless.
"Our fathers found out."
"How?"
"I don't know."
He doesn't pretend otherwise.
"I was told after it happened."
I study him carefully.
"No."
I shake my head.
"There has to be more."
"There is."
He looks down briefly.
Then back at me.
"When the truth came out..."
His voice grows quieter.
"...both families treated it as betrayal."
I think of Chief Obiora.
Chief Dominic.
Pride.
Power.
Legacy.
Yes.
Of course they did.
"They blamed Michael."
"And Adaeze?"
"They blamed her too."
The answer hurts more than I expect.
I close my eyes briefly.
"They gave her a choice."
His words are slow.
Measured.
"As far as they were concerned..."
"...she could end the relationship."
A pause.
"Or continue and destroy both families."
I remember the journal.
I've made my decision.
My throat tightens.
"But she didn't choose either."
"No."
His eyes hold mine.
"She chose a third option."
My pulse quickens.
"She disappeared."
The room grows very still.
"With Michael's help."
Everything inside me stops.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
I forget to breathe.
Michael helped her.
He didn't abandon her.
He went with her.
Or helped her escape.
The possibilities rush through my mind all at once.
I whisper the question before I can stop myself.
"So they're..."
"I don't know where they are."
His answer comes immediately.
"I know only that they left together."
"And no one found them?"
"No."
I search his face desperately.
"Not even you?"
A faint shake of his head.
"No."
I believe him.
The realization surprises me.
I actually believe him.
He leans back against the wall.
For the first time since I've known him, he looks...
Tired.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
"I knew from the beginning."
I nod slowly.
"I figured that much."
"No."
He meets my eyes.
"I mean from the beginning."
I wait.
"The day my father proposed this marriage."
A pause.
"I already knew why."
Something shifts inside me.
"You agreed because of Michael."
"Partly."
He doesn't hide it.
"My father needed the story to end."
His gaze drifts toward the dark hallway.
"The scandal had become impossible to contain."
I understand.
Slowly.
Painfully.
"If there was another marriage..."
"...people would stop asking about the first."
Exactly.
Another engagement.
Another headline.
Another alliance.
Public attention moves forward.
People stop looking backward.
The missing daughter becomes yesterday's news.
I swallow hard.
"So I became the replacement."
"You became the future."
The correction is subtle.
But it matters.
More than I want it to.
"I didn't expect you to discover any of this."
His voice carries no accusation.
Only honesty.
"Certainly not this quickly."
I almost smile.
"My sister always underestimated how nosy I am."
Something changes.
Very briefly.
His mouth almost curves upward.
Almost.
"I can believe that."
It's the closest thing to humor we've shared.
Small.
Unexpected.
Real.
The silence that follows feels different.
Not empty.
Not hostile.
Just...
Shared.
We remain sitting on the hallway floor.
Neither of us in a hurry to leave.
For the first time since we met...
There are no masks.
No performances.
No carefully constructed answers.
Only two people carrying the consequences of choices they never made.
Eventually I speak.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He considers the question carefully.
"Because it wasn't my story."
Simple.
"I wasn't sure how much Michael would want shared."
"And now?"
"I still don't."
Fair.
Painfully fair.
Another long silence.
Then I ask the question that has lived inside me for days.
"Is she alive?"
He looks at me.
Really looks at me.
The answer takes several seconds.
Then—
"Yes."
The word is quiet.
Steady.
Certain.
The breath leaves my lungs all at once.
Alive.
Alive.
I hadn't realized how desperately I needed those five letters.
Tears sting unexpectedly behind my eyes.
I blink them away.
He pretends not to notice.
I appreciate that.
After another minute, he pushes himself to his feet.
I do the same.
He pauses outside my bedroom door.
One hand resting lightly against the frame.
Then he says the final sentence of the night.
"Your sister is safe."
A pause.
"That's all I can tell you tonight."
Tonight.
Not forever.
Tonight.
The distinction doesn't escape me.
He turns.
Walks quietly back toward his room.
His door closes softly.
I remain standing in the hallway.
Listening to the silence.
Only now...
It no longer feels threatening.
I don't sleep.
Again.
But this time, it isn't fear keeping me awake.
It isn't grief.
It isn't anger.
It is certainty.
For weeks, I've been fighting the wrong battle.
I thought this marriage was the story.
It isn't.
It never was.
It is only the consequence of another story.
One that began long before my father called me.
One that my sister died to protect—
No.
Not died.
Disappeared.
There is hope in that difference.
I walk to my bedroom window.
London glitters beneath the night sky.
Somewhere, Adaeze is alive.
Somewhere, Michael Adeyemi is with her.
And somewhere between those truths...
Is the reason both our families are still afraid.
I place my hand against the cool glass.
I won't waste my energy fighting this marriage anymore.
Not because I've surrendered.
Because I've finally understood something.
The game is far bigger than I imagined.
The marriage isn't the prison.
It's the doorway.
And if I want to find my sister...
If I want the truth...
Then I need to stop trying to escape.
I need to walk deeper into it.
Whatever waits there.
- Writer
