Chapter Five: What Was Left Behind
1399 Words
Zara Okafor-Briggs
Lagos
7:03 a.m.
I don't sleep.
Not really.
I lie in bed.
I close my eyes.
Hours pass.
The ceiling fan turns slowly above me.
Round and round.
Round and round.
The same way my thoughts move.
If the press had discovered where she went.
Or who she went with.
I hear the words again.
Then again.
And again.
By morning, they have become impossible to ignore.
I sit up before sunrise.
The house is quiet.
For once, the silence doesn't feel peaceful.
It feels deliberate.
Like everyone here is participating in a secret I was never supposed to notice.
I reach for my phone.
Find Adaeze's number.
And press call.
My stomach knots immediately.
One ring.
Then—
Straight to voicemail.
I end the call.
Try again.
The same thing.
Again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
I stare at the screen.
Adaeze has always answered eventually.
Even when she was angry.
Even when we weren't speaking much.
Even when she was halfway across the world.
Eventually, she answered.
Always.
I open w******p.
Her profile picture is gone.
No status.
No updates.
Nothing.
A blank circle.
Cold unease settles inside me.
I move to i********:.
Search her name.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
I try another account.
Still nothing.
Facebook.
Nothing.
LinkedIn.
Gone.
Everything gone.
Not inactive.
Gone.
Deleted.
As though she erased herself from existence.
I sit perfectly still.
Because suddenly this feels larger than family drama.
Larger than a cancelled engagement.
Larger than embarrassment.
People don't disappear like this.
Not Adaeze.
Not without a reason.
And definitely not without telling me.
Unless she couldn't.
The thought arrives quietly.
I reject it immediately.
Then it returns.
Stronger.
I set the phone down.
My hands are trembling.
Only slightly.
Enough.
Downstairs, breakfast is already being served.
The dining room is flooded with sunlight.
Fresh fruit.
Coffee.
Toast.
The normal rituals of wealthy families pretending nothing is wrong.
My mother sits at the far end of the table.
Reading something on her tablet.
Perfect posture.
Perfect composure.
Perfect silence.
I pour coffee.
Wait.
Then decide to try.
Carefully.
Very carefully.
"Have you spoken to Adaeze recently?"
The effect is immediate.
Too immediate.
Her hand freezes.
Just for a second.
Then continues moving.
There.
Confirmation.
Something.
Something is wrong.
She doesn't look up.
"Why?"
I keep my voice neutral.
"Curious."
A lie.
A terrible one.
My mother knows it immediately.
"There's no reason to be curious."
I stir my coffee.
"She's my sister."
"Yes."
Nothing more.
The conversation hangs there.
Uncomfortable.
Artificial.
I push slightly.
"When was the last time you heard from her?"
Now she looks up.
And that is when I know.
Because my mother is a woman who rarely shows emotion.
But something flashes across her face.
Fear.
Gone instantly.
But I see it.
I absolutely see it.
"Zara."
The warning is soft.
Which makes it worse.
"What?"
"Leave it alone."
My pulse quickens.
"Why?"
Her jaw tightens.
"Because I asked you to."
And there it is.
The wall.
Sudden.
Absolute.
Non-negotiable.
The conversation ends.
Not naturally.
Forcefully.
Like someone slamming a door.
I look away first.
Because if I don't, I'll start asking questions neither of us wants answered.
The rest of breakfast passes in silence.
But the damage is done.
Because my mother has confirmed what I already suspected.
Something happened.
And everyone knows except me.
The announcement comes after lunch.
Naturally.
As though discussing travel plans.
As though discussing weather.
My father summons me to his office.
I stand.
He remains seated.
Power likes elevation.
"We've finalized arrangements."
I already hate the sentence.
"For what?"
"London."
I blink.
"What?"
"You and Emeka leave in two days."
The words land heavily.
Two days.
Forty-eight hours.
That's all.
My father continues.
"The engagement has been announced."
I stare at him.
"The public expects to see you together."
The public.
Of course.
Always the public.
Always the image.
Always the performance.
"You've decided where I'm living now too?"
His expression doesn't change.
"The apartment has already been prepared."
I laugh once.
A sharp sound.
Not amusement.
Disbelief.
"Naturally."
"London offers neutral ground."
Neutral.
Interesting word.
As though I'm Switzerland.
As though my life is a diplomatic agreement.
I leave before the argument becomes pointless.
Which is immediately.
The rest of the afternoon disappears into a haze of frustration.
I call Adaeze again.
Nothing.
Search again.
Nothing.
Every path ends at a wall.
Every answer creates another question.
By evening, I feel as though I'm unraveling.
Not visibly.
Internally.
The dangerous kind.
The kind nobody notices until it's too late.
The garden offers temporary relief.
At least that's what I tell myself.
The compound is beautiful at sunset.
Palm trees.
Flowering hedges.
Stone pathways.
Everything manicured.
Everything controlled.
Much like the family that owns it.
I sit alone beneath a jacaranda tree.
Watching shadows lengthen across the grass.
Trying not to think.
Failing spectacularly.
A car enters the compound.
I barely glance up.
Then recognize it.
Black.
Luxury sedan.
Adeyemi security detail.
Wonderful.
A few minutes later, I see him.
Emeka.
Walking toward the main house.
Dark suit.
No tie.
Purposeful stride.
Not rushed.
Never rushed.
Someone like him probably schedules breathing.
I look away.
The meeting inside lasts over an hour.
Business.
Logistics.
Wedding arrangements.
Whatever powerful men discuss when rearranging other people's lives.
The sky darkens.
Lights illuminate the garden.
I remain where I am.
Because honestly, I don't want to be inside.
Eventually footsteps approach.
I don't need to look.
I already know.
Emeka stops a few feet away.
Neither of us speaks immediately.
The silence isn't awkward anymore.
Which is alarming.
"You're still here."
I glance up.
"Observant."
His gaze remains on me.
Steady.
Evaluating.
Then he says quietly:
"Something happened."
Not a question.
A statement.
I instantly become defensive.
"What makes you think that?"
A slight pause.
"You've been angry since we met."
I narrow my eyes.
"Thank you."
"Today you're distracted."
The accuracy annoys me.
I look away.
He doesn't push.
Doesn't ask.
Doesn't pry.
Instead, he says something else entirely.
Something that freezes me instantly.
"Whatever you're looking for..."
A pause.
Then—
"...be careful how you find it."
My heartbeat stutters.
Once.
Hard.
I turn toward him fully.
"What does that mean?"
His expression reveals nothing.
Nothing.
The same controlled mask.
The same impossible calm.
"Exactly what I said."
The garden suddenly feels colder.
I stare at him.
He stares back.
And for the first time, a possibility forms clearly.
He knows.
Not everything.
Maybe not.
But something.
Something about Adaeze.
Something important.
"Do you know where she is?"
The question escapes before I can stop it.
His face doesn't change.
Not even slightly.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Because now I know he expected the question.
A long silence follows.
Then he answers.
"No."
Not yes.
Not no, she is safe.
Not no, she is fine.
Just—
No.
I hate how carefully constructed that answer sounds.
He checks his watch.
Then steps back.
"I should leave."
I stand.
Frustration surges instantly.
"That's it?"
His gaze lingers briefly.
Then—
"Goodnight, Zara."
And just like that, he walks away.
Leaving me with more questions than before.
Again.
I watch until his car disappears beyond the gates.
Then remain standing there long after.
Because one thing has become painfully obvious.
Emeka knows more than he's saying.
The question is why.
Later that night, I return to my childhood bedroom.
Restless.
Agitated.
Unable to stop thinking.
I stare around the room.
The bookshelf.
The dresser.
The old desk.
Memories everywhere.
Most unwanted.
Something pulls at me.
Instinct.
Curiosity.
Desperation.
Maybe all three.
I walk toward the bookshelf.
Run my fingers along the edge.
Dust gathers against my skin.
I frown.
This shelf used to connect to Adaeze's room through a hidden storage compartment.
We discovered it as children.
A ridiculous secret passage for two girls with too much imagination.
I kneel.
Look closer.
My pulse begins to quicken.
The panel isn't fully closed.
Barely noticeable.
But enough.
I slide my fingers into the gap.
And pull.
The hidden compartment opens.
A rush of stale air escapes.
Inside sits a small object wrapped in faded cloth.
Forgotten.
Hidden.
Waiting.
My hands suddenly feel cold.
Slowly, carefully, I lift it out.
And in that instant, before I've even unwrapped it, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
Whatever Adaeze left behind...
She never intended anyone to find it.
- Writer
