Unhidden

Chapter Ten-Jamal

Blessing’s birthday party was nothing like I expected.

Actually, that was a lie.

It was exactly what I expected.

Loud.

Expensive.

Beautiful.

Completely excessive.

There were cameras everywhere.

Photographers.

Entertainment reporters.

People filming on their phones.

Public figures.

Businesspeople.

Celebrities.

Influencers.

Everyone seemed to know everyone.

And Blessing?

She was having the time of her life.

She had spent weeks talking about this party, and now that the night had finally arrived, she was everywhere at once.

Dancing.

Laughing.

Greeting people.

Taking pictures.

Checking on the entertainment.

Checking on the food.

Checking on the champagne.

Checking on the guest list.

Then going right back to dancing.

She was impossible.

But she was happy.

And I was genuinely happy for her.

At one point, she came rushing toward me.

“Jamal!”

I barely had time to turn before she threw her arms around me.

I laughed and hugged her back.

“Happy birthday.”

“You came!”

“I told you I would.”

“I knew you would.”

She pulled away, smiling brightly.

“Come on. Picture.”

“Blessing—”

“Don’t argue.”

She grabbed my arm.

I laughed as she dragged me toward the photographers.

There were flashes everywhere.

One picture became five.

Five became twenty.

At some point, she leaned against me while laughing, and another photographer captured it.

I didn’t think anything of it.

It was her birthday.

She was happy.

I was happy for her.

That was it.

But I knew Andre.

And that was exactly why I hadn’t told him where I was.

It wasn’t because I was doing anything wrong.

I wasn’t.

But Andre could get jealous.

Very jealous.

And if I had told him, I’m at Blessing’s birthday party, and there are cameras everywhere, and I’m taking pictures with her, I already knew the conversation we’d have.

So I avoided it.

Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done.

But I knew my boyfriend.

And I didn’t want to spend Blessing’s birthday explaining every photograph before the photograph even existed.

By the time the party finally started winding down, I was exhausted.

I checked my phone.

There were several messages.

I saw Andre’s name.

I stared at it for a moment.

Then I put the phone away.

I would explain everything tomorrow.

At around four in the morning, I finally got home.

I barely remembered getting into bed.

I slept immediately.

⸻

Sunday morning came far too quickly.

I walked downstairs for breakfast still feeling exhausted.

My father was already seated at the table.

My mother was beside him.

Malik was there too.

The moment I sat down, my father looked at me.

“Did you have fun at Blessing’s party?”

I smiled.

“Yeah.”

Malik looked at me.

“We could see that.”

I frowned.

“What?”

He laughed.

“Look.”

He pushed a newspaper across the table.

I looked down.

And froze.

My face was on the front page.

Beside Blessing.

My stomach dropped.

The headline was enormous.

AMERICAN-NIGERIAN BUSINESSWOMAN BLESSING OSEDEBI CELEBRATES IN STYLE: THE NIGHT OF THE YEAR FOR THE NEXT GENERATION OF AFRICAN BUSINESS ELITE

I stared at it.

There were several photographs underneath.

Blessing dancing.

Blessing laughing.

Blessing surrounded by friends.

Blessing posing with her parents.

Then—

Me.

And Blessing.

Together.

Smiling.

The caption underneath made my stomach twist.

Jamal Carter and Blessing Osedebi spark fresh speculation as the two young business heirs enjoy the celebration together. Could this be Africa’s next multimillion-dollar power couple?

I closed my eyes.

“Oh, God.”

My father laughed.

“Look at that.”

He tapped the newspaper.

“You and Blessing look good together.”

I looked at him.

“Dad.”

“What?”

“It’s just a picture.”

“A very good picture.”

My mother smiled.

“You both look happy.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“This is ridiculous.”

My father leaned back.

“Why?”

“Because they’re making it seem like we’re dating.”

He laughed.

“The media sees what it sees.”

“They’re wrong.”

My father shrugged.

“Are they?”

I stared at him.

“Dad.”

He smiled.

“Jamal, Blessing is intelligent, beautiful, successful, and from a good family.”

I already knew where this was going.

“She’s also your friend.”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that they’re calling us a couple.”

My father picked up his coffee.

“Maybe they are simply seeing potential.”

I sighed.

“Please don’t start.”

Malik laughed.

My father looked completely pleased with himself.

“You two would make an excellent match.”

I pushed the newspaper away.

“No.”

My father raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t even have to decide anything now.”

“I’ve decided.”

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

I stood.

“I have some errands to run.”

My mother looked at me.

“On Sunday?”

“Yes.”

She studied me.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I forced a smile.

“I’ll be back later.”

But I wasn’t thinking about errands.

I was thinking about one person.

Andre.

Because I knew him.

I knew he had probably seen that picture.

And I knew he wasn’t going to like it.

I checked my phone once.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

I checked a third time.

Still nothing.

That silence was worse than an angry message.

I grabbed my keys.

⸻

I drove straight to Andre’s apartment.

I knew he was home.

I knew his schedule.

After three years, I knew his routine almost as well as he knew mine.

And, yes, I had a key.

I let myself in.

“Hey, Dre.”

No response.

I walked farther inside.

Then I smelled food.

I followed the smell into the kitchen.

Andre was standing at the counter cooking.

He looked up.

And the moment he saw me, his expression changed.

Then his eyes moved toward the newspaper sitting on the counter.

I knew.

Oh, God.

“Mal,” he said quietly.

I froze.

“Don’t start with me.”

I swallowed.

“Dre—”

“Just don’t start with me, Jamal.”

I stepped closer.

“This is why you didn’t tell me whose party you were at?”

“Dre, it’s nothing serious.”

He laughed once.

Not because anything was funny.

“It’s nothing serious?”

I knew that voice.

Calm.

Too calm.

That was Andre’s dangerous voice.

He continued cooking.

“My boyfriend is on the cover of a newspaper with another woman.”

He looked at me.

“And they’re calling them a power couple.”

I opened my mouth.

“Do you think—”

“No.”

He shook his head.

“Do you think this is appropriate?”

“Dre, no. But I—”

“Don’t.”

He turned back toward the stove.

“Baby, please don’t start.”

I moved closer.

“Baby, it’s nothing.”

He didn’t answer.

“You know that I love you, right?”

“Jamal.”

He kept cooking.

“Just don’t start.”

I went quiet.

His silence was worse than shouting.

I knew Andre.

When he was yelling, at least I knew what he was feeling.

When he got quiet?

That was when I knew he was really angry.

He put something onto a plate.

Then another.

He was just cooking like I wasn’t standing there.

“Baby…”

Nothing.

“Dre.”

Still nothing.

I moved closer.

“Please.”

Finally, he spoke.

“I’m pissed.”

I swallowed.

“And I’m mad.”

He turned around.

“I just don’t want to get it out right now.”

I nodded slowly.

“But Dre…”

“Not now.”

“But I came here to spend the whole day with you.”

He looked at me.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“Or did you come here to make sure I knew that the newspaper wasn’t what I think it is?”

I blinked.

“It’s the same thing.”

He gave me a look.

I smiled cautiously.

“I just want to spend time with you, Papa Bear.”

“Stop.”

I smiled.

“You’re my firefighter.”

“Baby, no.”

“My handsome firefighter.”

“Jamal.”

“My risk taker.”

He shook his head.

I knew that look.

He was trying so hard not to smile.

And I knew him too.

I knew exactly where his weaknesses were.

So I walked closer.

He was sitting on the kitchen island now.

I stepped between his knees and looked up at him.

“Dre.”

He looked away.

“Baby, look at me.”

“No.”

I laughed softly.

“You’re mad.”

“Yes.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“But it’s nothing.”

He finally looked at me.

“I love you.”

His expression softened slightly.

I smiled.

“My handsome firefighter.”

He sighed.

“Don’t.”

“My favorite man.”

“Jamal.”

“My brave man.”

He shook his head.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“Baby, I love you.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“You’re annoying.”

“I know.”

“You’re very annoying.”

“I know.”

“And you’re lucky I love you.”

I smiled.

“I know that too.”

He finally sighed.

Then his arms came around my waist.

I smiled against his shoulder.

There.

That was my Andre.

Still angry.

Still hurt.

But holding me anyway.

I knew I had work to do.

I knew the newspaper had made everything worse.

And I knew I should have told him about the party.

But standing there in his arms, I also knew one thing for certain.

Whatever the newspaper said—

whatever the cameras captured—

whatever anyone else thought—

Blessing wasn’t the woman I loved.

Andre was.

And somehow, I was going to have to make him believe that.