SOFT LIFE, HARD TRUTH
486 Words
Chapter Seven:
Rhodesia made the call two days after she ran into Khalil.
Her voice was flat. “I’m in.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then Khalil responded with that same calm confidence that had once broken her heart.
“Good girl. Send me your account details.”
Within an hour, ₦1.5 million landed in her account.
That night, she packed her things, deleted her blog, and disappeared from campus.
The soft life began immediately.
First stop: Paris.
Eiffel Tower selfies. Designer shades. Gold anklets. Nights in hotel rooms with ceilings higher than dreams.
Khalil took her to places she had only ever saved on Pinterest Santorini, Dubai, Morocco. She shopped in malls where price tags didn’t exist. They dined at places where menus had no naira signs.
Her new i********: was fire.
@Rho.xx
Captions: “Unbothered.” “His peace and his problem.” “Flew out, not stressed out.”
She no longer attended lectures.
Instead, she sent ₦100k to her course rep every test week. She whispered into the ears of “willing” lecturers. Some asked for money. Others for favors. She gave both. Quietly. Quickly.
She had stopped caring.
As long as she had Khalil, she had options.
He gave her a car. An apartment in Lekki. An iPhone 15 Pro Max. He added her name to one of his companies as “digital consultant” even though she never worked a day.
And still, he whispered:
“You’re mine now. Fully. No secrets.”
Rhodesia didn’t ask about his wife anymore. She didn’t care.
She had turned cold to everything she once feared.
But by final semester, her body began to change.
At first, she blamed the stress. The travel. The time zones.
Then came the nausea. The skipped period. The dizziness after meals.
She went to a private clinic in Victoria Island and sat alone, wrapped in a long black hoodie.
The nurse walked in with a smile.
“Congratulations, Miss. You’re 7 weeks pregnant.”
Rhodesia blinked.
“Pregnant?”
The walls tilted. Her stomach churned.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not now.
Not with him.
Not again.
She drove home in silence. The Lagos traffic felt louder than usual. Her hands trembled against the wheel.
When she entered Khalil’s penthouse, he was shirtless, drinking whiskey, scrolling his phone.
“I’m pregnant,” she said quietly.
He didn’t look up right away.
“And?”
She blinked. “What do you mean and?”
“I mean… what do you want me to say? I have kids already. Another one won’t kill me.”
She stepped back. “So, what? You’ll tell your wife?”
Khalil laughed bitterly. “Rhodesia, my wife doesn’t even ask anymore. She’s used to this.”
Something shattered in her chest.
This was the man she thought would save her.
But he had no heart left to give.
- Writer
