The Missing Night
1973 Words
Chapter 6
Did my father know he was going to die?
Damian's expression changed.
I don't know.
You were there!
I know.
Then how don't you know?
He looked at me for a long time.
Because by the time I arrived, he was already unconscious.
I stared at him.
Something didn't feel right.
Not with his answer
Not with the story.
Not with anything.
I left without saying goodbye.
---
Outside the building, I stood on the pavement trying to breathe.
The Lagos heat hit my face.
Cars moved pass me.
People walked around me.
Nobody knew that the world I had understood for six years just cracked open.
My father had known.
Damian had been there.
There had been another man.
Victor.
And someone had warned me to stop asking questions.
I pulled out my phone.
I opened the unknown number.
My thumb hovered over the message.
Then another message arrived.
You spoke to him.
I froze.
My heart began pounding.
Another message.
Now ask him what he was carrying when he left the hospital?
I stared at the screen.
What he was carrying?
I looked back at the glass building.
Damian was still inside.
And suddenly, one thought enter my mind.
What if the person threatening me wasn't afraid of what Damian knew?
What if they were afraid of what he still had?
I turned toward the building.
For the first time, I wasn't running from Damian.
I was running back to him.
Because whatever happened the night my father died....
Damian had taken something from that hospital.
And someone desperately wanted to know whether I had discovered what it was.
---
Chapter 6
The Missing Night
I turned around before I reached the entrance.
I didn't know what I was going to say to Damian.
I only knew I needed answers.
But when I stepped back into the building, the receptionist looked at me with surprise.
Ms. Adeyemi?
I need to see Mr. Cole again.
She hesitated.
He's in a meeting.
Tell him it's urgent.
She picked up the phone.
Mr. Cole, Ms. Adeyemi is here again. She says it's urgent.
A pause.
Then she looked at me.
Yes, sir.
She put the phone down.
He said you can go up.
I didn't thank her.
I walked straight toward the elevator.
My reflection stared back at me from the polished doors.
I looked calm.
I wasn't.
My mind was running in circles.
What was he carrying?
The message had been clear.
Someone knew I had spoken to Damian.
Someone knew about the hospital.
And someone wanted me to ask about what he had taken from there.
But why?
What could Damian possibly have taken from a hospital that was important enough for someone to threaten me over?
I stepped out of the elevator.
His office door was open.
Damian stood behind his desk.
He looked up.
The moment he saw my face, his expression changed.
What happened?
I closed the door behind me.
What were you carrying?
He went still.
I watched him carefully.
Who told you?
Answer me.
Amara
What were you carrying when you left the hospital?
He said nothing.
That was answer enough.
I walked closer.
You knew someone would ask me that.
His jaw tightened.
Who sent you the message?
That's not important.
It is if they're threatening you.
They aren't threatening me.
His eyes hardened.
Then what do you call it?
I looked away.
An invitation.
To what?
The truth.
He stared at me.
Then he walked around the desk.
Show me.
I hesitated.
Show me the message.
I unlocked my phone and handed it to him.
He read it.
His face changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
I saw it immediately.
You know this person.
No.
Don't lie.
I don't know who sent it.
But you know what they're talking about.
He looked at the screen again.
Yes.
My heart sank.
What were you carrying?
He didn't answer.
Damian.
I can't tell you.
I laughed.
You really love those words.
I'm serious.
So am I.
He returned my phone.
You need to stay away from this.
No.
Amara.
No.
I stepped closer.
For three years, you made decisions for me. You decided what I should know. You decided what I could handle. You decided that breaking my heart was better than telling me the truth.
He looked at me.
I won't let you do it again.
I am trying to keep you safe.
Then tell me the truth.
I can't.
Why?
Because knowing puts you in danger.
I shook my head.
Do you hear yourself?
Yes.
And you still think that makes sense?
Yes.
I stared at him.
He looked completely serious.
That frightened me.
Because Damian wasn't trying to manipulate me.
He genuinely believed there was something dangerous enough to justify all the lies.
What was in your hand when you left that hospital?
He looked toward the window.
Something your father gave me.
My breath caught.
What?
I can't tell you.
Did he give you a document?
Silence.
A phone?
Nothing.
A letter?
His eyes met mine.
I knew.
It was a letter.
What did it say?
I never read it.
I frowned.
You never read it?
No.
Then why did you take it?
Because he asked me to.
What was in it?
I don't know.
I studied his face.
He was telling the truth.
At least this time.
Where is it?
He didn't answer.
Damian.
I don't have it.
Where is it?
I gave it to someone.
Who?
He looked away.
Who?
Your sister.
Everything stopped.
Nia?
He nodded.
When?
The day after your father died.
I stared at him.
My sister has a letter from my father?
Yes.
Why?
Because he told me to give it to her.
Why didn't she give it to me?
I don't know.
I stepped backward.
Suddenly, the strange silence in Nia's voice made sense.
The promise.
The warning.
Everything.
Does she know what's inside?
I don't know.
But she has it.
Yes.
I turned toward the door.
Amara.
I stopped.
Don't go to her angry.
I looked over my shoulder.
Why?
Because she didn't make the decision alone.
My stomach dropped.
Who did?
He didn't answer.
I stared at him.
Who decided I shouldn't see the letter?
His expression was unreadable.
Your father.
I shook my head.
No.
Amara
No.
I opened the door.
If my father wrote something to me, it belongs to me.
I left.
---
I drove straight to Nia's house.
I called her twice.
She didn't answer.
The third time, I stopped calling.
I knew she was avoiding me.
When I arrived, I didn't knock gently.
I hit the door twice.
She opened it almost immediately.
Her face fell when she saw me.
You went back to him.
Where is it?
She stared at me.
The letter.
Her silence confirmed everything.
Where is it, Nia?
Amara...
Where is Dad's letter?
She stepped aside.
Come in.
No.
I stayed outside.
I don't want to come in.
She looked at me sadly.
Please.
I stepped inside.
She closed the door.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she walked to a cabinet.
Opened it.
Moved some papers.
Pulled out a small brown envelope.
My heart stopped.
There it was.
My father's handwriting.
My name.
Amara.
I stared at it.
Six years.
Six years of wondering what my father would have said if he'd had more time.
Six years of thinking there were no words left from him.
And now I was standing in front of a letter addressed to me.
Why?
Nia looked down.
He made me promise.
To hide this?
Until the right time.
What right time?
She didn't answer.
Six years wasn't enough?
I thought it was.
You thought?
She swallowed.
I was scared.
Of what?
I don't know.
I reached for the envelope.
She didn't stop me.
My fingers touched the paper.
Then she said,
Amara.
I looked at her.
If you open that letter, everything changes.
I almost laughed.
Everything has already changed.
She closed her eyes.
Maybe.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
My father's handwriting was immediately recognizable.
My hands began to shake.
I unfolded it.
There were only a few lines.
I read the first sentence.
Then the second.
And by the third, I couldn't breathe.
"My dear Amara,
If you are reading this, then either I am no longer here, or the truth has finally found its way to you."
My eyes blurred.
I continued.
"There is something I need you to understand about Damian. What he did to you was not done because he stopped loving you."
My heart slammed against my chest.
I looked at Nia.
She was crying.
I looked back at the letter.
"I asked him to leave you."
My fingers tightened around the paper.
That was exactly what Damian had told me.
But then I reached the next line.
And everything changed.
"But I did not ask him to leave because I believed he was dangerous."
I stopped.
My eyes moved across the words again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As though reading them differently would change what they said.
They didn't.
I continued.
"I asked him to leave because someone else was watching you."
My breath caught.
Someone else?
Nia looked away.
I kept reading.
"I had already made a mistake once. I would not make another one with my daughter."
My hands were trembling now.
Damian knows who that person is.
I looked up.
Who?
Nia shook her head.
I don't know.
Don't lie to me.
I swear.
I looked back at the letter.
There was one final paragraph.
(Amara, if Damian ever returns to you, do not judge him by the reason he gives you for leaving. Ask him what he sacrificed to keep you safe. The answer will tell you whether he truly loved you or whether I was wrong to trust him.)
I stared at the page.
Then I noticed something.
There was no signature.
No Dad.
Nothing.
Just empty space beneath the last sentence.
That's it?
Nia nodded.
That's all.
I turned the paper over.
Nothing.
I looked inside the envelope.
Empty.
Then I noticed something written on the back flap.
A date.
I read it.
My stomach dropped.
It was dated three years ago.
The exact week Damian ended our relationship.
I looked at Nia.
This letter wasn't written when Dad died.
She went silent.
What?
She didn't answer.
Nia.
I know.
My pulse quickened.
But Dad died six years ago.
I know.
Then why is this dated three years ago?
She looked at me.
I don't know.
Who wrote this?
Her eyes filled with tears.
Amara...
Who wrote this?
I don't know.
I stepped back.
No.
My mind raced.
My father's handwriting.
Yes.
But the date
I know.
He was dead.
I know.
Then how?
She shook her head.
I don't know.
I stared at the letter.
For the first time, I wondered whether the person who had been speaking through it was really my father.
Or whether someone had learned to imitate him.
Someone who knew exactly how to reopen an old wound.
Someone who knew about Damian.
Someone who knew about me.
Someone who had access to my father's handwriting.
I looked at Nia.
Where did you get this?
She swallowed.
Damian gave it to me.
When?
Three years ago.
My blood ran cold.
The day he left?
She nodded.
Why didn't you tell me?
Because Damian made me promise.
And you agreed?
I was afraid.
Of Damian?
No.
Her voice cracked.
Of what would happen if you knew.
I stared at her.
Then tell me.
I can't.
I laughed bitterly.
Everyone keeps saying that.
She reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
I trusted you.
I know.
You let me spend three years hating myself.
I know.
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