The Night He Died
1999 Words
Chapter 5
But now, for the first time, I wondered if there had been another story buried underneath it.
And if Damian knew that story...
Then maybe the man I had spent three years hating wasn't the only person who had been lying to me.
Maybe he wasn't even the person I should have been afraid of.
I picked up my phone with trembling hands.
There was one person I needed to see.
And for the first time since Damian returned, I wasn't going to ask him why he broke my heart.
I was going to ask him what happened to my father.
Because whatever the answer was
someone had just warned me to stop looking for it.
And that meant I was already too close.
Chapter 5
The Night He Died
There are moments when the truth doesn't arrive like an answer.
It arrives like a threat.
That was how it felt sitting alone in my apartment with an unknown number on my screen and my father's name sitting somewhere in the middle of a story I had never known existed.
I didn't know how long I sat there.
Maybe ten minutes.
Maybe an hour.
The city outside my window continued as though nothing had changed.
But something had.
My father's death had always been the one thing in my life I never questioned.
He had been sick.
He had gotten worse.
He had been taken to the hospital.
He died.
That was the story.
Simple.
Painful.
Complete.
Except now it wasn't complete anymore.
I picked up my phone.
My fingers hovered over Damian's name.
I didn't want to call him.
I needed to.
There was a difference.
I pressed his name.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
He answered.
Amara.
His voice sounded tired.
Where are you?
A pause.
Why?
I need to see you.
Another pause.
Are you okay?
No.
He didn't ask anything else.
Send me your location.
I know where your office is.
Silence.
Then he said,
I'll send you the address.
The call ended.
I grabbed my bag.
Before I left, I stopped in front of the mirror.
My eyes looked tired.
My face looked calm.
I almost laughed.
I had become very good at looking fine.
Three years of heartbreak had taught me that.
---
Damian's office was on one of the upper floors of a glass building overlooking part of Lagos.
I had been there once.
Three years ago.
Back then, it had been a half-empty office with secondhand furniture and a broken air conditioner that Damian kept promising to replace.
Now it looked like something from a business magazine.
Glass walls.
Dark wood.
Expensive furniture.
People moving around with laptops and phones.
Everything was polished.
Everything looked successful.
Everything looked nothing like the man I remembered.
A woman at the reception desk looked up.
Good afternoon. Do you have an appointment?
I'm here to see Damian Cole.
She glanced at her computer.
Your name?
Amara Adeyemi.
Her eyes flickered briefly.
She looked at me again.
Then she picked up the phone.
"Mr. Cole, Ms. Adeyemi is here."
A pause.
Yes, sir.
She hung up.
He'll see you.
I thanked her.
As I walked toward his office, I wondered how many people in this building knew my name.
How many knew I was the woman Damian Cole had once loved?
How many knew I had been there before the money?
Before the company.
Before the tailored suits and glass walls.
Before he became someone everyone wanted to know.
I knocked.
Come in.
I opened the door.
Damian was standing beside the window.
His jacket was off.
His sleeves were rolled up.
He looked over his shoulder.
The moment his eyes met mine, something softened in his expression.
It disappeared quickly.
You came.
Don't sound surprised.
I'm not.
I closed the door.
He walked toward his desk.
Sit.
I'd rather stand.
He stopped.
Okay.
I took a breath.
What happened the night my father died?
His expression changed.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
I knew you'd ask.
Then answer me.
He looked at me for a long moment.
I wasn't there.
That's not what I asked.
I know.
You said he knew about us.
He did.
How?
Damian walked around his desk.
He came to see me.
When?
Three weeks before he died.
Why?
To talk about you.
My stomach tightened.
What did he say?
Damian was silent.
I stepped closer.
You can't keep doing this.
I'm not trying to.
Then tell me.
He looked down.
Your father asked me to leave you.
The room became completely silent.
I stared at him.
Why?
He didn't trust me.
Why?
He knew what I was becoming.
I frowned.
What does that mean?
He knew I was getting involved with people who weren't good for me.
My heartbeat quickened.
People?
Damian nodded.
Business associates.
Criminals?
His eyes met mine.
He didn't answer.
That was enough.
I stepped back.
Who were you involved with?
It wasn't what you think.
That's what everyone says when it is exactly what you think.
Amara.
No.
I shook my head.
You don't get to give me pieces of the truth and expect me to be grateful.
I know.
Who were they?
Damian walked toward the window.
There was a man.
Who?
His name was Victor.
Victor what?
Victor Dampson.
I waited.
Damian's face had gone cold.
He had money. Connections. Influence. He could open doors for people.
And you wanted one opened.
I was young.
So you worked with him.
I made a deal with him.
What kind of deal?
Damian turned around.
The kind of deal you make when you're desperate enough to believe you can control the consequences.
I stared at him.
What did he want?
Money.
And what did you want?
Investment.
For your company?
Yes.
Did my father find out?
Eventually.
And that's why he wanted you away from me?
Damian shook his head.
Not exactly.
I frowned.
Then what?
He found out Victor had become interested in you.
The words made my skin crawl.
What?
Damian's voice dropped.
He knew about you.
Why?
Because I talked about you.
I stared at him.
Why would you do that?
Because I was stupid.
That's not an answer.
I was proud of you.
My anger faltered.
He continued.
I talked about you. Your family. Your dreams. Your plans.
My throat tightened.
And Victor remembered.
I stared at him.
Remembered what?
That you existed.
A chill ran down my spine.
Did he ever meet me?
No.
Did he ever see me?
I don't know.
Damian.
I don't know.
I turned away.
My mind was racing.
All those years.
All those memories.
The breakup.
My father's death.
The warning.
The unknown number.
It was beginning to connect.
But there were still pieces missing.
Why didn't you tell me?
Because I thought keeping you away from me would keep you safe.
You could have told me.
Would you have listened?
I looked at him.
He didn't wait for an answer.
You loved me.
Yes.
You would have followed me.
Maybe.
You would have tried to help.
Definitely.
His jaw tightened.
And that's exactly what I was afraid of.
I looked away.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked,
Did my father know about Victor?
Yes.
How?
He came to me after he found out.
What did he say?
Damian's expression changed.
He said if I really loved you, I would disappear.
I swallowed.
And you listened.
Yes.
You broke my heart because of him.
I broke your heart because I believed it was the only way to keep you alive.
I stared at him.
Did my father know you were going to break up with me?
Yes.
Did he ask you to do it?
Damian hesitated.
Then
No.
I frowned.
No?
He didn't ask me to break your heart.
Then what did he ask you to do?
Disappear.
I laughed bitterly.
And you decided the best way to disappear was to make me hate you.
He didn't deny it.
I needed you to stop looking for me.
That worked.
I know.
No, Damian.
My voice broke.
You don't know.
He looked at me.
You don't know what it did to me.
His expression tightened.
I know I hurt you.
You don't.
I do.
No.
Tears filled my eyes.
You don't know what it felt like to think I wasn't enough.
His face changed.
You were never the problem.
Then why didn't you tell me?
Because every time I tried, I imagined you getting involved.
You should have trusted me.
I trusted you.
Then why didn't you tell me?
Because I didn't trust myself.
The answer stopped me.
He looked away.
I didn't trust myself to choose you over everything else.
My heart hurt.
Not because I wanted him back.
Not because I suddenly forgave him.
But because some part of me had spent three years believing he had left because I wasn't worth staying for.
And now I was learning that perhaps he had left because he thought staying would put me in danger.
That didn't make what he did right.
It only made it harder to hate him.
I wiped my cheek.
What happened to Victor?
Damian's expression hardened.
He disappeared.
When?
A few months before your father died.
Disappeared how?
No one knows.
I stared at him.
Did he die?
I don't know.
Do you?
He looked directly at me.
No.
I believed him.
At least, I wanted to.
Then I remembered the message.
Ask Damian what happened the night your father died.
I stepped closer.
Damian.
Hmm?
Where were you the night my father died?
He didn't answer.
My heart sank.
Where were you?
He looked down.
At the hospital.
My entire body went still.
What?
I was there.
When?
The night he died.
I stared at him.
You were at the hospital?
Yes.
Why?
I went to see him.
Did he ask you to come?
No.
Then why were you there?
He didn't answer.
Damian.
His eyes met mine.
Because I knew he was going to die.
My breathing stopped.
How?
He looked away.
I received a call.
From who?
Someone who told me your father had been taken to the hospital.
Who?
I don't know.
I stared at him.
You're lying.
I'm not.
Then what happened?
His face became unreadable.
I went there.
And?
I saw your father.
Did he speak to you?
Yes.
What did he say?
Damian swallowed.
He told me to leave.
My chest tightened.
That's all?
No.
What else?
He looked at me.
He told me not to let you find out.
Find out what?
He didn't answer.
Damian.
I'm sorry.
No.
I stepped back.
No more.
He moved toward me.
Amara
No.
I raised my hand.
You've had three years to tell me.
I know.
You knew my father was dying.
I know.
You were at the hospital.
Yes.
And you never told me.
I was trying to honor his last request.
I stared at him.
Then something clicked.
What did he say exactly?
Damian was silent.
What did my father say?
He closed his eyes.
Then he whispered,
He said, 'If she ever asks you why you left her, tell her it was because I asked you to.'
I couldn't move.
My father had known.
My father had watched me suffer.
And somehow, he had chosen silence.
I shook my head.
No.
Amara.
No.
I backed toward the door.
My father would never do that.
He was trying to protect you.
By letting me believe I wasn't loved?
Damian's face fell.
I didn't know what else to do.
You could have told me the truth.
I couldn't.
You chose to let me hate you.
Yes.
Why?
He looked at me.
And this time, there was no hesitation in his eyes.
Because if you hated me, you would stay away from me.
My hand found the doorknob.
I opened it.
Before I stepped out, I turned around.
One question.
He waited.
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