Drowning In Debts
1130 Words
Zara gripped the edge of the worn-out counter, her knuckles white as she fought to steady her breath. The small convenience store reeked of sweat and desperation—hers.
The fluorescent light above flickered, casting eerie shadows across the cracked tiles. The air was thick, suffocating, as if it carried the weight of all the unpaid debts in this part of town.
“Miss, we can’t keep letting this slide,” the shopkeeper muttered, eyeing her with poorly concealed pity. “You’ve been owing for weeks.”
Zara’s throat tightened. How many times had she heard those words? From the shopkeeper. From her landlord. From the debt collectors who had become an unavoidable part of her life.
“I—I just need a little more time,” she stammered, her fingers tightening around the bag of rice as if it were a lifeline.
The bag was small, barely enough to last three days. But when you had nothing, even a handful of grains felt like salvation.
A sharp laugh sliced through the tense air.
“Time?” a deep, sneering voice echoed behind her.
Zara’s blood turned cold.
She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Jide.
The loan shark’s right-hand man.
A brute with dead eyes, a permanent smirk, and a reputation for breaking kneecaps. His very presence sucked the air from the room, making the tiny store feel even smaller.
Zara swallowed hard as he stepped closer, his cologne mingling with the stale air, turning her stomach.
“We’ve been patient, Zara,” he murmured, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “But patience doesn’t pay debts.”
Her pulse thundered. “I—I swear, I just need a few more days—”
A hand clamped around her wrist.
Zara gasped.
The shopkeeper shrank back, pretending not to see. The few customers in the store did the same. That was how it worked. No one interfered.
Jide leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Boss doesn’t like being disrespected. You owe five million, sweetheart. Do you know what happens to people who don’t pay their debts?”
Zara did.
She had seen the horror stories. The businesses burned down. The people who simply… disappeared.
Terror clawed at her throat, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I just need more time,” she whispered.
Jide tsked. “Time’s up.”
Then he yanked her forward.
The rice slipped from her grip, bursting across the floor. Her knees hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her legs, but she barely noticed. All she felt was dread, thick and suffocating.
Not here. Not in public.
She struggled against his grip, but Jide was stronger.
“Please,” she gasped.
He sighed. “You don’t have five million. But I hear desperate girls like you find other ways to pay.”
Her stomach turned.
Jide reached out, running a finger along her jaw—
The shop bell chimed.
The air shifted.
Everything stopped.
Jide’s hand froze mid-air. His grip loosened. The shopkeeper straightened in alarm.
A shadow fell over them.
Zara didn’t dare move.
“Let. Her. Go.”
The voice was deep, smooth—deadly.
Jide hesitated for half a second before releasing her like she was a piece of trash.
Zara gasped for air, scrambling back, her pulse a wild storm. She turned—and the moment her eyes met his, the world tilted.
Kian Duru.
Tall. Powerful. Ice-cold.
He wasn’t just rich—he was ruthless. A man whose name sent boardrooms into silence. A man no one dared to cross.
Jide knew it too.
“K-Kian,” he stammered, all his bravado gone.
Kian’s dark eyes swept over Zara—her trembling form, her torn sleeve, the fear still written all over her face. His jaw clenched, and something flickered in his gaze.
Disgust.
Fury.
Possession.
“Apologize,” Kian said.
Jide flinched. “I—”
“Now.”
Jide turned to Zara, looking sick. “S-sorry.”
She barely heard him. Her heart was still racing.
Kian didn’t look at Jide again. He simply walked past him, stopping in front of Zara. Slowly, he crouched down, his movements controlled. Calculated.
“Five million?” he murmured.
She swallowed hard.
Kian exhaled, as if deciding something. Then, before she could even process it—
“I’ll pay it off,” he said.
Silence crashed over the shop.
Zara’s breath caught.
Jide’s eyes widened. The shopkeeper gawked.
Even Zara herself could only stare at Kian, her mind reeling.
“W-what?” she whispered.
Kian met her gaze, his voice calm. “I’ll pay your debt. Every single naira.”
Her lips parted.
Too good to be true. It had to be.
And then—
“But,” Kian added smoothly, “I need something in return.”
Zara’s stomach twisted. Of course.
He wasn’t doing this out of kindness.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
Kian tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. And then, with a slow, devastating smirk, he uttered the words that would change everything.
“Marry me.”
Zara’s breath hitched.
The world around her blurred. The noise of the store, the distant murmur of traffic outside—everything faded into the background.
Jide choked out a laugh. “You’re joking.”
Kian’s expression didn’t change. “Do I look like I joke?”
Jide shifted uncomfortably. “Why the hell would you want her?”
A muscle in Kian’s jaw ticked. “That’s none of your concern.”
Jide hesitated. He knew better than to challenge Kian Duru. With a curt nod, he muttered, “Fine. Boss will accept the payment. But she’s yours to deal with.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the store.
The tension lingered, thick and unrelenting.
Zara’s hands trembled. Her mind spun.
Kian turned back to her, his gaze unwavering. “Stand up,” he said, his tone softer than before.
She hesitated, then slowly rose to her feet.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
He arched a brow. “Don’t I?”
She searched his face for a trace of deception, but all she found was certainty.
“You’ll be my wife, Zara.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “In name. In public. And in every way that matters.”
Her pulse pounded.
She had no choice.
Five million naira.
A debt she could never pay on her own.
And a man who just changed her fate.
Zara swallowed hard. “Okay,” she whispered.
A ghost of a smile touched Kian’s lips.
“Good,” he said.
Because now—she was his.
- Writer
