THE COLD WALL
1568 Words
The night was heavy. Blessing sat by the window of Rakeem’s big house, her eyes swollen from crying. The street outside was quiet, but inside her chest, there was war.
She kept asking herself one question: Who is really my enemy?
Samuel, the man she had loved, the one who begged her to run away but could not even fight properly? Or Rakeem, the husband she never chose, the one who caged her with his power and mocked her tears?
She pressed her palm against the cool glass window and sighed deeply. Her heart was divided, her spirit tired.
When the door opened, she didn’t need to turn. She knew it was Rakeem. His footsteps were calm, measured, like a man who owned every space he entered.
“You’re still awake,” he said, his voice low.
Blessing wiped her eyes quickly and turned. “How can I sleep when you’ve locked Samuel somewhere? What are you doing to him, Rakeem?”
Rakeem’s jaw tightened. “He’s breathing. Isn’t that enough for you?”
She gasped. “Breathing? That’s all you can say? He’s a human being, Rakeem! He doesn’t deserve this.”
Rakeem came closer, his eyes burning. “And what about me, Blessing? Do I deserve to watch my own wife kissing another man?”
Her chest heaved. She wanted to speak, but her throat was dry. Finally, she whispered, “You never wanted me. You told me with your own mouth. So why are you behaving like I belong to you?”
For the first time, Rakeem’s face cracked. His lips pressed together, and for a moment, he looked like a man fighting with his own demons.
“Because you're wearing my name now,” he said finally. “Because whether you like it or not, you are mine.”
Blessing’s heart pounded hard. She wanted to scream at him, to break free, but instead, she sank into the chair. She was too weak to fight.
The next morning, Blessing went to the kitchen. She had not eaten since the drama at the church. The cook greeted her softly, but she barely answered.
As she sipped water, her mind kept running back to Samuel. His face when the guards dragged him away. His voice calling her name. His helplessness.
She clenched her fist. Samuel says he loves me, but what has he done for me? He couldn’t even stand against Rakeem. He begged, he cried, but he never fought.
Tears stung her eyes again. She remembered the slap of Rakeem’s words: You think your forgiveness is what I live for?
Both men had broken her heart in different ways.
Samuel, with his weakness.
Rakeem, with his cruelty.
And in that moment, Blessing felt something change inside her. A cold wall. She could not trust either of them.
Later in the evening, Rakeem entered her room without knocking. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her quietly as she folded some clothes.
“You’re silent today,” he said.
Blessing didn’t look up. “Silence is better than speaking to someone who doesn’t listen.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think of me?”
She turned, meeting his gaze squarely for the first time. “You don’t hear me, Rakeem. You only hear yourself. You want me to feel like your prisoner, and maybe I am. But one day, this same silence you’re forcing on me it will choke you too.”
Her words cut like glass. Rakeem’s face darkened, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stepped into the room and dropped a small key on the table.
“That is the key to Samuel’s cell,” he said flatly. “If you really want him free, go and open the door yourself.”
Blessing froze. Her eyes widened in shock. “What… what are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Rakeem continued, his voice calm but dangerous, “that if you open that door, don’t ever come back here. You’ll leave with him, and I’ll consider it your final choice. But if you stay in this house, you will stay as my wife, fully. No more half-heartedness. No more tears for another man.”
Blessing’s heart jumped into her throat. She stared at the key, her hand trembling. The air in the room grew heavier, her body hot with confusion.
Freedom was sitting right there on the table. But freedom meant leaving everything behind.
Her chest rose and fell quickly. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Rakeem… why are you doing this to me?”
Rakeem’s voice was sharp. “Because I want to see who you really are. A woman who runs… or a woman who fights.”
He turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind him.
Blessing’s knees weakened. She sat on the bed, staring at the small key that could change her whole life.
Her tears blurred her vision. She wanted Samuel. She hated Rakeem. She hated herself for being trapped between them.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall. Every second sounded like a drumbeat in her head.
At last, she whispered into the silence: “God, what do I do?”
Her hand slowly reached for the key.
Blessing’s hand shook as she reached for the key. It was small, silver, nothing special to look at yet it carried the weight of her whole life.
Her fingers brushed it, but she snatched them back as if the metal had burnt her skin.
She stood up and paced the room, her wrapper dragging against the floor.
“If I open that door,” she whispered to herself, “then it means Samuel and I will run. But run to where? With what? He has nothing… and me, I have nothing. Rakeem will crush us.”
She stopped suddenly, clutching her head. Another voice inside her argued back: But if you stay here, Blessing, are you not already dead? What is this life? A wife in name, a prisoner in truth.
Her chest tightened. Tears rolled again, but this time they were angry tears, hot tears.
Hours later, she finally picked up the key. She held it tightly in her palm, like it was a knife that could cut through chains.
But before she could decide, there was a soft knock on the door.
She froze. Slowly, she pushed the key under her pillow and turned.
It was Mama Ayo, one of the older housemaids who had worked in the mansion for years. The woman’s face carried kindness, but also fear.
“Madam,” Mama Ayo whispered, “be careful. Oga Rakeem is testing you. If you try to use that key, he already has men watching the place. He just wants to see if you will choose that boy over him.”
Blessing’s mouth dropped open. “Testing me? So it’s a trap?”
Mama Ayo nodded quickly. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but my spirit has no rest. You’re too young to be destroyed like this. Don’t rush. Think well.”
Blessing sank back onto the bed, her heart pounding louder.
So it was true. Rakeem had set the whole thing like a trap.
That night, she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, thinking of Samuel locked somewhere in the house. Was he eating? Was he injured? Did he hate her for not freeing him?
At the same time, her mind replayed Rakeem’s words,If you stay, stay as my wife… If you open that door, don’t come back.
Those words pressed on her chest like a heavy stone.
By morning, Blessing’s face was pale. She had not slept a wink.
She walked downstairs for breakfast, only to find Rakeem already sitting at the head of the long dining table, reading the newspaper.
His eyes flicked up when she entered, then back to the paper. “Good morning,” he said casually.
Blessing sat opposite him, silent. Her hands were stiff, her stomach empty but too tight for food.
After a while, Rakeem folded the paper neatly, looked her straight in the eye and asked, “So… did you make your choice?”
Her heart skipped. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
“I gave you the key,” he continued, his tone calm but sharp, “and I left the door open. You could have walked out. But you are still here.”
Blessing swallowed hard. Her voice finally broke free, low but steady,“I stayed… not because I chose you. I stayed because I will not let you turn me into a coward running in fear.”
Rakeem’s eyes darkened, but there was something else there something that almost looked like respect.
“Good,” he said finally, his lips curling into the faintest smile. “At least now, you’re beginning to understand the game.”
Blessing’s heart thudded painfully. She didn’t know if she had just saved herself or walked deeper into his cage.
That night, when she returned to her room, she pulled the pillow and stared at the key again.
She whispered to herself: “This house, this marriage, these two men… all of them will not break me. I don’t know how, but I will survive.”
She placed the key back under her pillow and blew out the candle. But her heart knew one thing: this war was only just beginning.
- Writer
