Chapter 5: The Fever
1551 Words
(Amara's POV)
The Lagos rain had consequences.
I woke up the next morning feeling like someone was using a sledgehammer to pound yam inside my head. My throat felt like I had swallowed a handful of gravel. My body was burning hot, but I was shivering under my thin blanket.
It was the rain. It had soaked into my bones.
"I cannot be sick," I croaked to the empty room. "I have bills to pay."
I forced myself out of bed. My legs felt like jelly. I took a cold shower to shock my body awake, but it only made me shiver more. I dressed in my thickest hoodie and jeans, grabbed my bag, and headed out to catch a bus.
The ride from Surulere to the Island was a nightmare. The Danfo was hot and smelled of sweat and petrol. Every pothole the driver hit sent a fresh wave of pain through my skull. By the time I got to Baba’s Pot, I was drenched in a cold sweat.
I unlocked the front door and stumbled inside. The restaurant was stuffy. I needed to turn on the generator. I needed to go to the market. I needed to start the stew.
But I couldn't.
I slid down the wall and sat on the cool tiled floor. The room was spinning.
"Just five minutes," I whispered. "I’ll just rest for five minutes."
I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I felt pathetic. I was a business owner. I was supposed to be strong. I was supposed to be like my father. But right now, I just wanted my mother.
I wanted the one thing she used to make for me whenever the fever came.
Hot Catfish Pepper Soup.
The thought of it made my mouth water and my stomach growl at the same time. I wanted it spicy. I wanted enough pepper to blow the steam out of my ears and chase the cold from my chest. I wanted the scent leaves and the onions and the soft, fresh fish.
But I couldn't cook it. I didn't have the strength to stand up, let alone kill a catfish.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was a habit now. When the real world was too hard, I went to the one place where I could be honest.
I opened ChefsConnect.
Me (SpiceGirl): I am officially out of commission. The rain won. I think I’m dying.
I didn't expect a reply immediately. It was 9:00 AM. ChefX was usually busy prepping for lunch service.
But my phone pinged instantly.
User77 (ChefX): Dying? That’s dramatic. What’s the symptoms?
Me (SpiceGirl): Headache. Shivering. My body feels like lead. I managed to get to my kitchen but I can’t even stand up to light the stove.
User77 (ChefX): You went to work? Go home, SpiceGirl.
Me (SpiceGirl): I can’t. I’m already here. I’m currently sitting on the floor hugging my knees. I’ll open soon. I just need... energy.
User77 (ChefX): You need rest. And probably food. What are you craving?
I smiled weakly at the screen. He always asked the right questions.
Me (SpiceGirl): Pepper Soup. Catfish. Point and Kill. I want it so hot that it makes me cry. I want enough pepper to burn this fever out of my system.
User77 (ChefX): A classic cure. Why don't you make some?
Me (SpiceGirl): I told you. I can’t stand up. I’ll just drink water and hope for a miracle.
I dropped the phone on the floor beside me. I closed my eyes. The spinning was getting worse. I just needed to sleep for a little bit. Just a little bit.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound jerked me awake. I didn't know how long I had been asleep. I lifted my head. My neck was stiff.
"Madam? Madam Amara?"
It was a voice from outside.
I groaned. It was probably a customer. I had to tell them we were closed.
I used the table to pull myself up. My legs wobbled. I walked slowly to the glass door. I squinted against the bright sunlight.
It was Samuel. The waiter from The Garnish.
I frowned. What did he want? Was Tunde sending him to mock me again? Maybe to complain that my "Closed" sign was ugly?
I unlocked the door and opened it just a crack.
"We are closed, Samuel," I rasped. My voice sounded terrible.
Samuel looked at me with wide eyes. "Sorry Madam. You look... unwell."
"Thank you for the update," I muttered. "What do you want?"
Samuel lifted a large, heavy plastic bag. It had the sleek black and gold logo of The Garnish on the side.
"Oga sent this," Samuel said. He held it out to me. "He said it is for you. Urgent."
I stared at the bag. "What is it?"
"I don't know, Madam. He cooked it himself. He didn't let anyone touch it. He just said I should bring it to you immediately and make sure you eat it while it is hot."
Tunde cooked it himself?
I was too weak to argue. I was too weak to ask why my billionaire enemy was sending me care packages. I just nodded and took the bag. It was warm.
"Tell him... tell him I said okay."
Samuel nodded and ran back across the street.
I locked the door and carried the bag to the nearest table. I sat down heavily.
I opened the bag.
Inside was a large, insulated food container. It was the expensive kind that kept heat for hours. There was also a smaller container with white rice (or maybe agidi/eko?) and a bottle of expensive water.
I unscrewed the lid of the large container.
Steam poured out.
The smell hit me instantly.
It wasn't truffle oil. It wasn't cheese. It wasn't pasta.
It was the sharp, spicy, earthy aroma of authentic Nigerian Pepper Soup. I smelled the scent leaves. I smelled the crayfish. And I smelled the pepper. Lots of it.
My stomach roared.
I grabbed the spoon from the bag and dipped it in. I pulled out a piece of fish. It was fresh catfish. Perfectly cooked.
I took a sip of the broth.
Fire.
It was perfect. It was exactly what I had described to ChefX. It was spicy enough to wake the dead. It burned my throat in the best possible way, warming my chest and settling deep in my stomach.
I let out a moan of pure relief. I ate. I didn't stop to breathe. I devoured the fish, sucking the bones clean. I drank the broth.
Sweat broke out on my forehead. My nose started running. The fever was breaking.
I sat back, feeling human for the first time that day.
Then, I stopped.
I looked at the empty container. I looked at the logo. The Garnish.
I looked at my phone lying on the floor where I had left it.
I had told ChefX I wanted Catfish Pepper Soup with "enough pepper to burn the fever out."
Thirty minutes later, Tunde sent me Catfish Pepper Soup with exactly that amount of pepper.
My heart started beating faster, and it wasn't from the spice.
I looked across the street through the window. The Garnish was busy. I couldn't see Tunde.
"Coincidence," I whispered. "It has to be."
It was a common dish. Everyone ate pepper soup when they were sick. Tunde probably saw me looking like a zombie yesterday and decided to play the 'good neighbor' again to show off his cooking skills. He probably sent pepper soup because it was the easiest thing to make quickly.
It couldn't be him.
Tunde was arrogant. He was flashy. ChefX was... kind. He listened.
I picked up my phone.
Me (SpiceGirl): You won’t believe this. My annoying rich neighbor just sent me the exact soup I asked for. Maybe he’s a wizard.
I waited.
User77 (ChefX): Or maybe he just has good taste. Did it help?
Me (SpiceGirl): Yes. It was perfect. I hate that I have to be grateful to him.
User77 (ChefX): Don't be grateful. Just get better. And go home, SpiceGirl.
I looked at the text. I looked at the empty bowl.
I felt a strange warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the pepper.
I packed up my bag. I locked the shop. I walked to the road to catch a taxi instead of a bus. I needed to sleep.
But as the taxi pulled away, I looked back at The Garnish.
For the first time, I didn't see an enemy fortress. I saw the place where the best soup I had ever eaten came from.
"Thank you, Tunde," I whispered against the cool glass of the window.
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