HIS LAST SECRET

HIS LAST SECRET Chapter 9: The Tour and The One

Chapter 9: The Tour and The One

The book tour started 3 months after the launch.

Abuja first. Then Port Harcourt. Then Enugu. Then Accra. Then Nairobi.

6 cities in 6 weeks.

They called it "The Glow Tour" but for me it felt like a healing tour.

Every bookstore was full.

Women with journals. Women with tears. Women with my book clutched to their chests like a lifeline.

"I left him because of Chapter 6," one girl told me in Abuja.

"I started therapy because of you," another said in Accra.

I signed books until my hand cramped.

I hugged strangers until my heart felt full.

And somewhere between Lagos traffic and Nairobi coffee, I realized something.

I wasn’t just the girl who got hurt anymore.

I was the woman who helped other people heal.

The Lagos event was the last stop.

Roving Heights again. Where it all started.

The place was packed. Standing room only.

I was on stage talking about Chapter 7. About choosing yourself. About peace.

My phone was buzzing in my bag the whole time but I ignored it.

After, Tolu pulled me aside and showed me her phone.

An i********: comment on the book’s post.

From @david.oke. Verified.

"I’m sorry.

I was wrong.

I’m proud of you.

You deserve everything good.

- D"

1.2k likes already.

Comments everywhere: "LEAVE HER ALONE" "SHE WON" "TOO LATE KING"

I read it twice.

Felt nothing.

No anger. No pain. No urge to reply.

I just closed the app and handed the phone back.

Because apologies don’t rewrite history.

And I didn’t need his comment to know I’d won.

Later that night I was packing up my books when I heard, "Excuse me?"

I turned.

He was tall. Simple shirt. Holding my book in his hands. Dog-eared and highlighted.

"Hi. I’m Kemi’s brother," he said and smiled. "She dragged me here. Said I needed to hear this."

"Kemi?"

"From HR. She’s my sister. She went through something like this last year."

We talked for 5 minutes. About the book. About healing. About how Lagos jollof is better than any other jollof.

He didn’t ask for my number. He didn’t flirt. He just looked at me like I was a whole person.

Two days later he DM’d me.

"Hey. It’s me from the event. Kemi’s brother.

Can I take you to dinner? No pressure. Just food and talk."

I stared at the message for a long time.

Then I said yes.

Our first date was at a small bukka. Pepper soup and laughter.

He asked about the book and I told him the truth.

He listened. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t try to fix me.

"That must’ve been hard," he said. "But look at you now."

On the drive home he said, "I’m not here to be your hero.

I’m here to walk beside you. If you want."

I didn’t fall in love that night.

I didn’t need to.

I just felt safe.

And that was brand new.

One year later.

The book is in its 3rd print.

Stary Spa has 200k readers.

I’m writing book 2 now. This one is about joy. About peace. About love that doesn’t hurt.

His name is Tunde.

We take it slow. Coffee. Walks. Real conversations.

He met my girls. He came to therapy with me once. He claps for me the loudest.

He doesn’t complete me. I was already complete.

He just adds to it.

Last night I went back to Tarkwa Bay.

2:47 AM. Same sand. Same waves.

But a different me.

I sat there with no tears. No pain. Just gratitude.

And I whispered to the girl I used to be:

"You made it. You’re okay. You’re more than okay."

The war is over.

The book is published.

The heart is healed.

And the best chapters?

They’re still being written.