The morning after Majek's suspension, Agnes stood in her father's office, her hands clenched at her sides, face unreadable. But her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear herself speak.
"I know it was Lami," she said quietly. "He framed Majek. You know it too."
Mr. Smith didn't look up from the contract in front of him. "I know no such thing."
Agnes stepped forward. "Then investigate it. Look into the server logs again. There are traces, Dad. Majek would never do something like that. You've seen his work. He's smart, but not careless."
Mr. Smith closed the file, his movements slow, deliberate. "This is not about one employee, Agnes. It's about stability. Public image. And honoring promises that were made before you were even born."
She scoffed, shaking her head. "So I'm a bargaining chip now?"
"You are a legacy," he said firmly. "And legacy requires sacrifice."
She stared at him, wounded. "You sacrificed me the moment you let Lami walk into this company like he owned it."
Mr. Smith finally met her gaze.
"Then show me you're more than a pawn. Earn your seat—don't cry over men you barely know."
The words burned.
Agnes didn't cry.
She turned and left his office with her back straight—but her world was unraveling.
She didn't go back to her floor. She didn't return emails. She drove straight to the Marina waterfront, parked, and sat in her car watching the ocean ripple against the sun. It was quiet there. Unjudging.
She thought of Majek.
Of how he stood behind her in silence when she was breaking.
Of how he never asked for more, but always gave what he could.
She didn't just like him. She felt safe with him—safer than she had with anyone in a long time.
And now, because of Lami, because of her father, because of a cursed promise, Majek was out of the company… and maybe out of her life.
Unless she did something.
She reached for her phone and typed a message.
Agnes:
Meet me. 7PM. The red café. No suits. Just honesty.
Meanwhile, in Surulere…
Majek sat on the rooftop of his aunt's two-story house, legs crossed, staring at the city below. His cousin Kola climbed up with a can of malt and dropped beside him.
"You dey alright?"
Majek didn't answer immediately. He took the malt, cracked it open, and sipped.
"I was suspended," he said flatly.
Kola nodded. "I heard. Mummy said you go bounce back. But… what you go do now?"
Majek looked up at the wide, ash-colored sky. "I don't know. Everything felt so clear a month ago. Like I was finally climbing somewhere. Now?"
Kola elbowed him. "Sometimes falling be part of climbing. Na jump wey no get rope dey kill man."
Majek chuckled, despite himself.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
From her.
He read it twice before his fingers could move.
Meet me. 7PM. The red café. No suits. Just honesty.
His chest tightened.
Was this what he thought it was?
He closed his eyes, let the wind pass over his face.
This time, he wouldn't be a coward.
7:02 PM – The Red Café
The café wasn't glamorous. Not the kind of place you'd expect the CEO's daughter to visit. But Agnes sat in a corner booth near the window, her blazer gone, curls loosely tied up, and no makeup except lip balm. She looked... real. Soft in the way only vulnerability allows.
Majek entered, heart pounding.
She looked up and smiled—gentle, tired.
"You came."
"I'd have walked here barefoot if I had to."
She chuckled softly, gesturing to the seat across from her.
They sat in silence for a few moments, both unsure of the script for this kind of meeting.
Then she broke it.
"I owe you an apology."
Majek shook his head. "No. You don't. You fought for me when no one else did. I saw it."
Agnes looked down at her hands. "It wasn't enough."
"You owe me nothing, Agnes."
"But I want to say it anyway."
Their eyes met.
"I'm not sure what this is between us," she continued, voice trembling slightly, "but I know it's not a mistake. And I know what they're trying to do to us. To me. To you. And I hate it."
Majek reached across the table, his hand barely brushing hers.
"I hate it too."
She stared at his fingers. "I've always known how to fight with words, with strategy… but I don't know how to fight for this. For something that scares me."
He leaned forward. "Then we fight together."
Her breath caught. For the first time in weeks, the weight in her chest eased.
They talked until the café closed. About school, childhood, dreams. He told her about his mother's prayers. She told him about how her father taught her to win every debate, but not how to say "I'm hurting."
When they stepped out into the cool night, the silence between them was thick with possibility.
"Can I walk you to your car?" Majek asked.
She smiled. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
As they reached her car, a shadow moved across the street.
Majek noticed it too late.
A figure stepped out from behind a parked SUV, and before either of them could react—
Lami's voice cut through the night.
"So this is where you run when I'm not enough."
Agnes froze.
Majek instinctively stepped in front of her.
Lami was holding something in his hand—a phone, maybe. No. A small black pistol.
Agnes gasped. "Lami, what the hell—?!"
"Don't speak," he said coldly. "You think I didn't know? You think I couldn't see it? The way you look at him. The way he hides behind honor."
Majek raised his hands slowly. "You don't have to do this, Lami. We can talk."
"Talk? You think you're better than me? You think a broke analyst gets to take what was promised to me?"
"It's not about you," Agnes said. "It never was. This is my life!"
Lami's hand shook slightly.
"If I can't have you," he whispered, "no one will."
Then he raised the gun.
Majek pushed Agnes behind him—just as the shot fired.
Time folded.
The world stuttered.
Agnes screamed—and then collapsed.
Blood bloomed on her shoulder.
Majek caught her as she fell, eyes wide with horror.
"Agnes! Agnes, stay with me!"
Lami froze, shocked at what he had done. Then he turned and ran into the darkness.
Majek didn't chase him. He didn't shout.
He pressed his hand against her wound, crying out for help.
The city blurred.
Lights.
Voices.
And then silence.
48 Hours Later – St. Bede's Hospital
Agnes lay motionless under pale sheets.
Machines beeped.
Doctors whispered.
Her father stood at the window, staring into the distance, silent as stone.
Majek was in a police van outside, wrists cuffed, accused of the crime.
Witnesses were few. The camera near the café? Broken. The café staff? Gone before it happened.
Only Agnes saw it all.
And Agnes… didn't remember anything.
She woke with blurred vision, pain in her chest, and a voice in her head that didn't match any face in the room.
"Where am I?" she asked weakly.
"You're safe," her father said.
"Who are you?"
The silence that followed was louder than her scream.
Four Weeks Later – Ikoyi Magistrate Court
Majek stood before the judge, eyes hollow.
He had no lawyer.
No money.
Just his truth—and a hope that was growing colder by the hour.
He'd confessed to being there.
He couldn't lie. Not even to save himself.
He didn't know how to run.
But Agnes hadn't spoken.
Her doctors said her amnesia was "trauma-induced."
She didn't remember the gun. The café. Or even Majek's name.
The court granted bail—but only just. His cousin's landlord posted it.
Majek walked free. But he didn't feel free.
He had lost her.
And maybe… she had lost herself.
Two Months Later
Majek got a job delivering laundry.
He didn't complain.
He just moved, breathed, ate, and watched the calendar burn.
One evening, he walked past St. Bede's and paused.
He didn't go in.
But he whispered her name.
"Agnes."
She was inside.
On the third floor, staring out the window at the same moment.
She saw a man walking by. Something in her chest stung. A flicker.
She pressed her fingers to the glass.
"Do I know you?" she whispered.
He didn't hear her.
But he turned back.
Their eyes met—only for a second.
And the wind carried a name she couldn't remember… but longed to.