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This thing called LOVE – 21

This thing called  LOVE – GRACE OCHIGBO


Anone stared helplessly as his phone rang out for the third time. He glanced in the direction where Victor was standing high over him while he yet lay with his back against the floor.

“So what were you saying the last time?”

Anone tried to sit up but his bones were too weakly adjoined to each other, and even the little energy left wasn’t anything to carry his weight from the floor. Victor had dealt really mercilessly with him. It was until Victor had brought out the familiar book from his side pocket that Anone realised the reason he’s getting a free beating so early in the morning. Victor confronted him earlier and he’d said his whole truth – everything about it and to his surprise, Victor only stood up and walked out the door. Only for him to return three hours later now to ask him about what he’d said the last time.

It’s as if this victor may be needing a check on his brain, Anone thought.

He tried to speak but the ringing from his phone interrupted them. He glanced at Victor as though seeking permission to take the call and the latter shrugged, swiped the receive button and placed it on speaker.

“Mr Anone…” Vera’s voice came up through the speaker. She sounded very scared to death in her tone and Anone could only wonder what was responsible for that.

“Sapphire… I am…” The pain in his throat made the words a whisper and as much as he tried to gather the pieces of himself, they scattered.

“Anone, please, are you alright? Where are you?”

Anone blinked in surprise. Why was Vera sounding overtly caring right now? “I’m in my house. Hope no problem?”
“Can you please text me the address? I need to see and talk to you immediately!”

Anone glanced up at Victor and the rigorous shake of his head made the content of his mind readable. “Ehm!” Anone started, trying hard not to sound offensive. “Ehm… Listen Vera, I’m not particularly at home at the moment, dear.” He coughed lightly as air almost choked him.

Anone literally could feel that Vera blinked before responding. “You just said you were home a while ago. What do you now mean by ‘not particularly at home’?” She grew more intense with every new word. “It’s alright, just send me the location of the place you are, and I’ll meet you there as soon as possible. It’s as important as it’s urgent, please!”

Anone gave Victor pleading eyes and at the same time reconsidered the possibility of having Vera come over to see him in this state; with blood still leaking off his nose, and swollen eyes; a part of his head swollen also; same applied to the redness of his eyes. However was he going to explain to Vera that Victor beat him up this way without raising dusts and causing more problem? He was about to say one last thing when he heard the closing sound of his phone. The sound always came whenever the switch off button is held tightly onto.

“I had to help you do the right thing since you didn’t know how to do it yourself!” Victor said. Sarcasm could be felt strongly in his voice.

He walked over to offer Anone a hand. Anone took it and that lifted him up and he fell into a couch like a sack of potatoes. You’d think all men were strong but some men are the dictionary definition of mightiness of valour. Victor right here was certainly one of those.

“I asked you to repeat yourself!”

Anone didn’t want to swallow the blood filled saliva in his mouth so he pulled himself up the couch to get a roll of tissue paper first. He already took three steps before he realised that he was limping as an effect of the much pain afflicted upon him by his fellow young man.

“Being one of the governor’s right hand boys, we had access to a couple of highly placed folks, men and women alike.” Anone started. “Interestingly, Angela was one of the governor’s favourite girls. I don’t know if they had an affair ongoing. I only know he’d taken her in as a complete daughter and was ready to give her whatever she wanted because of some relationship that existed between Angela’s father and the governor himself.” He wiped the tissue on the side of his mouth. “Angela and I met at one of the parties at Lugard house and began to bond somehow right there.”

Victor stared unblinkingly at him as he continued on and on about how him and Angela seemed to like each other a lot at first sight, even though to him, Angela was just one of those girls. Anone had always been of the opinion that he was too young to be emotionally committed to one somebody that would want to share his life, time, money and monitor every bit. There was still much life laid up ahead of him and the ‘player crew’ was just his best bet.

“So you and Caleb were staunch players?” Victor asked.

Anone smiled roguishly, amidst his pain. “Nah!” He nodded from left to right. “Caleb never liked the ‘many girls’ life. He’s not completely the church boy like you though..” He gave Victor a cunny stare and the latter chuckled lightly. “He only had this belief that it was unfair to cheaply use and dump babes just because you have all the money to go round. He claims he chose to still live with his parents because he didn’t want a chance to follow our path, which was bound to happen if he’d stayed alone. I mean, whether you want to do or not, we’ll arrange and set you up.” He sought confirmation to see if Victor understood his statement and the latter nodded in the affirmative.

“My clique are basically Jide, Mr P, Mr Ken, Kolade, Wendy, Patrick, name them. Lokoja is filled with quite a number of us.”

“By ‘are’, you mean you haven’t changed yet?” Victor looked amazed.

“Every known player has this last straw that breaks his back, Man.” Anone was careful not to become too relaxed around Victor cos for all he cares, the guy has little or no tolerance for anger and he didn’t want a repeat of the assault anymore. “Vera, for me, had become that last straw, the very last card.” He hesitated. “While we worked and planned together for Caleb’s wedding, I found Vera getting more interesting with each passing day and it took till the wedding was cancelled and we all went apart to realise that she’d involuntarily left a part of her with me.” He paused, thoughtful. “Was it her face? How she can be calm and wild at the same time? Or her beautiful smile? A part of her stayed with me long after we left off; that part won’t even let me do as much as give another girl a ride. It was that serious because suddenly I started feeling as if I’m cheating on her.”

He talked about how he’d tried to get Vera’s attention by sliding into her DM on Instagram and in so many other ways, all to no avail. She deliberately refused him audience severally, until he had to go talk with her father first. Even at that, even up to this moment, the lady was really still giving him a tough time, but he wasn’t going to give up yet, not so easily.

“So back to Angela!” Victor interrupted, seeing Anone was already getting emotionally carried away by the thoughts and talks about Vera.

“I wasn’t going to stay comfortable with casually dating Angela because she had this annoying possessive character. She wanted me to legit worship her, adore her, be there for and with her. But mehn! I couldn’t keep up with that.” He squeezed his forehead. “I’m sure in that her diary in your hand, she’d written a lot about how heartless and wicked I am?”

Victor nodded again in the affirmative and Anone gave the ‘I knew it’ expression.

“I couldn’t cope with being monitored; being chased after like I no longer have a life of my own. Angela, to me, became suffocating with every passing day and so I became very excited when she, the governor and the rest of his team went to Caleb’s school on visitation and she met him.”

For Anone, Angela’s meeting with Caleb was the best thing that happened to him and Angela, because unlike him, Caleb was the attention-seeking, attention-giving, calling and texting every now and then type. He suited Angela best. Moreover, he wasn’t a player like Anone.

“I remember warning Caleb the initial times he was beginning to get too comfy around Angela. I reminded him of his marriage plans to Unekwu and all, but my guy told me that he was in control and that Angela was only getting a shoulder to cry on ‘cos she was heartbroken.” He snorted. “Unekwu too wasn’t helping matters with all those her unending very busy schedules and highly placed profile. So after a while I let them be o, cos my guy started feeling like I was disturbing him or maybe, I was jealous. I wasn’t even surprised when Caleb called off his wedding to Unekwu.” He sought Victor’s attention with his eyes. “Any man that takes up, as a matter of responsibility, pleasing Angela, can never do sensibly acceptable things. I think that girl is manipulative, somehow.”

Victor took in a deep breath. Somehow he could relate with Anone’s last statement and more recently so, with why Caleb had done what he did at the time he did it. It had been only few days since he met Angela and she legit was controlling the whole of his day. ‘Victor, can we hang out at the centre?’, ‘can we go see pastor?’, ‘Are you home? I’m on my way.’ Of a truth, whoever plans to please Angela can never do sensibly acceptable things, but at the same time, once you are hooked, you cannot afford not to please her. She has this very terrible way of reacting to rejection. Whenever she wants to do something and you refuse her, she may as well get in the middle of a heavy traffic and wait for the next car to hit her. It was that bad.

“I’m sorry I beat you to stupor! God! This uncontrollable high temper I’ve got…” Victor scratched his head, bowing it down in shame.

Anone’s upper lip lifted up in a slight smile.

“It’s OK, bro.” He sounded sincere. “Just know you are footing the hospital bill!”

That made Victor smile too.

“I got her diary from its hideout in her bedroom. She’d told me about it one time so I immediately figured I’d get useful information on her death as soon as I lay my hands on it.” Victor started.

He reeled out how he’d been stuck in his room reading up every single part of the thick cover notebook. He’d read few things about Angela’s aunt and family, her coldness as regards relating with anyone back abroad. Then her getting back to Nigeria and meeting Anone, Caleb, Victor – in the order the experiences were written in her diary. And of all the tales, only Anone was said to have hurt her too badly – didn’t have enough time for her, was always nagging as well as being inconsiderate with her feelings. Victor had felt, after almost finishing the book, that Anone was indeed as heartless and wicked as Angela had painted him in there. Victor even went further to think that Anone could have killed her as a revenge for leaving him.

That was the mistake.

Not until now that he’s realising Anone had actually left her and not the other way round and that he’d been wrong all the while.

Guilt kept the hair on his skin standing.

Anone pulled himself to the end of the chair and held Victor’s gaze before talking.

“I may have been a player all this time; breaking ladies’ heart and shattering their emotions like a child would a precious ceramic plate; but one thing is very certain, I can never hurt a flesh. Not even a slap! I can never kill anyone… let alone Angela.” He hesitated, as though weighing his next statement. “I’m sure Caleb didn’t kill her also.”

Victor took in a deep breath. “I know. But who killed her then?”




Vera stared at the screen of her phone as it announced the unavailability of the number she’s dialling for the umpteenth time in the last hour. It was strange.

“You enjoy your chauffeur while the driving last, my dear. Because a player is always unrepentant. He comes for what he wants and the same way he drives you around town now would be the way he would drive out of your life as soon as he gets what he came for. Only that this time, he would zoom off alone!”

She shut her eyes firmly as those words from Mr Ken sank into her mind. She was trying hard not to believe any piece of it. Mr Ken was a known playboy in town, sure. He wanted Vera too as much as Anone did, maybe much more, so it was just logical for him to spoil Anone’s chances, right? And act the good guy in this situation, right? The thoughts were not consoling Vera. Mr Ken and Anone cannot be friends. It felt like she was forcing herself to believe what wasn’t exactly true as the case may be.

She dialled Anone’s number again and getting the same answer, she drew her handbag close and threw her phone into it. Putting her legs back in her heels, she got up and adjusted the edges of her shirt. She didn’t know Anone’s house. She didn’t know what exactly she was expected to do since he ended her call abruptly and switched his phone off. Maybe the time Mr Ken referred to as the ‘yielding point’ of a player had been reached? Maybe Anone has had enough of her ‘face-making’ and had chosen the easy way out. Maybe, as it’s expected, he’d found a girl to make out with overnight so much so that he forgot he was supposed to come pick her up to work this morning. Whatever the situation, there was just one way to find out. And she would find out.

With this resolve, she picked her bag and rushed out of the office in a flash.




If Susan’s eyes carried guns, one more person would have been long dead after detective Samson sited right in front of her. She couldn’t place when her partner became this unbearably slow in speech. He’d been this way ever since he walked into the office some minutes ago. She had been patiently anticipating his explanations. Who was the man that called you? Where did you finally meet him? What was he going to tell you about Angela’s death? Did he end up giving you any useful information?

The questions flooded her mind but Detective Samson’s strange attitude made it uneasy for them to be voiced out as he was still answering the first one.

Susan sat up straighter. The man, whoever he was, must have given Samson a lead. A lead. An important one. That’s what they needed most now. He couldn’t have been the gateman they were looking for – the one they suspect to have killed Angela – for Samson to return hale and hearty and in one piece.

“In the end, I think this one suspect we have may have to prove his innocence before the judge in court, because all indications point to him as the murderer.”

Susan eyeballs widened. No. He didn’t just say that. Her ears were most likely playing a smart one on her, right? All indications? That statement couldn’t have come from detective Samson’s mouth. The same detective Samson she knew.

“So you are saying that…”

“It’s just a day left anyway, Susan!” Detective Samson interrupted her before she could complete her statement. “There’s little or nothing we can do.”

Susan felt the resignation in his voice and sighed. “We could intensify our findings on her gateman, right? I talked with her neighbours.” She sat up straighter to face him, hoping her last statement would ignite some show of interest in him, but no, he sat lucid, resigned and out… completely out of the case. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and continued anyway. “Well, his name is Mallam Sediq. The gateman of her neighbours had been friends with him. Unfortunately, he didn’t know so much, but having the name is a good start. What do you think?”

Detective Samson’s upper lip lifted up in a sarcastic smile. “If you go towards Felele, Susan, by the riverside along the road, you’d find this plenty aboki habitation and would be amazed at how many of them bear Sediq.”

Susan saw his point and pushed her weight back against the chair. It would be hard to find anyone by only knowing their first names, not when more than three persons could have the same full name these days.

But the knife?

The knife that looked like it was dipped in blood for too long. The knife was found right in the gateman’s house. In his ceiling. They weren’t going to let that slide, were they? If they can’t stop the accused from going to court, as it stands right now, they could at least present findings that would lead to adjournment of the case thereby offering them more time to find the culprit – the real culprit, who Susan was quite convinced wasn’t Caleb.

“But you are yet to tell me who it was that called you to meet last night. How did it go?”

Detective Samson stretched out his right hand first, then the left. He quickly covered his mouth as a yawn escaped it. “It’s nothing important, Susan. I think we should worry more about recommending that more security officers be deployed to the estate where Angela was killed.”

Just like that? Susan wanted to yell.

“I think we should also go back to the TSC office already… and if possible, go back to Caleb’s parents as well. I am convinced the woman really had something to tell us the other time.”

Detective Samson smiled, picking up his phone and tapping away on the screen. “Nah! That’s not necessary. It wasn’t even necessary going there in the first instance. I mean what were we thinking?” He laughed in spite of himself and Susan got really infuriated.

“What were we thinking?” She squeezed her forehead into a wrinkle. “We were thinking about getting to the root of the issue. We were concerned and compassionate, as normal beings with human sympathy should be, Samson! We were…”

“Watch your mouth, Susan. Attaching you to go on an investigative process with me doesn’t make me your mate. Please mind how you talk to me.”


There. Right there. That was it. Something must have happened over the night. It’s confirmed that though they both look very much alike with the same voice, she could bet on her last name that this wasn’t Detective Samson. The same Samson that had insisted they checked a scary gateman’s house in the dark and deserted compound of the diseased. The same Samson that still went ahead to meet a strange person in a strange address, regardless of her apprehension. Samson was brave… still is, well, until now that Susan couldn’t pick out whatever was happening around her.

Did Samson just talk about being mates?

“I’m sorry, sir.” She said lightly with her head slightly lowered. Getting up quietly, she made for the door.

Detective Samson swallowed. He didn’t intend the words to come out that way. It was hurtful. The woman was only being truthful and realistic, but at times, when you are in the kind of position he’s in right now, truth and reality would be nothing but only a figment of one’s imagination.

“Susan…” He called out, barely a step before she held onto the door knob. “I know how important getting to the root of this case is to you… to us all…” He blinked. “Maybe you should rest. Yeah… rest. That’s all you deserve right now!”

Susan gently nodded in the affirmative and walked out without uttering a word.

She hurried to her table and tried to shut the last words of her partner away from her head. Resting for her – for the investigative department, would mean driving a seemingly innocent man nearer his grave for nothing. She couldn’t have that on her conscience. She was a mother. She could imagine how Caleb’s mother, or Angela’s mother – aunty – would feel.

She powered her computer and clicked on some of the sites she’d saved up. Nothing from the internet was useful except the giant launch of Angela’s arts centre the time it’d started. She studied some of the photos from the event – the governor and majority of his family members had attended. Notable men of timbre and calibre in the society were sighted at that august occasion. She drew nearer the screen as though that would pull out something… anything… anything that’d drive her closer to what she’s looking for.

This much was certain; if the police commissioner, the DPO, or even Samson had been bought over, she’d go all the way to fight for justice, even if it meant fighting with the last drop of her blood.




Barrister Chuks sat still, trying to assimilate all that the post office delivery man, who’d introduced himself, as Richard was saying. Angela had been a regular user of their services – posting letters, most times to locations within Lokoja. Watching movies while growing up made Angela idolise letter writing as one of the most effective ways of showing love and a couple of times, according to Richard, she’d had him deliver letters to that same address, though unlike this time, it’d been usually addressed to a particular Mr Caleb. That part was quite understandable. The part Barrister Chuks didn’t understand was Richard’s next couple of phrases.

“Madam Angela called me to meet her at Ganaja junction that night, stating that she was driving home from FMC.” Richard started.

He narrated how he’d met up with the time Angela gave him and she simply zoomed off as soon as he’d entered her car without saying anymore word. He admitted noticing an unusual emotional atmosphere in the car; like the lady had been crying or was even still crying. He didn’t know if it was proper to ask her so he kept to himself.

“It was her gateman who opened the gate for us and she asked me to come inside that she wanted to quickly write a letter. She instructed that I should help her deliver as soon as it was daybreak.”

Richard said he had a premonition that something wasn’t right somewhere. Whatever letter would be so urgent that must be handed over to him that night? Out of familiarity, he usually picked up letters from Angela anywhere; at home, her office or arts centre. He would then enter it later in her name and deliver to its destination. He always got some naira’s for that extra mile he went for her and they were always within working hours. Never had she summoned him to come pick up letters late in the night like that before.

“Richard, help me deliver this as soon as the day breaks!” He could still hear her voice sounding loudly in his ears as she handed him the letter she hurriedly wrote out in his presence. He was about to leave when she called him.

“Have this for your transport!”

Richard was overjoyed on realising the money was five thousand naira. That was far much more than his transport fare ten times in a row. He joyfully thanked her and left the house.

“It was the gateman who still opened the gate for you to leave?” Barrister Chuks’ confusion was palpable in his voice.

“Yes. Why not? He closed the gate tightly after I walked out and down the lonely estate road to the nearest place I could get a taxi or keke.”

Barrister Chuks swallowed deeply. His case was getting messier by the minute. He’d hoped for something. Anything better than this headless discussion he just finished with the post office delivery man. It was so obvious that the man knew nothing about Angela’s death, not until the barrister had announced it and he felt genuine sympathy in his tone.

“OK. Mr Richard. One last question?”
The man urged Barrister Chuks to go on. “About delivering letters from Angela to Caleb, when last did that happen.”
“Ah!” Richard picked at his jaw, trying to joggle his head to remembrance. “Truthfully, it’s been so long. There was a time I came and Mr Caleb ordered me out of the compound. I think that was the last time or second to the last. I can’t exactly remember.”
“Alright! Thanks for your time.” Barrister Chuks gave him a hand and he took it quickly.

As the barrister got into his car and all the drive down to the police station, he kept his gaze on the screen in front of his dashboard bearing the time. With every tick, his client drew nearer the end.




(Hi friends, I can talk now. Yeah. Not correctly completely. Pardon my English but I can engage in conversations with you now if you’d let me. Do you want to try? Well, we’ll try it just after these persons crowding me here leave off a little. There’s the guy called Eneojo. The old couple, who said they were my parents, introduced him as my younger brother. How is that? But that’s not the issue. He’d come along today with a MacBook containing a couple of photos. The major recurrent face in the photos he’s showing me was a girl, lady. She appears in all the photos. From few days old, to every single birthday celebration as well as school parties and end of year prize giving ceremonies.)

“This was when you were matriculating in Kogi State University.” Ajifa said, her face kind.

Unekwu stared at her, looking really lost and Ajifa understood that. The doctors had told them that it would be like this. Unekwu wouldn’t be able to make out meanings out of anything they’d tell or say to her. She would literally not remember almost everything. That was the extent to which the damage was done to her brain. But what had they said in addition to that?

With patience and love and constant mild reminder of things she’s used to, as well as persons she’s used to in the past, her memories may return, if not all, some will definitely return. Someday somehow.’

That’s why they’ve had Eneojo pick out photos of all the memorable moments in Unekwu’s life and were showing it to her one after the other. First they showed her a mirror, where she saw herself to resemble, very closely, the girl in the pictures, then the narrations began.

“I don’t remember, ma’am!” Unekwu said in resignation.

Ajifa swallowed painfully and motioned Eneojo to set the photos aside. There was no need to rush. Slowly, they’d get back to where she’d lost it. Right there, where everything fell apart. Unekwu would be Unekwu again. Ajifa was determined to be by her side through it all.

“How about this one?” Eneojo lowered his MacBook to a point Unekwu could see what he showed her. Ajifa also drew her head nearer and suddenly felt her heart miss beats immediately she sighted the photo.

She gave a look of disapproval at her son and wondered why he was showing Unekwu her pre-wedding photos with Caleb. It didn’t sit well with her. They would get there slowly, right?

Unekwu stared at the photos with all attention, the type of attention she hadn’t given much to the previous photos. She blinked her eyes and dimmed her brow then slowly but steadily, she reached out and collected the MacBook from Eneojo’s hands.




Susan walked in angrily, slamming the door behind her.

“What is happening here?” She yelled at the top of her lungs at one of the inspectors standing right in front of Detective Samson’s desk. The man had a look of fear and soberness written all over his face.

“Samson, I said what is going on here?” Susan charged towards where Detective Samson sat, looking all nonchalant and carefree. That infuriated her the more.

Susan heaved in a restless fashion as she took the seat offered her by her partner. She sat on the edge, careful not to let her boiling anger rip the chair she’s sitting on into pieces.

“Please, excuse us!” Detective Samson motioned to the inspector at the door who turned to leave almost immediately but Susan’s voice interrupted him.

“No. Stay, inspector.” She turned to face Samson. “Why would you do that, Samson? Why?” Her eyes were fuming red with anger already.

Samson blinked his eyes and took them off the computer he’s been pretentiously looking at the whole time.

“It was important to let him go, Susan. He’s innocent!”

Susan sprang up to her feet in rage. Was she having a nightmare or something? Detective Samson had asked her to go home and rest earlier. She knew there was something fishy but she also needed anywhere outside of the police station to clear her head. She’d, however, instructed, as a matter of urgency, some of her investigators to continue the search on Angela’s gateman. Something was not right about the man just disappearing after his madam died. Something was definitely not right somewhere. She’d barely gotten away for few hours when the person she put in charge of the search told her Detective Samson had called to cancel the search.

“He’s innocent?” Susan couldn’t believe it. “With a blood stained knife on his roof; his all-of-a-sudden disappearance from his duty post and the fact that a call came almost immediately we got hold of the knife and you feel he’s innocent?”

Detective Samson swung himself in his chair and listened attentively as his female partner ranted from one point to another. Suddenly, for the first time, he wondered why he’d chosen Susan to join him in this particular case. Not as though she wasn’t excellent at her job, but the thing with strong-willed women and one’s inability to dissuade them once their minds were made up.

“Inspector, please excuse us!” Susan finally let Samson relieve the inspector who looked really scared from the word banter ongoing in the room.

Immediately the inspector closed the door firmly behind him, Susan gave Samson a wicked stare.

“You called off the search for the gateman? Samson? I didn’t remember to tell you but I found a photo. The gateman of her neighbour confirmed the person in the photo I picked from the gateman’s table was Mallam Sediq. That’s what the men were using to search.”

Detective Samson rubbed his tongue against his lower lip and glanced at the woman still yelling in front of him. It looked like his calmness infuriated her even more but to what did he care right now?

“I don’t know how else to tell you that her gateman is innocent. Trust me, he is. He must have eloped out of fright. You’d do the same if you found your boss dead in the compound, right?”

“And the knife? Angela was reported to be stabbed but the officers never found any knife hanging onto her body or around the place where she laid in cold blood.”

“How are we sure it’s the knife we found that was used to stab the late miss? Susan, you know what I think?” He rose an eyebrow, lowering the other one. “I think you are overworking your brain over this issue. The court hearing is already with us.”

Susan looked down calmly for the first time since she got into this room. She noticed the little bags beneath Detective Samson’s eyes as a result of lack of good sleep. She walked her eyes downward from his eyeballs, down the ridge of his nose to encircle around his lips. Were they trembling? She wasn’t sure exactly what she’s seeing but if her instincts were anything to go by – which had never failed her – Detective Samson’s conscience had been tampered with. It had to be courtesy of the very many selfish top leaders her beloved state was blessed with.

She watched keenly so long enough that Samson began to worry about what he’d done wrong. Why had Susan stopped talking and in the past minutes only staring at him? If he didn’t know her better, he’d think she’s lusting after him. But that’s not the case. There could not be any more professional person he would meet in his life like Susan. She was top-notched disciplined.

“How much did they pay you?” She finally asked, her eyes carrying the demeanour of a wounded tiger.

“Excuse me?”

“The call. The man you went to visit. The all-of-a-sudden loss of interest in the case.” She shifted her weight from one foot to another. “How much had he paid to buy you over this easily, Samson?”

“Susan…” It was Samson’s turn to yell now. He got up and pointed his first finger daringly at her. “I won’t sit here and watch you insult my integrity!”

Susan let out a sarcastic laughter and clapped her hand. “In less than 24hours, that poor Caleb in there would be facing a death sentence.” She blinked the tears off her eyes. “Are you so hungry that you cheaply sold out your conscience, Detective Samson Akanbi?”


It’s not the size of the man in the fight but the size of the fight in the man that matters.

To be continued.




About Grace Ochigbo

Grace Ochigbo is a Christian, storyteller, inspirational speaker and the Founder of Gemstone Sickle Cell Aid Team, a non-profit organizations working to end Sickle Cell Disease. email;

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  1. Mrs. Oladunjoye

    weldone, sis! you are so deligent with what you do….may more grace abound unto you!

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