Life couldn't be this difficult and harder. For the young man, life could have been better. 

Murder roles and all, his name in papers. So quick, he'd become a prime suspect!


How he felt when he moved amidst people, the eyes they gave him. He looked almost like an outcast. The people at the food joint and all the public places he was connected to for a reason or two, all gave him that kind of look. 

He wasn't sure if all knew about what he was going through. But anytime anyone gave him that look, he felt, 'Oh, he knows.'


That evening after the interrogation, Luta felt he needed help with all that was going down the drain. One love mistake had cost him all and it was confusing. Yes, it was more thinking he did it all. But he nevertheless really did, did he? He saw it in his head, only in his head. He felt he had a mental picture of all the incidents. 


He used the payphone at one of the restaurants where he used to eat and he tried to reach his long time uncle; the only one he felt had enough power to save him. The line was a dead end. Nothing pulled through. 

His brows arched in a curve, sweat off his pores like a tap left open. 


He bought a plate of rice and paid with the little change he had left in his purse. He couldn't chew well but he knew he had to eat to regain his strength. He had not taken anything in two days now. 

His tummy rumbled as he took his fork away from his plate. 

He grabbed the cup of water and gulped it down noisily. 


**** 

Precious waited in the lobby, her hand resting on her shoulder as she navigated through her phone. The dim light from it squared on her face. 

Her face was stiff, and she was ready to get out of the lobby. 

Minutes later, a tall muscular guy came in through the door and announced to Precious that the boss was ready to see her. 

She stood from the couch she sat on, her eyes on the other end. 

She stretched for her bag and picked out a red file. 

She climbed freely to the third floor with no one on her side. She knew where Afolabi would be. 

It was 12:37. She didn't expect his wife around, and besides this wasn't home. 

This was just one of the houses he stayed for business transactions, and she was sure that was what it was about. 


She walked in. He looked up and smiled. 

She looked left noticing the movement. It was his wife grabbing her bag she had on one of his shelves. She looked vexed and displaced. There must have been war before Precious came in. Now she wasn't ready to be a part of this. 

She stood aside watching the woman stomp out of the room, and slamming the door close. 


"Sorry about that!" Afolabi said. He stiffened a groan as he cleared his table. Precious moved forward and adjusted the chair. She tossed the file on the table, a bit careful with the swing. 

"How was today?"

"Hectic!" Precious replied. His eyes weak as he picked up the file. It was clear that he was going through a lot- family, work and all. 

He had a big dent in his business a year ago, and it was not resolved till now. 

"I went to check my sister up. She would be discharged next week."

"Oh! I forgot. I should have asked." He pulled his hands to himself. 

"Yeah! I know. I saw the cash you sent." 

"It's fine." His eyes on the files, "Remember I know all this. I am just too busy and I can't represent myself."

Precious gave him that 'I know' look. "But I can't. Besides, I called you for another reason." He dropped the file, and pushed it aside. 

"I heard you are friends with a detective." Her look changed. 

He reached for his drawer, his eyes down. He picked up a picture, dropped it on his table and pushed it forward to Precious. She picked it up and her head banged. 

It was someone so familiar; the guy that would do anything for her, the guy she called bestfriend. 'Was he a detective?' She asked herself. 

Questions spurned faster than she could answer, and before she was done putting herself together, Afolabi was talking. 

"Ayo...!" Calling his name spelt trouble. 

"You know him?" He asked again.