Chapter 14

The door slammed behind Regan as he stepped into his apartment, the silence swallowing his heavy breathing. He dropped his keys on the counter and ran a hand through his hair, pacing the length of the living room like a man trying to outrun his own thoughts.

He had confronted his father. Not just confronted—he had stood up for Zara. Zara, the girl he had been forced to marry. The girl he didn’t even want anything to do with in the first place. And yet…

“I actually threatened him,” Regan mumbled under his breath, a look of disbelief washing over his face. “For her.”

He sat down on the couch, elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together slowly as if trying to process his own actions. “Am I… falling for her?” he muttered, blinking like he needed to shake the thought away. “No. No way.”

He scoffed to himself and sat back against the cushions. “What’s even my business if she’s being followed? I never wanted this marriage in the first place. She’s not my problem. Whatever happens to her is on her.”

But even as the words left his mouth, they felt hollow. He could feel it. A shift. And it terrified him.

Later that night, he heard the front door open—his father’s footsteps echoing through the hallways. Moments later, a knock came on his door.

“Regan,” Chief Kareem’s voice called. “Come to the study.”

Regan took a deep breath before rising, making his way down the dim corridor. The study was dimly lit, filled with shadows, secrets, and that same suffocating air his father always carried with him.

Chief Kareem leaned casually against the desk, swirling a glass of brandy. He gave his son a long, knowing smile.

“I see you’ve started falling for your bride,” he said simply.

Regan frowned, defensive. “What?”

“That little performance at my office? Threatening me?” He chuckled, sipping. “You’ve caught feelings.”

“I haven’t,” Regan snapped. “You people can stalk her all you want. It’s not my business.”

“Oh, but it is,” Chief Kareem said smoothly. “You may not like it, son. But that girl… she’s changing you. I can see it.”

Regan clenched his jaw. “I did what I did because I don’t like being lied to. That’s all.”

His father raised a brow. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Across town, Zara gently tapped Kemi’s shoulder as they pulled up in front of her house.

“Thanks for today,” Kemi smiled, hugging her. “And thanks for the sleepover.”

“I’ll call you,” Zara whispered, forcing a smile.

As soon as Kemi shut the car door and walked into her compound, Zara felt a chill crawl across her skin. She wasn’t even inside her home yet, and her heart was already heavy.

She stepped into the house quietly, hoping to sneak upstairs before any confrontation could occur. But her father’s voice pierced the air.

“Zara,” he called out. “Come.”

Her shoulders sank. She walked into the living room, where her father sat in his usual chair, reading glasses perched low on his nose.

“I secured a position for you at Mr. Ayeni’s firm,” he said without looking up. “You’ll be managing the accounting department. You start on Monday.”

Zara blinked. “Daddy, I—I don’t want to work in an accounting firm.”

Now he looked up. “You studied accounting. Graduated with a second class upper. You will use it.”

“But I want to model,” she said softly. “I want to follow my dream—”

He waved her off. “Enough of that nonsense. You start work on Monday. End of discussion.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she turned and hurried upstairs, her legs heavy with defeat.

In her room, she collapsed onto the bed, her sobs muffled into the pillow. Another decision made for her. Another piece of her life stripped away without permission.

A soft knock came at the door moments later. Her mother entered quietly, closing it behind her.

“Zara,” she whispered, sitting beside her. “I’m sorry.”

Zara sniffled but said nothing.

Zara sat up slowly, her face streaked with tears. “Why is it so hard for him to just let me live my life?”

Her mother pulled her into a gentle hug. “Just hold on, baby. It won’t always be like this.”

But Zara wasn’t so sure anymore.

Mrs. Tunde descended the staircase slowly, her hands clenched tightly in front of her as though holding back the frustration that burned within her chest. She found her husband seated in his usual spot in the living room, flipping through the evening newspaper with the calmness of a man who hadn’t just shattered their daughter’s spirit.

She stopped in front of him. “Tunde, we need to talk.”

He glanced up briefly, brows furrowed. “About what?”

“Zara,” she said firmly, her voice barely concealing the emotion simmering beneath. “You need to let that girl breathe.”

He exhaled, tossing the paper aside. “Breathe? Is that what you call chasing around cameras and runways in the name of modeling? That’s not a career, Itunu. It’s a phase. A childish dream.”

Mrs. Tunde folded her arms. “You didn’t think it was a childish dream when she worked hard and got picked as a finalist by an international agency. That’s not a phase, Tunde. That’s purpose.”

“She studied accounting,” he snapped. “And she’ll put it to use. I’ve already spoken to Ayeni. She starts Monday.”

She stepped closer, her tone calm but laced with quiet defiance. “And you already chose a husband for her. Without asking. Without caring what she wanted.”

He looked away.

“Can you not, just once… allow her to choose something for herself?” she asked, voice softening. “Tunde, this girl is slowly breaking in front of us. She’s holding on by a thread.”

“I’m her father,” he said stiffly. “I know what’s best for her.”

“Do you?” she countered gently. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like all you care about is control.”

His face hardened.

“She’s not a child anymore. And she’s not you. You chose the life you wanted. Let her choose hers.”

There was silence. Heavy. Uncomfortable. And then he picked up his newspaper again, rustling the pages without looking at her.

“She starts on Monday,” he repeated.

Mrs. Tunde’s heart sank, but she nodded slowly, turned away, and walked back up the stairs.

But as she climbed, she whispered to herself, “Even if you don’t stand with her, I will.”