The sun had barely crested the skyline when Regan slipped into his car, jaw tight, eyes alert. He had a plan. The unsettling texts Zara kept receiving had gnawed at him for too long. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, the idea of someone lurking in the shadows, tormenting her, stirred something deep within him. Not love. No. Just responsibility, perhaps. Or irritation. He wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing—he needed answers.
He arrived at the quiet café where he’d arranged to meet the same man he had messaged days ago—the one he’d asked to keep an eye on Zara. The guy was already there, in a booth at the far end, nursing a mug of coffee and tapping his foot to an inaudible rhythm. He looked up when Regan entered, eyes sharp behind rectangular glasses. “You said you had something,” Regan said, sliding into the booth opposite him. The man leaned in. “I did what you asked—followed the person who’s been tailing your fiancée. They’re good. Real good. Always in the same car. ES 350. Tinted windows. Plates are registered to someone in your father’s circle. Old business contact, perhaps.” Regan’s eyes narrowed. “You traced the plate?” The man nodded and handed over a photo. “Snapped it yesterday. Same car, same person—always in hoodies, gloves, and sunglasses. Couldn’t get a clear look, but… not a man, I’d say. Small build. Might be a woman.” Regan stared at the image for a long moment. That plate number—it looked familiar. A few seconds passed before it clicked. That was the same car his father had boasted about giving away years ago. “You sure this is the car?” “Positive.” Without wasting another second, Regan got into his car and drove straight to his father’s estate. He was fuming. The closer he got, the heavier his chest felt. When he stormed into his father’s private lounge, Chief Kareem was sitting with a drink in hand, completely relaxed. “We need to talk,” Regan said, slamming the photo on the glass table. Chief Kareem looked at it, then back at his son with an unreadable expression. “What is this?” “The car. You gave it away, didn’t you? Who did you give it to?” Kareem sighed. “What are you insinuating, boy?” “I’m asking if you have anything to do with the person stalking Zara.” Chief Kareem set his glass down slowly. “Sending creepy messages wasn’t what I asked them to do… or is it part of what I paid them for?” Regan’s jaw clenched. “So it was you.” “I didn’t say that. Don’t twist my words.” Regan stared at him, eyes cold. “I just want this to stop.” Chief Kareem waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll handle it.” Later that evening, Chief Kareem made a phone call and arranged to meet the stalker in person. He arrived at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, flanked by two of his most intimidating guards. The stalker was already there, still wearing a hoodie and sunglasses despite the darkness. Chief Kareem walked up to the person with cold authority. “You’ve gone beyond the assignment. Creepy texts? That wasn’t part of the job. I asked you to watch, not scare.” The stalker didn’t respond. One of the guards stepped forward and landed a swift punch into the stalker’s stomach. “Chief said you crossed the line,” he grunted. The stalker crumpled but stayed silent. Chief Kareem’s voice was low and deadly. “This ends now. No more texts. Just watch. If I hear of anything else, you won’t just get bruised.” The stalker nodded weakly. It was the only form of surrender they could offer. Back at Zara’s house, she sat curled on her bed, staring at her phone. For the past few nights, she had grown used to the disturbing messages popping up at odd hours. But tonight, nothing. Not even a full stop. It was almost more unnerving than the texts themselves. Kemi sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed, flipping through her phone absentmindedly. “Still nothing?” she asked. Zara shook her head. “It’s been three nights. Not a word.” Kemi frowned. “Maybe whoever it was finally got bored.” Zara wasn’t convinced. She could still feel eyes on her. The silence felt… calculated. Regan, on the other hand, hadn’t reached out either. Not even a call or a text after she’d informed him about the last creepy message. His cold reaction had shocked her. She had expected confusion, even mild concern—but instead, he had sounded like she was disturbing his peace. That hurt more than she cared to admit. She sighed and tucked her legs beneath the blanket. “I don’t like this.” Kemi glanced at her. “I don’t either. But for now, let’s just wait. Maybe it’s over.” In the shadows, the stalker watched. From the safety of their car, bruised and bandaged from Chief Kareem’s visit, they sat silently. No texts. No threats. Just watch. That was the new order. And they intended to follow it—at least for now. Later that evening, after dinner, Zara and Kemi sat by the balcony of her room. The breeze was soft, and the night was quiet, but Zara’s heart wasn’t. “You ever feel like you’re just existing, Kemi?” she asked, her voice low, almost defeated. Kemi turned to look at her, surprised by the tone. “What do you mean?” “I mean…” Zara paused, hugging her knees to her chest. “I wake up every day in a house I didn’t choose, with a man I didn’t pick, living a life that was decided for me. The only thing that still feels like mine is modeling. And even that… is slipping.” Kemi reached over, placing a comforting hand on her back. “You haven’t lost it. You’re still fighting for it.” “But for how long?” Zara whispered. “What if I wake up one day and I’ve become what everyone wants—Regan’s wife, my dad’s perfect accountant daughter—and there’s nothing left of me?” Kemi sat quietly for a moment, then spoke. “You’re not losing yourself, Zara. You’re being tested. And you don’t even realize how strong you’ve been through it all.” Zara looked at her friend with glassy eyes. “I’m tired of being strong.” “You won’t have to be alone in it,” Kemi said, squeezing her hand. “I’m here. And when you walk into that interview I told you about, when you finally get your first runway… you’ll remember why you kept going.” Zara blinked away the tears, a soft smile breaking through. “Thank you. For everything.” The two friends sat in silence, the kind that heals. And in that moment, with no texts, no calls, no threats—Zara breathed a little easier.Zara adjusted the strap of her black sling bag over her shoulder and ran a hand through her curls, trying to suppress the anxious flutter in her stomach. Today was the first official visit to the modeling agency—a quick consultation and test shoot—and Kemi had pulled every string she could to make it happen discreetly. Dressed in wide-leg jeans and a crisp white blouse tucked in neatly, she looked effortlessly stunning. Her face bore minimal makeup, just enough to highlight her natural features. She had told her parents she was going to Kemi’s house again for another girls’ day, and thankfully, they hadn’t asked too many questions.Kemi, already waiting in front of the gate, waved from her small car. Zara jogged toward her, heart pounding with excitement and nerves.“You ready?” Kemi beamed as she opened the door.“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Zara muttered, sliding in. “Let’s go before someone changes their mind.”The drive was filled with excited chatter. Kemi hyped her up, played the
Zara sat curled on her bed, her knees hugged to her chest as the afternoon sun poured lazily through her window. The email from the modeling agency was still open on her phone screen, its bright text almost mocking her. They had given her a second chance—a golden opportunity she never expected after backing out the first time.She should’ve been thrilled. She should’ve been out picking an outfit or practicing poses. But instead, she was stuck in a spiral of doubt, fear, and loneliness.Her eyes stung with unshed tears.She hadn’t spoken to Kemi all day. No playful banter. No encouraging messages. No Kemi offering to come over and help her prepare. Just silence. It was a silence that echoed louder than any argument could. Kemi’s words from the night before haunted her.“I have better things to do. Your dad will still call you to run back home… and like always, you will.”Zara closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip. Kemi was angry—and maybe she had every right to be. But it didn’
The car ride home from the shoot was quiet, but Zara felt anything but still. Her chest swelled with a cocktail of relief, excitement, and disbelief. The shoot had gone way better than she imagined. Even without Kemi’s usual backup, she pulled it off—and when she spotted her best friend in the crowd with that familiar smirk, it felt like her wings spread wide again.But now, with her makeup cleaned off and her hoodie wrapped tightly around her braids, she looked and felt like the normal Zara again—just a girl from Surulere with a father who didn’t want her to dream too loud.When she walked into the house, nothing felt off. The atmosphere was normal. Her mum was in the kitchen humming as she fried plantain, and her dad was on a call in the sitting room, his glasses hanging low on his nose. Zara quickly greeted him and walked to the kitchen to steal one or two pieces of plantain, then helped set the table.Dinner that evening was one of the few peaceful ones they’d had in a while. Her
Zara stared at her screen, blinking hard as the email glowed back at her.Subject: URGENT – Invitation to Abuja Modeling Campaign ShootFrom: Prestige Faces Africa“Congratulations, Zara Tunde. Following your recent shoot with Ajah Agency and the widespread attention it garnered, we’re pleased to invite you to a high-profile commercial shoot in Abuja this weekend. All travel and accommodation will be covered. Talent compensation: $1,000 USD flat rate.”Her heart skipped. Her hands began to shake. One thousand dollars? For one shoot?She covered her mouth and sank slowly onto the edge of her bed, eyes still fixed on the email. This wasn’t a scam. It was real. This was the kind of break she had dreamed about. No catwalk, no competition—just a booked, paid commercial.She quickly dialed Kemi.“Kemi…” she whispered the moment the line connected. “They want me in Abuja. It’s real, Kemi. It’s happening. A thousand dollars!”“What?!” Kemi screamed. “Zara, are you joking right now?!”“No o! I
Zara’s fingers trembled as she hit send on the message: “Regan is here and I think my dad knows I lied.”Within seconds, her phone buzzed with an incoming video call. Kemi.Zara picked up and barely got out a greeting before Kemi said, “Turn your camera. I want to see for myself. Are you sure it’s him?”Still catching her breath, Zara turned the camera shakily toward the corridor where she’d last seen Regan, but the hallway was empty now.“What the actual hell? He was just there! I swear—Kemi, I’m not losing it—I saw Regan!”“Babe, maybe it was someone that looked like him,” Kemi offered, her tone soft but unsure.“No, no, Kemi—I know what I saw. It was him. He even sent me a text!”“Wait, text?” Kemi sat up straighter. “What did it say?”Zara switched to her other phone, quickly screenshotting Regan’s message: “Your lies are getting better, but not good enough.”She forwarded it to Kemi.Kemi stared at it and exhaled slowly. “Okay, he’s definitely close by. But try not to panic. You’
Zara stirred beneath the sheets, the early morning light pouring through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the hotel room. Her body ached in places that reminded her of the night before—the way Regan had kissed her, touched her, held her like he couldn’t breathe without her.Her eyes blinked open slowly.And there he was.Lying next to her, half the sheets kicked off his body, arm draped lazily over his head. Peaceful. Warm. Infuriatingly attractive.Zara turned to her side, slowly, quietly… willing her breath to steady. Her mind was a mess. What had she done? She wasn’t supposed to fall into his arms like that. Not after everything. Not with all the secrets between them.She sat up gently, pulling the sheet with her to cover her chest. Her gaze flicked to the clock.7:13 AM.The shoot was by 10. She needed to freshen up, call Kemi, get mentally back on track. She tiptoed out of bed, picked up her clothes from the floor, and headed toward the bathroom.But halfway there, hi
The Abuja sun blazed high as Zara stepped out of the white-walled studio, her feet aching from the black heels she had worn for the final shoot. The commercial was finally a wrap. Her skin glistened with sweat, makeup melting slightly, and her body ached from all the dramatic poses. But she had nailed every single frame.“Yes! That’s it! Hold that pose. Eyes softer… perfect!” the photographer shouted, clicking away.A stylist rushed in to adjust her necklace mid-shoot. “Your neckline is too hidden. Let’s show off the product.”Zara nodded, standing still like a mannequin while hands fussed around her.The makeup artist whispered after the shoot, “Girl, you just ate that shoot. You might get picked for next month’s cover job.”Zara smiled faintly, exhausted but giddy. Her heart pulsed with joy. She wasn’t just playing dress-up—she was finally living her dream. Her first paid modeling gig had just ended, and it felt like a beginning.She stepped outside, the heat of the day wrapping aro
Regan’s fingers trembled slightly as he ended the call. The words “I’m two months pregnant” echoed in his head like a loud bell refusing to be silenced. He stared at the ceiling, heart pounding, mind spinning in a thousand directions. Imani. Pregnant. Two months.“No, no… this has to be a mistake,” he muttered to himself, sitting up abruptly on the bed.He rubbed his hands over his face, then grabbed his phone again. Within minutes, he had booked the next flight to Lagos. He couldn’t breathe properly until he got answers face to face. If what Imani said was true, everything he’d started to build with Zara was about to come crashing down like a fragile house of cards.While Regan scrambled to deal with the storm unfolding, Zara rolled her suitcase through the familiar gates of her father’s house in Lagos. Her heart thumped with a strange mix of fear and curiosity. She hadn’t seen her parents since leaving for Abuja. And knowing her father, there was no telling what awaited her inside.
The streets of Lagos blurred past as Regan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the leather. He wasn’t headed anywhere in particular — just driving, trying to outrun the chaos swirling in his chest. The confrontation with Imani played in loops through his head like a haunting tune he couldn’t turn off.A baby.She claimed she was pregnant with his child. And the timeline… two months ago? That night. That stupid, foggy night when they ran into each other at that bar, both downing more drinks than they should have. He remembered being with her… vaguely. The bar. Her laugh. The taxi ride. Her apartment. But nothing intimate. Nothing sexual.Still, Imani had recounted everything with confidence — where they sat, what they drank, how he had kissed her. He had no recollection of even holding her hand.Could she be lying?His head throbbed. He thought of Zara, her soft laugh, the way she’d curled into his chest in Abuja. How, for the first time in a long time, something had
Regan’s fingers trembled slightly as he ended the call. The words “I’m two months pregnant” echoed in his head like a loud bell refusing to be silenced. He stared at the ceiling, heart pounding, mind spinning in a thousand directions. Imani. Pregnant. Two months.“No, no… this has to be a mistake,” he muttered to himself, sitting up abruptly on the bed.He rubbed his hands over his face, then grabbed his phone again. Within minutes, he had booked the next flight to Lagos. He couldn’t breathe properly until he got answers face to face. If what Imani said was true, everything he’d started to build with Zara was about to come crashing down like a fragile house of cards.While Regan scrambled to deal with the storm unfolding, Zara rolled her suitcase through the familiar gates of her father’s house in Lagos. Her heart thumped with a strange mix of fear and curiosity. She hadn’t seen her parents since leaving for Abuja. And knowing her father, there was no telling what awaited her inside.
The Abuja sun blazed high as Zara stepped out of the white-walled studio, her feet aching from the black heels she had worn for the final shoot. The commercial was finally a wrap. Her skin glistened with sweat, makeup melting slightly, and her body ached from all the dramatic poses. But she had nailed every single frame.“Yes! That’s it! Hold that pose. Eyes softer… perfect!” the photographer shouted, clicking away.A stylist rushed in to adjust her necklace mid-shoot. “Your neckline is too hidden. Let’s show off the product.”Zara nodded, standing still like a mannequin while hands fussed around her.The makeup artist whispered after the shoot, “Girl, you just ate that shoot. You might get picked for next month’s cover job.”Zara smiled faintly, exhausted but giddy. Her heart pulsed with joy. She wasn’t just playing dress-up—she was finally living her dream. Her first paid modeling gig had just ended, and it felt like a beginning.She stepped outside, the heat of the day wrapping aro
Zara stirred beneath the sheets, the early morning light pouring through the curtains, painting golden streaks across the hotel room. Her body ached in places that reminded her of the night before—the way Regan had kissed her, touched her, held her like he couldn’t breathe without her.Her eyes blinked open slowly.And there he was.Lying next to her, half the sheets kicked off his body, arm draped lazily over his head. Peaceful. Warm. Infuriatingly attractive.Zara turned to her side, slowly, quietly… willing her breath to steady. Her mind was a mess. What had she done? She wasn’t supposed to fall into his arms like that. Not after everything. Not with all the secrets between them.She sat up gently, pulling the sheet with her to cover her chest. Her gaze flicked to the clock.7:13 AM.The shoot was by 10. She needed to freshen up, call Kemi, get mentally back on track. She tiptoed out of bed, picked up her clothes from the floor, and headed toward the bathroom.But halfway there, hi
Zara’s fingers trembled as she hit send on the message: “Regan is here and I think my dad knows I lied.”Within seconds, her phone buzzed with an incoming video call. Kemi.Zara picked up and barely got out a greeting before Kemi said, “Turn your camera. I want to see for myself. Are you sure it’s him?”Still catching her breath, Zara turned the camera shakily toward the corridor where she’d last seen Regan, but the hallway was empty now.“What the actual hell? He was just there! I swear—Kemi, I’m not losing it—I saw Regan!”“Babe, maybe it was someone that looked like him,” Kemi offered, her tone soft but unsure.“No, no, Kemi—I know what I saw. It was him. He even sent me a text!”“Wait, text?” Kemi sat up straighter. “What did it say?”Zara switched to her other phone, quickly screenshotting Regan’s message: “Your lies are getting better, but not good enough.”She forwarded it to Kemi.Kemi stared at it and exhaled slowly. “Okay, he’s definitely close by. But try not to panic. You’
Zara stared at her screen, blinking hard as the email glowed back at her.Subject: URGENT – Invitation to Abuja Modeling Campaign ShootFrom: Prestige Faces Africa“Congratulations, Zara Tunde. Following your recent shoot with Ajah Agency and the widespread attention it garnered, we’re pleased to invite you to a high-profile commercial shoot in Abuja this weekend. All travel and accommodation will be covered. Talent compensation: $1,000 USD flat rate.”Her heart skipped. Her hands began to shake. One thousand dollars? For one shoot?She covered her mouth and sank slowly onto the edge of her bed, eyes still fixed on the email. This wasn’t a scam. It was real. This was the kind of break she had dreamed about. No catwalk, no competition—just a booked, paid commercial.She quickly dialed Kemi.“Kemi…” she whispered the moment the line connected. “They want me in Abuja. It’s real, Kemi. It’s happening. A thousand dollars!”“What?!” Kemi screamed. “Zara, are you joking right now?!”“No o! I
The car ride home from the shoot was quiet, but Zara felt anything but still. Her chest swelled with a cocktail of relief, excitement, and disbelief. The shoot had gone way better than she imagined. Even without Kemi’s usual backup, she pulled it off—and when she spotted her best friend in the crowd with that familiar smirk, it felt like her wings spread wide again.But now, with her makeup cleaned off and her hoodie wrapped tightly around her braids, she looked and felt like the normal Zara again—just a girl from Surulere with a father who didn’t want her to dream too loud.When she walked into the house, nothing felt off. The atmosphere was normal. Her mum was in the kitchen humming as she fried plantain, and her dad was on a call in the sitting room, his glasses hanging low on his nose. Zara quickly greeted him and walked to the kitchen to steal one or two pieces of plantain, then helped set the table.Dinner that evening was one of the few peaceful ones they’d had in a while. Her
Zara sat curled on her bed, her knees hugged to her chest as the afternoon sun poured lazily through her window. The email from the modeling agency was still open on her phone screen, its bright text almost mocking her. They had given her a second chance—a golden opportunity she never expected after backing out the first time.She should’ve been thrilled. She should’ve been out picking an outfit or practicing poses. But instead, she was stuck in a spiral of doubt, fear, and loneliness.Her eyes stung with unshed tears.She hadn’t spoken to Kemi all day. No playful banter. No encouraging messages. No Kemi offering to come over and help her prepare. Just silence. It was a silence that echoed louder than any argument could. Kemi’s words from the night before haunted her.“I have better things to do. Your dad will still call you to run back home… and like always, you will.”Zara closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip. Kemi was angry—and maybe she had every right to be. But it didn’
Zara adjusted the strap of her black sling bag over her shoulder and ran a hand through her curls, trying to suppress the anxious flutter in her stomach. Today was the first official visit to the modeling agency—a quick consultation and test shoot—and Kemi had pulled every string she could to make it happen discreetly. Dressed in wide-leg jeans and a crisp white blouse tucked in neatly, she looked effortlessly stunning. Her face bore minimal makeup, just enough to highlight her natural features. She had told her parents she was going to Kemi’s house again for another girls’ day, and thankfully, they hadn’t asked too many questions.Kemi, already waiting in front of the gate, waved from her small car. Zara jogged toward her, heart pounding with excitement and nerves.“You ready?” Kemi beamed as she opened the door.“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Zara muttered, sliding in. “Let’s go before someone changes their mind.”The drive was filled with excited chatter. Kemi hyped her up, played the