LOGINHis hand moved past my face and reached for his phone on the bedside table.
I stayed still with my eyes closed. My heart was beating so fast that I could hear the thumping in my chest. Then I slowly opened my eyes to see what the delay was. He was already looking at his phone screen, completely unbothered. It was another level of embarrassment. I hoped that he didn’t see me because my face was already warm.
I turned to my side and stared at the wall, hoping that the ground would open and swallow me. He was just reaching for his phone, and I had been lying there holding my breath like a fool.
I cleared my throat and pulled the blanket closer. I thought of what could get rid of that awkwardness, then I said, “The interview was good.”
He looked up. His expression changed so quickly that I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.
“You watched it?”
“Everyone watched it.” I tucked myself in. “You said nice things too.”
He held my gaze for exactly three seconds. Then he looked back at his phone.
"Go to bed, Quinn."
I opened my mouth and closed it. I was disappointed, but I was still happy because this felt like a real conversation in over 8 months.
“Goodnight,” I said.
I was about to close my eyes to welcome in some sleep when he spoke to me again. “My management wants us to attend the Stellar Awards together this weekend.”
I turned in his direction slowly, but he wasn't looking at me. “Together?” I asked. “As a couple?”
“That's what we are,” he replied.
I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest. He had never shown me to the public. Or… is that why he said nice things about me? Maybe it's because he needs to make an impression of a happily married life. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.
He finally looked at me. “On Saturday,” he said. “... by 5 pm, my stylist will pick you up to get you ready.”
I fixed my gaze on him. “I thought I had to be a secret from everyone?”
He moved his gaze from mine back to his iPad. “You don’t have to be anymore”.
I couldn’t contain my emotions. I didn’t know how I could feel or how I was feeling, but I knew that it wasn’t exactly joy. “What if I don’t want to come with you?”
He didn’t answer me. He just kept on reading his script. Now I felt anger boil within me, but I knew that I would be the only one to suffer from it. “I’m not going,” I sulked as I turned to the other side of the bed.
He could have at least said something better, like ‘Will you come with me,’ or ‘I’d like you to be there.’ But no, he didn’t. He just ordered me like I was one of his staff.
After a while, he stood up from the bed and went out, and never returned to the bedroom. By the next morning, I woke up to an empty room like always. I figured out that he slept in his other room. I don't know why I expected anything different. I sighed deeply as I thought of the conversation from last night.
I went to the bathroom to wash my face when I saw his clothes from last night folded loosely over the edge of the bathtub. He could have at least tidied up. I picked up the shirt and trousers to put them in the laundry basket when something slipped out of the pocket and fell to the floor. I bent down and picked it up. It was a crisp white envelope, already opened but lightly resealed. Curiously, I pulled it open. Inside were two tickets to Maui, Hawaii.
I was about to check the date and the time on the ticket when he knocked on the bathroom door, “I’m coming in…”, he said.
I rushed quickly to put the ticket back into the envelope and back to the pocket. He entered and saw me scuffling with his clothes. I was nervous, but I tried to keep calm. “I was ehm… I wanted to–”
He interrupted me, "I need to use the bathroom. Aren’t you done?”
“Yes–yes, I am done”
“Then what are you waiting for?” he said as he moved to pick up his toothbrush.
“Oh yes,” I rushed out. But I still couldn’t understand what those tickets were for. I sat in front of the dressing mirror thinking about it.
In no time, he came out of the bathroom and finished preparing for work. I wanted to ask him about it, but it didn't seem like it was my business. As he was about to leave, he looked at me, who was already staring at him. “I’ll be going on a business trip with a colleague tomorrow. I’ll be back on Saturday for the awards.” he moved out through the front door.
I paused for a while. Was the ticket for his colleague? Or am I just overthinking it?
I rushed to the toilet to check the departure date on the ticket in his clothes, but the ticket was already gone.
Diane's phone rang. She checked the screen before answering.“Marisol Vega,” she said after the call ended. “She's been investigating Marcus's case. She says she has a source who claims Marcus was moved to an isolated block two weeks before his death. Apparently, there was no explanation for the transfer.”Henry sat up straighter.“An isolated block? Why didn't we know about this?”“Because we haven't received the prison records yet. Marisol wants to publish a story, but I've asked her to give us forty-eight hours to obtain some documents first.”“Why wait?” I asked. “If she publishes it, people might start asking questions.”
My chest ached as I stared at the writing. “He was making plans to come home,” I said.Henry nodded, his face hardening.“This needs to go to Diane.”Mrs Odion looked from him to me.“Do you think it will make a difference?” she asked.“We don't know yet,” Henry said. “But we're going to find out what happened.”She looked down at her hands.“My son is gone. Even if you find out what happened, will it bring him back?”Henry was quiet for a moment.“No, ma'am. It won't
We visited Mrs Odion two days after the news broke.There were cars parked along the street, and people kept coming in and out of the house carrying food and offering their condolences. A group of church women had taken over the kitchen, while a little girl slept across two chairs in the sitting room.Mrs Odion sat in the same armchair we had seen her in during our last visit. She looked smaller somehow, as though grief had taken something from her that she couldn't get back.Beside her sat a younger woman with Marcus's eyes. I recognised her from the family photographs. Efe, his sister, had one arm around a little girl who looked about ten. The child, Chidera, kept staring at Henry.An open photo album lay on the table, and a cardboard box sat on the floor beside it.
Marcus hadn't slept properly in eleven days.The lawyer's letter was tucked inside his pillowcase, folded so many times that the edges had started to soften. He had read it so often that he could remember almost every word.New information has come to light. There are people outside who are willing to look at your case. There is a reasonable chance that someone will listen.He didn't trust hope.Hope was a dangerous thing in prison. It made you count days differently. It made you imagine walking through the gate, seeing your mother's face, and eating food that didn't come in a plastic tray.It made the days harder when nothing changed.He had been twenty-six when the offi
“Quinn, where are you?” Chris asked as soon as I answered.“Outside my building. What's wrong?”“Is Henry with you?”“No. Why? What's going on?”“Are you upstairs?”“No, I'm still in my car.”“Can you go upstairs first? Sit down before I tell you.”“Chris, just tell me what's going on.”He was quiet for a moment.“Marcus Odion was found unresponsive in his cell early this morning.”I gripped my
“I've worked in this industry for twenty years now,” Christie said. “I started as an assistant on a music video, holding cables. Now people send me scripts. I'm telling you that so you understand I'm not guessing.”She took a sip of her drink before continuing.“There was a singer I knew some years ago. Very talented woman. She signed with a label, and the contract gave them ownership of almost everything: her image, her name, her pictures, her videos. She was getting a tiny percentage of what she earned, but she didn't realise how bad it was until she started questioning them.”“What happened?” I asked.“She spoke to a journalist. Nothing dramatic. She was polite and explained that some of the terms weren't fair. She said she wanted things to change. After that, the int







