Home / Romance / Midnight Strokes / Chapter 15 – The Confession

Share

Chapter 15 – The Confession

Author: Ekenta David
last update Last Updated: 2026-02-28 18:04:01

Tuesday afternoon, 3:47 p.m.

The police station interview room smelled like old coffee, bleach, and nerves.

DSP Aisha Bello sat across from Chidi Okoro. No handcuffs. No parents this time his mother had been asked to wait outside after she kept jumping in. Chidi’s hands rested on the metal table, fingers locked so tight his knuckles stood out white. He hadn’t slept properly in days. Headlines kept scrolling behind his eyes every time he blinked.

DSP Bello opened her notebook. Voice calm, no pressure.

“Chidi, we’ve spoken to everyone now. Ms. Adeyemi. The other boys. The principal. The board. Everyone says the same thing: nothing happened beyond extra classes. But your mother says you’ve been different since last term. Withdrawn. Angry. Crying at night. She thinks something happened. I think something happened too. So I’m going to ask you one more time, off the record for now no tape, just you and me. What really went on in those after school sessions?”

Chidi stared at the table. A small dent in the metal caught the fluorescent light.

He thought about Khalid’s smug look in the principal’s office.

About Tobi and Yusuf always staying quiet, following Khalid’s lead.

About Adeyemi’s fingertips brushing his knuckles in the corridor that last time the last touch before everything fell apart.

About the headlines calling her a monster, him a victim, when he’d begged for every single second.

His throat moved.

“I…” His voice cracked. “I lied.”

DSP Bello leaned forward just a little. No triumph in her face just quiet patience.

“Tell me.”

Chidi let out a shaky breath.

“It wasn’t coercion. It wasn’t abuse. It was… us. All five of us. We wanted it. She didn’t force anyone. We asked. We kept coming back. The sessions started as revision, then… they changed. We all agreed. Every time. Green means go. Red means stop. We used safe words. Phones off. No one was hurt. No one was tricked.”

He looked up for the first time. Eyes wet, but steady.

“She never promised grades. Never threatened us. We just… wanted her. And she wanted us. It was consensual. All of it. The locked doors, the blinds, the smells yeah, that was us. Sweaty. Messy. Real. But no one was a victim.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds.

DSP Bello wrote one word in her notebook, then closed it.

“Why tell me now?”

“Because the lies are destroying her. Destroying all of us. My mum thinks I’m broken. The papers call her a predator. Khalid’s dad won’t look at him. Tobi’s parents have him on lockdown. Yusuf’s uncle is talking about shipping him abroad early. And she’s alone suspended, probably scared she’ll never teach again. I can’t let that happen because we were too scared to own what we did.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m not saying it was right. Teacher and students it breaks every rule. But it wasn’t rape. It wasn’t grooming. It was… stupid. Dangerous. Intense. And mutual.”

DSP Bello studied him for a long moment.

“If I put this on record, it changes everything. You understand that? You could face consequences too. The school could expel you. Your WAEC could be invalidated if they prove misconduct during prep. And the law… even consensual, the age of consent is eighteen in Nigeria for positions of authority. You’re all seventeen, eighteen?”

“Eighteen,” Chidi said quietly. “All of us turned eighteen before the first time.”

She nodded slowly.

“I need to speak to my superiors. And I need statements from the others. If they back you up if all four of you say the same thing this could shift from criminal case to school disciplinary matter. Maybe even dropped if no one pushes charges. But if even one denies it…”

Chidi met her eyes.

“They won’t deny it. Not if I go first.”

DSP Bello stood.

“Wait here.”

She left the room.

Outside, Chidi’s mother was pacing. When the detective came out she rushed forward.

“What did he say?”

DSP Bello looked at her levelly.

“Your son just confessed to a consensual sexual relationship with his teacher and three other students. He insists no coercion occurred. We’ll need to verify with the others.”

Mrs. Okoro’s face went white.

“He… what?”

Inside the room Chidi put his head in his hands.

He’d just set fire to the last shield they had.

But he’d also given Adeyemi a chance to breathe.

By evening the police had called in Khalid, Tobi, and Yusuf separately.

One by one each looking more exhausted than the last they confirmed Chidi’s account.

No coercion.

Consensual.

Safe words used.

All initiated by mutual desire.

All ended when the rumours forced distance.

DSP Bello’s report that night was short:

Initial investigation indicates no evidence of non-consensual activity, coercion, or grooming. All parties (including the teacher) have provided consistent statements affirming mutual consent among adults (all 18+ at time of acts). Recommend closure of criminal file pending final review. Matter appears to fall under school disciplinary policy rather than criminal statute.

The headlines the next morning were different.

“Students Confess: Lagos Teacher Scandal Was Consensual –Police May Drop Case”

“From Victim to Participant: SS3 Boys Admit to Relationship with Teacher”

Social media split again outrage from some parents, support from others, memes, think pieces, shaming in every direction.

At her flat Adeyemi watched the news on mute.

Her phone silent for days lit up with one message.

From Chidi’s number.

We told them the truth. All of us.

I’m sorry it took so long.

We’re not letting you burn alone.

She stared at the screen until the words blurred.

Then she typed back one word.

Thank you.

The investigation wasn’t over.

The school board would reconvene.

Parents would scream louder.

But the lie had cracked open.

And for the first time in weeks, Adeyemi felt something like air in her lungs.

The fire was still burning.

But now it had witnesses who refused to let it consume her.

Continue to read this book for free
Scan code to download App

Latest chapter

  • Midnight Strokes    Chapter 31 – London Lights

    The call came on a Tuesday afternoon, while Adeyemi was lounging by the pool in her Jumeirah apartment, skin still slick from sunscreen, a half-read novel open on her lap. Her agent’s voice crackled through the phone—excited, almost breathless. “Amina, darling, you’re not going to believe this. London shoot. High-end production. They want you specifically—your presence, your chemistry. Partner’s a Brit-Nigerian guy, mid-thirties, built like he lifts cars for fun. Script’s got that slow-burn edge you love. Flight’s booked for Friday. You in?” She paused, letting the idea settle. London—cooler than Dubai, grittier, a city she hadn’t touched since a quick layover years ago. A change from the desert heat might be good. And the script? She’d skimmed the outline they sent—intimate, power-play elements, but with her in control. Sounded intriguing. “Green,” she said simply. Her agent laughed. “That’s my girl. Pack light. They’ll have wardrobe there.” She flew business class—window seat,

  • Midnight Strokes    Chapter 30 – Under the Desert Moon

    The moon hung low and fat over Dubai that night—full enough to wash the city in silver, bright enough to make the sand dunes outside the city glow like spilled milk. Adeyemi had rented a small desert camp for the weekend—just her, Malik, Layla, and Zara. No agency involvement. No cameras. A private Bedouin-style setup: low cushions around a fire pit, canvas tents with open sides, lanterns strung between palm fronds. The air smelled of wood smoke, cardamom, and the faint salt of the gulf carried on the wind. They arrived at dusk. Layla immediately kicked off her sandals and ran barefoot toward the dunes, laughing as the sand swallowed her ankles. Zara followed with her sketchbook, already looking for the perfect angle to capture the firelight on skin. Malik carried the cooler of wine and fruit, glancing back at Adeyemi with that slow, knowing smile. She walked behind them in a loose white kaftan, hair down, bare feet sinking into the still-warm sand. The heat of the day lingered on

  • Midnight Strokes    Chapter 29 – Night Bloom

    The heat in Dubai had finally cracked—just a little—enough for the evenings to carry a faint, welcome breeze off the gulf. Adeyemi had spent the day alone: long swim in the building’s rooftop pool, a new poetry collection open on the lounger beside her, skin still warm from the sun when Malik knocked at her door after 10 p.m. He stepped inside carrying nothing but a small bottle of chilled rosé and that slow, knowing smile she’d come to crave. “No bag tonight?” she asked, closing the door behind him. He set the wine on the counter, turned, and looked her over—bare legs under a thin cotton slip, hair still damp from the shower. “Tonight I only brought myself,” he said. “Thought you might want to unwrap something different.” She laughed low, stepped close enough that her breasts brushed his chest through the fabric. “Then unwrap slowly.” He didn’t speak again for a while. He kissed her first—standing in the kitchen, slow and deep, hands sliding up her thighs to cup her ass and

  • Midnight Strokes    Chapter 28 – Deep Currents

    The Dubai summer had turned the city into a furnace air thick, sun merciless, nights that refused to cool. Adeyemi had taken a rare month off from shooting. No contracts, no call times. Just space. She spent most days reading on the balcony or walking the Marina at dusk when the heat finally broke. One evening she met him at a quiet rooftop bar in Jumeirah Malik, thirty-two, Nigerian-born, raised between Lagos and London, now running logistics for one of the big property developers. Tall, broad-shouldered, skin the deep midnight of someone who never quite left the sun behind. He wore a simple white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, the top two buttons open. When he smiled it was slow, confident, like he already knew the answer to any question she might ask. They talked for hours first about Lagos (the traffic, the food, the way the city never let you forget you were alive), then about books, then about nothing at all. When the bar started to empty he leaned in close. “Come back to my pl

  • Midnight Strokes    Chapter 27 – The Long Horizon

    The Dubai years settled into Adeyemi like fine sand warm, persistent, impossible to shake off completely. She was forty-three now. Amina Ray had become a quiet name in certain corners of the industry: not the loudest, not the most prolific, but the one people remembered for scenes that felt lived rather than staged. She worked selectively four to six projects a year, always with directors who understood restraint. She said no more often than yes. The agency respected it. Her bank account stayed comfortable. Her conscience stayed clear. Karim remained her most frequent co-star, but they’d long since stopped counting shoots. What started as chemistry on camera had turned into something steadier off it late dinners in hidden restaurants, weekend drives into the desert, nights when they didn’t touch at all, just talked until the call to prayer drifted through the open windows. Layla and Zara were still part of the circle. They travelled together twice a year Bali one time, Greece anoth

  • Midnight Strokes    Chapter 26 – Salt & Skin

    The Santorini trip happened in early spring off-season, fewer tourists, the island quiet enough to hear the sea breathe. Adeyemi flew in with Karim, Layla, and Zara. No agency cameras this time. No schedules. Just a whitewashed villa perched on the caldera cliffs, infinity pool spilling toward the Aegean, bougainvillea spilling over every wall. They arrived in the late afternoon, sun already low and golden, air thick with salt and wild thyme. Layla dropped her bag in the living room and immediately stripped to her bikini top and shorts. “I’m claiming the pool first,” she announced, laughing as she ran barefoot across the terrace. Zara followed with a sketchbook under her arm, already looking for the best angle. Karim carried Adeyemi’s suitcase inside like it weighed nothing, then paused in the doorway to watch her. She stood on the terrace in a loose linen dress, hair loose, wind tugging at the hem. The sea stretched endless below blue so deep it looked black at the edges. He step

More Chapters
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status