Lahat ng Kabanata ng The reluctant vow: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

LOCATION: MAIN HALLWAY, EARLY AFTERNOONFootsteps—fast, intentional—echoed across the marble floor. The air was still tense from the morning’s disruption.Kemi spotted Regan rounding the corner, his jaw tight, his hands buried in his pockets like he was trying to keep his anger from leaking out. She stepped directly into his path.He stopped abruptly.She didn’t move.Arms folded across her chest, Kemi arched a brow.“Oh good, you’re not too busy playing house with your baby mama to take a little feedback.”Regan blinked, caught off guard. “Kemi—”“You’re just going to let her move in like it’s her birthright?”He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not what it looks like.”Kemi scoffed.“Oh really?” She took a small step forward. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like betrayal.”Regan opened his mouth. Closed it. Then ran a hand over his face, clearly exhausted.“I didn’t know she was coming. My dad let her in. I’m… trying to handle it.”“Then handle it,” Kemi said,

The morning sun filtered weakly through the floor-length curtains of the Kareem residence, casting soft gold streaks across the long mahogany dining table. The room was unusually quiet—oppressively so. Not the comfortable kind of silence, but the heavy, sharp-edged kind that seemed to sit on everyone’s shoulders.The table was laid out in its usual grandeur. Silver trays steamed with fresh yam porridge, grilled plantains, fluffy scrambled eggs, and freshly baked rolls. A glass jug of zobo rested beside a ceramic teapot still releasing wisps of heat. The cook had done her part, but appetite was not something anyone had brought to the table.Zara sat at the far end, her back straight, arms resting lightly on either side of her plate, her fork untouched. Her eyes stayed fixed on the rim of her glass, tracing the droplets of condensation slowly trailing down its side. Every now and then, her jaw clenched slightly—barely visible, but unmistakably tense to anyone who dared look closely.Reg

The house had settled into silence. That uneasy, stretched-thin stillness that came only after tension had spent the day carving its way through every wall and hallway. Outside, the wind stirred faintly, rustling the leaves like whispers in hiding.Zara lay curled on one side of her bed, back to the door, eyes open in the dark. Sleep hadn’t come easy in weeks, but tonight, it felt especially distant. The weight in her chest had grown heavier ever since Imani’s arrival. Her mind buzzed with unanswered questions, and her heart—numb as it had tried to become—still reacted to Regan’s silence.Then she heard it.The faintest slip of paper beneath wood.Shhhh—thunk.She froze.Her body tensed as she slowly turned her head toward the door. Nothing moved. The hallway light glowed faintly under the frame, uninterrupted. No footsteps followed. No knock. Just silence. Thick and loaded.Zara sat up slowly. Slid out of bed.Barefoot and cautious, she padded to the door, her breath tight in her thr

The hallway was quiet—thick with the kind of stillness only late nights knew how to summon. Imani padded barefoot across the marble tiles, her silk robe whispering at her ankles. The lights were off, but the soft blue glow from Zara’s slightly open bedroom door called to her like a secret begging to be uncovered.She paused at the threshold.Zara wasn’t in the room. Her overnight bag was gone. Imani stepped inside, cautious but confident. The scent of perfume lingered in the air—fresh, floral, distinctly Zara. On the desk near the window sat a tablet still faintly lit, screen dimmed but unlocked.Imani’s lips curled.She tapped it.Up popped a photo folder, recently accessed. And there they were—photos from the last few days. Zara in city alleys, rooftop gardens, sunlit cafes. Each frame captured her in breathtaking angles—poised, luminous, alive. In one, she wore a rich orange two-piece with her curls free and a bold stare daring the camera. Another showed her laughing, sunlight danc

The phone buzzed against the nightstand. Imani picked it up lazily, the screen lighting up with a name she hadn’t seen in weeks.Nathan.She answered on the third ring, voice smooth and sweet.“Well, well… the ghost calls.”Nathan chuckled, low and unamused.“Didn’t know I was a ghost now.”She smirked, adjusting the silk strap on her shoulder.“You vanish like one. What do you want?”“You,” he said simply. “Or at least… an update. How’s life over there in Kareem paradise?”Imani stretched luxuriously, like a cat basking in sunlight.“Oh Nathan… it’s delicious here. I’m driving one of their SUVs now—matte black, smooth as sin. I cruise wherever I want. I eat whatever I want. I just ordered a seafood boil and two bottles of imported juice. No questions asked.”“Mmm,” Nathan muttered. “Must be nice.”“It is,” she purred. “I buy new wigs and bundles almost every week—raw bone-straight, kinky, Brazilian curls—you name it. The best perfumes. The kind that announces you before you walk into