All Chapters of The reluctant vow: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The morning sun broke gently through Zara’s bedroom window, but its warmth did little to thaw the cold, tight feeling in her chest. She was back at her father’s house now—just as planned—but something about it felt off. Foreign. Like she had left a part of herself behind at the Kareem mansion.Her mother’s knock came soft but insistent.“Zara, are you awake?”Zara sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Yeah,” she called back, though her voice barely rose above a whisper.The door cracked open, and her mother peeked in. Her eyes immediately scanned Zara’s face. “You look pale. Did you sleep at all?”“I’m fine,” Zara replied quickly, swinging her legs off the bed. “Just… tired.”Mrs. Tunde stepped in fully, her brows drawing close with concern. “You’ve been looking tired a lot lately. Is this about the wedding?”Zara gave a small, rehearsed smile. “Just nerves, I guess.”Her mother didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “Well, breakfast is ready.”“Okay. I’ll be down in a minu

The ride to the hospital was uneventful, though Kemi kept glancing at her phone like she was expecting a message. They didn’t talk much—both of them were still unsettled from the strange Imani encounter the last time.As they walked through the hospital doors, the scent of antiseptic hit them instantly. Zara wrinkled her nose while Kemi headed straight for the nurse’s desk to check in. After confirming the appointment, they were told to wait.The hallway was quiet except for the occasional beeping of machines and the echo of nurses’ footsteps. Zara sat beside Kemi, eyes drifting lazily over the faded posters on the wall.Ten minutes later, a nurse stepped out and called, “Miss Kemi Adebayo?”“That’s me,” Kemi stood, brushing invisible dust from her jeans. “You’re coming in with me, right?”“Of course,” Zara replied.Inside the dimly lit scan room, the doctor motioned for Kemi to lie down. Zara stood at her side as the technician prepared the gel and equipment. The whirring of the mach

Zara barely slept the night before.She kept playing the mall scene over and over in her head—Regan smiling warmly, the woman touching his chest, the way they stood too close, too comfortable. The memory didn’t sting as much as it baffled her. Why lie about who she was?By morning, she had her answer. Or at least, she needed one.“Are you sure about this?” Kemi asked as Zara adjusted her hair in the mirror.“I’m not going there to fight,” Zara said calmly. “I just want him to look me in the eye and lie again.”Regan opened the door still dressed in his sweats, surprise flickering across his face.“Zara?”She stepped in without waiting. “We need to talk.”Regan frowned slightly but moved aside. “Okay…”He followed her into the living room, confusion on his face. “You good? You look upset.”Zara turned to face him, arms folded. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want a straight answer.”Regan blinked, now visibly wary. “Alright…”“Who was the woman you were with at the Royal Crest M

She didn’t speak to anyone as she walked past. Just a sharp nod here, a tight smile there. And then she stopped—right at Zara’s desk.“Morning,” she said, her voice laced with a honeyed edge.Zara forced a neutral smile. “Hey.”Imani set a file down. “Campaign budget from the finance team. Please upload it to the shared folder.”Zara took the file and opened it briefly. Nothing suspicious. Just the standard quarterly numbers.Then Imani leaned in slightly, her perfume thick and heady. “Oh, by the way… funny thing. I had the weirdest dream last night. Dreamt I was throwing a party, and someone crashed it, watching from the shadows.”Zara stiffened just slightly. “Really?”“Mm-hmm.” Imani’s smile widened, though her eyes didn’t. “And in the dream, the uninvited guest didn’t realize that people who hide in the dark… often get bitten first.”The words hung in the air.Zara blinked slowly, careful not to react. “Interesting dream.”“Isn’t it?” Imani straightened. “Anyway, carry on.”She wa

Sunday mornings in the Tunde household always had a quiet rhythm. The sun filtered gently through the curtains, and the aroma of fried plantains wafted from the kitchen. But today, the silence wasn’t peace—it was tension. Heavy. Palpable. Like a storm waiting to break.Zara sat on the dining table, absently scrolling through her phone, her food untouched. She hadn’t spoken much since the day before. The USB was still on her desk, haunting her like a ghost she had no strength to confront.Her mother, Mama Zara as the neighborhood fondly called her, moved around the kitchen in purposeful silence. She was usually the first to break awkwardness with small talk or forced laughter, but today, she kept her lips sealed.Her father sat in the living room, newspaper in hand, glasses low on his nose, though it was obvious he hadn’t read a word. He would occasionally glance over the top of the paper toward Zara and then return his gaze as if he hadn’t been watching.Eventually, Mama Zara emerged