SHE'S THE WOMAN I DIVORCED, BUT LAST NIGHT, I HELD HER AGAIN AND I HAVEN'T STOPPED SHAKING SINCE THEN. Written by: Janet Writes EPISODE 1 The call came at exactly 7:42 p.m. I was on my way back from Lekki, turning into my estate in Ajah, when Toyosi’s name flashed on my phone screen. I hadn’t saved it. I didn’t need to. Some names your heart never deletes, no matter how much you pretend. “Hello?” I answered, my voice already tight. She didn’t greet me. Just one line, sharp like a knife: “Michelle is sick. She’s been vomiting since morning. I don’t know what to do.” Michelle........ My baby girl. My flesh and blood. My only child. I didn’t speak. I yanked the wheel, tires screeching against the interlock, nearly brushing the security man opening the gate. All I could think of was her tiny hands, her giggles, the way she’d crawl into my arms and say, “Daddy carry.” Before the divorce. Before everything fell apart. Rain started falling as I sped down the express a Lagos rain that slapped the windscreen like it was angry with my destiny. I didn’t care. I drove like a mad man, my heart pounding louder than the thunder. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up to Toyosi’s house in Ikota. I didn’t knock. I didn’t call. I burst in like I used to, back when this house smelled like home. She was on the floor, cradling Michelle, who whimpered in her arms. Sweat glistened on Toyosi’s forehead, her eyes swollen. No makeup. No wig. Just the raw, desperate version of her I hadn’t seen in years. “She’s been vomiting and can’t keep anything down,” she stammered, panic lacing every word. I rushed over, gently lifting Michelle into my arms. Her small body was too warm, her eyes glazed, lips dry. I kissed her forehead. “Omo mi…” I whispered. “Daddy is here.” “Have you called the doctor?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. “Yes,” Toyosi said quickly. “He said to give her sips of water and bring her in if it gets worse. But she won’t even drink.” I stayed. Of course I stayed. Even if my house was burning, I would’ve stayed. She was my child. And Toyosi…She was the mother of my child. She brought malt and water. We took turns wiping Dayo down with a damp cloth, coaxing her to drink, rocking her gently. At one point, Toyosi reached for the towel, and our fingers brushed. She froze. I froze. We didn’t speak. Just looked at each other for one second too long. At 9:03 p.m., my phone rang "Baby, where are you?” Amaka My wife. My current wife. The one I married two years after the divorce. The one everyone called “classy” and “perfect for you.” I stepped onto the balcony, moving away from the sound of the television “Babe, something came up at the office. One of the servers crashed. I’m handling it now,” I lied, rubbing my forehead like I could wipe the shame away. “Oh, sorry. Should I wait up?” “No, no. Go to bed. I might be really late,” I said quickly. She didn’t argue She never does. If she knew where I was at Toyosi’s house at this hour the heavens would fall. I went back inside. Michelle had fallen asleep, her breathing soft, peaceful, her tiny body curled on the couch. Toyosi sat beside me, her face tired but relieved. “Thank you… I don’t know how I would’ve coped alone,” she said, her voice low. I nodded, clutching Michelle’s blanket, its softness grounding me. The fan was spinning slowly like it was bored, rain kept falling outside, and the silence between us felt like two people waiting for who will talk first." Our shoulders touched. Barely. But it was enough. Enough to drag me back to late night gist on this same couch, her head on my chest during while watching nights programs,The dreams we buried because we were not compatible “You always show up,” she whispered, not looking at me. My throat tightened. I turned to her slowly. "YOU STILL KNOW HOW TO MAKE ME FEEL NEEDED” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "You still use Victoria’s Secret?" I asked, leaning back a little, pretending to admire the room but really inhaling her perfume. She chuckled softly. "Ohhhh, you still remember?" She turned. Our eyes met. Her hand brushed mine. I should’ve stood I should’ve grabbed my keys and left. I should’ve remembered my wife, my home, the life I claimed was better. But I didn’t. Our lips met soft at first, then hungry, desperate, like two people drowning in their past. Her fingers clutched my shirt. My hand gripped the back of her neck. It was wrong So wrong. But in that moment.... TO BE CONTINUED. Kindly react ☺️🌸