The Suspicion
Two weeks passed.
Favour thought she was safe again. Her act was rehearsed,her lies, seamless.
But Daniel had begun to watch.
He started asking subtle questions:
"Where do you keep the crayfish?" or "What spice did you use for this stew?"
She always answered vaguely, or pretended to forget.
Then came the night that changed everything.
Favour called him, as usual:
"What should I make for dinner?"
But Daniel replied calmly: "Don't worry. I'm not hungry yet, Let's talk about that once am home."
Her chest tightened.
He never said that.
She paced, should she still order food?
Or wait?
That silence in his voice was heavy. Too calm.
When he got home, he dropped his bag, walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge, he pulled out a bowl.
"Is this today's soup?"
"Yes," she said too quickly.
He removed the lid, Sniffed it, his eyes met hers.
"This smells exactly like the ogbono I ate last week, from a restaurant in Maitama."
Favour froze.
Time itself stopped moving.
And that was the beginning of everything falling apart.