At Eagle Restaurant, Tunde was already seated in a corner booth, away from the music. He was stirring a glass of Chapman with a straw when Obinna slid into the seat across from him.
'You look like someone stole your last piece of suya,' Tunde said with a smirk.
Obinna sighed. 'It's Erimma. Family Day is this Friday. Her mum already bailed.'
Tunde nodded slowly. 'Vanessa. As usual. You two are officially divorced now, so don't expect much from someone who's always chosen her career over her family.'
'She keeps asking if her mum will be there. I don't know what to tell her. She's only five, Tunde.'
'Then don't tell her anything. Just... fix it.'
Obinna raised a brow. 'How?'
Tunde leaned forward, lowering his voice. 'Find someone. Hire someone to act as her mum. Just for the day. A friendly face. Someone warm. Kids don't care about blood. They care about presence.'
Obinna stared at him. 'You're joking.'
'Not at all. You're rich. You're smart. And Erimma deserves a good memory for once.' Tunde paused. 'Doesn't have to be romantic. Just believable.'
Obinna took a sip of water, his thoughts drifting. He didn't like the idea of pretending, but the thought of Erimma sitting alone on a day meant for families troubled him even more.
Outside, the Abuja night was calm, filled with the soft hum of cars and the occasional chirp of crickets. But inside Obinna's heart, something was stirring—a plan. A desperate plan. One he couldn't believe he was actually considering.
When he returned home, he saw that Erimma was now sleeping soundly. He headed for his study to work, his mind still wrestling with the idea Tunde had suggested.
***
That night, instead of heading straight to her office, Uremma strolled through the hallway, quietly checking on a few patients. The hospital had settled into its nighttime rhythm, the bustle of the day replaced with soft footsteps and the gentle whir of machines.
As she passed the paediatric ward, laughter and tiny voices spilled into the hallway. Through the glass, Uremma saw a few wide-awake faces light up.
'Doctor Ure!' the children called out.
She smiled and pushed the door open. 'What are you all doing awake? It's bedtime!' she asked as she stepped in.
'Just one story!' a small boy pleaded, raising his teddy bear as if it, too, could beg.
Chuckling, she moved closer. 'All right. One story. But after that, straight to dreamland.'
'Deal!' they chorused.
She sat on the edge of a chair and pulled a little storybook from her bag. Reading slowly, she made funny faces and used different voices, sparking laughter and sleepy giggles. One by one, the children yawned and nestled into their pillows, their eyes fluttering shut.
When the last child was asleep, Uremma stood, tucked the book away, and tiptoed out. Her footsteps were soft as she continued down the hallway, past the staff break room where a few nurses sipped tea. She offered them a small wave but didn't stop.
Finally, she reached her office. As she opened the door, the soft scent of fresh paper and sterilised equipment greeted her. She sat by the window, gazing out at the distant city lights. Behind her, the hallway was hushed, the hospital wrapped in quiet.
The small bed tucked into the corner would do. With the day behind her, she lay down, closed her eyes, and let the peaceful night draw her into a well-earned sleep.