The laughter of her children filled the living room, sweet and untroubled, like music. Ella sat on the couch, watching her daughter chase her younger brother around the sofa, their tiny feet thudding against the tiled floor. Her husband's voice drifted from the kitchen, humming as he rinsed dishes. To anyone looking in from the outside, it was a picture of peace, of the life Ella had always wanted.
But behind her smile, Ella's hands trembled.
It had started again the dreams. The sound of heavy footsteps creeping down a hallway. The smell of sweat and alcohol. The weight pressing down on her chest until she could not breathe. Every night, the past broke through the walls she had built, reminding her lof the secret she had buried deep.
A secret with blood on it.
Just then she remembered the box she kept from all those years in her room. The box that kept the answers to all her secret pain and different mysteries .
Then she walked to the kitchen to do the dishes and work on somethings.
From the kitchen, the sound of running water mingled with her husband's humming an old highlife tune he always sang when he was at peace. To anyone watching, this was the portrait of a perfect home: children's laughter, a husband's gentle presence, a woman with everything she had once dreamed of.
But Ella's smile never reached her eyes.
Her hands, folded neatly in her lap, trembled just slightly. She clenched them tighter, willing the shaking to stop. The last few nights had been haunted by dreams ,dreams she had buried years ago, locked away where no one could reach them. Dreams of footsteps in a dark hallway. Of a door creaking open. Of a man's shadow falling across her bed.
Ella swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the memory. She forced her gaze back to her children. Not here, she told herself. Not now. You're safe. You're happy. That life is gone.
A knock shattered the fragile calm.
It was firm, deliberate too sharp to belong to a neighbor. The children froze mid-chase, their giggles dissolving into silence. Ella's husband, Kunle, wiped his hands on a towel and went to the door. She walked to the door halfway , her body tense without knowing why.
When the door swung open, two men stood there. Dark suits. Stern faces. The gleam of official badges.
"Good evening," one of them said, his voice steady, practiced. "We're looking for Mrs. Ella Adeniran."
Ella's throat went dry. She forced herself to step forward. "Yes… I'm Ella."
The taller man exchanged a glance with his partner before pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "We'd like to ask you a few questions. It's about a case that was recently reopened." He paused, letting the words settle. "A case from many years ago."
For a moment, the room tilted. Her children's curious faces blurred. Kunle's puzzled frown seemed distant. All Ella could hear was the rush of blood in her ears, and all she could see was that night her stepfather's eyes wide in shock, the knife in her trembling hand, the silence that followed.
Her smile faltered. The life she had built, so carefully, so desperately, had begun to crack.