It was a dark and stormy night in Metropolitan Lagos—a city that never truly sleeps, beaming with life and pulsing with energy. Home to over 21 million people, it stood proudly as the most populated city in all of Africa.
Even in the heart of the storm, the markets buzzed with movement—people of every race and background weaving through the maze of stalls, hustling to meet their daily needs. Under the neon glow and the glistening wet pavements, you could find treasures from every corner of the globe, a living testament to the city's eternal spirit and diversity.
From Italian Gucci bags to American Nike sneakers, the markets of Lagos overflowed with treasures from every corner of the world. The commercial heartbeat of Nigeria and its hub for industry and tourism, wore its crown with pride—boasting the nation's highest GDP. Yet beyond the statistics and the constant hum of the city lay a treasure of beauty. Golden beaches stretched under the sun, while lush green parks offered rest to the weary. No visitor ever departed without pressing their feet into the warm sands of at least one of Lagos's legendary shores.
And then there was the food—a masterpiece of bold, fiery flavors. To taste Lagos was to taste her spirit: fierce, vibrant, unforgettable. Imagine velvety Amala bathed in Ewedu and Gbegiri, crowned with a swirl of spicy stew. Or Ewa Agoyin—beans smoky and rich, melting into soft bread like a whispered secret in the night.
The air around these dishes hums with history, with pride. One bite and you're no longer just a visitor—you belong. These aren't just meals—they're memories. Generations passed down in every bite, laughter baked into every recipe. Lagos feeds you, yes—but more than that, she dares you to taste her soul. And once you do, you never forget. In the entire stretch of the Western Coast, nothing compares.
This was where Victor Richards—father of three and CEO of Richards & Sons, a prestigious law firm—grew up. On the sun-kissed, windswept shores of Lagos Island, fondly known as Eko, he took his first steps, learned to dream, and built the foundation of a life that would later command boardrooms and courtrooms alike.
He attended the esteemed Kings International College, a place known for producing some of the sharpest minds in the region. It was during his time at Babcock University, in his second year of studying Law, that he met Rachel Ofor—the woman who would change the course of his life forever.
Their days were filled with quiet moments, from late-night study sessions that gave way to whispered secrets to stolen glances across the crowded campus. What began as simple friendship bloomed into something deeper, something inevitable. By graduation, their connection was undeniable, and they became a couple, their love almost palpable in the air around them.
The years passed quickly. After they walked across that stage, tassels swaying in unison, Victor and Rachel's bond was sealed in a ceremony under the warm Lagos sun—elegant, intimate, and full of promise. The vows they exchanged that day felt like an unspoken promise, a new beginning that only grew stronger with time.
Victor soon stepped into his father's shoes, taking the helm of Richards & Sons, with ambition in his eyes and a fire in his heart. But even as his career soared, he and Rachel craved something more—a life away from the shadows of their past, somewhere they could carve out their own future.
And so, they made the bold decision to leave the bustling streets of Lagos behind and start fresh in Abuja. In the quiet rhythm of the capital, they built a home, laying down the first stones of a life that would one day be filled with laughter, love, and the chaos of their growing family.
The years passed, but the spark that once burned brightly between Victor and Rachel began to fade. What was once a shared dream slowly unraveled in the silence of their home. Their marriage, once filled with promises and hopes for the future, came to an untimely end. The reasons behind their separation remained a closely guarded secret—only known to Victor and Rachel.
The love that had once connected them seemed to have been lost in the space between them, and despite their efforts to keep the facade intact, the weight of unspoken words became too heavy to bear. They had tried, but the distance between them grew wider with each passing day.
Eventually, they filed for divorce, the final act of a union that had seen so much promise. The court granted Rachel full custody of their two younger daughters, Isabelle and Ruth, while their eldest, Michael, chose to stay in Abuja with his father.
The once tightly-knit family now scattered across the country, each carrying the weight of their own broken pieces.
Michael, now 17, sat silently in the back of the black Toyota, staring out the window as it sped away from Murtala Mohammed Airport. The rhythmic tap of rain against the glass created a soothing sound, but his mind was anything but calm. The streets of Lagos were as vibrant as ever, but he couldn't shake the feeling that so much had changed since he'd left.
The city felt almost foreign, its familiar landmarks now distant memories, yet they still tugged at him with a strange sense of belonging. As the car passed by the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, its grand buildings towering against the grey sky, Michael's heart quickened. It had been years since he'd last seen this place. Back then, he'd never thought he'd return. But now, as a science student, he found himself imagining one day walking through those very halls, chasing the future he had once only dreamed of.
Lagos had always been a city of endless motion, but now, it seemed to hum with a different energy—a pulse that made him feel both at home and like a stranger. The rain blurred the world outside, turning it into a sea of lights and reflections, but Michael couldn't help but feel the weight of the years that had passed. He was back, but this was no longer the city he'd left behind.
Michael rolled the window down slightly, letting the cool air brush against his face. He leaned closer, trying to catch a better view of the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital as they drove past.
Victor glanced at him. "You know it's not the safest time to have that down. Especially at night."
Michael turned toward him. "I know, Dad. I just wanted to see the hospital better."
"There'll be time for that," Victor said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "You've got a whole month before school starts. For now, let's just get to the estate in one piece, yeah?"
Michael gave a small nod and rolled the window back up.
"Sure, Dad." Michael muttered, pulling the headphones from around his neck and slipping them on. A few seconds later, the smooth rhythm of Smile by WizKid and H.E.R. poured into his ears, dulling the hum of the city outside.
The drive from the airport to the estate took about 45 minutes. The farther they got from the bustling expressways, the quieter the world seemed to become. Streetlights cast golden pools on the wet asphalt, and the occasional rustle of palm fronds danced in the wind.
Eventually, the car slowed and turned into a calm, well-kept street. The driver eased to a stop in front of a tall, peach-painted duplex—neat hedges out front, a black gate standing firmly closed.
"We're here, sir," the driver announced, giving a short honk as he brought the car to a full stop.
Victor reached into his wallet and paid the fare, nodding in thanks. Just then, the front door opened and out stepped a petite woman, no taller than 5'4", in her early twenties. She looked like the housekeeper—dressed in a modest floral blouse and a pair of clean flats. Without a word, she came over and began unloading their luggage from the trunk with practiced ease.
Michael, meanwhile, was lost in the architecture. The duplex towered above him like something out of a design magazine. Smooth peach walls, iron-railed balconies, and warm lights glowing behind long curtains—it all felt so different from the cold edges of Abuja.
So absorbed was he in the moment, he didn't even realize when the car backed out and left the compound.
"Allow me, sir," the housekeeper said, her voice gentle as she reached for his bag.
Michael handed it over, his gaze scanning the unfamiliar hallway. "Thanks, Ms…"
"Bolu," she cut in smoothly. "Ms. Bolu."
Without another word, she turned and led him down the corridor. The silence between them echoed with the weight of new beginnings. She opened the door to his room, the air inside cool and crisp.
She led him to his room to freshen up before taking him to the dining room.
"Michael? Come here, you!" A woman in her early forties rushed toward him as he entered the dining room, arms already outstretched. Her eyes shimmered with excitement. "I've missed you so much… how long has it been?"
Michael stood still for a moment, then slowly let her hug him. His tone was flat, almost distant. "Two years, Mom. You must've forgotten."
He pulled away gently and made his way to the nearest chair, the scowl flickering briefly across his face before he masked it with a sigh.
"I'm really sorry, baby… I was just busy—" Rachel stepped closer, reaching for his cheek with a soft touch, her voice pleading.
Michael pulled back sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Busy with what exactly?" he snapped, cutting her off. "Look, Mum, I don't want to talk about this. Honestly, I didn't even want to come. Dad insisted. I'm here to see my sisters—nothing more. So please, drop the act."
"Do you think I enjoyed watching you being taken away from me all these years? You think I just sat at home, doing nothing?" Rachel paused, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears. "Day and night, I fought to get custody of you, but the court wouldn't change their verdict. I can only imagine what you went through all those years. I'm so sorry. I didn't call to check up on you. I messed up big time. I know… but you're here now, and I promise I'm going to make it up to you."
Michael's jaw clenched, his lips curling into a tight frown. He shook his head slowly, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "I don't need your pretentious love anymore." He moved her hands off his cheek, his touch firm, almost brusque. "Just cut the shit already." He shrugged his shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of the moment. "I've been doing good without you for the past two years. I don't think I need you now either." His gaze hardened, his chest rising and falling with frustration.
What passed between them was merely a ghost of what had been—the days when a single glance across the room could silence everything and everyone else around them. The air between Michael and Rachel hung thick, a fragile thread of unresolved pain and missed years.
"Emm… Can we eat, please?" Ruth, the second-born of Victor and Rachel, spoke up, her voice cutting through the thick tension. She shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the atmosphere. "All this talking is making my belly ache."
The tension in the room was palpable, hanging thick between mother and son, as if the very air was weighted with unspoken words. Just as the silence threatened to stretch on, the sound of footsteps broke it. Isabelle, the youngest of the three and Ruth's immediate junior, entered the dining room with her usual bright energy.
"What did I miss?" she asked, scanning the table before her eyes landed on Michael. "Oh my God! You're really here!" She rushed toward him, her arms wrapping around his neck in a warm, tight hug. "I've really missed you! When mom said you'd be coming to Lagos, I didn't believe her, but look... Here you are."
Her infectious enthusiasm broke the momentary coldness, her joy a sharp contrast to the lingering tension between Rachel and Michael.
"I missed you a lot too, baby sis," Michael smiled, his voice softening. "But don't worry, we've got a whole month to make up for lost time—just like old times." He paused, reaching into his bag. "I almost forgot… I got something for you." He pulled out a wrapped box and handed it to her. "It's your favorite chocolate bars."
Isabelle's eyes lit up as she took the box, grinning. "Geez, Snickers? You really are the best brother ever." She moved in closer and gave him a tight, heartfelt hug.
He chuckled, hugging her back before turning toward Ruth. "Hey Ruth, I didn't forget about you either." He pulled out a small, neatly wrapped packet. "I got you some Kilishi. I know how much you love them."
Ruth raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a grin as she reached for the package. "You're a lifesaver. Thanks, Michael."