AKANNI POV
"Your dinner is ready, sir," I heard Mira—my maid—say from outside my room, while I was still putting on my socks."Yeah, I'll be there in a jiffy," I replied, glancing at the clock. It was already 4:49 a.m."Should I pack some into a container?" she asked."That won't be necessary, but thank you," I said, now standing and combing my hair."Why, sir?" she asked again, her voice curious."No. And it's no, Mira. I told you not to question me. Is that clear?" I said, trying to sound fierce—though I doubted it worked. She always had this bold way of pushing back with questions."I'm sorry, sir," she said softly, and left immediately.
That was strange. She'd never gone quiet that easily. For a moment, I felt bad. She was only trying to help.
Mira had been my maid for four years—ever since I began my hunt for something big. Something called knowledge—though even now, I can't fully fathom what I was truly looking for.I met her one cold night while buying suya—grilled meat roasted over charcoal, usually sold by Hausa men using small sticks to pierce the diced meat.She looked vulnerable that night—a young woman, barely twenty, lost and desperate to survive. I saw her standing with some street boys who were trying to hand her over to a rich old man in a car. Even in the dim light, I could see it in her eyes: she didn't belong there.From what I overheard, the old man had taken interest in her, but she refused. The street boys, after collecting a few notes from him, decided to force her into the car.No one would come to help her—it was too late, too dark, too dangerous.I felt pity. But my rational mind questioned: What's she doing out here this late if she's not one of those street girls? Maybe a polytechnic student gone astray?Still, when her screams grew louder, my conscience kicked in. I grabbed my suya first—yeah, priorities—then pulled out my phone and started faking a call."...Yes sir, I'm right outside my street," I said loudly, pretending to talk to the police. "They're trying to force a girl into a kidnapper's car."The boys stiffened. One turned toward me."Who the hell are you? Get out of here!" he shouted, marching toward me.I ignored him, kept "talking.""Yes, sir... car plate number..." I tilted my phone's flashlight toward the vehicle. "ADK-G789J, yes sir. I'm recording everything now."I swung the light to the rich man's face, then to the boys'. "Yes sir... about six of them... Abayamedi Street, sir."That did it. The old man sped off. One by one, the boys scattered into the night, leaving the girl sprawled on the ground.
When the street was clear, I walked over and stretched my hand to help her up. She took it instantly, still shaking, her eyes fixed on me like I was some kind of miracle."You should go home now," I said, pulling my hand back once she was steady.She looked disappointed. Maybe because I let go too quickly. I found it oddly amusing.
As I turned to leave, she whispered, "Thank you, sir. Thank you for saving me." Then she burst into tears.I sighed. Not my thing."Okay," I muttered and turned to leave—then stopped. My suya.I looked around. No sign of it."They took it," she said between sniffles.I froze. "You mean my suya?"She nodded helplessly. "I'm sorry."I almost laughed. She was blaming herself for it."Oh no, don't do that," I said. "I'll get another one.""Thank you, sir," she said and—unbelievably—knelt down."What? No, no, you don't need to kneel. You already said thank you," I said, flustered.She looked close to my age—maybe a year or two younger."You should go home before they start looking for you. You're a student, right?" I asked.She burst into tears again.
That caught me off guard."Why are you crying?" I asked gently, though I hated tears. I always believed tears were too precious to waste unnecessarily."I don't have anywhere to go," she said through sobs.
That one hit me hard.It could be a trap, I told myself. Or maybe fate testing me."You know what," I said after a pause, "I should be going. Take care of yourself."I left without waiting for a response, bought another ₦600 worth of suya from the same man, and started heading home.
Halfway down the street, I saw her again—still sitting where I'd left her, curled up by a stall.I clenched my suya bag tighter."You again," I sighed, walking over. "I told you to go home."She looked up. "Thank you for helping me, sir. You've done enough." Then she lowered her head again.I understood instantly. She really had nowhere to go.
After a pause, I said, "Will you... follow me to my place?"As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them.She looked up, studying me—trying to see if I was joking. Then she said, softly, "Thank you, but no. I can't accept."
That surprised me even more. For someone in her situation, she still had pride—and boundaries. Dangerous for the street. Admirable to me."You know," I said quietly, "if you stay here tonight, you might not make it till morning.""I know," she whispered, "but I just don't want to face tomorrow.""Fine," I sighed. "Let's sort this out first. Are you coming or not?"No response. Then, after a moment, she stood up."Thank you," she said simply, and started walking beside me."Right behind you," she added.
When we reached my house, she froze at the sight of the massive building."You can go in. You'll see more of it tomorrow," I said dryly.She kept whispering wow and God as she entered.I pointed her to one of the guest rooms for a shower. When she came out later, her hair was damp, and she was wearing a nightgown she must've found inside."Sit here," I said, gesturing to the dining table.I returned from the kitchen with two cups of hot tea and a plate of suya. I pushed one cup toward her.She didn't touch it—or the food."Come on," I said. "You don't think I'd poison you, do you?"Her eyes widened with guilt."Here, have mine if it'll make you feel better," I said, reaching for her cup.Before I could, she grabbed hers and downed it in one go."What the— that tea's hot!" I exclaimed.She set the cup down, embarrassed. "Thank you.""You don't have to feel that way," I said.She looked at me strangely, maybe surprised at how I could read her so easily. Years of chaos, loss, and rebuilding yourself does that to a man."I don't think you poisoned it," she said softly. "You saved me. Even if you did… I'd still trust you."
That stunned me. Foolish girl. Too trusting. This world would eat her alive."It's just that," she added, "I wasn't brought up to eat while facing people."
That broke something in me.Whatever she'd been through—it wasn't ordinary.Maybe, just maybe, I'd found someone as broken as I was.
"We'll talk tomorrow," I said, standing abruptly. "Right now, I need sleep.""Okay," she said quietly."When you're done, head back to your room. I'll clean up tomorrow," I added, already walking toward my room.
Sleep came quickly—deep, heavy, but alert.For the first time in a while, my house didn't feel empty.