BUKKY'S POV
February arrived quietly, wrapped in false calm.
Demi and I were already married by then. The house looked complete from the outside—furnished rooms, shared meals, polite laughter when visitors came. My younger sister, Toke, had come to spend the holidays with us, filling the house with noise and small comforts that reminded me of home.
Then the news broke.
Akanni's name flooded the business world.
Convergence Group.
The man behind it.
The revelation.
I remember sitting on the couch when it appeared on my phone—headlines, photos, videos of the February event. My breath caught in my throat before I could stop it.
So it was true.
Not rumors.
Not exaggeration.
Akanni.
My hands trembled as I scrolled. Toke noticed immediately.
"Aunty Bukky… is that him?" she asked slowly.
I didn't answer, because the truth had already begun tearing through me.
That evening, Demi was unusually quiet. Too quiet.
He didn't ask questions. Didn't make jokes. Didn't pace the house like he used to when business deals went wrong. He just sat there, jaw tight, eyes distant.
I knew that look.
It was the same look he used to have years ago—whenever Akanni's name came up.
"You knew," Demi finally said, his voice controlled, almost calm. "Didn't you?"
I swallowed. "I didn't know the know anything, not even a hint."
"But you knew he was more than he seemed," he pressed.
Silence stretched between us.
"That doesn't change anything," I said quickly. "You're my husband."
His laugh was short. Bitter. "Funny how that sounds now."
I stood up. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because," he snapped, standing too, "no matter what I do, he's always ahead. Even now. Even after you married me."
"That's not true," I said, my voice rising despite myself. "This isn't a competition."
He stepped closer. "You just compared me to him."
"I didn't!" I fired back. "You're the one obsessed with him!"
That was when everything snapped.
His restraint cracked—not fully, but enough.
"Stop pushing me, Bukky," he warned, his voice low, strained.
I should have stepped back.
But I didn't.
"Why?" I challenged, anger and hurt mixing recklessly. "Afraid I'll finally say it? Afraid I'll admit I married you because I thought you were stronger than him?"
The words landed like a slap, for a second, Demi just stared at me—breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides.
"I'm trying," he said through his teeth. "I'm trying not to hurt you."
"Then don't," I shot back. "I'm not afraid of you."
That was the mistake. His hand moved—not in rage, but in loss of control. A sharp shove that sent me stumbling backward. Shock froze me before pain could register.
Toke screamed.
"STOP!"
I didn't fall, I straightened.
And something inside me hardened.
"No," I said firmly, my voice shaking but resolute. "You don't get to win like this."
I moved forward, pushing him back this time—not to hurt him, but to refuse the role of victim.
That only fueled the chaos.
Demi grabbed my arm, trying to restrain me, his strength overwhelming mine despite his hesitation.
"Bukky, please—" he said, panic slipping into his voice.
But the struggle had already begun.
Toke was crying now, hands shaking as she backed away.
Then she ran.
I didn't see her grab her phone. I didn't hear the call connect. I only felt the moment spiraling beyond control.