Sarah strolled down the street nervously. As soon as she got to the junction, she paused. Where do I even start from? she asked herself.
She had only heard people mention Iyana Ipaja as a place where thrift clothes—okrika—were sold in large quantities. She had never been there before. In fact, this was her first time leaving the house alone since she arrived in Lagos after her marriage.
Her husband's house was at Lekki, far from the bustling mainland. She didn't even know how long the journey would take. But the sound of Iyana Ipaja felt more familiar, more appealing than Trade Fair. She convinced herself it was the better option.
At least I can just check the place and return before night, she thought.
Just then, a car slowed down beside her. The driver rolled down the window, a middle-aged man with a faint smile.
Driver: Young lady, where you dey go?
Sarah: Iyana Ipaja.
Driver: Fine, enter. Na just one thousand naira.
Sarah's eyes brightened. "One thousand? That means it's not too far," she said to herself. She smiled faintly, entered the car, and shut the door.
Unknown to her, she had just entered a kidnapper's vehicle.
She didn't remember what happened next. The driver had sprayed something the moment she sat in, and before she could make sense of it, her world spun into darkness.
When Sarah opened her eyes again, three days had already passed. She was lying on a cold cement floor in a dark, windowless room. The air was damp, filled with the smell of sweat and dust. Her head ached.
Sarah: (screaming) Somebody help me! Please!
Her voice echoed back at her, swallowed by the silence. Nobody came.
Her body was weak. She had no phone, no bag, nothing. She couldn't even recall how she had arrived in this strange place.
The second day of her captivity, the heavy iron door creaked open. A tall, rough-looking man walked in. His face was hard, his voice harsher.
Man: So you don wake. Listen well… pray your husband cooperates. If he doesn't, I get no mercy.
He dropped a small bowl of garri in front of her—without sugar, without water. Just plain garri. Sarah, hungry and drained, poured it into her mouth and chewed dry, her throat aching as she swallowed.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Oh God, what have I done to myself? Why didn't I just stay at home? Why didn't I wait?
Her chest heaved. She regretted everything—her decision to leave home, her stubbornness, even the little note she had dropped for Bolaji.
Sarah (whispering through tears): If I survive this, Lord, I'll never disobey again. I'll forever be grateful…
Meanwhile, Bolaji's world had turned upside down. He hadn't eaten properly in days. The moment the kidnappers called, his chest had been pounding like a drum. He quickly raised the ransom money.
Following their instructions, he drove to a lonely location on the outskirts of Ogun State. His hands shook as he held the black bag filled with money.
He placed it at the spot they told him, then stepped back. His throat was dry, his heart heavy.
Minutes later, he heard a faint sound—weak, broken, familiar.
Sarah (faint voice): Bolaji…
His eyes widened. He rushed forward and saw her staggering out of the shadows, her body frail, her face pale. He ran to her and held her tightly.
Bolaji (voice cracking): Sarah! Oh my God! I'm sorry… I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!
Tears rolled freely down his face as he hugged her, as though he would never let go again.
Sarah was immediately rushed to the hospital, where she was given treatment for exhaustion and dehydration. Her family was called, and her mother wept uncontrollably at the sight of her daughter lying weak on the hospital bed.
Meanwhile, the police had not been idle. Unknown to the kidnappers, Bolaji had placed a tracker inside the money bag. As soon as they collected the ransom and retreated, the signal was traced.
That night, heavily armed police officers stormed their hideout. After a brief struggle, the kidnappers were arrested, and Sarah's nightmare was finally over.
But in Bolaji's heart, guilt still burned. He couldn't shake the feeling that his stubbornness and lack of understanding had pushed Sarah to the streets that night.
He sat beside her hospital bed, holding her hand. If only I had listened to her… he thought.