Chapter Two

Kayode remained seated in the car outside Funmi’s office building. She had walked in two hours ago, and there was still no sign of her coming out. It was now almost 3 a.m.

Was she planning to stay until daybreak?

He reached for his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, only to remember, again, that he no longer had her number. She had probably changed it. Or maybe she just had multiple lines. Either way, his Happy New Month messages had stopped delivering over a year ago. Not that she ever replied before, but suddenly, they just stopped going through.

Am I wasting my time here?

Funmi had made it clear earlier that she didn’t need his help. But that had been a lie. If he hadn’t stepped in at the airport, security would have flagged her immediately.

He had slipped his arm around her shoulder, smiled cheerfully at the officer, and pressed a few folded naira notes into his palm.

“Thanks for your service,” he’d said with a smile. “You guys are holding it down!”

The officer, distracted and pleased, handed the both of them sanitisers and waved them through, no temperature checks.

As soon as they reached the parking lot, Funmi slipped out of his hold.

“I don’t think that was necessary,” she’d murmured.

Who was she kidding?

“There’s no way they would have let you walk out of there without raising questions,” Kayode replied, trying to keep his frustration in check. “You’re burning up. And you’re shaking.”

“I would have taken my chances,” she said, her voice weaker now. Then, after a pause, “Thank you for stepping in. But like I said earlier, if you think I might be getting sick, you need to stop touching me.”

“Do you think you might be infected?” he asked plainly.

Funmi had side-eyed him. “I don’t think anything. I just want to go to work.”

“Then let me take you there,” he’d said softly. She didn’t respond, only pulled her shawl tighter around herself, as though shielding her thoughts.

“Please,” he urged. “Technically, we’re supposed to be isolated for two weeks after coming back from a high-risk country. That’s how we protect others.”

“If you really believe I might be infected,” she replied, looking him dead in the eye, “then you’re standing too close, Kayode.”

The sound of her saying his name stunned him more than her warning. She had never said his name before, not like that. Not like it was a name she recognised.

Strangely, he wanted to hear her say it again.

He stepped forward and touched her arm, brushing against the silk of her shawl. “I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about you. Please. Don’t take a taxi tonight.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then stepped out of his hold.

“What about your friend, the one with the car?” she asked.

Kayode exhaled slowly, knowing he had won.

“I’ll convince him to take a taxi. I’ll drop you at the office. And later, I’ll take you home.”

True to his word, he spoke to his friend, and Funmi had allowed him to drive her to work. She thanked him again, said her goodbyes, and insisted he could leave because she didn’t know when she’d be done.

Kayode nodded to avoid another argument. But as he watched her disappear into the building, he knew there was no way he was leaving her there without a ride home.

So two hours later, he was still in the parking lot.

He was starving now. The temptation to drive out and grab suya or shawarma from one of the clubs still open in Ikoyi was overwhelming. But he couldn’t take the risk.

What if she came out while I was gone?

Or worse, what if the security team didn’t let him back in?

He hadn’t come this far to give up.

Funmi was the woman his heart had chosen. Seeing her today had only reaffirmed it. Even if she would never be his, he could still be there for her when it mattered.

Hunger be damned.

“Lord, help me,” he whispered, closing his eyes in a quiet prayer.

        A Few Floors Above…

I shouldn’t have come back here.

The thought looped in Funmi’s mind as her head pounded.

She knew Kayode cared. And even though she hated to admit it, she was warmed by the way he tried to protect her. His brother, Soji, wouldn’t have done the same, despite being her friend. Kayode was  clearly different from his brother. Everything he had said made sense: she needed to be sure she was safe before getting into public transportation and putting others at risk.

Her head throbbed mercilessly, but to convince herself that it wasn’t anything serious, she clung to routine.

Work always made her feel better.

That’s what she needed now, not a bed. Not a duvet. Not taking a rest. She needed to accomplish something. Check a box. Move something forward.

She had allowed Kayode to help. And she had told herself she would finish one or two key things, then go home.

But in two hours, all she achieved were two vendor payment approvals, for the recent export of 100,000 dried fish packages and 250,000 liters of palm oil to the U.S.

That was all.

The lockdown was already beginning to affect sales. They had to delay receiving the next shipment of plantain chips due in Scotland. April, or was it March? She couldn’t even remember anymore. Her vision was getting blurry, and her thoughts scattered.

It would be a shame to cancel the chips order, the woman who made them had worked so hard. But it was a heavy burden to buy and store inventory indefinitely.

She couldn’t make a decision. Not like this.

She pushed back her chair and tried to stand, but her legs were heavy.

If only she could make it to the couch and lie down for just a few minutes, she might feel better. But her body felt stiff. Her head was pounding.

Her shawl and bag sat on the couch, just a few steps away, but it felt like a mountain between her and comfort.

The chill in the office was gnawing at her now, and her body couldn’t seem to fight it off.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

While Funmi worried about getting her shawl, Kayode’s concern had shifted entirely.

He checked the time: almost 4 a.m. Another hour gone. Still no sign of her.

Should I just leave?

He had tried to help, but it was clear now, Funmi had her own plans. Maybe she wasn’t as sick as he thought. Still, he couldn’t convince himself to drive away.

The light in her office was still on, which meant she hadn’t exited through another route. He briefly wondered if she considered him a nuisance, but dismissed the thought. Even if she did, he wouldn’t blame her. He couldn’t explain why he was altering all his plans either.

Tade.

He sighed at the thought of his friend. When he had collected the car keys and begged Tade to take a taxi home, the look Tade gave him said everything. They were supposed to head straight to Soji’s bachelor party, possibly their last social event before the pandemic shut everything down for good.

Soji’s wedding, originally planned for next weekend, had now been postponed indefinitely. But the boys had paid for tonight, so they decided to party anyway.

Yet none of that mattered now.

The need to be at Soji’s party paled in comparison to his need to see Funmi walk out that office door. He just needed to know she was okay. Even if she disappeared into a taxi, at least he’d know his job was done.

Patience wasn’t Kayode’s strong suit, so at the risk of appearing intrusive, he stepped out of the car and walked to the front door of the building.

A security officer appeared, bleary-eyed and clearly irritated at being disturbed at such an ungodly hour.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked, stifling a yawn.

“I was the one who brought your madam,” Kayode said. When that didn’t seem to register, he added, “She needs to see me now.”

The man gave him a doubtful look. “Then call her. Let me hear her confirm it.”

Kayode scratched his head. The guy was sharper than he looked.

How could he explain that he didn’t even have her number?

“My phone’s in the car,” he said, and was relieved that, at least, it wasn’t a lie.

The man stared long and hard, but then nodded and went to dial the office line.

Kayode braced himself. If she refused to see him, fine. At least he would know she was okay.

But when the man returned, his expression was tense.

“I dialled four times. No response.”

Kayode’s heart tightened. “She’s not picking? That’s not like her.”

“She’s probably still working, and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“How do you know that?”

“She’s not answering the office landline.”

“That’s exactly why you need to let me see her,” Kayode urged. “She’s not feeling well. I brought her straight from the airport. Please, trust me.”

The man remained firm. “I’ll check on her myself. You stay here. If she wants to see you, I’ll come back.”

But Kayode wasn’t about to be locked out. As soon as the man stepped back inside, Kayode followed. He gently grabbed the man’s arm, stopping him from triggering any emergency alarms.

“Please, let’s go together. She won’t appreciate a scene,” he said, his voice calm but desperate. “Call the security at the gate. They’ll confirm I’ve been waiting since I dropped her off three hours ago.”

The man yanked his arm free, visibly irritated. “For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth.”

He was.

Because what they found inside would haunt Kayode for days.

Funmi was lying motionless on the ground, gritting her teeth in pain.

Kayode’s heart stalled.

The security man had knocked a few times. No response. Then he pushed the door open and called her name. A faint moan answered.

Blood rushed back to Kayode’s limbs. He bolted to her side.

————————————————————————

Funmi blinked slowly, vision blurry. She couldn’t tell who the second man was, but her heart hoped it was Kayode.

Hadn’t she just seen him in her dream? He had been serving her hot soup. She remembered the bitterness, the urge to vomit. Oddly, she still felt that way now.

As the two men tried to lift her, she groaned. One of them, surely Kayode, scooped her up like she was no heavier than a teddy bear. She didn’t fight him. She couldn’t.

“Where are you taking her?” the security guard asked, trailing close behind.

“I’m taking her to the hospital,” said the man carrying her, lowering her gently into the backseat of a car.

The scent of the car was unfamiliar. Not hers. But his fragrance… that she almost recognised. It had stayed with her since they met at the airport.

“Kayode?” she whispered.

He leaned closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. We’re going to the hospital.”

He covered her with her shawl.

A tear escaped her eye. She squeezed his hand.

Why was he still here?

She didn’t want to go to the hospital. She needed him to understand, even if she could barely hear herself speak.

Looking into his eyes, she used the last of her strength to beg.

“Please, no hospital. Take me home. I just need to sleep.”

Then everything went black.