The top floor of the Nezelcom building was quiet in that expensive, padded kind of way, where even the silence felt expensive. Many have worked for years in the company and never even seen a picture of what it looks like.

Japheth stepped out of the elevator and gave a polite nod to the receptionist, who smiled up from behind a curved marble desk.

“Good afternoon, sir. You’re early. Mr. Muntanga will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

He took the beauty of the space in, and turned toward the waiting lounge, but paused when he heard voices behind a partially open door at the far end of the corridor.

It was the Managing Director’s private office.

And the voice coming from inside was unmistakable.

Kaweme.

“I don’t want to go to Australia,” she was saying. “You can’t just keep booking these trips and dragging me along like I’m your pet intern.”

“I told you,” the M.D said, his voice patient but tired. “It’s not a business trip. It’s a family retreat. Your mum, your sister, your little brother, at the ranch, all of us together. It’ll be good for us to reset.”

“Daddy, your idea of ‘reset’ is giving orders that favor your timeline only.”

“And your idea of responsibility is switching lipstick shades for twelve hours.” He barked in response.

Japheth blinked.

The M.D.

She was his daughter.

“You’re not being fair,” she replied sharply. “I’m running a real business.”

“You’re painting products and sending pictures to China.”

“Because I have manufacturers in China. Because I’m building something!”

“Kaweme—”

“No, Daddy, why must I always be the one forced into your mold? Musonda is already running the regional division. She’s your golden child. She knows the business. She was born with a spreadsheet in her hand. Why can’t you leave it to her?”

“Because I’m not raising only one child to build on my legacy, I need you to join us,” he said, firmer now. “And you are not the baby of the house, there is no justification to leave you spoiled”, he said, trying to make a joke, but Kaweme wasn’t having it.

“I’m the middle child, Daddy. Plan with your first and your last, let me be the wild card. I am never going to be able to do what you do.”

“Kaweme, you are stubborn, dramatic, and forever trying to prove a point.”

There was a pause.

“You forced me into software engineering. I failed. Then you sent me into marketing. I hated it. Now you want me to intern in this company when you know I’m running a beauty brand that you don’t even ask about.”

“I ask. I just don’t always understand why you think powder and gloss will change the world.”

“Because beauty gives people power!” she said. “It gives women control over how they’re seen. That’s what you taught me, isn’t it? That presence is power?”

He sighed. “Presence is only power when it’s backed by strategy. What happens when the buzz you are feeling now dies down? When the trends change?”

“Then I change with them.”

“Or,” he said, “you come into the company, and we shape something that lasts.”

A beat passed.

“I don’t want your company,” she said, quietly.

Outside the door, Japheth stepped back. His hands were in his pockets, but his fingers were curled tight. He felt guilty listening to the conversation, considering leaving.

Then the door opened suddenly.

Kaweme stepped out, bag and phone in hand.

She stopped.

He looked up.

They both froze.

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither did I,” Japheth replied.

“My dad can be… intense.”

“I gathered.”

“I’m sorry about… after the beach. I disappeared.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Japheth said, voice calm but a little cool.

She shifted slightly. “Still. I realized I didn’t get your number. Maybe we could talk sometime… lunch or something?”

He shook his head gently. “That won’t be necessary.”

She tilted her head. “Right, it’s just that I felt guilty disappearing after our…”

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” he added, noticing that she was flustered. “You don’t owe me anything.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but then didn’t. She just gave a short nod, turned, and walked off down the corridor.

The door behind her opened again.

Mr. Muntanga stepped out, tall, sharp-suited, the calm thunder of the company.

“Japheth,” he said, extending a hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Come in.”

Japheth straightened, accepted the handshake, and followed him in.

But his mind was still on the girl with the bold voice and the sad fire in her eyes.

He shook off the image of her walking away.

He didn’t have the luxury of getting distracted, not today.

He had come here for something far more serious. Something that, if handled wrongly, could cost him his job… or worse.

Japheth stepped into the office.

It was grand, but not gaudy, with glass windows that opened up to the skyline, shelves of old books mixed with plaques, and a single sculpture of an eagle poised mid-flight behind Mr. Muntanga’s desk.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

He gestured toward the seat opposite him. “I read your email twice. That was not an easy thing to write.”

Japheth nodded, sitting. His hands were folded tight in his lap.

“You could have said nothing,” Mr. Muntanga continued. “You could have played dumb. Or you take the offer and walk away richer.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night,” Japheth said, quietly.

The older man smiled faintly. “I believe you.”

There was a pause. Then he leaned back.

“You’re not just smart, Japheth. You also have something we don’t often see in the corporate world, at your level, courage.”

Japheth tried to hold his expression steady. Inside, his heart was pounding.

“I wasn’t even sure if I should say anything,” he admitted. “I didn’t know who to trust. If I told my line manager’s boss, it could still loop back to him. But I knew, at least, I could trust the man who built this company.”

Mr. Muntanga’s face softened.

“You did the right thing,” he said. “And for that, I won’t let you face this alone.”

Japheth exhaled. “So… how do I handle this? I don’t want to cause a storm. But I also don’t want to be part of it.”

“You won’t have to.”

Japheth blinked. “Sir?”

He opened a drawer, took out a brown folder, and slid it across the table.

“Effective next week, you’ll be moved to my office,” he said. “Special Projects Liaison. You’ll report directly to me.”

Japheth stuttered. “I, I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been watching you for months,” Mr. Muntanga said. “Your work. Your discipline. I’ve always needed someone in my space who I could trust. And now, I know I can.”

Japheth swallowed. He didn’t even know the M.D knew him, or his work. The company was that big.

“But… sir… that doesn’t solve the issue of the fraud. They’re still planning to do it.”

“Let me worry about them,” he said calmly. “I have my ways of dealing with things.”

“And my current role?” Japheth asked, still stunned. “Do I inform them of my exit?”

“You won’t need to. You’ll receive the transfer letter next week. Let them think you’re still where you are. I’ll handle the rest quietly.”

Japheth didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you, sir,” he finally whispered.

“No,” Mr Muntanga said. “Thank you.”

Japheth stepped out of the office like he was walking on different legs. The hallway felt colder. The light, sharper.

He passed the receptionist in a daze and didn’t stop until he reached the men’s restroom.

Inside, he locked the door, gripped the sink, and leaned forward.

Then the words came, unbidden, rushing out faster than any prayer he could have conjured.

Tongues.

Low. Steady. Broken with gasps between.

“Lord… I don’t understand this. This door you’ve opened, please let it not destroy me. Let it not become a trap. I didn’t ask for power. I just wanted peace.”

He kept going, barely breathing between his whispered groans, until a soft knock came on the door.

“Hello, sir?” the receptionist’s voice called gently. “Is everything alright?”

Japheth cleared his throat, pulled himself together. “Yes… yes, sorry. Just needed a moment.”

He stepped out a second later, eyes still red, shirt collar damp with sweat.

He nodded politely, walked down the hallway, and pressed the elevator button.

Back to his floor.

Back into a world that suddenly felt too small for the weight he now carried.

The tech floor was alive with its own music, keyboards clacking like percussion, the low murmur of engineers bouncing jargon across rows of tangled wires, and the occasional sigh of someone who’d just lost a full day’s code to a mistyped semicolon.

Japheth stepped in, scanning the room with the eyes of someone who could already guess the problem before it finished breaking.

Then he heard it.

“My guy!” Mwila called out, arms stretched wide like he’d just seen a long-lost savior. “Please, before I throw this system out the window, help me!”

Japheth gave him a look. “Did you read the manual this time?”

“I am the manual,” Mwila said, dramatically. “But even manuals get tired.”

Japheth smirked, made his way to his desk, dropped his bag, and leaned over Mwila’s station.

“What’s the issue?”

“This switch,” Mwila said, tapping the screen like it owed him money. “It’s refusing to sync. I’ve begged it. I’ve threatened it. Nothing.”

Japheth clicked once. Twice. Typed in a short command string. Hit enter.

The switch blinked to life.

Mwila sat back with both hands on his head. “Ladies and gentlemen… the wizard.”

“You need to stop fighting the system,” Japheth said, already turning away.

“And miss the chance to call in my genius friend? Never.”

But Mwila’s tone shifted mid-sentence. He stopped, leaned slightly toward the window, and gave a low, theatrical whistle.

“What?”

Japheth turned. “What now?”

Mwila pointed, half-smiling. “Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

Outside, across the glass walkway, Luyando was standing in deep conversation with Kaweme. She looked relaxed, arms folded, head tilted. Luyando was talking in that you-know-you-can-trust-me posture he assumed when he thought nobody was watching.

Japheth raised an eyebrow.

Mwila leaned back in his chair like he’d just been betrayed. “Is this the same Luyando that told us to back off? Said she was not for us?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Japheth murmured.

“No, no, I’m jumping,” Mwila said. “I’m doing Olympic-level conclusions. Because what I’m seeing right now is high-level betrayal.”

Japheth tried to hide the smirk forming at the edge of his mouth. “There’s probably a story.”

“Oh, there’d better be a story,” Mwila said, eyes narrowing. “And it better involves espionage and memory loss.”

Minutes later, the door opened, and Luyando walked in like he hadn’t just broken the bro code.

Mwila wasted no time. “How was the board meeting?”

Luyando gave them both a slow look. “What?”

“So that’s how you do me now?” Mwila asked, voice rising an octave. “No memo? No permission slip?”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luyando said flatly, heading for his desk.

Japheth crossed his arms. “Come on, man. You were just out there talking to the girl we all agreed to leave alone.”

Luyando paused, finally understanding Mwila’s point. “The girl who asked you for your number?”

Mwila blinked. “Wait, what?”

Japheth sighed. “We just talked one time, alright? Nothing serious.”

“Oh, it’s serious,” Mwila said, eyes wide. “You both have met with the girl behind my back and kept it from me. Me! Your emotional support system.”

Japheth turned. “Mwila, breathe.”

Luyando stepped closer, ignoring Mwila, eyes on Japheth. “You didn’t think it was worth mentioning that you met her at the resort, on the night you claimed you needed to pray?”

“Why did it have to be a group discussion? How does one even bring up such a thing when it means nothing.  ‘Hello brothers, I spoke to a girl today?’ Japheth said jokingly.

Luyando didn’t smile. “She’s not your type.”

“And you know my type now?” Japheth said, voice cooling.

“She is my cousin. I’m just trying to protect her.”

“From what?” Japheth asked. “From conversation? From someone who actually listens?”

Mwila looked between them like he was watching a tennis match. “Should I get popcorn? This is getting interesting.”

Japheth continued, steady. “When was the last time I even dated someone, Luyando? Name one person.”

Silence.

“I’m not trying to get involved with your cousin,” he said finally. “Relax. And don’t give her my number.”

Luyando exhaled, shoulders stiff. “She’s been through a lot.”

“I know,” Japheth said simply.

Mwila blinked, finally processing the fact that Luyando said she was family. “Wait, cousin? How come Japheth doesn’t know her? Are you sure she is really your cousin?”

Luyando turned to Japheth. “Yes. From my mum’s side. You only know the ones from my dad.”

Japheth frowned. “This is your mum’s family?”

“Yeah,” Luyando said. “Her dad, the M.D, is my uncle. His wife is my mum’s sister.”

Mwila stared. “So this is how you got the job?”

“No interview. Just surname,” Luyando replied, not even embarrassed.

Mwila clutched his chest. “This company is a novella.”

Before Japheth could say anything, he was summoned.

“Japheth!”

Their line manager’s voice rang out from across the room.

Mr. Nkandu was waving him over with two fingers, already halfway to his office.

Japheth’s shoulders sank. “Not again.”

“Go on, company’s pet,” Mwila said.

“You’re still his favorite,” Luyando added.

Japheth shook his head. “We had a falling out.”

“What happened?” Mwila asked.

“I can’t talk about it.”

Mwila grinned. “At this point, the secrets can fill a case file.”

—————————————————————————————————————————-

Evening in Lusaka had a way of wrapping the city in a golden hush, dust curling up from roadside curbs, streetlights beginning to blink to life, and the hum of tired engines drifting toward home.

For Japheth and Luyando, this was the best part of the day. The drive back. Unspoken silence or half-hearted banter. Same playlist. Same routes. Every day. They’d been housemates for almost three years now, ever since Japheth decided it was time to leave The Chanda’s family house to finally stand on his own.

Luyando hadn’t let him leave alone.

“I’m moving too,” he’d said without blinking. “Let’s get a place together.”

And they did, a clean, two-bedroom terrace tucked into one of the quieter gated estates in Ibex Hill, a leafy suburb east of town where the power didn’t blink as often, and the neighbors minded their business. They each had their own car, but carpooling had become tradition.

Today, Japheth was driving. The day had been long, but manageable. Until they turned into their compound, and he saw the man standing by the front entrance.

Shem.

His older-younger brother. The one who called but never softened. The one who forgave nothing.

Japheth’s foot hesitated on the brake. His hand tightened slightly on the wheel.

He said it before he even realized he had.

“Shem doesn’t know where I live.”

Luyando turned from the passenger seat, frowning. “He called me earlier. Said he lost the address. I thought you guys had made up.”

“We did,” Japheth murmured. “But… we’re not there yet.”

Luyando’s eyes narrowed. “Well, you didn’t tell me that.”

Japheth sighed and pulled into the driveway.

“I’ll go in first,” Luyando said, unbuckling. “Let you two talk.”

Japheth nodded silently as Luyando stepped out.

“Soldier boy,” Luyando said, giving Shem a casual nod as he passed.

“Luyando,” Shem replied flatly, not in the mood to socialize.

And then Luyando was gone, into the house, catching the hint.

Japheth climbed out more slowly. He closed the car door and crossed the short distance to the man who had once been his shadow.

“Good evening, bro.”

Shem moved back. “I’m not your brother. We’re just sons of the same father.”

Japheth exhaled. “You keep reaching out to me just to make me feel bad.”

“No,” Shem said, still not closing the gap between them. “You made yourself feel bad. I’m just the mirror.”

“I tried,” Japheth said, voice low. “I did all I could.”

Shem moved to him then. “Just because you paid our school fees and made sure we had food doesn’t mean you fulfilled your role as a brother.”

Japheth gave a dry laugh. “If I had a quarter for every time I’ve said ‘I’m sorry,’ I’d be a millionaire who doesn’t need a job.”

“You’re just self-righteous,” Shem snapped. “And you know it.”

“I beg you,” Japheth said, his tone shifting, “in the name of Jesus, I’m sorry. Again. I’ve apologized so many times. Ham won’t speak to me. You only ever reach out to throw stones. And now, somehow, I’m the one who has to feel guilty that I can’t go and see the man who broke us?”

Shem’s jaw tightened. “That’s why I’m here. To drag you to him. Because he keeps asking for you.”

“I don’t owe him anything,” Japheth said. “He stole my childhood.”

“No,” Shem said, stepping forward. “You stole your childhood. You walked away. Left me. Left Ham. I stayed with him, even though I hated him. I stayed. I made sure Ham had someone. You just sent money, and escaped from the horror that was our life.”

“I did what I could.”

“And we’re grateful,” Shem said, softening for a brief second. “But if the only thing this dying man wants is for you to come and see him? Then you should.”

Silence.

Japheth nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll come.”

He paused. “Come inside. Let’s eat together. You’ve already come this far.”

“This is not a reunion,” Shem said. “I didn’t come for your food.”

“Come in, brother,” Japheth said again, gently.

Shem’s eyes narrowed. “Your brother is already inside. Go meet Luyando.”

Then he turned and walked toward the gate.

Japheth didn’t follow him or try to convince him.

He watched him leave. Watched the gate click behind him.

Then he turned and walked slowly toward the house.

By the time Japheth stepped into the house, the smell of microwaved food had already filled the small living room.

Luyando had changed into a black t-shirt and joggers, standing by the kitchen counter, poking at two takeaway containers from the mall food court. The soft hum of the microwave and the clinking of cutlery were the only sounds in the house, until he looked up.

“Where’s Shem?” Luyando asked. “He should eat before he goes.”

“He’s gone.”

Luyando frowned. “Ah. He should have stayed. There’s enough food to go around.”

“You know he won’t stay,” Japheth replied, closing the door behind him. “So why ask?”

“I don’t know, man. Hope, I guess.” Luyando scratched his head. “Japheth, this thing is weighing on you badly. We have to find a way to do this reunion.”

“I don’t think there’ll ever be one,” Japheth said, kicking off his shoes. “I’ve tried. Shem only shows up to accuse me. Ham doesn’t speak to me at all.”

“Ham?” Luyando asked. “That one is simple. Tell him the truth. Let him know you were the reason he got the draft into the national football team. The reason he even made it.”

“I didn’t do it so he could praise me,” Japheth said. “I did it because I love him.”

“Exactly,” Luyando replied. “And he should know.”

Japheth dropped into the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I can’t deal with this right now. There’s too much on my mind.”

Luyando gave him a look. “Work?”

Japheth nodded. “Yeah.”

“What is it?”

Japheth hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re keeping so many secrets, you’re going to give yourself an ulcer,” Luyando said, moving toward the fridge. “Sit there. Drink this.”

He handed Japheth a chilled bottle of water. Japheth unscrewed the cap and took a long sip.

“Now,” Luyando said, lowering himself onto the armrest beside him. “Talk to me.”

Japheth stared into the bottle for a second. “Mr. Nkandu wants me to be involved in something shady. Really shady. They’re trying to pull a deal that could cost the company, selling privileged data to a third party.”

Luyando blinked. “Wow. I don’t envy you at all.”

“I went to tell the MD today.”

Luyando jerked his head. “What? Japheth, that’s my uncle, and I don’t even have the courage to tell him he looks nice.”

Japheth gave a faint smile. “I had to try my luck. Turns out, he thanked me for speaking up. He’s moving me to his office. Special duties.”

Luyando’s eyes widened. “So you’re about to be my oga at the top?”

“Apparently.”

A wide grin broke across Luyando’s face. “Okay! This calls for a celebration. I knew greatness was following you around.”

But Japheth wasn’t smiling. “I don’t know… Something about this feels off.”

“Off how?”

“I don’t know. Like… I’ve prayed. But it’s like something bad is coming. I can’t explain it. I just feel it in my gut.”

“Paranoia,” Luyando said. “You’ve been through too much.”

Japheth leaned back. “They pulled me in again this afternoon. That was what the call was about. They want us to seal the deal this weekend. I told them I was still thinking about it. But they’re getting impatient. The scary thing is, I don’t even know all the people involved, only Nkandu”

“But you’ve been moved,” Luyando said. “So it shouldn’t matter anymore.”

Japheth looked at him. “They still want to meet tomorrow.”

Luyando let out a breath. “Then stall, you are leaving soon, It won’t matter anymore. More importantly, pray to God about it. And by the way, just because you’re moving to the MD’s office doesn’t mean I won’t keep bringing my drama to you. So don’t think you’re free.”

“You’re my brother for life,” Japheth said, eyes softening. “Nothing changes that.”

Luyando stood. “Good. Now let me feed you.”

He returned to the microwave, brought out the containers, and plated them. Then he brought Japheth’s meal with a fork.

As Japheth took the plate, he looked up. “You said I should pray. Want to pray with me?”

Luyando nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

Japheth set the plate down, wiped his hands on his shorts, and closed his eyes.

They knelt beside the coffee table, side by side.

Japheth began softly, almost in a whisper.

“Father, thank You for today… for our work… for this moment. We don’t have all the answers, but we trust You.”

Luyando picked up where he left off. “Lord, give Japheth strength. Let peace return to his heart. Guide him in what to do, and who to trust. We surrender every fear to You.”

Japheth whispered a “Yes, Lord,” and lifted his hands, eyes still shut.

The room fell into silence, then Luyando began to hum softly, off-key, but sincere.

A worship song from their childhood.

Japheth joined in, voice low, and they continued, till minutes turned into an hour.

The food stayed untouched on the table.