I stood frozen in the middle of our small bedroom in Ogba, my fingers stiff around the empty sachet.
My heart wasn’t beating normally anymore — it was thumping like it wanted to punch its way out of my chest.

By the time Kene entered the room, shaking off the Lagos dust from his shoulders, I had already pushed the sachet under the pillow. I couldn’t explain why — instinct, fear, confusion — but something inside me said:

Don’t show him. Not yet. Watch first. Understand before you confront.

“Amara,” he said lightly, “I forget my wallet?”

His voice was too casual. Too normal. It irritated me.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound as if I wasn’t holding a hurricane inside my ribs. “It’s on the bed.”

He reached for it, checking inside briefly to confirm everything was still there.
For a second, his eyes narrowed — not fully suspicious, but alert enough that I knew he noticed something had been moved.

My stomach tightened.

He tucked the wallet back into his pocket and leaned forward to kiss my forehead.

“I go quick come back,” he said softly.

But his eyes held something — fear? guilt? or something I couldn’t name yet.

When he left, I collapsed on the bed and pressed both hands against my temples.

What exactly was going on with my husband?

---

The Whispering Compound

The next morning, the compound buzzed like a marketplace. Somebody must have said something because everywhere I turned, women were giving me long side-eyes like they knew a secret I didn’t.

Mama Torera stood in her shop doorway sharpening her scissors dramatically — a sign she was preparing for gossip war.

“Amara,” she called, clicking her tongue. “I hope say everything dey okay for your house?”

I forced a smile.
“Yes, ma. Everything fine.”

But she squinted her eyes in that knowing Yoruba-mother way.

“Hmm. If you say so.”
She pointed the scissors at me.
“Just hold your husband well.”

I walked away quickly before she sharpened her gossip further.

Inside the room, I brought out the pant again — the same pink pant, folded like love letter.
I held it up against the light, trying to see if there was anything strange about it.

Nothing.

Just my own underwear, smelling faintly of detergent and… something else. Something I couldn’t place immediately.

Then suddenly —

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three fast knocks. Urgent.

I jumped.

When I opened the door, Sola — my husband’s coworker — was standing there again. Sweat coated his forehead, even though the morning wasn’t that hot.

“Aunty Amara,” he whispered. “Please, I wan talk to you.”

My heart dropped.

“About what?”

“About Kene.”

The way he said it made my skin crawl. I opened the door wider and let him inside.

He didn’t sit. He paced. He wrung his hands. He looked like someone preparing to confess murder.

“Aunty, e get something wey dey happen for work,” he began, voice shaky. “Something serious.”

I folded my arms.

“I’m listening.”

He swallowed hard.
“Kene dey go one place every morning before work. Small shop near Akintola junction.”

“So?”

“That place… no be ordinary shop.”

My eyes widened.

“What kind of place?”

He hesitated. Looked at the floor. Looked at the ceiling. Finally whispered:

“Na one… spiritual place. All those native doctor type. But this one na mixed — them dey call am Mama Oriaku.”

My breath hitched.

For a second, everything in my head rearranged itself violently.

Spiritual?
Native doctor?
My husband?

“That’s not possible,” I said quickly. “Kene doesn’t believe in all that.”

Sola shook his head firmly.
“Aunty, I swear. He dey go there every day for the past six months.”

My entire body went cold.

“Six… months?” I whispered.

“Yes.”
He hesitated, then added:

“And na that period he begin carry… something for pocket.”

The pant.
Oh God.

“What does he do there?” I asked, voice trembling.

Sola sighed deeply.

“I no know everything. But I know say Mama Oriaku tell am make he carry ‘something belonging to his wife’ every day. She say e go protect im marriage. Make you no cheat. Make una no divorce. Make love strong.”

My blood froze.
My tongue dried.

“What?”

He raised his hands helplessly.

“Aunty, I talk wetin I know. I no support am o. But Kene swear say no wicked thing inside. He say na just… spiritual fortification.”

Spiritual fortification?
With my underwear?

I sat slowly on the edge of the bed as everything inside me shook like broken glass.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked quietly.

Sola looked away, ashamed.

“Because yesterday — he go there again. And he come back crying small. He say something no dey work again. He dey scared. I self dey scared.”

He moved towards the door.

“Aunty… just watch am well. Something dey off.”

Then he left.

---

The Sleepless Night

That night, I couldn’t sleep.
The ceiling felt too close.
The room too hot.
My mind too loud.

I turned and watched my husband sleeping beside me, his chest rising and falling steadily. So peaceful. So gentle. So normal-looking.

But the question kept stabbing me:

Why would my husband go to a native doctor about our marriage?
Why my underwear?
Why secretly?
Why now?

I placed a hand on his chest. He shifted slightly, murmuring something in his sleep.

My heart ached.

Was he trying to keep me?
Was he scared?
Was he insecure?
Or… was there something darker?

At 3:47 a.m., I gave up on sleep and stood up.
I quietly reached for his trousers — the fresh ones he ironed for the next day.
My hands shook as I slid them open.

Back pocket.
Front pocket.
Inside lining.

Nothing.

No pant.

But then I saw his work bag on the table.
A sudden chill rushed through me.

I approached it slowly, like something was waiting inside to bite me.

Unzipped it.

At first I saw normal things — water bottle, small snacks, driver’s logbook.

But at the bottom…

My entire body stiffened.

Two more pairs of my panties.
Folded.
Neatly.
And tied together with a red thread.

I almost screamed.

I stumbled backward, covering my mouth with my hand, my breath shaking like generator wire.

Then from the bed, Kene stirred.

“Amara…?” he mumbled sleepily. “Wetin you dey find?”

I couldn’t answer.
Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes — and when he saw what was in my hand, he froze.

Instantly awake.

His eyes widened in horror and something else… something dangerously close to panic.

“Baby… wait,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I can explain.”

Explain what?
Explain WHY he was carrying my underwear around tied in red thread?
Explain why he was going to a spiritual place behind my back?
Explain why Sola saw him crying?

I felt my knees weaken.

“Kene…” I whispered, shaking. “What is happening?”

He stood up slowly, hands raised like someone approaching a wounded animal.

“Amara, I swear… it’s not what you think.”

I stepped back.

“Then WHAT is it?”

His mouth opened… closed… opened again.

But before he could say a word —

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A loud, heavy knock at our door.
Not friendly.
Not casual.

A kind of knock that carries fear inside it.

We both jumped.

Kene rushed to the window and peeked outside.
His face drained completely of color.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

“What? Who is it?!”

He turned to me very slowly… eyes wide… breathing uneven.

“Amara… please…” he whispered. “Just do as I say.”

“Kene, you’re scaring me!”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible.

“It’s Mama Oriaku.”

My blood froze solid.

“At 4 a.m.?! Why?!”

He moved closer, gripping my shoulders.

“Because… because she said something is wrong. She said she must see you. Tonight. Urgently.”

My heart thundered so hard I thought I would faint.

“She wants to see ME?! Why me?!”

The knocking became louder.
More aggressive.

“Open this door!”
A woman’s voice. Deep. Commanding. Echoing through the quiet compound.

Kene turned to me with tears in his eyes.

“Amara… please… don’t be afraid.”

He took my hands.

“There is something I never told you.”

Another earth-shaking knock shook the entire doorframe.

My pulse stopped.

“Kene…” I whispered, choking. “What have you done?”

He closed his eyes painfully.

“Something to protect us.”

The knocking came again — this time followed by a voice that didn’t sound human.

“Keneee… open the door. Now.”

I screamed.

Kene grabbed me and pulled me behind him just as the doorknob began to turn from the outside, even though we had locked it.

The bolt rattled violently.

Something—
someone—
was trying to force their way into our house.

“Kene!” I cried. “What is happening?!”

He held my hand tight.

“Amara… everything started six months ago because of something I found.”

My breath caught.

“Found… what?”

He swallowed hard, eyes filled with guilt and fear.

“A letter.”

“What letter?”

“A letter you hid from me.”

My bones went cold.

“What letter, Kene?!”

He opened his mouth—

But before he could answer,

the door handle snapped clean off.