WebNovels

Chapter 62 - Chapter Sixty-Two

The station smelled of sweat, iron, and hopelessness. Fluorescent bulbs buzzed overhead, their pale light spreading across a cramped visitation hall where voices rose and broke — laughter, arguments, muffled sobs.

Adira entered quietly, a stainless-steel flask of food clutched in one hand. Visiting hours were nearly over, but she had to come. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she searched the crowd, and when Ronke appeared at last, flanked by a warden, Adira's breath hitched.

Ronke was no longer the shimmering "Ronke Exclusive" — the first lady who once dominated magazine covers and red carpets. The woman stumbling forward now wore a faded prison uniform, handcuffs bruising her wrists, her hair unbraided and left wild. She was gaunt, her skin roughened by mosquito bites, her frame bent beneath exhaustion.

The warden shoved her forward with casual cruelty. "Be fast. Move."

Ronke nearly lost her balance but managed to stay upright. Her eyes found Adira — and in that instant, the steel inside her cracked. She fell to her knees, sobbing.

"Please… forgive me, Adira."

Adira startled, mortified that the older woman — her husband's mother — would kneel before her in front of strangers. Quickly, she bent down, lifting her up. "Please, Mom. Don't do this."

They settled on a wooden bench. Ronke wiped her face with trembling fingers. "You still… consider me family? After all I did to you?"

Adira set the flask and a bottle of water on the table. Her smile was faint, but her voice steady. "Come on, eat. You must be hungry."

Ronke reached for the flask, fumbling with her handcuffs until the warden unlocked them with an irritated sigh. "Eat quickly and get back to your cell." He walked off, muttering under his breath.

The aroma of real food — not the watery porridge and bitter beans of the station — made Ronke's stomach clench. She ate with desperate hunger, spoonful after spoonful, tears running down her face as she chewed. "Adira… thank you," she said thickly, her mouth full.

Watching her, Adira felt a sharp ache in her chest. "How is it here, Mom? Do they treat you well?"

Ronke let out a laugh that was more like a groan. "Every day is torture. But I deserve it."

"No," Adira said quickly. "Please don't curse yourself like that. You're human, and every human deserves dignity. No matter what."

Ronke shook her head, weeping harder. "Take a good look at me. I was never kind to you, Adira. Not once. I treated you like an enemy, not a daughter. I was a terrible mother."

Adira's own tears welled. "Stop, please. You were still a mother — and you still are. Don't hurt my heart with words like that."

Ronke covered her face with her hands. After a while she whispered, "Does Dayo know you're here?"

Adira hesitated. The truth was sharp on her tongue. She only had the courage to come because her husband, Felix, was abroad on business. If he knew she had visited Ronke… there would be consequences. "No," she said softly. "Felix is out of the country. He'll be back in a few days."

Ronke sighed. "I miss my boys. Every day, I miss them. But I wasted my chance at being their mother. If there is another life, I pray God will let me have them again… so I can love them properly."

Adira reached across the table, holding her hand. "It's okay. You've punished yourself enough. We all wish we could turn back time. I do too." She hesitated, then added, "I wish you could see Damian's wife. She's pregnant."

Ronke's eyes widened. "Bummi? Pregnant?"

"Yes. She's due any moment now. They married three months ago." Adira smiled faintly. "And Darin visited Dad with his wife and kids. He was so happy to see them. When he summoned everybody for a luncheon, we never knew it would be an introduction of his family turned into a big celebration. You needed to have seen his wife. She's as beautiful as the word itself. She's not from here, though. She's South African. And they've been married for eight years now. He said he hid his family in Switzerland all these years because of the family chaos."

Ronke broke again, crying into her hands. "So, even Darin had a family of his own all these years and I didn't know about it? God, I wish I could die now."

"No, Mom," Adira said firmly. "Don't give up. Nothing is impossible with God. Hold on. Keep faith. He will forgive you."

Before Ronke could reply, Adira's phone buzzed. She wiped her eyes and answered quickly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Mom, this place sucks. Aren't you done yet?" Sebastian's voice came through the line, bored and impatient. He was outside, leaning against his black Dodge Challenger, waiting.

"I'll be there soon, sweetheart." She hung up, gathering her things. She turned to Ronke, eyes soft with regret. "I have to go now. Please, take care of yourself."

Ronke clutched her hand one last time. "Adira, I'll miss you."

Adira left with her heart heavy, her mother-in-law's sobs trailing her down the corridor.

— — —

The next morning, Lola woke to a pounding headache that made the world tilt. She sat up slowly, one hand on her temple, and reached for her phone.

She dialed Bummi's number first. No answer. Frowning, she tried Ojo instead.

"Ojo, please come over," she said hoarsely. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Okay, on my way, bitch." He hung up.

She shuffled to the kitchen, brewed coffee, and lifted the steaming mug toward her lips when the doorbell rang. Too soon. Ojo's apartment was far; twenty minutes at least.

Confused, she set the mug down and padded to the door. The moment she opened it, her stomach dropped.

Ryan.

Before she could slam the door, his hand shot out, shoving it back. He slipped inside with a predator's speed, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Lola stepped back, her head throbbing, her robe tied loose around her body. She didn't even have the strength to argue. She only glared from across the room.

Ryan wore black from hoodie to sweatpants, white sneakers flashing against the marble floor. He sat on the sofa like he owned it, his gaze never leaving her.

Finally, she asked, weary, "How did you get my address? And what are you doing in my house this early?"

He crossed one leg over the other, his posture casual but his voice sharp. "What matters is this: say yes to me, Lola. Be my woman, or I don't leave. Call it love or call it crime — arrest me if you want. I'll keep coming until you give in."

Lola pressed her fingers to her temples. "Are you trying to buy me off as a sex toy? That's all men know. Sleeping with women, using them, moving on. That's your hobby."

"Say whatever pleases you," Ryan replied, unblinking. "But you'll still be mine. Either you like it or not."

She let out a brittle laugh. "God, you're insane. Whoever gave you my address must have given you my whole biography too."

"I tried it the easy way," he said darkly. "Now it's the hard way. Accept my proposal."

"Fuck you," she snapped. "And fuck off. You're a maniac. A pervert. You—"

Her words broke as dizziness swept through her. The room spun. She clutched her head, eyes squeezed shut, staggering.

Ryan shot up. "Hey, are you okay?"

She shook her head, forcing out, "I'm fine," even though she clearly wasn't.

"You don't look fine. Sit down." He guided her to the sofa, and she collapsed into it, vision swimming.

Just then, Ojo burst through the door, his wig slightly askew, his handbag flying onto the floor. "Oh my God, Lola!" He rushed forward, chewing gum furiously. "What happened to you?"

He stopped short when he noticed Ryan. His eyes widened. "Ahh, Ryan May himself? I'd ask for an autograph but first, let me save my bestie."

Ryan ignored the remark, darting to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. "Here. Drink."

Lola shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not thirsty."

"Come on, angel. You need to hydrate."

Ojo's brows shot up. "Angel?" He looked between them suspiciously. "Wait. Are you two… dating?"

Neither answered. The silence was damning.

Ryan bent, scooping Lola up in his arms. "She needs a hospital."

But Lola, half-conscious, shook her head weakly. "No… no hospital."

Ryan ignored her protest, striding toward the door — only to be blocked by Ojo, who spread his arms wide. "Not so fast. Lola hates hospitals. She hates the smell, the antiseptic, everything. You don't know her like I do."

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "She's unconscious. Move, gay."

Ojo stood firm, chewing his gum with theatrical defiance. "She doesn't need your hospital. I'll call her personal doctor and pharmacist. That's how we do it."

The two men glared at each other over Lola's limp body, the air thick with tension.

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