It had been four days.
Four freaking days since Zaria left in the middle of class with that mysterious guy—Baal or whatever his name was—and not a single text, not a missed call, not even an "I'm alive" update. Just pure silence.
I wasn't sure if I was more pissed off or worried.
Zaria could be impulsive, yes. She had a flair for drama and spontaneity. But this? This was different. This was her vanishing into thin air with a man none of us had ever seen. A man who, frankly, was starting to feel more like a myth than a real person. An "audio man," as Genz would say. All talk, no trace.
I'd considered going to her place yesterday, but Zaria's complex wasn't just down the road. It was far. And in this heat? That was a battle of its own. So I pushed it. But today… today I was going to find out what the hell was going on.
Still, I wasn't exactly excited. Part of me didn't want to go. Not because I didn't care, but because I did. Too much. And honestly, I hated the idea of being the third wheel in a fairytale romance I wasn't invited to. It made me feel invisible.
But the fact that I hadn't heard from her in four straight days? That overruled everything.
I threw on whatever top and jeans I could find, didn't bother with makeup. This wasn't a visit. This was a confrontation. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
Her phone had been switched off since last night. I tried again on my way out, just in case. Still dead.
My imagination went into overdrive. What if something happened to her? What if she'd been taken? What if Baal wasn't a boyfriend, but a serial killer? What if I got a call from the police asking me to come identify her body?
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, practically running out of my apartment.
The walk from my own complex to the main road felt like a punishment. The sun was scorching. The road looked like it was melting. Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen hours. I was sweating, panting, already halfway angry when I finally got a cab and made my way to her place.
When I arrived, I knocked on her door.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Knock knock knock knock.
Finally, the door opened on the fourth try—and there she was.
Zaria.
Alive. Whole. Dressed like she hadn't changed in two days.
Her hair was messy, her dress wrinkled, and her expression dreamy.
"Oh, Vi! Come inside," she said, like she hadn't been missing in action.
I stepped in, kicked off my shoes, and immediately noticed the mess. Clothes scattered. Makeup everywhere. Shoes tossed around like a fashion war had taken place.
She hadn't just disappeared from me. She'd disappeared from her whole life.
I cleared a spot on the couch and sat down, still scanning the room like I was searching for clues. Something about all this felt unreal.
Then she started talking.
"Girl!! Baal is so sweet, he took me to so many places. He rented out a whole restaurant just for us!"
She was glowing.
Glowing.
She went on and on, listing events like she was reading from a diary she wrote during a luxury vacation. All I could think was: Where was the apology?
"Zaria Brown!!!" I finally shouted, snapping.
That might've been the first time I'd ever called her full name out loud.
She paused, shocked. "What happened?"
I couldn't believe her.
"What happened?" I repeated, laughing bitterly. "It's been FOUR days, Zaria. You didn't call. You didn't text. I don't know this guy you ran off with. No photo. No number. No nothing! I don't even know his face! What if something had happened to you?!"
She came closer, voice soft. "I'm sorry. Baal's just been taking me out… I get home and I'm always tired. He's such a sweet soul."
I squinted. "Where in that sentence was the actual apology?"
"I told you I'm sorry," she said, half-laughing. "I said Baal's been taking me out—"
"No, babe. That's not how an apology works." I stood, grabbed my bag. "You vanished and now you're giving me fairy tales? I'm done."
She held my wrist. "Vi, are you really leaving? You're still mad? But I apologized already."
"That was not an apology. That was a romance review."
Then she hugged me. Tight.
"I'm really sorry," she said, finally meaning it. "I went wrong. I promise not to do it again."
Now that sounded more like my Zaria.
She pulled back, beamed at me like a child, and tickled me. "Come on, smile!"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help it. I laughed. Hard. This girl had a way of softening me no matter how angry I was.
We both sank back onto the couch as she began narrating everything.
The restaurants. The hotel bars. The private dinners. The gifts. The laughter. The hand-holding. The eye contact. The… details I didn't ask for.
"So girl, that's what happened," she concluded, dramatically, like she was finishing a Nollywood monologue.
I clapped dramatically, rolling onto the floor. "Girl, that was a cinema. An Oscar-winning romance."
But something was bugging me.
"You keep saying restaurants, bars, hotels. But… have you been to his house? Seen pictures of him? Met his friends or family? Anything?"
Her reply? Wild.
"He said not to talk about all that. That it's for family. He told me he's over 700 years old—which I found hilarious—and that he doesn't like pictures. And about his house… he says he values his space."
I blinked. "WHAT?"
I looked at her like she had lost her damn mind.
"Zaria… that sounds like a drug dealer on the run."
"No address. No family. No photo. Dresses in black. He doesn't want you near his house? Bitch, are you okay?"
She smiled like I was being dramatic. "I don't think I need to know all that. I like him. And I think he likes me too."
"Think?" I stared. "He hasn't even said it yet?"
"Maybe he's got family problems or some trauma. You never know," she said, defensive.
I sighed. You can't talk sense into someone who's neck-deep in feelings. Advice goes in one ear and out the other when you're in love.
So I let her talk.
She kept gushing about his voice, his presence, his touch. I just nodded, letting her enjoy her fantasy.
Time flew. Before we knew it, five hours had passed. Five. She repeated some parts of her story at least three times, which told me she was done.
"I'll introduce him to you soon," she said, like it was a peace offering.
That gave me something to hold on to. I needed to see this man for myself.
By 4PM, I finally left Zaria's house. I had dinner to make and a hundred thoughts swirling in my head.
As I waited for a cab, I kept turning everything over in my mind.
Zaria was in love, clearly. But I wasn't convinced.
Something didn't add up.
And if I met Baal—and I will—then I'd know what was really going on.
Because something about this man was off.
And I was going to find out what.