Her passport photo stared back at him. She looked older, yes, but it was clearly her. Those sharp, striking eyes. The full lips that used to form a stubborn pout. She had grown into her beauty, but the fire in her eyes hadn't changed. That strength. That spirit. That defiance. She still had it. And now he knew why she had looked so familiar in that hospital room, lying pale and exhausted after giving birth.
He took another slow sip of his drink. The burn trailed down his throat as his mind drifted back to that moment when their eyes met. Brief. Powerful. And haunting.
Why didn't you say something, Lina?
Was it pride? Was it pain? Or did she think he had forgotten her?
He ran a hand through his hair and stood up, pacing the quiet, dimly lit room. His heart felt heavy.
How did things come to this?
He remembered the brave teenage girl who had once turned his world upside down at sixteen. And now she was back, not as a lover or a memory, but as a surrogate. That thought hit him hard.
Why, Lina?
Why choose this path? Was life really that hard on you?
He could still see her, weak and still on the hospital bed after delivering the twins, his sons. Her sons. And yet, he had walked away without recognizing her.
How could he have missed it? Was it the years? The pregnancy? Or maybe, deep down, he didn't want to believe it could be her.
But now, he knew.
And what hurt even more was realizing she had been nearby all along, living quietly in the guesthouse Mara arranged on Orange Island. Safe. Hidden. Out of sight. And now... gone.
He clenched the file tighter, his knuckles turning white.
He had to find her.
Not just for the twins. For himself.
He had lost her once. He couldn't lose her again.
***
He had studied his wife for years; the strong side and the soft one. They had been married for seven years. Not for love, but for image. For legacy. For duty.
She liked to think she had control, and sometimes he let her believe that. But Ken always knew how to take charge when it mattered.
He lay still in bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Mara changed into her nightwear and got under the covers beside him. They hadn't talked much over dinner...just forced smiles and small talk.
She could feel it. She always could.
When Ken got this quiet, it meant something was coming.
"Goodnight, Ken," she said softly, turning away.
Silence.
Then he spoke, his voice low and sharp.
"Where is Lina, Mara?"
She froze.
"She's gone," she said, barely above a whisper.
"Gone where?" His tone was calm but ice-cold.
"I... I don't know."
"Don't lie," he said quietly. "You always know. You planned everything. You kept her close. Now tell me where she is."
Mara sat up slowly. "She asked for visas...to the U.S. For her and her son."
Ken sat up fast, eyes narrowing. "Son?" His heart thudded hard.
"Yes," she said, avoiding his gaze. "She has a ten-year-old boy. I gave her the tickets. The visas. Paid her the rest of her money, five million naira. She left two days ago."
Ken jumped to his feet. The room spun.
Her voice echoed in his head:
"She has a ten-year-old boy…"
"She asked for U.S. visas for her and her son…"
"She left two days ago…"
He couldn't breathe. His chest tightened. He stumbled to the door, needing air, needing space, needing answers.
The door slammed behind him.
Mara stayed on the bed, frozen.
***
The nursery was filled with warm sunlight, and the soft hum of the air conditioner added a gentle rhythm. Ada held a small tin in her hand. It had taken hours of research, a few calls to doctors, and even a visit to a natural pharmacy, but she had found it; a special goat milk formula, gentle on babies' stomachs, organic and full of nutrients.
The twins were quiet in their bassinets, cooing softly as the nanny prepared their bottles.
"They like it," the nanny said, surprised. "They're not spitting it up like the others."
Ada smiled and knelt beside one of the babies, gently stroking his cheek. "They deserve the best. I'm glad it's working."
The nanny nodded kindly. "You really care about them."
Ada looked toward the door before replying, "Someone has to."
Just then, Mara walked in wearing heels and a fitted blouse. She glanced at the babies.
"They eating well now?" she asked flatly.
"Yes," the nanny said. "Ada found a formula they like."
"Good," Mara said without much emotion. She glanced at her phone. "I'll be late. I have a board dinner."
She walked out before anyone could respond.
The nanny and Ada shared a look. Ada returned to the bassinets and picked up the other twin, cradling him gently.
"You know," she whispered, "if I didn't know better, I'd think these boys were mine."
The twins quieted in her arms, relaxing into sleep. Ada sat in the rocking chair, slowly swaying back and forth.
For now, this was enough.