That evening, Helen walked home slower than usual, her dress swaying heavily around her ankles. The sun had begun its descent, casting long orange shadows across the narrow road. Children ran past her, laughing, chasing each other with dusty feet. Her own children's voices echoed faintly in her mind, but the warmth they used to bring felt dimmed, drowned beneath a new, unsettling flutter inside her chest.
When she reached her compound, she paused.
Took a breath.
Steadied herself.
Then stepped inside.
Philip was sitting on the wooden bench, wiping sweat from his forehead. The generator hummed faintly in the background. He looked up with a tired, relieved smile.
"Helen, you're back. I was worried, you came home late."
She swallowed. "Customers kept me. I had to finish selling."
It was the first lie.
A small one.
Soft, almost harmless.
But a lie all the same.
Alex didn't question it. He only nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "You work too hard. Sit, let me bring water."
He carried a plastic bowl inside, his gait weary but familiar, dependable, steady. The kind of love that had stayed the same for years, even when money became tight. The kind of love she once valued.
Now it felt… insufficient.
Not wrong.
Just not enough.
Her chest tightened with guilt.
She lowered herself onto the bench, staring at the uneven ground, replaying the moment under the almond tree, his voice, his touch, his breath brushing her cheek.
"Say yes…"
Her heart trembled again.
The compound gate squeaked open as her children ran toward her.
"Mummy! See what I drew today!"
"Mummy, I kept meat for you!"
Their small arms wrapped around her waist, grounding her, pulling her back to everything she had always sworn to protect.
She hugged them tightly, maybe too tightly, her eyes stinging.
Philip returned with the water, smiling gently at the sight of his family. "Helen, come and rest. Food is almost ready."
She nodded, stood, and followed them inside her home, simple, cramped, but built with years of shared effort and sacrifice.
She should have felt safe.
Instead, the walls felt like they were tightening around her.
Because she knew tomorrow was coming.
She knew she had agreed to meet Alex again.
And as she lay in bed that night beside her husband, the soft snoring of her children drifting through the thin walls, Helen stared into the darkness with wide, restless eyes.
One thought echoed louder than everything else:
I don't know how to stop.
The next morning rose quietly, but Helen's heart was anything but calm. She dressed slowly, her fingers fumbling with her wrapper as if her own hands no longer trusted her. Philip had left early for work, leaving a single note on the table:
"Boil the yam when you return. I'll come back early today. … Phil."
A small gesture. A simple reminder.
A sign of love she used to cling to.
Now it made her feel heavy.
She stepped into the sunlight and forced her feet toward the market. Her children waved after her from the doorway. She waved back with a stiff smile she couldn't maintain.
By the time she reached her stall, Lola was already waiting for her, arms crossed, expression tight.
"So you're meeting him today," she said quietly.
Helen avoided her eyes. "Lola, please."
"Please what?" her friend asked. "Please pretend I don't see you walking into fire?"
Helen sighed. "I only agreed to talk to him."
"Talk," Lola repeated, half laughing, half worrying. "That's how it starts."
Helen tried to busy herself arranging vegetables but her hands shook, betraying her.
Then, as if on cue, the sound she both dreaded and desired drifted through the market, the smooth purr of a familiar SUV.
Lola hissed under her breath. "He has come."
The black SUV slowed and finally stopped.
Alex stepped out, dressed sharply, confidence glinting in every line of his posture.
This time, the market women fell silent.
Staring, Watching.
Alex didn't look at them.
His eyes found Helen instantly.
"Good morning, Helen," he greeted, voice steady, warm, intimate.
Her breath caught. "Good morning, Alex."
He held a small paper bag. "I brought you something. Just food. You look like someone who forgets to eat when she's tired."
Lola's eyes widened. The women nearby whispered.
Helen's pulse thudded so loudly she could barely hear.
"Can we take that walk?" Alex asked gently.
She hesitated, but only for a second, then she nodded.
He smiled, subtle and satisfied, and gestured for her to follow.
As she stepped away from her stall, Lola grabbed her hand briefly. "Helen, think of your home."
Helen swallowed hard.
"I am thinking," she whispered.
But deep down, she knew she was lying again.
She followed Alex to the quieter side of the market, her stomach twisting. The air felt different around him, still, warm, charged.
He turned to her. "You came. That means something."
Helen lowered her gaze. "Alex, this… this is dangerous."
He stepped closer, just enough for his voice to soften. "Staying unhappy too is dangerous ."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card with an address.
"Meet me here tomorrow," he said. "Let me show you what life can feel like when someone chooses you without hesitation."
Her chest tightened. "I shouldn't."
"But you will," he murmured.
His confidence wrapped around her like heat. Her breath shook.
She took the card.
Her fingers brushed his, accidentally, yet not accidentally.
The moment stretched.
Then she pulled her hand away quickly, guilt rising like smoke.
Even so, she didn't drop the card.
She held it and clutched it.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she wanted to let it go.
Adaeze slipped the small card into her apron pocket as if it were something forbidden,something alive. The moment her fingers touched the paper, her stomach twisted. It felt wrong. It felt thrilling. It felt like stepping onto a path she might never return from.
Alex watched her with a calm, knowing expression.
"Tomorrow," he reminded softly.
Not a question but a promise.
Before she could respond, a market woman shouted from across the stalls, "Helen! Somebody dey find you!"
Helen froze.
Alex's expression changed instantly, tightening with caution. "Go," he whispered. "We'll talk later."
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she hurried back through the alley of stalls. Every step felt heavier than the last. The whispers followed her like shadows.
"She don start something…"
"Her husband no go take that one easy…"
"Hmm, this one go end in tears…"
When she reached her stall, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Philip.
Her husband was standing there, dust on his clothes as if he had rushed straight from work. His eyes scanned the market, tense, searching.
For her.
Lola stood beside him, arms folded, her face stiff with the kind of fear only a friend feels when she knows something you don't want revealed.
Helen's breath caught.
He came to check on me? Why today? Why now?
She wiped her palms on her wrapper and stepped forward slowly.
"philip… you came early."
He turned to her, relief washing over his face, mixed with something else. Something sharp.
"I came to surprise you," he said. "But you weren't at your stall."
Her throat dried.
"I…I went to buy pepper from Mama Tunde."
"Helen," Lola murmured under her breath, warning.
Philip stepped closer, eyes narrowing slightly. "But Mama Tunde isn't even here today."
A cold wave rushed through her.
She felt Lola tense beside her.
"Maybe she left early," Helen forced out, her smile stiff and fragile.
Philip looked at her, too long, too deeply, as if he could sense the truth trembling beneath her skin. His jaw tightened a little. Just enough to scare her.
Then he sighed. "Helen, I'm not accusing you of anything. I just… worry about you."
Guilt punched her chest.
Lola looked away, unable to meet Helen's eyes.
From the corner of her vision, Helen saw Chief's SUV still parked down the road, waiting.
Watching.
Philip followed her gaze instinctively, His eyebrows drew together.
"Helen… who owns that car?". Her heart dropped.
Lola's breath hitched, The market suddenly felt too quiet.
Helen swallowed. Hard.
"It… it must belong to someone else," she whispered, avoiding his eyes.
Philip stared at the vehicle, suspicion rising like smoke. "That car doesn't belong to any trader here."
For one terrifying second, she thought he would walk toward it.
But instead he picked up the bag of yam flour he'd brought for her and said, "Let's go home. We'll talk there."
Her knees weakened.
Lola grabbed her wrist discreetly. "Helen," she whispered urgently, "you need to choose your next steps carefully."
Helen nodded faintly, but her mind was spiraling.
As she followed her husband out of the market, she felt the card in her pocket like a burning coal, hot, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.
Behind her, she knew Alex was watching.
Ahead of her, she felt her husband's suspicion darkening.
And inside her?
Suspense tightened like a rope around her chest.
Tomorrow, she knew, would not come quietly.
The walk home felt longer than usual. Too quiet. Too heavy. Philip said nothing, but Helen could feel his questions pressing against the air between them, thick and suffocating.
Every few steps, he glanced at her.
Every time, she pretended not to notice.
And every time, her heart squeezed tighter.
She kept one hand pressed against her pocket, feeling the outline of the card. It was thin, but felt like a weight dragging her entire world down.
When they reached home, Philip closed the door behind them with a soft thud. A sound too gentle to be comforting, too intentional to ignore.
"Helen," he said finally, his voice low. "Tell me the truth. Were you with someone?"
Her breath caught.
"Philip… Why are you asking me that?"
"Because I know you," he said. "You avoid my eyes when you lie. And you are avoiding them now."
Her knees went weak.
He stepped closer, searching her face with fear rather than anger. "Helen, please. If something is wrong, tell me. Don't let me find out from someone else."
She opened her mouth, but nothing came.
Because what could she say?
"A wealthy married man wants to ruin my life, but I can't walk away."
Her silence stretched.
Philp exhaled shakily. He rubbed his forehead with a trembling hand. "You've been distracted for weeks. You hardly talk to me. You come home tired, but not the kind of tired I know."
Her chest tightened painfully.
He looked at her again. "Helen… are you unhappy with me?"
Tears stung her eyes.
She shook her head quickly, too quickly.
"No. Philip, I just….life is hard. That's all."
He took her hand gently, pleadingly. "We've faced harder things. But only because we faced them together. Don't shut me out."
The tenderness in his voice made the guilt unbearable.
She nodded, swallowing the truth, forcing a smile she didn't feel.
"I'm not shutting you out."
A lie. Another one.
Just then, their children ran into the room, laughing, breaking the tension for a moment. Philip pulled away to attend to them, leaving Helen standing alone, shaking.
She slipped away to the bedroom, closing the door quietly.
Then she pulled out the card.
The address stared back at her.
A simple location, But its meaning screamed.
She should have thrown it away but she didn't, She held it tighter.
A soft knock came at the door. "Helen? Are you okay?"
She hid the card under her pillow instantly. "I'm fine," she called back. But even she could hear the lie in her voice.
Philip lingered outside the door for a moment. His shadow fell across the floor, waiting, hoping.
Then he walked away.
Helen let out a shaky breath and pressed her palms to her face.
The house felt too small, Her thoughts too loud, Her heart too divided, And beneath her pillow, the card felt like it was pulsing and calling her.
Tomorrow was coming And fate was no longer a distant thing, It was knocking.
Helen lay in bed that night, the house silent except for the soft breathing of her children. Philip had gone to his own side of the room, exhausted from work and worry. She stared at the ceiling, unable to close her eyes. The card burned in her mind, even though it rested under her pillow like a hidden secret.
Her fingers itched to reach for it, to feel it again, to imagine what awaited her tomorrow. She tried to push the thought away, but the more she resisted, the louder it grew. Every time she thought of Alex, his voice, his hands, his confident presence and the weight of desire pressed down on her chest.
And yet, there was Philip. Steady, Reliable, Loving. His tired smile, the way he worked for their children, the sacrifices he had made, he had given her everything that mattered, and she was contemplating betrayal.
A knock at the door startled her. "Helen?" Lola's voice whispered from the hallway. "I couldn't sleep. Can I come in?"
Helen hesitated, then answered calmly. "Yes"
Lola stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, eyes scanning Helen's pale face. "He called again today, didn't he?"
Helen swallowed hard. "I… I don't know what to do, Lola."
Lola reached out and took her hand. "You've stepped onto a dangerous path. One step further, and there may be no turning back. You have to choose carefully. Not just for yourself… but for everyone who depends on you."
Helen nodded, but the card under her pillow seemed to pulse in agreement with the pounding of her heart.
Tomorrow, she realized with a chill, she would have to face a choice she wasn't sure she was ready for. A choice between desire and duty, Between temptation and loyalty. And the first step toward that choice felt terrifyingly irreversible.