"You want me to give you my pad… for money? Tobi, I can't. I… I love you. I would do anything for you, but this… this is too much. I will never do it. Never!"
The streets of Lagos were alive with neon and noise, the smell of fried plantains, exhaust fumes, and the occasional waft of roasted suya mingling in the humid night air. Oluwatobi and Adewale strode out of their Lekki apartment in crisp, tailored clothes, backpacks slung casually over their shoulders. The air buzzed with possibility; the hum of luxury cars, the distant thrum of music from clubs along Victoria Island, and the laughter spilling from nearby joints filled their ears with promise.
They had started tasting life at last, savoring the wealth that had come so suddenly and almost magically to Adewale, and soon to Oluwatobi if only fate and courage aligned.
Their first night at the club was surreal. Adewale's hand rested lightly on Morounkeji's waist, guiding her through the crowd with the pride of a man who had already begun to reshape his world. She laughed, her jewelry catching the light of the club, her designer bag swinging from her shoulder. They drank champagne that sparkled like liquid gold, danced under strobes that cut through the haze, and whispered dreams to each other that seemed possible for the first time. The city had opened its doors, and they were stepping boldly into it.
Oluwatobi watched from across the club, Iremide's absence gnawing at him. He had tried reasoning, waited, and given her time, yet she still refused the one thing he had asked of her. Her absence tonight gnawed at him, but part of him wanted to make her understand—force her to see that their future, the one they had talked about for years in their small Bariga apartment, required sacrifice. The temptation, he realized, was no longer abstract; it pulsed like a heartbeat through his veins.
Later that evening, after Morounkeji and Adewale had left, Oluwatobi called Iremide. The phone rang once, twice, three times. No answer. His thumb hovered over the screen as he typed and deleted a message, again and again, until he finally sent:
"Tobi… I… please answer. I need to see you."
Minutes stretched into hours. The city outside their apartment windows hummed with life, and the faint light of streetlamps painted patterns across his room. He could hear the bass from distant clubs, the muffled laughter of strangers, and yet all of it seemed to belong to someone else's world—a world he could not enter fully because the one person he loved still held his key to true wealth.
Finally, the next morning, Iremide appeared at the apartment. She moved quietly, her eyes downcast, clutching her handbag tightly as if it were a shield.
Oluwatobi's chest tightened as he stepped toward her, trying to appear calm but failing. "Iremide…" he started, voice low but intense.
She looked up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of fear and defiance. "Tobi… what now?"
He took a deep breath, searching for words that might sway her, calm her, or break through the wall she had built. "Look at them," he said, nodding subtly toward Adewale's Instagram posts, the pictures he had shared from the club the night before.
Morounkeji sparkling, Adewale confident, the apartment lush and vibrant. "See what your friend has done for them? She agreed… willingly. She gave her pad, and now Wale is living the life we've dreamed about. Don't you see what I'm saying?"
Iremide's lips pressed together, her eyes narrowing. "You… you want me to do the same thing? So you can become rich like him?"
"It's not just about the money, Iremide," Oluwatobi said, stepping closer, voice edged with frustration and desperation. "It's about our future. Our dreams. Don't you want to see us live like this? Don't you want to be happy?"
Her voice rose slightly, trembling with disbelief. "You want me to give you my pad… for money? Tobi, I can't. I… I love you. I would do anything for you, but this… this is too much. I will never do it. Never!"
Oluwatobi's eyes darkened, the first hints of anger creeping into his features. His jaw tightened. "Iremide… if you claim to love me and cannot sacrifice for our happiness, then what is the point of us being together? Maybe… maybe this isn't meant to be."
Iremide froze, a gasp escaping her lips. "You… you want to break up with me… because I won't give you my used pad? You… you can't be serious!"
"I am serious," he said evenly, though the tremor in his hands betrayed the storm within. "It's not just about money ritual, Iremide. It's about trust, love… giving yourself for the future we want. If you won't do this… maybe we're not meant to last."
She shook her head violently. "If it's not a money ritual, Tobi, then explain to me why… why if I give it to you, you'll become rich overnight? Do you expect me to ignore that? I love you, yes, but this request… I… I cannot do it. I will never. Not for anything. I will not."
Oluwatobi stood in silence, the weight of rejection pressing against his chest. His heart thumped painfully, chest tight, mind racing. For a moment, the world outside the apartment ceased to exist, leaving only them and the chasm that had opened between them. Then, slowly, with a controlled calm that masked the turmoil inside, he said, "No problem. If you cannot give this… then I guess we… we'll have to see what happens."
From that day onward, he began the slow, silent withdrawal. He did not answer her calls. He did not reply to her chats. When she appeared at the apartment, he barely acknowledged her presence, sitting across the room, lost in thought, eyes focused somewhere beyond her. The silence was suffocating, but it was intentional, a quiet yet undeniable pressure that began to crack Iremide's resolve.
Days stretched into a week. Iremide tried everything—messages full of love, visits with homemade food, soft-spoken pleas. But Oluwatobi remained distant, cold, a man she no longer recognized. Each ignored call, each unanswered message, each half-hearted smile, felt like a blade slicing at her heart. She loved him fiercely, more than she had ever loved anyone, but she could not understand why he had changed so abruptly, why a single request—one she could not imagine fulfilling—had become a wedge so vast between them.
Late one night, she sat on the small couch in their shared apartment, silent tears streaming down her face. Memories of their life together—quiet mornings in Bariga, their whispered promises, the laughter over cheap meals—flashed in her mind like ghosts of innocence lost.
She thought of Adewale and Morounkeji, the life of luxury that seemed just beyond her reach. She hated that it mattered, hated that she felt jealous, yet could not deny that she wanted Oluwatobi back more than anything else in the world.
Her hands trembled as she reached for a small, crumpled nylon bag, the first pad of her period that had arrived that day, tucked discreetly in the corner. "It's just… it's just something I normally discard," she whispered to herself, heart heavy, mind racing. "If it can bring Tobi the life we've dreamed of… maybe… maybe I can do this. I can't lose him. I can't."
By dawn, Iremide had made up her mind. She dressed quietly, took the nylon bag in her hands, and set out to surprise Oluwatobi. The city was waking slowly, the sun casting orange and pink across the skyline, painting the streets with hope and fear alike. Each step toward him felt like walking a tightrope between love and morality, between innocence and temptation.
When she arrived at the apartment, she found him sitting on the balcony, staring blankly at the horizon. Her voice trembled as she called softly, "Tobi… I…"
He turned slowly, eyes narrowed, suspicion and anticipation mingling. She stepped forward, holding out the nylon bag. "I… I'm giving this to you… because I love you too much to lose you. Please… take it.".
Oluwatobi blinked, disbelief, relief, and an unfamiliar warmth flooding his chest. He took the bag gently, as if it were made of the most delicate glass, and held it to his chest. "You… you really mean this?" he asked, voice breaking slightly.
Iremide nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "I love you, Tobi. That's why I'm doing this. I cannot bear to lose you."
A smile, genuine and unrestrained, spread across his face. For the first time in a week, the tension that had coiled in his chest unraveled. He drew her close, their lips meeting in a kiss that spoke of forgiveness, love, relief, and the promise of a future they had both fought for, albeit through paths they never thought they would tread.
That night, the apartment seemed smaller, warmer, alive with whispers and laughter and the silent acknowledgment of choices made and consequences yet to come. The two couples, their lives intertwined in secret bargains and sacrifices, now shared a fragile peace, one built on love, devotion, and the shadow of wealth waiting just around the corner.
Oluwatobi lay awake, the nylon bag resting against his chest. His mind wandered to the forest, to Baba Adigun, and to the promises of power. Iremide slept beside him, peaceful and trusting, unaware that tonight had changed everything. Outside, the city of Lagos throbbed, unaware of the dark path their love had chosen.