A Name She Buried

That night, Teniola didn’t go home straight.

She just kept driving around Lekki like the road could erase memory. At some point she even asked the driver to stop near a quiet junction and told him she was fine. She wasn’t fine, but saying it out loud felt too heavy.

When she finally got home, the silence inside her apartment felt different.

Not peaceful.

Suspicious.

Like something had already entered before her.

She locked the door twice.

Then again.

Still, she couldn’t relax.

Her phone was on the table, face down. She avoided it like it was breathing.

But it rang anyway.

Unknown number.

She didn’t pick.

It stopped.

Then started again.

She finally picked, voice tight. “What do you want from me?”

Kola’s voice came soft. Too soft.

“I don’t want anything from you that you didn’t already give me.”

Her jaw tightened. “Stop talking in circles. If you know me, just say it clearly.”

A small pause came.

Then he said, “You used to hate when I did that.”

That line landed differently.

Like it was touching something inside her memory, but not fully opening it.

Teniola sat down slowly.

“Stop,” she whispered. “Stop saying things like you know me.”

Kola didn’t rush his words.

“I know you more than you know yourself right now.”

Her chest tightened.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked again, but softer this time.

This time, he didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said, “Because you ran.”

Silence.

Only AC humming.

Teniola closed her eyes briefly.

“I don’t know you,” she said again, but it didn’t sound strong anymore.

Kola replied, “Then ask your mother.”

Her eyes snapped open.

That was the first time his voice changed slightly.

Not playful.

Not calm.

Serious.

She stood up. “My mother? What are you talking about?”

But the line had gone silent.

Call ended.

Just like that.

Morning came too fast.

Teniola didn’t sleep. Her eyes were heavy, her mind worse.

She drove straight to her family house in Surulere without thinking twice.

The gate man greeted her like normal, but she barely responded.

Inside the house, the smell of pepper soup and incense mixed together like always. Her mother was in the sitting room watching morning TV.

“Mummy,” Teniola said immediately.

Her mother looked up. “Ah, you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Teniola didn’t sit.

“I need to ask you something.”

That tone made her mother pause the remote.

“What is it?”

Teniola hesitated. Just for a second.

Then she said it.

“Do you know someone called Kola?”

The room changed.

Not loud change.

Small shift.

But Teniola saw it.

Her mother’s hand paused mid-air.

Just for a second too long.

Then she forced a small laugh. “Kola? Which Kola?”

Teniola watched her carefully. “Mummy, don’t do that thing.”

Her mother sat up properly now. “Why are you asking me that name?”

Teniola swallowed. “He says I know him.”

Silence again.

This one heavier.

Her mother stood up slowly. “Teniola… where did you hear that name?”

That question hit differently.

Not curiosity.

Warning.

Teniola frowned. “So you know him.”

Her mother shook her head quickly. “No. I don’t.”

But her eyes said something else.

Something she was trying very hard to bury.

Teniola stepped closer. “Mummy, this is not a small thing. This person has been calling me, sending me pictures, saying things I don’t remember. He said I should ask you.”

Her mother suddenly looked away.

That was the mistake.

Teniola saw it.

“Mummy…” her voice dropped. “Why are you avoiding my eyes?”

That line made her mother sit back down slowly.

Like her legs suddenly got tired.

“Teniola,” she said quietly, “some things are better left in the past.”

That was it.

That sentence.

It didn’t explain anything.

But it confirmed everything.

Teniola’s chest tightened. “So there is something.”

Her mother rubbed her forehead. “You were young. You made choices. Things happened. We handled it.”

Teniola blinked. “Handled what?”

Silence.

The kind that drags truth out slowly.

Her mother finally looked at her properly.

And said something that shook her.

“You almost destroyed your life because of that boy.”

Teniola froze.

“Boy?” she repeated.

Her mother nodded slowly. “Yes. Kola.”

The name felt heavier this time.

Like it finally belonged somewhere.

Teniola stepped back slightly. “No… no, I don’t remember him.”

Her mother sighed. “That’s because you chose not to.”

That line hit harder than anything Kola had said.

Teniola shook her head. “What happened between us?”

Her mother hesitated.

Too long.

Then she said quietly,

“Ask yourself why you left Lagos for almost a year without telling anyone properly.”

Teniola’s throat tightened.

“That was not me,” she whispered.

Her mother looked at her.

“It was you. Just… a version of you we don’t talk about anymore.”

Teniola felt something inside her shift.

Like a door cracking open.

But not fully opening yet.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She ignored it.

Then it buzzed again.

And again.

She finally pulled it out.

Unknown number.

But this message had no words.

Just an audio file.

Her mother saw it and immediately said, “Don’t open that.”

Teniola froze.

“You know what it is?” she asked.

Her mother stood up fast. “I said don’t open it.”

But Teniola was already pressing play.

Her mother rushed forward. “Teniola!”

Too late.

The room went silent except for the speaker.

Then a voice came through.

Her own voice.

But not like now.

Younger.

Shaking.

Crying.

“I didn’t mean it… I swear I didn’t know it would go like this…”

A pause.

Then another voice in the background.

Kola.

But this time, not calm.

Broken.

“You looked me in the eye and still did it, Teni.”

Teniola dropped the phone immediately.

Her body went cold.

Her mother closed her eyes like she already knew this moment would come.

And Teniola whispered,

“That’s not me…”

But even as she said it…

Something inside her disagreed.

Because the voice sounded too real.

Too hers.

Her phone buzzed again on the floor.

New message from Kola.

“Now you’ve heard yourself.”

Another message followed immediately.

“Tell me again you don’t know me.”

Teniola stepped back slowly.

Her back hit the wall.

Her breathing changed.

And for the first time…

Fear wasn’t confusion anymore.

Fear was recognition trying to break through.

Her mother reached for her gently.

But Teniola flinched.

Because in her mind now…

A question was forming clearly for the first time.

Not who is Kola?

But…

What did I do to him?

And somewhere deep in her memory…

Something answered back.

But she wasn’t ready to hear it yet.

To be continued…