The Truth in His Eyes

Teniola didn’t go to work on Monday.

She switched off her office phone, ignored emails, and even left Chioma’s messages unread.

For the first time in years, she was afraid of being alone.

And at the same time…

She didn’t want anybody around her.

She kept staring at the old phone she had found in the box.

It felt like opening it had unlocked something she could no longer control.

Every few minutes, another memory flashed through her mind.

A laugh.

Rain hitting a car windscreen.

A man’s hand reaching for hers.

Then darkness.

It always ended in darkness.

By noon, Chioma couldn’t take it anymore.

She showed up unannounced.

The moment Teniola opened the door, Chioma frowned.

“You look terrible.”

“I didn’t sleep.”

“I can see that.”

Chioma walked inside, dropped her handbag and folded her arms.

“Now tell me the truth. Wetin dey happen?”

Teniola remained quiet.

Then she handed her the old photograph.

Chioma collected it.

She looked at it once.

Then twice.

Her face changed.

“Teni…”

“You know him?”

Chioma looked up slowly.

“I’ve seen this guy before.”

Teniola’s heartbeat quickened.

“Where?”

Chioma hesitated.

“I thought I was mistaken that day at the gallery.”

“Chioma!”

She sighed.

“About four years ago.”

Teniola stared at her.

“I followed you to one hospital.”

The room became silent.

“You fainted at work that day, remember?”

Teniola shook her head.

“I don’t.”

“I know.”

Chioma swallowed.

“There was one man outside your hospital room.”

Teniola’s breathing became shallow.

“He looked exactly like this Kola.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never saw him. At least… I thought you didn’t.”

Chioma looked at the photograph again.

“He stood outside your ward for hours.”

“What happened?”

“The moment your mother saw him…”

She paused.

“…she slapped him.”

Teniola froze.

“What?”

“I’ve never forgotten it.”

Chioma’s voice became quieter.

“She shouted at him.”

“What did she say?”

Chioma closed her eyes briefly, trying to remember.

Then she repeated the exact words.

“If you really loved my daughter, stay away from her forever!”

Teniola felt goosebumps spread across her arms.

“And him?”

“He didn’t argue.”

“He just kept crying.”

That evening…

Teniola couldn’t stay indoors anymore.

She needed answers.

Not pieces.

Not hints.

Answers.

She sent Kola a message.

We need to meet.

The reply came almost immediately.

I know.

Another message followed.

6 p.m. The old waterfront café in Ikoyi.

No address.

No explanation.

Just confidence.

Like he already knew she would come.

---

The café overlooked the lagoon.

The evening breeze carried the smell of water and roasted corn from a nearby roadside seller.

People laughed around them.

Couples took pictures.

Life continued.

But for Teniola…

Everything felt suspended.

She spotted Kola immediately.

Simple white shirt.

Dark jeans.

A cup of coffee untouched in front of him.

He stood as she approached.

“You came.”

“I need the truth.”

“So do I.”

She sat opposite him.

Neither of them spoke for almost a minute.

Finally…

Teniola placed the photograph on the table.

“Were we together?”

Kola looked at the picture.

A sad smile crossed his face.

“For three years.”

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

“No…”

“You loved me.”

She shook her head immediately.

“No.”

“You planned our future.”

“No.”

“You chose my engagement ring yourself.”

Her lips parted.

“What?”

He slowly reached into his pocket.

Then placed a small velvet box on the table.

Old.

Worn.

Trembling, Teniola opened it.

Inside…

A simple silver ring.

Nothing extravagant.

But the moment she saw it…

A sharp pain exploded inside her head.

She grabbed her temples.

Images crashed into her mind.

A jewellery shop.

Her laughing.

Kola pretending to complain about the price.

Her saying…

“Buy it before I change my mind.”

She gasped.

The memory disappeared.

Just as quickly as it came.

Kola watched her carefully.

“It’s coming back.”

She looked at him with tears already gathering.

“Why can’t I remember everything?”

His eyes filled too.

“Because remembering means facing what happened after.”

She whispered,

“What happened after?”

Kola looked away toward the water.

For the first time…

He looked afraid.

Real fear.

When he finally spoke…

His voice had changed completely.

“We were engaged.”

Silence.

“You got pregnant.”

Teniola stopped breathing.

“No…”

“You were eight weeks pregnant.”

Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly.

“No!”

People turned to look.

She didn’t care.

“You’re lying!”

Kola remained seated.

“I wish I was.”

“My mother would have told me!”

He looked at her.

“Your mother knows.”

Those words landed like thunder.

Teniola shook her head violently.

“No… she would never hide something like that.”

Kola slowly reached into his bag.

He removed a brown envelope.

Placed it gently on the table.

Hospital logo.

Medical records.

He pushed it toward her.

“You don’t have to believe me.”

She stared at it.

Hands refusing to touch it.

“Open it.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

Slowly…

Very slowly…

She opened the envelope.

The first page was a medical report.

Her full name.

Her date of birth.

Hospital stamp.

Then her eyes dropped to one line.

Patient: 8 weeks pregnant.

Her vision blurred.

She flipped to the next page.

Ultrasound image.

Tiny.

Black and white.

Barely visible.

Below it…

One handwritten note.

Father: Kolawole Adebayo.

The café disappeared around her.

Noise faded.

Air left her lungs.

She looked up at Kola.

He wasn’t crying loudly.

Just silently.

Like a man who had carried grief for too many years.

Then, almost in a whisper, he said,

“I wasn’t just waiting for you to remember me.”

He looked directly into her eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for you to remember our baby.”

The envelope slipped from Teniola’s hands.

The ultrasound fell onto the floor.

And at that exact moment…

A memory finally broke through.

A hospital corridor.

Her mother shouting.

Someone saying…

“She’s bleeding!”

Teniola screamed.

Not because of what she remembered.

But because she knew…

There was still something even worse waiting on the other side of that memory.

To be continued…