We’re In This Together

Two women. One man. One secret. And a decision that will change all three of their lives.

They started talking every day.

Not just texting anymore. Phone calls. Long ones. Sometimes late at night when Nkem was sure Dubem wasn’t home. Sometimes early in the morning when Tola was sitting in her car in the office parking lot, too wired to go inside.

Two women who should have been enemies became the only people in the world who understood each other.

Because that’s what Dubem had done to both of them. He had isolated them so completely that nobody else could fully grasp what they were going through. Tola’s friends tried. Chinyere was loyal, Funke was sharp, Bisola was kind. But none of them had been inside it the way Nkem had. None of them had worn the ring. Carried the baby. Lived in the house he paid for with money that didn’t make sense.

And for Nkem, it was the same. Her sister in Enugu kept saying “just come home.” Her mother kept praying. But none of them knew the full picture. They knew about the cheating. They didn’t know about the contracts. The transfers. The second phone. The fake office.

Only Tola knew all of it. And only Nkem had access to the evidence.

So they became a team. An unlikely, messy, complicated team held together by the one thing they had in common: they had both loved a man who didn’t exist.

Tola told her everything. The receipt. The ring in the cabinet. The two phones. The confrontation at the restaurant. Obinna’s café meeting. The envelope. The iPhone on her doorstep.

Nkem listened to all of it quietly. Then she said: “He used to hide the ring in his gym bag. I found it there once, six months ago. He said it was loose and he didn’t want to lose it during a workout. I believed him. I actually believed him.”

“I believed everything too,” Tola said. “He told me his car was in the shop and I drove him home without thinking twice.”

“His car has never been in any shop. The AC works fine. I was in that car last week.”

They both went quiet. It was a strange kind of bonding. Comparing lies. Matching stories. Finding the places where his fiction overlapped and the places where he’d gotten creative.

Nkem’s voice changed when she talked about the early days. Softer. Almost nostalgic. “He was different when we got married. Or maybe he wasn’t and I just didn’t see it. But the first few months felt real. He was present. He came home every night. We cooked together on Sundays.”

“What changed?”

“The money. When the contracts started coming in, everything shifted. He traveled more. Bought things we didn’t need. Started talking about ‘connections’ and ‘opportunities.’ He became someone I didn’t recognize. But by then I was pregnant, and his mother was calling me every week asking about the baby, and leaving felt like failing.”

Tola closed her eyes. “You’re not a failure, Nkem.”

“I know that in my head. My body hasn’t caught up yet.”

Tola told Chinyere, Funke, and Bisola everything. All of it. The full picture.

They sat in Chinyere’s apartment, and for once, nobody interrupted. Nobody cracked jokes. Even Funke, who always had something to say, just listened.

When Tola finished, the room was heavy.

Bisola spoke first. “This is dangerous, Tola. These are not small people. Government contracts. That kind of money. If Dubem is connected to people in power, going after him could…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

Funke, surprisingly, agreed. “I hate that man. You know I do. But Bisola is right. This has gone past relationship drama. This is federal. You could get hurt.”

Chinyere hadn’t said anything. She was sitting with her arms crossed, staring at the floor. Everyone looked at her.

“Chinyere?”

She looked up. “Do you remember what Obinna said? That you should be careful because ‘important people’ are involved?”

“Yes.”

“That means Dubem is scared. His brother is scared. They came to you with money and threats because they know that if what Nkem found gets out, it’s over for them. Not just the marriage. Everything. The contracts. The money. All of it.”

She leaned forward. “People don’t send envelopes and iPhones to shut you up unless what you know can destroy them. So the question is not whether this is dangerous. It IS dangerous. The question is: are you going to let them win?”

The room was silent.

“No,” Tola said. “We finish this.”

Funke sighed. Bisola closed her eyes. But neither of them left the room. And that said everything.

That night, Nkem called. Late. Almost midnight. Her voice was different. Lower. Whispering.

“Tola.”

“What happened?”

“I went into his study again. After he left this morning. He’s been out for two days but he came back this afternoon to pick up some things. He was in a hurry. Left the study unlocked.”

“What did you find?”

“More documents. Contracts. But these ones are different. One of them has a ministry letterhead. Ministry of Works and Housing. And the amount…” She paused. Tola could hear her breathing. “₦1.2 billion.”

Tola’s mouth went dry.

“Billion. With a B.”

“Yes.”

“And Dubem’s company is listed?”

“As the primary consultancy contractor. Tola, his company doesn’t even have an office. How is a company with no office handling a ₦1.2 billion government contract?”

Tola didn’t have an answer. But she knew what it meant. This was fraud. Not the small kind. Not the kind that gets settled quietly. The kind that makes headlines. The kind that ends with people in handcuffs on the evening news.

“Did you take pictures?”

“Of everything.”

“Send them to me. And Nkem, listen. Be careful. If he realizes you’ve been in that study…”

“I know. I’m being careful. But Tola, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“I think he knows we’ve been talking.”

Tola’s stomach dropped. “Why?”

“He came home today and he looked at me differently. Not angry. Suspicious. He asked me who I’ve been calling. I said my mother. He said, ‘You talk to your mother a lot these days.’ Then he went into the study and locked the door.”

“Nkem…”

“And just now, thirty minutes ago, he checked my phone while I was in the bathroom. I came out and it was in a different position on the nightstand. He didn’t find anything because I delete our chats every night. But he’s looking, Tola. He’s looking.”

The line was quiet.

“He’s coming to Lagos tomorrow,” Nkem whispered. “He told me it’s for business. But I don’t think it’s business. I think he’s coming for you.”

END OF EPISODE 11