WHY DOES HE KNOW MY NAME LIKE THAT?

That night, sleep didn’t come early for Kamsi.

She tried. She really tried.

But every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing small things that didn’t make sense. The way Dami paused when her phone rang. The way he looked at the compound like he was counting movements. The way he stood outside her window without actually looking at it.

It was nothing serious on its own.

But together, it was starting to form something in her head.

And she didn’t like it.

By 11pm, the house was quiet again.

Even the generator had been switched off, so it was just NEPA silence and faint night sounds from outside. That Lagos night hum. Distant cars. A dog somewhere barking like it had issues with life.

Kamsi got up from bed, thirsty.

She opened her door slowly and stepped into the corridor.

The light there was dim. One bulb behaving like it was tired of existence.

As she walked toward the kitchen, she heard something.

A low sound.

Not music.

Voice.

She slowed down.

It was coming from the sitting room.

She moved closer and stopped by the wall.

Dami’s voice.

Low. Controlled. Not the tone he used during the day.

“…I have observed her. She is not like the file said.”

Silence.

Then another voice answered.

Too faint to hear clearly.

Kamsi’s heart jumped slightly.

File?

Her fingers tightened on the wall.

Dami continued.

“She is emotional but not careless. That’s important.”

A pause.

Then he added something that made her stomach drop a little.

“Yes, I know her history.”

Kamsi froze.

Her brain tried to process it, but it refused to settle.

Her history?

She took a step back quietly.

Too quietly.

The floor still creaked.

The voice inside stopped immediately.

Silence.

Then footsteps.

Coming closer.

Kamsi moved fast without thinking and disappeared back into the corridor, heart beating hard now.

She didn’t stop until she got back to her room and shut the door.

She stood there breathing.

“What is wrong with this house?” she whispered.

Morning came with tension still hanging in her chest.

She acted normal at breakfast.

Or at least she tried.

Her mother noticed something though.

“You didn’t sleep well?” she asked casually.

“I slept fine,” Kamsi replied too quickly.

Dami was already in the kitchen when she came out.

Same calm face.

Same quiet movement.

But now, she couldn’t unsee last night.

File.

History.

Who talks like that about a house girl and a family member?

When he brought her tea, she didn’t say thank you immediately.

She watched him.

He placed it down.

“You look tired,” he said.

Kamsi frowned slightly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking too much,” he added.

That line landed wrong.

She looked up sharply.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

Dami didn’t react.

“I don’t,” he said simply. “I just observe patterns.”

“Ah,” she scoffed. “So now I’m a pattern?”

A faint pause.

Then he said something softer.

“No. You are just… predictable when you are stressed.”

That one hit differently.

Because it wasn’t insulting.

It was almost too accurate.

Her mother’s voice interrupted from the dining area.

“Kamsi, after breakfast help me check the storage room.”

She nodded without answering.

Dami stepped aside.

But as he did, something small happened.

His hand brushed slightly against the edge of the table.

And a small envelope dropped.

Kamsi saw it.

“Wait,” she said immediately.

Dami stopped.

He turned slowly.

She bent down and picked it up.

Plain brown envelope.

No name outside.

Just her name inside.

Not typed.

Written.

KAMSI.

She looked up instantly.

“Why is my name on this?” she asked.

Silence.

For the first time, Dami didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes stayed on the envelope.

Then on her.

Then he said quietly.

“Give it to me.”

Something in his tone changed.

Not aggressive.

But firm.

Too firm for a house help.

Kamsi stepped back slightly.

“Who gave you this?” she asked again.

Dami exhaled slowly.

“You’re not supposed to see it yet.”

That sentence made her chest tighten.

“See what?” she asked, voice rising slightly now.

Footsteps came from the hallway.

Her mother.

“Everything okay there?” her mother called out.

Dami didn’t move.

Kamsi didn’t move either.

The envelope felt heavier suddenly.

Like it was not paper anymore.

Just then, Dami took one step forward.

Not close enough to touch her.

But close enough that his voice dropped lower.

“You need to trust me on this one,” he said.

Kamsi laughed lightly, but it was shaky.

“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

A pause.

Then Dami said something that made everything inside her slow down.

“You know more than you think you know.”

Her mother’s footsteps were closer now.

Dami immediately stepped back.

His face returned to normal.

Calm.

Quiet.

Almost invisible again.

Kamsi quickly hid the envelope behind her.

Her mother entered the room.

“What are you two doing?” she asked.

“Nothing ma,” Dami replied immediately.

Kamsi forced a smile.

“Just checking something.”

Her mother looked between them.

Something in her eyes narrowed slightly.

Then she nodded.

“Good. Dami, go and clean the outside.”

“Yes ma.”

He turned and left.

But as he passed Kamsi, he didn’t look at her.

Not even once.

Like nothing happened.

Like she wasn’t holding something that now felt like it was burning in her hand.

Later that day, Kamsi locked herself in her room.

She stared at the envelope for a long time.

Then slowly opened it.

Inside was a single paper.

Folded.

Her hands shook slightly as she opened it.

One line.

Just one.

But it was enough to make her sit down immediately.

Because it said:

“Do not let them know you remember me from before.”

Kamsi blinked.

Slowly.

Then read it again.

Before?

Her mind went blank for a second.

Then she heard it.

Outside her door.

Footsteps.

Stopped.

Right there.

Like someone was waiting for her reaction.

Like someone already knew what she just read.

And for the first time since she came back home,

Kamsi asked herself a question she didn’t like the answer to.

Who exactly did her mother bring into this house?

To be continued…