THE MEET-UP

She stood still, her palms cupped over her nose and mouth as she watched  his lifeless body bleed out. His blood, meandering from his body and paving its path through the white tiles. The clink from the drop of the knife jolted her back to life. She had just killed a man, her ex.  

How did she end up here? Maybe she had taken the line ‘I might kill my ex’ from SZA’s song too seriously. Her mind was lost in the fuzzy moments before she struck out. One thing was clear, she had seen too many crime documentaries to know that the first step to escaping a murder allegation was to hide the murder weapon.  

With shaky hands, she picked up the knife from where it lay near Mike’s feet, wrapped it in a scarf, and stuffed it inside her bag. Next was getting rid of the body. This was the hardest part because she wasn’t at her own place. She was in Mike’s apartment. And the new gateman had seen her come in.  

 In retrospect, the day had started so well.  

Oyin had woken up feeling lighter than she had in years. Butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach as she stretched, her heart racing with excitement. Today was the day. After two years of longing, of stalking his social media from a fake account, of replaying every mistake she made in their relationship, she was finally going to see Mike again.  

And not just by accident, He had asked her to come. 

For two years, she had regretted letting the best thing in her life go. Mike had been the only person in her world who wasn’t paid to hang out with her or tell her what she wanted to hear. They met right after her foster parents passed in an accident, and she had moved in with her foster mom’s sister—who, unable to let her go, took her in as her own. Mike lived in the next compound. On weekends, she often saw him raking around the mango tree by the front gate; his arms, sturdy and his gait, fine. He’d offered her a mango fruit and that was the start of their friendship. Despite being two years ahead of her in school, they quickly became inseparable. By the time he gained admission into the University of Lagos, their friendship had turned into something deeper. Mike was her all.  They stayed together for twelve years. In that time, they clung to themselves like thread and needle. Oyin thrived at Bode & Kola Chambers, one of the biggest law firms in Lagos, while also running Óyín, her fashion brand worn by every Lagos influencers and celebrity. Mike worked for a tech company based in Los Angeles, which allowed him the luxury of remote work. They were successful and happy until they weren’t.

Oyin’s head was buried in work, and Mike, feeling ignored, often expressed his displeasure by picking fights. She made the hardest decision of her life by letting him go the day he’d taken a heavy swing to her cheeks that almost dislocated her jaw.

A random encounter at the supermarket had reignited something between them. At first, it was casual. Texting here and there. But then, two nights ago, after one too many glasses of wine, she called him. A drunk, messy call where she cried and told him she still loved him. To her surprise, he didn’t shut her down. Instead, he admitted he missed her too. That he never really moved on. That they should talk. Properly.  

So here she was, getting ready like it was the first date all over again. She took her time picking out an outfit, something effortlessly stunning, something that would remind him of what he’d lost. She stopped by her store, grabbed a few things, and by the time she got into her car, she was practically vibrating with excitement.  

Everything was going to be perfect.  

But the first hitch came when she got to his apartment. The gateman she knew, the one she and Mike had hired when they lived together, was gone. Instead, a new guy stood at the gate, eyeing her suspiciously with a chewing stick in his hand which he stuck into his mouth when he was not talking.  

“Who you say you dey find?”  

“Mike,” she said, already grubbing through her bag for her phone. “I’m his…” she paused, realizing she wasn’t sure what to call herself anymore.  

“E no tell me say anybody dey come,” the gateman said, arms crossed, teeth crushing the chewing stick. His chiseled jaws came to plain sight.  

She dialed Mike’s number. He picked up on the second ring.  

“I’m outside,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.  

A few moments later, the gateman got the call. His expression remained stiff, but he unlocked the gate and stepped aside. “Oga say make you enter.”  

She walked in, feeling slightly uneasy. She wasn’t here to do anything wrong. She was here to fix things. To get her man back.  

And when she finally stepped into the apartment and saw Mike standing there, looking at her the way he used to, everything else faded away. He knew she loved to see him on white tee-shirts. He had some baggy pants under but Oyin caught the thing heavy and hanging between his legs like she’d always known it. Oh, Mike.  

“Oyinkansola,” he said in a sing-song tone, clasping her in his embrace.

The hug felt like home again. Safe. Familiar. Like she was right where she belonged. She wanted to stay there forever, wrapped in the warmth of him, inhaling his body scent.

But reality pulled her back when the hug lingered a little too long just past the point of comfort. She finally stepped back, clearing her throat.

“Your gateman is really annoying,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Mike chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets to conceal his erection. “Yeah, he takes his job a little too seriously. You should’ve just told him you were my wife.”

Oyin felt her stomach flip, but she masked it with a smirk. “Oh? Would that have worked?”

Mike’s gaze held hers for a second longer than necessary. “Maybe.”

Her heart pounded. Maybe this was really happening. Maybe they were really getting another chance. Or he just missed her body.

She knew it was going to be a good day. She could feel it deep in her stomach. Maybe it was just the butterflies, or maybe it was something more, something telling her that today, after everything, things were finally falling back into place.  

The apartment reflected significant changes. The couch was new, the shelves rearranged, but one thing remained the same. Her eyes lingered on the art piece she had bought for the living room years ago. It was still there, hanging in its original spot like it had never left.  

A small smile tugged at her lips as she pointed at it. “Some things are just too good to put away.”  

Mike followed her gaze, then looked back at her with a soft smile. “Guess I have a thing for keeping good stuff around.”  

Something about the way he said it made her stomach flip, but she brushed it off, letting the conversation flow.  

They sat opposite each other, laughing, reminiscing, talking like no time had passed. But there was still a space between them, a gap neither of them had crossed yet, until Mike tapped the seat beside him. “Come sit beside me”.  

She hesitated for half a second before moving closer, her heart hammering as she settled next to him. Almost instinctively, she leaned in and hugged him, her body remembering the way it used to fit against his.  

He exhaled against her shoulder. “I missed you, Oyin.”  

She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “I know.”  

A beat of silence passed before he asked, “Do you still smoke?”  

She chuckled. “Some things never change.”  

Mike reached into the drawer and pulled out a pre-rolled joint, lighting it effortlessly like muscle memory. He took a slow drag, the tip turning fiery red and dimming, then he passed it to her. The moment felt familiar, yet different. Like slipping into an old life but seeing it with new eyes.  

They sat there, close, letting the silence stretch between them, thick with unspoken words and unsaid feelings.  

As they passed the joint back and forth, the conversation drifted.

“So how’s life been?” Mike asked, his voice smooth, relaxed.

Oyin exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the air. “Busy. Crazy. You probably already know, though.”

“Things changed overnight for the store. Temi Otedola wore one of my designs, tagged me, and boom suddenly, Oyin is one of the biggest luxury brands in Lagos.”

Mike raised a brow, clearly impressed. “Look at you. Lagos big girl.”

Oyin grinned. “Don’t hate.”

“I’m not. I think it’s dope. You always had an eye for this stuff.”

Mike leaned back, resting into her, she could feel his breath on her cheeks as he pulled in for a kiss on her forehead. “I’m proud of you, you know, me on the other hand, you remember Tunde and Jamal? We've been grinding. Been back and forth between Lagos and Joburg for the past year, trying to get everything off the ground.”

This she already knew from stalking his page but she had to play it cool. The conversation flowed, dipping in and out of the past, their wins, their struggles. It felt natural. Easy. Like slipping back into something they had both been pretending not to miss.

Then Mike’s stomach grumbled loudly, swinging them into sudden laughter.

“You’re still as greedy as ever,” Oyin teased.

Mike placed a hand on his chest dramatically, making her drown in her laughter. “I take offense. Anyway, what do you want to eat?”

“I’m not really hungry,” she said, stretching. “But I will take whatever you have.” 

Mike smirked, headed to the kitchen and returned with a tray and two bowls of cut up fruits, two apples and a shiny knife with wooden handle on it, the same knife she had just stabbed him with.

The date went sour after they kissed and Mike broke the kiss to tell her he has something he wants to tell her. He met a girl on one of his SA trips and they have been dating for four months now. How did she miss that? She had checked his socials every night before going to bed as she had made it a ritual, but nothing there spoke about a big booty SA stealing her man. She was lost and confused. She sat there not knowing what to do. Maybe they were just playing around and now that she’s here he’s going to realize that he loves just her and only her. Or was she delusional to think that way?

He moved her close,

“I love you still, I will always do, I love her too and to be honest with you I plan on asking her to marry me when I get back but seeing you today, God your body has even gotten hotter since we last spoke and Oyin, I want you. I-I-am confused.”

He moved to kiss her left cheek. 

She was irritated. Did she just hear him right? He just mentioned that he loves her and another woman in the same sentence while still moving on to her. His hands groped her breast. She told him to stop but his grip only got stronger and tighter. Maybe it was the weed but his eyes were blood red and he looked ruthless and in a split second she picked the knife on the tray and dug into his abdomen. His grip loosened as she pulled the knife out slowly. 

“Fucking bitch, I will kill you!”

His voice fizzled out as he sank into the couch, and then the anger clouded her eyes. Why did he lead her on when he had a girl he loves? He invited her over knowing he was going to propose to another girl. He had the courage to try to rape her. The rage in her eyes sipped into her veins as she picked up the knife and stabbed him again and again and again till his eyes were closed shut and his body coughing out blood to the floor. She had killed her man.

THE COVER UP

Oyin stood frozen, her chest heaving, staring at Mike’s lifeless body. Blood slicked her trembling hands, the metallic scent thick in the air, blending with the faint traces of his cologne.

Her mind raced.

She had watched crime documentaries, read countless true crime stories and she knew what happened to women who got caught. The justice system didn’t favor them, especially not here.

She needed to think. Fast. 

First, the knife.

She yanked the scarf from her bag and wiped the handle, smearing red onto the fabric. Wrapping it tightly, she stuffed the weapon deep into her bag.

Next, the body.

Dragging him out was impossible. The new gateman had seen her come in. Carrying him would only draw attention.

A distraction. A cover story. Something.

Her fingers hovered over her phone before she forced herself to type.

“Babe, I just left Mike’s place. He’s such an asshole. Never again.”

She sent it to Chisom. A digital alibi, placing her somewhere else when the body was found.

Her gaze darted around the apartment. Blood. Too much of it. She rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a rag, filled a bucket with water, and got to work.

Then—

Footsteps.

Her blood ran cold.

A knock. Sharp. Demanding.

“Oga Mike? You dey inside?”

The gateman.

Oyin clutched the bucket, her pulse deafening in her ears.

Think, Oyin. Think.

The TV was still on. Maybe he’d assume Mike was home and leave.

Silence.

Then footsteps retreating.

She exhaled shakily and got back to scrubbing. Hours later, the floor was spotless. She scanned the room for anything tying her to the crime. Satisfied, she turned to the final problem.

The body.

Her car was parked right outside when the gateman let her drive in, and since Mike lived on the ground floor, moving him wouldn’t be difficult. She knew the building well. She had already mapped out an escape route in her head.

Taking Mike’s phone, she checked the time-10:45 PM. She texted the gateman from his number,  “I have a 5 AM flight. You can just leave the gate unlocked so I won’t wake you while leaving.”

Now, she had to wait.

For the first time since killing Mike, she sat down and stared at the art piece on the wall, the one she had picked up four years ago when he had just moved in. Time passed slowly, but she barely noticed.

Finally, at 2 AM, it was time to prepare Mike for their journey back to the Mainland. If she wanted to be out of the house before the gateman woke up, she had to move fast. She dressed him up, positioning his body to look like he was asleep, then hauled him into the front seat of her car. Lifting him was a strain on all her muscles that she broke a pinky finger in the process. With stealthy hands, she unlocked the gate and returned to close it behind her which was both risky and reasonable—but at that point, she wasn’t exactly making smart decisions and was glad the new gateman was a sleeping koala. She had rehearsed a lie in her head if he’d caught her. “Mike drank too much and wanted me to drive him to the airport.” Yes. That would have been her lie, but fortunately, she didn’t have to use it.

Driving from Lekki to Ikeja at 3 AM with a corpse beside her was insanity. One police stop, and her life was over. But luck was on her side. No roadblocks, no searches.

Forty-five minutes later, she pulled into her compound.

She sat for a moment, hands gripping the wheel, letting reality sink in. Then she moved quickly, pulling him to the backseat and securing his stiff and heavy body under one of her duvet.

After making sure her neighbors had left for work, she called in sick, sent her domestic staff away, then grabbed a shovel from under the staircase where Kunle, her gateman, kept it.

Her garden had always been her sanctuary. Between the mango tree and the pineapple plant, she dug, pausing to recall the first time Mike spoke to her and offered her a mango fruit. Such irony that he would be buried right next to her mango tree. The hours blurred as she worked, sweat dripping, muscles aching, pinky finger hurting. She had to hurry—Chisom, her next door neighbour, might stop by after work. When she’d newly moved into the apartment, Chisom helped her settle in. As time wore on, they’d become best friends and cemented their friendship with stories of the men that devastated their lives. Chisom knew Mike like the back of her palm, even though they’ve never met. Questions would be asked. She had to dig fast.

A break. Just a quick one.

She went inside, pilfered from the blunt she and Mike had been smoking the night before, then returned to the pit. Setting a thirty-minute timer, she dug furiously. When the alarm rang, the hole was finally deep enough. Killing was hard, but digging a grave was ten times harder.

Mike felt heavier now. She drained her last strength dragging him outside, rolling him into the grave, and covering him up. She leveled the soil and planted fruit seeds she had bought months ago. It was the perfect cover, no one ever visited her garden.

Once done, she wiped down her car, scrubbing every inch from top to bottom, erasing any trace of Mike. Satisfied, she stepped into the shower, washing away the filth.

Then it hit her.

She had just killed a man.

And she still had the murder weapon, his phone, and his passport.

Finally, she allowed herself to cry.

Her phone rang.

Chisom!

“I’m leaving work soon,” Chisom said. “Stopping by for our usual tea. Want anything?”

Oyin’s stomach growled.

“Three wraps of amala with goat meat, Shaki and ewedu, from Mama Aliya,” she said, knowing it would replenish her lost energy.

Chisom laughed. “You’re eating like a refugee. What did you say Mike did again?”

“I’ll gist you when you come.” Then Oyin pondered on it for a second. Could Chisom carry her secret? No. Never. She’ll die with it.

Before Chisom arrived, Oyin retrieved Mike’s phone from her bag. Messages and phone calls had drained the battery. She placed both phone and sim card in the mortar her mom had sent her, and pounded it until it was all metal scraps left. She packed the shards into a Ziploc bag, hiding it inside an empty shoebox.

By the time Chisom’s car pulled up, Oyin was ravenous.

“You’re really down bad,” Chisom teased as she handed her the food. “Mike must have done a number on you.”

Oyin forced a sad smile, playing the role. “He admitted he had a girlfriend. I just need time.” Then she devoured the food like a famished dog, licking the oil that rolled between her fingers.

Chisom watched, concerned, but chalked it up to heartbreak and weed. Before leaving, she hugged Oyin tight, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

Oyin smiled, waving her off.

As the gate clicked shut, she exhaled. Next, she slipped into her gym wear and drove all the way to the beach where she burned his passport and disposed of the murder weapon.

She had done it. She had gotten away with it.

For now.

Roughly a month later, the police banged on Oyin’s flat on one Saturday afternoon. They’d told her she was under investigation for the disappearance and suspected murder of Mike. That was it, the start of her tormenting reality. Would they find Mike beneath the flowers?