Demola asked if he could sit with her.
Tolu should have said no.
That was the irritating part about the whole thing later when she
replayed it in her mind.
There were many places she could have stopped the story before it
became a story.
But she didn’t.
“Sure,” she heard herself say.
And somehow the boredom of the wedding disappeared almost
instantly.
Demola was effortless to talk to.
Not rehearsed.
Not trying too hard.
Just… dangerously easy.
Within minutes they were laughing about Nigerian wedding MCs that
refused to end programs and people who carried takeaway packs like emergency
supplies.
Then somehow they moved from food conversations to music.
From music to childhood memories.
From childhood memories to dreams.
Tolu found herself relaxing too quickly.
The frightening part was how naturally Demola seemed to understand
her humor.
Even her obscure references landed perfectly with him.
At some point she caught herself thinking:
This is not normal.
Yet she kept talking.
As though some invisible hand kept nudging the conversation
forward.
When the wedding finally ended, she realized hours had passed.
Demola looked genuinely disappointed.
“I’m not ready for this conversation to end.”
Tolu smiled politely.
“It has to.”
“Does it?”
That voice again.
Smooth.
Deep.
Comfortable.
The kind of voice that sounded like confidence without effort.
Demola tilted his head slightly.
“Come out with me.”
“What?”
“You’re clearly bored here. Let’s disappear for a bit. I’ll bring
you back before your people start searching for missing persons.”
Tolu laughed.
“You’re actually serious?”
“Very.”
She should have mentioned Patrick then.
Should have flashed the engagement ring more intentionally.
Should have created distance.
Instead she just stood there smiling nervously like a secondary
school girl.
And somehow…
an hour later she was sitting in Demola’s car while soft R&B
played quietly through the speakers.
That night felt unreal.
Like one long dream stitched together with music, laughter,
lights, and adrenaline.
Demola knew all the right places.
The hidden lounge with live music.
The rooftop spot overlooking the city.
The amala place that somehow still sold fresh food by midnight.
But it wasn’t even the places.
It was him.
Every conversation somehow drifted toward things Tolu secretly
loved but rarely discussed openly.
Photography.
Old-school R&B.
Late-night drives.
Deep conversations.
Adventure.
It felt invasive almost.
Like somebody had hacked her internal world and built a human
being from it.
At some point Demola looked at her and smiled.
“You bring out something in me I don’t want to lose.”
Tolu looked away immediately.
Her chest felt warm.
Dangerously warm.
The hours disappeared frighteningly fast.
Before she realized it, they were already back at Demola’s hotel.
She couldn’t even explain properly how they got upstairs.
That part later became blurry in her memory.
Not because she was forced.
No.
That was the problem.
She wanted to be there.
And once the first kiss happened, every boundary she thought would
protect her suddenly felt weak and distant.
Very weak.
Very distant.
The next morning sunlight entered the hotel room softly through
the curtains.
Tolu lay quietly staring at the ceiling while Demola slept beside
her.
Oddly enough…
she didn’t feel guilt immediately.
That shocked her.
No panic.
No instant shame.
Just overwhelming exhilaration.
Like she had discovered a version of herself she didn’t know
existed.
Demola eventually opened his eyes slowly and smiled.
“Wow.”
Tolu laughed shyly.
“What?”
“You are incredible.”
The way he said it sent heat through her body again.
Then they started talking.
About life.
About relationships.
About goals and future plans.
That was when Tolu finally mentioned Patrick.
She expected Demola’s energy to change immediately.
It didn’t.
In fact, he almost looked amused.
“So you’re engaged?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Tolu frowned.
“And what?”
Demola smiled calmly.
“Are you still taking applications?”
She stared at him.
“I’m serious.”
“But I’m engaged.”
“Thank God you’re not married then,” he replied casually.
“That would have complicated things.”
“You literally just met me.”
“And?”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.”
The confidence in his voice unsettled her.
Demola sat up slightly.
“I’ve spent years building my life carefully,” he said.
“One decision at a time. One puzzle piece at a time. And I know exactly who fits in and what
fits me.”
Tolu’s heart started beating faster again.
“This sounds crazy.”
“Maybe.”
“It is crazy.”
“Maybe,” he repeated smiling.
“But it doesn’t make it less true.”
She should have left then.
Instead…
they kissed again.
And the second time somehow felt even more dangerous because now
emotions had entered it too.
----------------------------------------
My body is still vibrating.”
Ife nearly screamed through the phone.
“TOLU!”
“I’m serious,” Tolu whispered dramatically from her bed.
“As I’m talking to you now, I’m still feeling things in places.”
Ife groaned loudly.
“I no dey this conversation o.”
Tolu laughed into her pillow.
“No honestly Ife… this guy… it's as if he had the manual to my body, its wiring, sensuality, and sexuality”
“What if Patrick finds out?”
That question finally silenced her briefly.
Because Patrick.
Sweet, steady Patrick.
Patrick that had loved her patiently for years.
Patrick that planned proposals like movies.
Patrick that never made her doubt his intentions.
For the first time since Abeokuta, guilt brushed against her chest
properly.
But then she remembered Demola again.
And confusion swallowed the guilt almost immediately.
“He wants to take me out again,” Tolu admitted quietly.
“What?”
“He’s calling constantly.”
“Tolu…”
“He says he wants a real relationship.”
Ife became quiet.
“But what about Patrick?” she asked eventually.
“Isn’t there spark there anymore?”
Tolu sat silently for a few seconds before answering.
“I like Patrick,” she said honestly.
“I really do.”
“But?”
Tolu swallowed.
“With Patrick… it feels safe. Warm. Beautiful.”
“And Demola?”
Tolu exhaled slowly.
“Demola is different.”
“How?”
Tolu closed her eyes.
“With Patrick, it’s spark.”
She paused.
“With Demola… it feels like wildfire.”
Ife said nothing.
Tolu continued quietly:
“He consumes everything. Even your thoughts join the experience.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I didn’t even know this thing was missing until I experienced
it.”
That was the beginning of the crack.
And once cracks appear inside certainty, they spread quickly.
Tolu tried ending things with Demola several times.
But every attempt somehow pulled her back deeper.
Demola pursued her intensely.
Calls.
Dates.
Unexpected gifts.
Long conversations till midnight.
He made her feel wanted in ways that felt intoxicating and
dangerous together.
And slowly…
Patrick began noticing distance.
Small things at first.
Delayed replies.
Cancelled dates.
Distraction during conversations.
The girl that once melted into his presence now sometimes looked
emotionally elsewhere even while sitting beside him.
Then the arguments started.
Tolu became irritated more easily.
Patrick became confused more frequently.
Until eventually…
she ended the engagement.
Her mother almost collapsed.
“What do you mean incompatibility?” the woman cried.
“After all these years?”
Tolu couldn’t explain properly.
How do you tell people you walked away from stability because
fantasy arrived wearing perfume and confidence?
Patrick was devastated.
Completely devastated.
He didn’t fight her much though.
That somehow made it worse.
He simply looked heartbroken in a way that haunted her for weeks
afterward.
Then came Demola officially.
Charming.
Respectful.
Successful.
Even Tolu’s mother, despite her reservations, struggled to dislike
him openly.
And true to form, Demola proposed not long afterward.
Their wedding was massive.
It was
beautiful...expensive. Maybe lavish is the right word.
The honeymoon?
Everything Tolu imagined and more.
Passion.
Adventure.
Intensity.
Raw fire.
Every part of her felt alive.
Three months into the marriage, Tolu discovered she was pregnant.
She cried from happiness immediately.
Demola was on a business trip and she could barely wait for him to
return before sharing the news.
Then the phone rang.
Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Good evening ma. Please is this Mrs. Adebayo?”
“Yes…”
“This is St. Nicholas Hospital.”
Her stomach tightened instantly.
“There’s been an accident involving your husband.”
Everything after that became blur.
The drive.
The hospital lights.
The smell.
The prayers inside her chest.
By the time she arrived, Demola was already in surgery.
Tolu sat outside trembling violently.
Hours later, the doctor finally walked toward her.
The look on his face made her heartbeat collapse instantly.
“He’s stable,” the doctor began carefully.
Tolu exhaled shakily.
But the doctor continued.
“The impact from the accident severely damaged his spinal cord.”
Silence.
“We strongly suspect complete SCI.”
Tolu stared blankly.
“I’m sorry?”
The doctor paused gently.
“He may never walk again.”
The hallway tilted.
“And…” the doctor added softly,
“This could also permanently affect his sexual function.”
The doctor said a few more things afterward.
Medical terms.
Recovery possibilities.
Therapy.
But Tolu barely heard anything else.
Because suddenly…
all she could hear was the sound of wildfire going silent.
