Happy New Week, Guys!!!
Setto didn’t wait for a fourth dropped call.
The moment his desk clock hit 4:30 PM, the silence from Tammy’s end transformed from a mild worry into a cold, heavy weight settling deep in his chest.
He grabbed his car keys and his wallet from the desk, not even bothering to shut down his laptop or notify his secretary.
The elevator ride down to the basement parking lot of the office complex felt entirely too slow.
His mind was pacing ahead, mapping out the traffic points on the road.
“She should have reached Lagos by now,” he muttered to himself, slamming the heavy door of his Bentley Bentayga shut.
The drive down to her studio was a blur of aggressive lane changes and tight maneuvers through the late afternoon Lekki traffic.
He kept his phone mounted on the dashboard, the screen dark, completely devoid of the notification he was praying for.
When he finally pulled up in front of her fashion studio, his eyes instantly searched the storefront parking slots.
Her car wasn’t there.
Setto killed the engine and strode inside, the glass door chiming loudly.
The air inside was cool and smelled of lavender linen spray, completely disconnected from the chaos brewing in his head.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Chioma said, straightening up immediately as Setto’s massive frame dominated the entryway.
“Good afternoon, Chioma.” Setto said, his deep bass voice tight, though he forced his tone to remain polite.
“Is your boss back?”
“No, sir. Boss hasn’t come in today at all. She said she had an urgent family engagement out of town.”
Setto’s jaw tightened. He gave a brief, stiff nod.
“Alright. Thank you.”
He turned on his heels and walked back to his car.
The knot in his gut was tightening. If she wasn’t at the studio, she had to be at her apartment.
He drove down to her house, his eyes tracking every silver sedan that passed him, his mind imagining a dozen different scenarios.
Probably a flat tire on the expressway, an accident, a dead phone battery. But deep down, his intuition was telling him something else.
When he reached her residential gate, the security guard shook his head before Setto could even roll down his window completely.
“Good evening, Chief. Madam never return oo. We never see her since she comot this morning.”
Setto rested his hands on the leather steering wheel, staring at the closed black iron gates.
A restless, dark frustration was beginning to take over. He needed to reach someone.
He realized with a sudden jolt of irritation that he didn’t have Valerie’s direct mobile number.
They had always communicated through Tammy, or on the group speaker calls during their drives.
He pulled out his phone, his large thumbs navigating quickly to Instagram.
He typed in the handle of her business page: @vale_atelier.
The page popped up — a clean, high-end display of bespoke bridal designs and structural corporate wear.
He clicked the ‘Call’ button on the profile, and the page redirected to a local business number.
He hit dial immediately.
The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before a crisp, professional voice picked up.
“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Vale Atelier. How may we assist you today?”
“Good afternoon,” Setto said, his voice dropping into that heavy, authoritative register that demanded immediate attention.
“My name is Setto Bello. I need to get in touch with Mrs. Valerie urgently. It’s a personal matter.”
There was a brief, hesitant pause on the other end.
“Uh, good afternoon, Mr. Bello. I’m sorry, but we are not allowed to give out Mrs. Valerie’s personal contact details to outside callers. If you’d like to leave a message….”
“Listen to me carefully,” Setto interrupted, his tone firm.
“I am not a random client. I am her friend’s partner. We cannot reach her, and her phone is completely off. Please, connect me to Valerie directly right now. Tell her it’s Setto. She knows who I am.”
The secretary’s tone softened slightly, picking up the genuine, heavy urgency in his voice.
“Okay, sir. Please hold on for a few minutes. Let me check if she is available to take the transfer.”
The line went into a dead, hollow hold music. Setto leaned his head against the headrest, his fingers tapping aggressively against the steering wheel.
The minutes stretched out like elastic. Just as he was about to hang up and drive straight to Valerie’s address, the line clicked back to life.
“Hello? Mr. Bello?” the secretary’s voice came back, sounding slightly apologetic.
“Mrs. Valerie says I can give you her personal line directly. I apologize for the delay. Let me read it out for you.”
“Go ahead,” Setto said, pulling out a pen from his dashboard pocket and scribbling the digits down onto a scrap paper.
“Got it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sir. And I’m sorry if I sounded rude earlier….”
“It’s fine. Thank you,” Setto cut the call and immediately dialed the new number.
Valerie picked up on the very first ring, her voice laced with an instant, high-pitched anxiety that told Setto she had already been trying to piece things together herself.
“Setto! Thank God. I was just about to tell my secretary to call you back. What is happening? Where is Tammy?”
“I don’t know, Valerie,” Setto said, his voice heavy as he pulled the car away from the apartment gates, driving aimlessly down the street just to keep moving.
“I’ve been calling her since 2:00 PM. She did not pick up. Currently, her phone is completely dead. I checked her office, I checked her house. Nothing. The security says her car hasn’t returned to the compound.”
“Ah-ah,” Valerie gasped over the line, and Setto could hear the distant sound of her rushing around her own studio.
“But the last time we spoke was around 11:30 AM. She called me when she arrived at the family house in Bodija. She said she was about to go inside to see her aunties. She sounded completely fine, Setto.”
“Did she call you after the meeting?”
“No! Not a word,” Valerie’s voice was rising in panic.
“Hold on, let me call Purity on another line. Have you reached her siblings?”
“I don’t have their direct numbers,” Setto muttered, his jaw clenching.
“Call them. Call Temitope or Shindara. Let’s find out if she’s still in Ibadan or if she left that house at all.”
“Okay, okay. Give me five minutes. Let me call everyone. I’ll call you right back, Setto.”
The line went dead. Setto pulled over to the side of the road under a large almond tree, the engine idling softly.
The Lagos afternoon sun was beginning to lose its harshness, turning into a dull, amber glow that cast long, ominous shadows across the asphalt.
He rested his forehead against his hands on the steering wheel, the silence inside the car feeling louder than any traffic noise.
Five minutes felt like five hours.
When Valerie’s name finally flashed on his screen again, he snatched the phone up before the first ring could even finish.
“Valerie. What’s up?”
“Setto, nobody knows where she is,” Valerie said, her voice shaking now, completely stripped of its usual calm corporate composure.
“I just spoke with Temitope. She said Tammy hasn’t called her since yesterday. She tried calling her also just to check how the family meeting went, but it went straight to voicemail. Shindara is already panicking. Nobody has seen her, Setto. What is going on? Did something happen on that expressway? God please have mercy.”
Setto didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the passing cars, a certain heat rising from his chest.
“She left Ibadan. I know her. If the meeting went well, she would have called me before she even reached the toll gate. Something went wrong in that house, Valerie.”
“Temitope is going to call her aunties right now to find out what happened,” Valerie said, her breathing shallow over the phone.
“Shindara is already leaving her place. She said she’s coming down to Tammy’s apartment to see. Setto, please, what do we do?”
“Come to her house after work,” Setto said, his voice dropping into a cold, flat register that masked the sheer terror clawing at his gut.
“I’m already in her neighborhood. I’ll wait at her gate until she shows up. Just tell Shindara to meet me there.”
The sound of the beach was a deafening, chaotic roar that completely drowned out the residual noise of the city.
Tammy sat inside her parked car, tucked away in a lonely, unpaved corner of a private beach stretch far down the Lekki-Epe expressway.
The windows were rolled down halfway, allowing the thick, salty sea breeze to rush through the cabin, lifting the loose strands of hair from her forehead.
She looked completely shattered.
Her face was pale, her eyes heavily bloodshot and swollen from hours of continuous, unbridled crying.
The elegant dress she had worn with so much joy that morning was now wrinkled, the collar damp from her tears.
On the passenger seat lay her phone, completely black and lifeless.
She had turned it off the moment she crossed the Lagos toll gate, unable to handle the constant, aggressive buzzing of Setto’s name on the screen.
Every ring had felt like a direct accusation, a reminder of the beautiful, sacred thing they were trying to build and how easily her own flesh and blood had dragged it through the dirt.
She rested her arms against the steering wheel, buried her face in them, and let out another long, trembling sob that shook her entire frame.
“Why?” she whispered into the empty car, her voice cracked and hollow.
“God, why?”
The image of her aunties’ faces. The absolute disgust in Aunty Abike’s eyes, the violent wave of her hand as she shouted “God forbid!” kept flashing behind her eyelids like a recurring nightmare.
The raw, heavy tribalism had felt like a physical assault.
They hadn’t just rejected Setto; they had stripped her of her dignity, shaming her for her life, her age, and her choices, labeling her desire to marry a man from the North as an abomination.
She lifted her head, staring out through the wind-shield at the massive, dark blue waves crashing violently against the white sand.
The sun was dipping low on the horizon, painting the sky in deep, bruised shades of purple and orange.
A cold, terrifying thought crept into her mind, settling deep in her chest like a heavy stone.
Is this a sign?
She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her breathing turning shallow.
Is this God telling me that this relationship isn’t for me? Is the friction a warning that I’m walking into a trap?
The moment the thought fully formed, she fiercely shook her head against it, her lips tightening into a hard, defensive line even as the tears kept flowing.
“No,” she choked out, her voice rising against the sound of the ocean.
“No! God is not an author of confusion. We prayed. We went before the altar. We sought counsel.”
She knew the truth. She knew the peace she had felt.
She knew the absolute sincerity in his eyes when he looked at her.
The chaos hadn’t come from God; it had come from the deep-seated, generational bitterness of a family that couldn’t see past their own prejudice.
But knowing the truth didn’t stop the pain from bleeding. It didn’t heal the rejection.
She turned her face away from the ocean, leaning her head back against the headrest, closing eyes as the shadows inside the car lengthened.
She didn’t know who to talk to. She couldn’t call her sisters without bringing the family war to their doorsteps, and she couldn’t call Valerie too.
And Setto... she didn’t even have the strength to look at his face and tell him what her people had called his bloodline.
So she just sat there in the encroaching dark, listening to the heavy, continuous roar of the sea, letting the tears dry on her skin until her chest felt entirely numb.
By the time her car finally pulled into the residential compound, the Lagos night had fully taken over.
The compound was quiet, illuminated only by the sharp, white security lights mounted on the perimeter walls.
Tammy killed the engine, sitting in the dark cabin for a long minute.
Her body felt heavy, every muscle aching with the exhaustion of a day spent entirely in emotional warfare.
She picked up her bag, her fingers catching the cold metal of her keys, and climbed out of the car.
The night air was humid, carrying the heavy scent of rain that refused to fall.
As she walked up the concrete stairs toward her apartment door, her eyes drifted to the small balcony space outside her entrance.
Two figures were standing there in the dim light.
Setto was leaning heavily against the iron railing, his massive frame looking completely rigid in the shadows.
He had his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted downward.
Right beside him sat Shindara, huddled on a small plastic chair she had dragged out from the hallway, her face pale under the fluorescent bulb, her phone gripped tightly in both hands.
The moment the sound of Tammy’s high heels clicked against the concrete steps, both of them snapped their heads toward her.
“Sister Tammy!” Shindara screamed, jumping out of the chair so fast it scraped loudly against the floor.
She rushed down the remaining steps, her arms opening wide as she reached her older sister.
“Oh my God, Tammy! Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick! Everyone has been calling, your phone was off, nobody knew where you were!”
Tammy stood perfectly still as Shindara wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight.
She didn’t hug her back with her usual warmth; her arms stayed loose at her sides, her entire body carrying a flat, wooden numbness.
“I’m fine, Shindara,” Tammy said, her voice dropping into a low, dead whisper that carried absolutely no emotion.
“I’m fine.”
Shindara pulled back, her eyes instantly scanning Tammy’s face under the bright balcony light.
She took in the bloodshot, heavily swollen eyes, the dry tear tracks on her deep skin, and the hollow, defeated expression in her gaze.
Shindara’s breath caught in her throat.
She knew her sister. She knew Tammy was an iron pillar, a woman who didn’t just break down in public.
To see her like this meant the damage was catastrophic.
Setto didn’t rush forward. He stood at the top of the stairs, his dark eyes locked onto her face, tracking every line of exhaustion, every mark of pain on her features.
His large hands were clenched into tight fists inside his pockets, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy movements.
The relief of seeing her alive was instantly swallowed by a cold, dangerous fury at whatever had caused this to happen to his woman.
“I’m fine, seriously,” Tammy repeated, gently pushing Shindara’s hands away from her shoulders, her eyes looking down at the floor.
“You don’t need to stay here. Go home and rest, Shindara. It’s late.”
Shindara looked up at Setto, then looked back at her sister, her face full of an intense conflict.
She knew Tammy needed space, but she also knew she couldn’t leave her alone in this state.
“Are you sure, Tammy?” Shindara asked softly, her tone dropping into a gentle, protective murmur.
“Valerie and Tope are still waiting for my call. We were all terrified.”
“Tell them I am home,” Tammy said, her voice completely flat as she pulled her apartment keys out of her bag.
“Tell them I am fine. I just need to sleep. Go home, Shindara. Ejoor.”
Shindara hesitated for a beat, then sighed, turning around to pick up her jacket from the chair.
As she approached the staircase, she stopped in front of Setto, looking up at his massive frame with a look of deep, quiet trust.
“It’s nice to meet you again, Setto,” Shindara said softly, her voice carrying the exhaustion of the long wait.
“Even though the situation is like this.”
Setto looked down at her, his expression softening just a fraction out of respect for her loyalty to Tammy.
“It’s my pleasure, Shindara. I am sorry we have to meet for the first time under these conditions. I will make it up to you, I promise.”
“Please look after her,” Shindara whispered, her eyes drifting back to Tammy’s rigid back.
“I will,” Setto said firmly.
He pulled out his phone, his fingers quickly navigating to his ride-hailing app.
“Put in your address” He gave her his phone and she inserted her address.
“I just booked a ride for you. The driver is 2 minutes away. Go home safely.”
“Thank you,” Shindara gave a brief, tired nod and walked down the steps, the heavy iron gate clanging shut behind her.
The heavy wooden front door of the apartment clicked shut, locking out the rest of Lagos.
Tammy set her handbag down on the console table with a quiet thud, not looking back at Setto as he followed her into the space.
She walked over to the long sofa, dropping her body onto the cushions with a heavy, uncoordinated sigh.
She leaned her head against the backrest, closing her eyes, her face looking incredibly small and pale in the dim light.
Setto didn’t sit down. He stood in the center of the rug, his massive frame casting a long, dominant shadow across the floorboards.
He didn’t say a single word. He just stood there, his dark eyes fixed entirely on her face, watching the slow, uneven movement of her chest, tracking the swollen lines around her eyes with a steady, unblinking intensity.
The silence inside the apartment stretched out, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the low, distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
After five minutes of absolute stillness, Tammy opened her eyes.
She felt the weight of his gaze like a physical pressure against her skin.
She looked up at him, her bloodshot eyes meeting his dark, unyielding stare. She let out a short, tired breath, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress.
“What is it, Setto?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly with raw exhaustion.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
Setto didn’t move an inch.
His expression remained completely flat, an iron mask that hid the storm raging inside his chest.
“What is the problem, Tammy?” he asked back, his deep bass voice dropping into a dangerously quiet, level register.
“You tell me. Why are you looking like this?”
Tammy turned her face away, looking at the dark television screen on the opposite wall.
She felt a sudden, heavy wave of frustration rising in her throat.
“I don’t have the strength for this right now, Setto. Seriously. I don’t have the energy for a long conversation.”
“I’ve been calling your phone since afternoon,” Setto said, his voice remaining flat, but the weight behind the words was undeniable.
“Everyone has been worried sick. Valerie, Purity, your sisters... nobody knew if you were alive. You turned off your phone and went completely off the grid. Why?”
“I just needed to think,” Tammy muttered, her hands tightening into fists against her lap.
“I needed to be alone. I am fine now. Can we please just talk tomorrow? I am really not in the mood tonight.”
“What did your family say to you, Tammy?” Setto asked, ignoring her request completely as he stepped a fraction closer to the sofa.
His eyes narrowed as he studied the dry tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Why do you look like your entire world just collapsed? What happened in that house?”
Tammy stayed completely quiet.
She bit her lower lip, her jaw clenching tightly as she fought against the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill over. She couldn’t tell him.
How could she look into the face of the man who had covered her with so much honor before her pastor, and tell him that her elders called his lineage a bloodline of killers and good-for-nothing devils?
The shame of her family’s ignorance felt like a burning brand on her skin.
Setto watched her silence, his chest expanding with a deep, controlled breath.
The iron mask on his face finally fractured, replaced by a look of intense, protective desperation.
He slowly walked over and crouched down on the rug directly in front of her.
His knees almost touched the edge of the sofa as he brought himself down to her level.
He reached out, his warm hands coming up to gently frame her face, his thumbs smoothing over her high cheekbones with an incredible, tender lightness.
“My Love,” he begged, his voice dropping into a rough, vibrating whisper that went straight to her heart.
“Talk to me. Look at me and talk to me. I am your man. Whatever they said to you, whatever they threw at you in that house... let me carry it with you. Don’t shut me out. Please”
Tammy looked into his eyes, seeing the absolute, unshakeable devotion clearing through his gaze.
For a split second, she wanted to break down completely, to throw herself into his arms and let him handle the war.
But the memory of her Uncle’s final threat “You will be dead to this family” clogged her throat like dust.
She couldn’t drag him into the middle of her family’s ugliness yet. Not like this.
She gently reached up, her small fingers wrapping around his wrists, slowly pulling his hands away from her face.
She looked away from his gaze, her voice turning completely cold and hard to mask the trembling inside.
“I am fine, Setto,” she said, her tone flat and final. “Seriously. Just go home. Go back and rest. We will talk later.”
Setto stared at her for a long, agonizing beat.
He saw the iron walls she had slammed into place, the exact same walls he had seen her use when things were tough.
He knew that if he kept pushing tonight, he would only fracture her further.
He let out a slow, heavy sigh that sounded like defeat, standing up to his full, towering height.
He bent down one last time, pressing a firm, lingering kiss against her forehead, the heat of his lips staying on her skin for a second.
“It’s fine,” he said softly.
“I’ll leave you to rest. But I am not going anywhere, Tammy. Remember that.”
Tammy didn’t move from the sofa as the sound of Setto’s heavy footsteps echoed through the short hallway.
She sat perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the empty space where he had just been crouching.
The heavy click of the front door locking from the outside resonated through the quiet apartment.
Instead of heading straight down to his car, however, Setto walked out to the balcony, his jaw tightly set.
He wasn’t leaving her compound until he knew she wasn’t alone.
He leaned against the railing, pulling out his phone to check on Valerie’s ETA.
Ten minutes later, the bright beams of an car cut through the darkness of the compound gate.
A black Range Rover pulled into the visitors’ slot.
The doors clicked open, and Valerie stepped out from the passenger side, her face taut with worry.
From the driver’s side, her husband stepped out, looking equally concerned, while Purity emerged from the back seat, having rushed over to join them the moment she heard the panic in Valerie’s voice.
Setto met them at the bottom of the concrete steps, his massive frame illuminated by the harsh security lights.
“Setto,” Valerie said, her voice a hushed, anxious whisper as they huddled near the hood of the car.
“Is she inside? How is she?”
“She’s not fine, Val,” Setto said, his deep bass voice dropping into a dangerously quiet register, thick with a suppressed, icy fury.
“She won’t talk. She shut me out completely. Her eyes are swollen and she’s carrying a lot. Her family did something terrible to her in that house.”
Valerie shook her head, crossing her arms tightly against the humid night air.
“I knew those old people would act up, but to make Tammy go completely off the grid? That’s not like her at all. They must have said some deeply wicked things.”
Valerie’s husband clamped a supportive hand on Setto’s shoulder, his expression grave.
“Take it easy, man. You know how deep these traditional biases run. The important thing is she’s safe at home now. Let Valerie handle her for now.”
“Exactly,” Valerie agreed.
“I’m going up there now. I’m not leaving her side tonight.”
“Thank you, Valerie,” Setto said, a raw, heavy emotion breaking through his iron posture for just a fraction of a second.
“Please, just hold her. Don’t let her feel like she’s alone in this.”
“I won’t. Trust me,” Valerie said softly before she turned and hurried up the concrete stairs, their quick footsteps echoing in the quiet night.
Setto stood by the car with Purity for a few more minutes, the two men exchanging a quiet, understanding look.
There was nothing more to be said out here.
The battle lines had been drawn, but for tonight, the priority was Tammy’s healing.
“Let’s get out of here and give them space,” Purity said quietly, gesturing toward their cars.
Setto gave a stiff, solemn nod.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
They climbed into their vehicles, and as the engine purred to life, Setto looked back one last time at the glowing window of Tammy’s apartment.
Our Tammy is going through a lot.🥹
Poor Tammy.
Let’s pray she has the wisdom to navigate this season.
This is very realistic.
You summed up exactly how most African parents or relatives would respond, especially Nigerians.
And Tammy has a valid reaction, I guess.
I mean, I would do the same 😂.
I don't blame people that do court wedding with no extended family members