TRIGGER WARNING ‼️
If you’re single and you know you get vexed whenever you see people in love, abeg, protect your peace. 😂😂
This episode contains dangerous amounts of mushiness, unnecessary romance, and premium relationship oppression.
I cannot be held responsible for any hissing, eye-rolling, “God when?” moments, or sudden anger issues.
You’ve been warned😂.
SOTERIA’S POV
The alarm on my phone went off at 5:00 AM, a soft, ambient chime that cut through the heavy stillness of my bedroom.
I didn’t hit snooze.
For the past two weeks, since the night the call with Akila went dead, my sleep had been light, fragmented, and constantly guarded.
The worry for him and Effiom was an undercurrent, a steady hum against my ribs, but every morning I had a choice: I could let that worry curdle into crippling anxiety, or I could process it into intercession.
I threw off the duvet, cold air hitting my skin, and pulled on a thick, oversized knit cardigan.
The house was completely silent as I walked down the short corridor to my father’s old study.
It was my favorite room in the house, flooded with an intentional peace.
The wall was entirely taken up by books.
I lit a single candle on the side console and sat down cross-legged on the plush velvet rug in the center of the floor.
I opened my study Bible, the pages worn and heavily highlighted, alongside my journal.
That morning, my reading took me to the book of Psalms, specifically the verses detailing the footsteps of the righteous.
“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.”
I traced the words with my index finger, breathing them in.
Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the base of the armchair behind me, shifting from quiet study into deep, focused prayer.
“Father, I thank You because my day is structured by Your wisdom,” I whispered into the dimly lit room, my voice steady and rhythmic.
“Align my steps today. Let my mouth speak with clarity, let my life reflect Your excellence, and protect my coming and going.”
I dropped from the rug onto my knees, my palms pressed flat against the floor as I began to pray in tongues, a low, intense groan building in my throat.
“Father, I lift up the unit today. Wherever Akila and Effiom are standing right now under that thick canopy, let Your presence be an operational shield over them. I plead the blood of Jesus Christ over their vehicles. Blind the eyes of the insurgent coalition. Grant them supernatural reflexes; let his ears hear Your warnings before the enemy even moves. Every weapon formed against them in that bush is vetoed right now. Bring th back to me whole, Lord. Keep their heart anchored, and keep their body untouched. In Jesus’ mighty name, Amen.”
When I finally opened my eyes, the first pale lines of the Abuja dawn were bleeding through the wooden blinds of the study.
The anxiety hadn’t vanished completely, but it had been subdued, pushed down by a profound, unshakeable confidence in God.
I stood up, blew out the candle, and went to get ready. Life didn’t stop because my heart was on the frontline.
By 9:30 AM, my car was buzzing with energy.
I had picked up Naya first.
She was completely bored out of her mind at her own place and absolutely loved tagging along with me on my interior decor gigs.
She liked watching the chaos of a bare structure turning into a luxury space, and honestly, having her lively, sisterly presence in the passenger seat was exactly the distraction I needed.
In the back seat sat Tobi, my new design assistant.
Tobi was young and incredibly sharp.
“Ma, for this project, we need to verify if the contractors have finished the priming coat on the walls before we can even schedule the delivery.”
“Don’t worry, Tobi, we’ll handle them,” I said, catching his eye in the rearview mirror with a reassuring smile.
“That’s exactly why we’re doing a physical site inspection today.”
The first stop was a massive commercial space, a multi-level high-end clothing boutique.
The project was huge, a premium editorial interior redesign that required us to fuse minimalist modern architecture with rich, sophisticated velvet accents and cinematic brass lighting fixtures.
Tobi was fantastic, running up and down the split-level stairs to double-check the dimensions of the custom dressing rooms while Naya leaned against a concrete pillar, giving her unasked-for but brilliant critiques on the layout.
We held a series of intense on-site meetings with the structural engineers and debated the exact undertone of the paint for the main showroom walls.
By the time we signed off on the drywall installations, my feet were aching, but the project was fully on track.
“One down, one to go,” Naya gasped, fanning herself with a folder as we walked back out into the sweltering heat.
“Where are we heading next, Tobi?”
“Central Area, ma,” Tobi said, flipping to the next client file on his clipboard.
“We are meeting up with the tech consultant, Julian. We need to finalize his private executive office floor plan so we can order his marble console.”
The corporate plaza in Central Area was a brand-new, glass-fronted tower.
Julian’s office suite was located on the fourth floor, a massive space that was still mostly bare concrete and exposed wiring, save for the main executive room where he was operating out of a temporary desk.
Julian is one of my premium clients. We’ve worked on a few projects before. I had to admit, purely from an objective design standpoint, the man was visually impressive.
He was remarkably fine, exceptionally wealthy based on the sheer scale of his real estate holdings, and he smelled incredibly expensive.
A heavy, sophisticated blend of custom oud and crisp bergamot that filled the unfinished room the moment he stood up to greet us.
“Ah, the creative geniuses have arrived,” Julian smoothed the lapels of his tailored navy-blue suit jacket, his eyes locking directly onto mine with a smooth, lingering intensity that instantly made my internal professional radar flash red.
“Soteria, it is a pleasure to see you again. I’ve been staring at your rendering proposals all morning.”
“Good afternoon, Julian,” I responded, my voice flat, professional, and completely stripped of any personal warmth as Tobi stepped forward to lay the digital tablet on his desk.
“My team has updated the spatial flow for your executive lounge. We want to ensure the lighting hits the mahogany desk at a perfect angle.”
For the first twenty minutes, the conversation stayed strictly technical.
Tobi was busy marking dimensions on the concrete floor with chalk, and the three of us discussed electrical outlets, acoustic wall paneling, and the placement of his private wet bar.
But every time I pointed to a detail on the screen, I could feel Julian’s gaze drifting from the digital blueprint straight to the curve of my jaw, a confident, slightly amused smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“Oh, the premium leather swatches for the executive chair!” Tobi suddenly realized, looking through his bag.
“Ma’am, I think I left the espresso leather ring in the trunk of the car. Let me run down and grab it.”
“I’ll come with you, Tobi,” Naya said, stretching her arms.
“I need to grab my fan from the glove compartment anyway. This heat is ungodly.”
“Hurry up, please,” I nodded.
The moment the glass door clicked shut behind Naya and Tobi, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
The professional boundary vanished from Julian’s posture.
He stepped out from behind his desk, leaning his hip against the edge of the mahogany table, crossing his arms as he looked down at me with an unbothered, predatory confidence.
“You know, Soteria... I’ve worked with a lot of interior designers in this city,” he started, his voice dropping into a low, smooth cadence meant to charm.
“But none of them possess your specific type of presence. You are remarkably beautiful. It’s almost distracting. I’d love to take you out for dinner this weekend. There’s a new private rooftop spot we could try.”
I didn’t blink. I didn’t flush, and I certainly didn’t budge.
I simply leaned my hands on the edge of the table, looking him straight in the eyes with a calm, unimpressed detachment.
“Thank you for the compliment on my work, Julian,” I said, my voice cutting through his charm like ice water.
“But I’m taken. I don’t do dinners, and I don’t do dates.”
Julian let out a light, arrogant laugh, shaking his head as if I had just told a very amusing joke.
He leaned in a fraction closer, his eyes dropping to my bare hands.
“Taken? Are you married? I don’t see a ring on this finger.”
I scoffed out loud, a sharp, cold sound that vibrated with pure irritation.
“I don’t need a ring on my finger to know where my loyalty lies. I am in a very serious, deeply committed relationship with a man who has my entire heart. So, let’s keep this conversation strictly about your office design.”
Instead of backing off, his smile widened, a smug, wealthy entitlement flashing in his eyes.
He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
“Well, as long as you’re not married, there’s no real legal boundary, is there? A serious relationship is just a placeholder, Soteria. Until there’s a marriage certificate, a man like me can still have you. It’s just a matter of showing you what a different level of comfort looks like.”
Hollup!! I know you’re fuming at the stupid audacity of Julian.
But!!
Oya quickly restack so you can recruit others to fume with you.
Byeee
A loud, incredibly sarcastic laugh tore from my throat.
I straightened my posture, my emerald pendant swinging against my chest as I stepped back from the desk.
“You think you can have me?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet but ringing with absolute contempt.
“Let me educate you on something, Julian. Wealth doesn’t impress me. If you cannot respect my boundaries, my relationship, or my person, I will gladly have Tobi process a full refund for your design deposit by four o’clock today and walk completely off this project. I do not need your money, and I certainly do not need your disrespect.”
The arrogance on his face cracked.
For a second, he looked genuinely stunned by the sheer force of my pushback.
He wasn’t used to women turning down his portfolio or his face, let alone threatening to throw his own money back at him.
He quickly raised both of his hands in a defensive, mock-surrender gesture, a smooth, placating smile returning to his lips as he tried to de-escalate the tension.
“Fine, fine. I apologize, Soteria. I’ll be professional. I don’t want a refund. Your design is the best I’ve seen. Let’s keep it strictly business.” He paused, his eyes narrowing with a lingering, stubborn amusement.
“But... that doesn’t mean I’ll completely stop trying. A beautiful woman is always worth the effort.”
Before I could unleash the full weight of the reply forming on my tongue, the glass door swung open.
Naya and Tobi walked back into the room, entirely oblivious to the absolute electrical storm that had just occurred in their absence.
Tobi was slightly breathless, holding three thick swatches of dark espresso leather.
“Okay, I found the premium grain samples!” Tobi announced, laying the leather samples on the table between us.
“Julian, take a look at this texture. It has the perfect weight for the main desk chair.”
“Excellent,” Julian said, his voice instantly snapping back into the pitch-perfect tone of a corporate executive as he stepped away from me.
“Let’s look at the swatches.”
We spent the remaining fifteen minutes wrapped up in the meeting, but the dynamic had completely changed.
As Tobi pointed out the technical specifications and Naya chimed in about the aesthetic finish, I caught Julian staring at me several times through the corner of my eye. His gaze calculating, lingering on my face with a mixture of frustration and intense curiosity.
I acted completely, utterly oblivious. I didn’t look back at him once.
I spoke directly to Tobi and Naya, kept my posture rigid, and focused entirely on the blueprints.
He could stare all he wanted, but he was looking at an impenetrable fortress.
My heart, my thoughts, and my prayers were entirely occupied by a soldier currently standing guard in a dark forest miles away, and no amount of city luxury could ever shake that foundation.
It had been a transformational month. Three weeks ago, under the gentle but persistent nudging of Pastor Olive, I had officially enrolled in the church’s Believers’ Foundation Class.
And because God works in the most beautiful, cascading ways, Amara had actually registered right alongside me.
The structure of the class was intense but life-giving.
It was held three times a week virtually via Google meet, where we would dive into the core doctrines of faith, and once a week physically in the church auditorium.
We had exactly one week left until graduation.
I had grown so much better, so much deeper in the study of the Word over these past few weeks; the scriptures were no longer just verses I recited when I was panicked, but an actual anchor I understood.
And the best part?
Immediately after our final class next week, Amara and I were both going to be fully baptized by water.
As I drove us toward the church premises for our physical weekday review session, my spiritual growth was engaging in a very loud, very dramatic wrestling match with my human emotions.
I was missing Akila to the point of actual physical chest pain.
“Oh God,” I groaned out loud, slumping slightly against the driver’s seat as we hit a minor traffic build-up near the national stadium.
“I swear, if my baby was here, he wouldn’t even let me drive this long distance alone. He would just gently collect the keys from my hand and tell me to sit back and relax.”
Amara, who was sitting in the passenger seat scrolling through her foundation class manual, let out a soft chuckle.
“Soteria, biko focus on the road.”
“I am focusing, but I’m just saying!” I whined, my voice rising into that energetic, lively pitch that only came out when I was completely exasperated.
“My baby would have checked my dashboard this morning. He would have filled my tank with premium fuel before I could even ask. Look at that slight clicking sound coming from the front AC vent? It’s so annoying! If my baby was here, he would have opened the hood and fixed it in five minutes.”
“Urghhh! I miss my baby so much, Amara, you actually have no idea!”
Amara turned her head toward me, a massive, knowing smirk spreading across her face as she shook her head.
“Ah-ah. Look at you. You are just a completely finished woman, Soteria. Total solo clearance.”
I didn’t even try to deny it. I threw my head back against the headrest and laughed out loud.
“Yes oo! Call me a finished woman, I agree! I am completely finished in Christ Jesus, but I truly, deeply miss my man.”
An hour and a half later, the heavy wooden doors of the church auditorium closed behind us.
The foundation class had been incredible today.
The teacher had broken down the concept of the New Creation reality so clearly that my spirit felt entirely full.
To celebrate being one week away from graduation and baptism, I drove Amara over to a quiet, upscale visual garden restaurant for a late lunch.
We sat at a corner table.
As we waited for our platters of grilled croaker fish and jollof rice, Amara leaned her elbows on the table, her expression softening as she looked across at me.
“Babe,” she said, her voice dropping into a rare, deeply sincere tone.
“I was just sitting there during the class looking at you, and I realized I haven’t properly told you how incredibly proud I am of your walk with God.”
I paused, looking at her.
“Awwwwww. Really?”
“Yes, really,” Amara smiled, her eyes shining with genuine emotion.
“Your walk with God didn’t just change your life. It brought so many people to Jesus, including me. Look at me before you started this journey. I was completely wild. But through watching you, I stopped smoking, I stopped the empty weekend partying, I stopped the drinking... I even finally found the strength to completely end things with that my yeye yahoo boyfriend. I am so glad you found Jesus, boo boo, because honestly, I found Him through watching you.”
A lump formed in my throat, my lively energy instantly melting into a profound, humbling warmth.
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand tightly.
“Baby girl, thank you. It’s all His grace, honestly.”
“Omo,” I laughed after a while, shaking my head as I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“I was just thinking about it the other day... I still cannot believe I once dated Ayo. Ayo! Of all the people in this Abuja! Chineke Nna“
Amara burst into a loud, dramatic laugh.
“Please don’t remind me! That boy was a walking enigma.”
“A very confused human being!” I agreed, chuckling sarcastically.
“Don’t get me wrong, he was a sweet boyfriend at the time, very attentive with the regular gifts, but he absolutely did not add a single ounce of real value to my life. We were just floating through life with no direction. I am just so incredibly glad that I met Akilahyel. He changed the entire trajectory of what I view as a man.”
Then, the reality of the empty week hit me again, and I dropped my fork onto the plate with a loud groan.
“And now the fine human is in the bush and I miss him so much!”
Amara nearly choked on her drink, laughing at my sudden transition.
“Speaking of your perfect Captain. Have you guys ever actually kissed?”
“No oo!” I snapped back instantly, my eyes widening playfully.
“Guy!! Akila set a strict, no-kissing rule until we are fully married. He said we need to protect our boundaries completely.”
I leaned forward, lowering my voice into a frustrated, dramatic whisper.
“But Amara, let me tell you, I am tired! That man is such a gorgeous, fine specimen of God’s creation. The broad shoulders, the jawline, the voice? It takes the absolute, raw grace of the Holy Spirit for me not to try and seduce him whenever we are alone. I’m not going to lie, maybe one day when he comes back, I will just try my luck and tempt him a little bit.”
Amara pointed her finger at me, her eyes wide with mock-warning but her lips twitching with laughter.
“Soteria, don’t you dare try it! Do not go and tempt a man of God oo! Keep your behavior holy.”
I laughed out loud, the pure joy of the sisterhood filling our corner of the restaurant.
I took a sip of my fresh juice, my heart settling into a warm, peaceful space as I looked at my friend.
“I won’t tempt him, don’t worry,” I smiled softly, my voice returning to that encouraging, lively tone.
“But seriously, Amara... I am praying for you. I know God is going to bring your own man very soon. He will be just as handsome, just as grounded, and absolutely perfect for you. You deserve nothing less.”
“Amen!” Amara slammed her hand on the table, her face lighting up with a dramatic, prayerful fervor.
“I receive it, Lord! Let him be tall, dark, grounded in the Word, and financially stacked. I am ready!”
We laughed so hard the waiter passing by our table had to glance over with a polite smile.
Amara settled back into her chair, taking a bite of her plantain before she looked up, her eyes curious.
“How is business going? How did your site inspections go yesterday?”
I took a slow sip of my juice, a knowing, sarcastic smile playing on my lips.
“Business is moving, thank God. The boutique in Wuse II is on track. But the second client? The tech consultant in Central Area? Girl, let me gist you about Julian.”
I leaned across the table, lowering my voice as I relayed the entire encounter with Julian from the previous afternoon.
Amara’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
Her eyes widened into massive saucers, and she let out a long, incredulous whistle.
“Ehhhh? Julian said what?” Amara gasped, her tone shifting into pure, unadulterated shock.
“Omo, he better respect himself and stay far away from you oo! Because if Akila catches him near your radius? Ha! His eyes will see wiunnn! Akila will just use tactical military discipline to reset that his Yeye brain.”
I burst into a fit of laughter, clutching my stomach.
“As in! You know how Akila can look at someone with those deadpan commander eyes? Julian would just evaporate.”
I shook my head, wiping a tear of laughter from my eye.
“Honestly, I just thank God Naya didn’t notice what was happening. Tobi was busy with measurements and Naya had followed him to the car. If Naya had witnessed that man disrespecting my relationship like that, she would have told her brother. The whole thing would have turned into a federal case.”
“Exactly!” Amara laughed, shaking her head.
“Naya would not have kept that secret at all.”
As the laughter died down into a sweet, lingering warmth, I leaned my chin on my palm, looking out at the green leaves of the restaurant garden.
My mind traveled back to the man currently occupying every corner of my heart, and a soft, incredibly tender smile settled over my face.
“You know, Amara... sometimes I just sit down and I can’t even believe it,” I murmured, my voice dropping into a soft, awe-struck register.
“I can’t believe Akila has grown so incredibly soft with me.”
“Akila that was such a hard guy!” I sighed, a dramatic groan of pure affection escaping my lips.
“When we first met him, that man was like an untouchable fortress. He was as hard as a brick, always rigid, always strictly professional, moving like a machine. I used to look at him and think, ‘Who can even talk to this one?‘” I sighed.
“And now? I can’t even believe that this legendary, tough Captain actually loves me. The same man who commands troops in the bush is the one who speaks to me in the gentlest, most loving voice you’ve ever heard. That’s the man who is now my baby!”
The sheer weight of the realization hit me all over again, and i threw my hands up and let out a sudden, high-pitched scream of pure excitement.
“Arghhhh! I am so blessed!”
“Ehhh! Look at her oo. God abeg!” Amara pointed at me, laughing loudly as she covered her face in mock embarrassment.
“Soteria, please behave! People are looking at us oo. Truly, you are gone. Like, total damage!”
“I don’t care, let them look!” I laughed, my heart completely overflowing with joy.
It was late afternoon by the time we finally called for the bill and walked back out to the parking lot.
The Abuja traffic was light as I drove back toward our estate.
I played a soft worship playlist on the stereo, the atmosphere in the car peaceful and light.
I pulled up right in front of Amara’s gate, shifting the car into park.
“Thanks for lunch, baby,” Amara said, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning over to give me a warm hug.
“You’re welcome, mama,” I smiled, squeezing her back.
“Get some rest, babe.”
I watched her walk safely into her compound before I pulled away, steering the car back toward my house.
My body was tired from the long day, but my soul was resting.
My baby was still out there fighting, but I knew the God who had softened his heart for me was the exact same God keeping him whole on the field.
AKILAHYEL’S POV
The metal floor plates of the armored personnel carrier vibrated violently beneath my combat boots, sending a dull, shuddering ache straight up my spine.
The interior of the APC was a dark, cramped oven of green steel, smelling heavily of sweat, burnt gunpowder, spilled oil, and the sharp chemical sting of field antiseptic.
Every time the massive tactical tires hit a crater along the decaying forest trail, a white-hot flash of fire flared through my upper left shoulder and flank, stealing the breath right out of my lungs.
I leaned my helmet back against the armored hull, my eyes closing tight as I forced a slow, measured breath through my teeth.
The field dressing wrapped tightly around my torso was already damp with dark blood, but I knew I was lucky. Incredibly lucky.
God had literally stood between me and the grave on that ridge.
The insurgent’s bullet round had torn clean through the edge of my tactical vest, biting deep into the muscle tissue of my shoulder, but it had missed the bone and the vital arteries by a matter of centimeters.
I was in a difficult, agonizing condition, the pain throbbing like a heartbeat beneath the gauze, but it was nothing too bad.
Nothing fatal.
The embedded combat nurses at the forward operating pocket had patched me up enough to stop the heavy hemorrhaging, but the constant, burning heat under the bandage was a clear warning that I needed more advanced, surgical treatment the moment we cleared the gates of the main base.
“Drink this.”
Effiom’s voice cut through the mechanical grind of the APC’s transmission.
I opened my eyes to see him sliding down the bench toward me, holding a plastic canteen.
He looked like he had been dragged through the jaws of hell itself.
His desert camouflage uniform was shredded at the elbows, his face was completely caked in red clay and black carbon, and a thick bandage was taped over his left cheek where a flying fragment of stone had sliced him open.
But he was moving.
He was whole.
I took the canteen with my right hand, my left arm completely immobilized in a medical sling against my chest.
I swallowed the water, the cool liquid doing nothing to soothe the raw dryness in my throat.
“How are the boys?” I rasped, my voice hollow and rough.
“They’re holding,” Effiom murmured, his hand resting firmly on my good shoulder, his eyes reflecting a mixture of deep exhaustion and unyielding relief.
“We almost lost the entire third section when they breached the ravine, guy. God saved us today. I don’t know how Usman and his boys survived that mortar drop, but every single one of them is breathing. We have several soldiers injured. Six with severe shrapnel wounds and two fractures, but nobody is going home in a body bag.”
A ragged, painful sigh of pure gratitude escaped my lips, my chest expanding tightly against the medical bindings.
Thank You, Lord. You kept Your word. You held the line.
I looked past Effiom’s shoulder toward the dark, heavily guarded rear compartment of the vehicle.
Tied to the iron floor rings were four surviving insurgent perpetrators, their hands bound tightly behind their backs with heavy plastic zip-ties, their eyes blindfolded.
The first week of the offensive had turned into a brutal, uncompromised bloodbath.
After our fellowship of prayer at the camp, we had bypassed the ridge ambush completely, executing a high-speed flanking maneuver through the southern ravine.
We caught the insurgent coalition entirely off guard just as they were preparing to move their captives deeper into the forest network.
The firefight was fast, chaotic, and lethal. We took casualties, I took a round to the shoulder while pulling a pinned-down private out of the line of fire, but our tactical execution was flawless.
We neutralized their heavy weapons nests, killed over a dozen of their active combatants on the spot, and successfully rescued the surviving civilian victims they had been holding in the hidden camp.
The victims were currently riding in the secondary armored ambulance right behind our column, escorted by our specialized medical team.
“The Brigadier General already cleared the airspace,” Effiom continued, leaning in closer so his voice wouldn’t carry to the prisoners.
“The moment we hit the main base perimeter, a chopper will be waiting on the tarmac to airlift you and the heavily injured boys straight to the military hospital in Abuja. You need proper surgical extraction for that slug in your shoulder, Captain.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered automatically, though another violent jolt of the APC made my vision swim with white sparks.
“Shut up, Akila. You’re not fine,” Effiom countered with a weary, brotherly grin, slapping my knee gently.
“You did your job. The perpetrators are secured for questioning. Intelligence is going to have a field day with these four. The sector is officially cleared.”
I closed my eyes again as the convoy began to accelerate, the sound of the forest canopy slowly thinning out as we approached the outer boundaries of the high-insecurity zone.
The pain in my body was immense, every nerve ending screaming for relief, but my spirit was lighter than it had been in a week.
We were on our way back to base.
The mission was accomplished, the captives were free, and the enemy had been broken.
The high-pitched, rhythmic whining of the helicopter blades finally died down, leaving a heavy, ringing silence in my ears as the transport chopper settled onto the concrete tarmac of the air force base in Abuja.
The night air was cool, carrying the familiar scent of urban dust and rain-soaked asphalt, a stark contrast to the suffocating, metallic heat of the forest reserve we had left behind.
The military ambulance was already waiting at the edge of the runway, its red and blue lights painting the dark tarmac in frantic, silent flashes.
Within twenty minutes, they had rolled me into the emergency wing of the military hospital, a team of efficient, white-coated trauma surgeons moving around my gurney like a well-oiled machine.
The local anesthetic stung like a nest of wasps, but I didn’t flinch.
I kept my eyes locked on the white ceiling panels, my teeth clamped together as the lead surgeon carefully extracted the deformed bullet slug from the thick muscle tissue of my upper left shoulder.
The sound of metal dropping into a stainless-steel tray indicated it was over.
They cleaned the wound, stitched the ragged edges of the flesh back together with clinical precision, and bound my torso in tight, heavy layers of fresh white gauze before stabilizing my arm in a black tactical sling.
“Alright, Captain,” the doctor said, snapping off his latex gloves as he stepped back from the bed.
“The trajectory was clean, no bone or arterial involvement, but you’ve lost a significant amount of blood and the muscle trauma is severe. We’re moving you up to the inpatient ward. You need a minimum of forty-eight hours of strict bed rest and intravenous antibiotics.”
I pulled myself up against the edge of the mattress, a sharp, white-hot blade of agony ripping through my flank the moment my weight shifted.
My face went pale, a thin sheen of cold sweat breaking out across my forehead, but my jaw set into a rigid, unyielding line.
“Negative, Doc,” I rasped, my voice rough and laced with the flat authority of a commander who wasn’t used to taking suggestions.
“Give me the oral prescription. I’m discharging myself tonight.”
The doctor blinked, his expression hardening.
“Captain Gaya, you are in no condition to go home. You need to stay here and recuperate.”
“I am going home, sir,” I repeated, my tone dropping into a low, metallic register that closed the floor for further debate.
“Akila, you are an incredibly stubborn, foolish man.”
The voice came from the doorway.
Effiom was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.
He had already been discharged from the minor injuries bay, the white gauze patch on his cheek stark against his dark skin.
He walked into the room, shaking his head with a mixture of deep frustration and weary amusement as the doctor threw his hands up in defeat and walked out to prepare the clearance papers.
“Look at you,” Effiom growled, stepping up to the side of my bed.
“You can barely keep your eyes open, your uniform is literally torn to shreds, and you smell like a burnt-out armored truck. Stay in the hospital and let the nurses feed you drip, my friend. What is chasing you?”
I looked up at my friend, the rigid military mask completely slipping from my features for the first time in a week.
The exhaustion was a physical weight pressing down on my eyelids, but beneath the pain, my heart was hammering with a desperate, frantic rhythm that had absolutely nothing to do with the battlefield.
I needed to see my baby.
14 day days. Fourteen days of hearing her broken, terrified weeping in my ears every time the forest grew quiet.
Fourteen days of knowing she was carrying the weight of my survival on her knees.
I missed her so much it felt like an actual, physical sickness in my throat.
I didn’t want a sterile hospital room, I didn’t want white sheets, and I didn’t want nurses checking my vitals.
I needed the presence of the woman who held my entire soul.
“Effiom, please,” I muttered, my voice losing its command, turning into a low, raw plea as I looked at him.
“Do not argue with me tonight. Just... let me get to the barracks block first, wash this swamp off my skin, and change into a clean shirt. Then please, drive me down to the house. I need to see Soteria.”
Effiom stared at me for three long seconds, searching my face.
He saw the hollow, unyielding obsession in my eyes, the sheer desperation of a man who had walked through a furnace just to get back to his threshold.
He heaved a massive, defeated sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Omo, you are truly a finished man,” Effiom muttered, though a soft, brotherly warmth bled into his tone.
“My sister has completely ruined your military setting. Fine. Go and use the transit quarters shower. I will wait for you in the car. But if you pass out in the bathroom, I am leaving you there.”
The hot water in the barracks shower felt like a baptism of its own.
It took an agonizing fifteen minutes of moving like glass, keeping my left arm completely dry and out of the spray, to wash away the layers of caked red clay, black carbon dust, and dried sweat.
The stinging pain of the fresh stitches under the waterproof plastic cover was intense, but as the water cleared, I felt a fraction of my humanity returning.
I carefully pulled a soft, clean cotton t-shirt over my head, leaving my left sleeve empty so it could rest properly back into the tactical sling, and threw on a simple pair of dark sweatpants.
The drive through the quiet, midnight streets of Abuja was a blur of streetlamps and dark silhouettes.
Effiom was driving with extreme caution, his own eyes heavy with a profound fatigue that mirrored my own.
Every time the car hit a minor bump in the asphalt, I had to grip the door handle with my right hand, my chest heaving as I fought back the nausea brought on by the throbbing pain in my shoulder.
We got to the estate and the security recognised is immediately and opened up the gates.
When the vehicle finally crawled to a halt in the driveway, the house was entirely dark, save for the soft, golden security lights illuminating the front porch.
The neighborhood was dead silent, peaceful, and still.
Effiom cut the engine, the sudden lack of vibration bringing a strange, immediate stillness over the cabin.
He rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a long, ragged yawn that rattled in his throat.
“Man, I am completely spent,” Effiom muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning his head back against the headrest.
“I’m not even going to try and drive back to my own house tonight. My reflexes are dead. I’m just going to crash in my old room upstairs.”
“That’s fine,” I murmured, carefully opening the passenger door with my right hand.
“I’ll just say Hi to her and probably crash with you.”
Effiom called the maid on the intercom to come open up the door.
About five minutes later, the maid came down, used the spare key to turn the lock of the front door, the heavy wood swinging open with a faint, familiar click.
The silence of the living room was a sanctuary.
Effiom gave me a brief, tired nod, his shoulders slumped as he turned left and quietly made his way up the secondary staircase toward the spare bedroom, his boots making almost no sound against the carpet.
I turned toward the main corridor, moving with slow, agonizing care in my socks as I approached her bedroom door. I pushed it open, the hinges moving silently.
The room was bathed in the soft, ethereal silver glow of the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains.
And there she was.
Soteria was fast asleep, her beautiful, delicate frame curled up under the white duvet.
Her hair was packed loosely, a few stray strands framing her soft, peaceful face.
Her chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic cadence of deep rest, her lips slightly parted.
On the nightstand beside her lay her open Bible and her phone.
I walked closer, my breathing completely hitching in my throat as I stepped up to the edge of the mattress.
I dropped carefully onto my good knee, my right hand resting on the edge of the bed as I simply stared at her.
I couldn’t look away.
I was completely, utterly obsessed with my baby.
The past days of blood, gunfire, and smoke felt like a distant, irrelevant bad dream compared to the holy reality of her sleeping in front of me.
I wanted to reach out and trace the line of her jaw, to press my lips against her forehead, but I didn’t want to wake her.
She looked so peaceful, so safe, and so rested.
Let her sleep, my mind whispered.
You’re back. She’s safe.
I began to slowly shift my weight to stand back up, intending to go crash with Effiom so she wouldn’t see my injured state in the dark.
But as I moved, my foot caught the edge of the plush rug, making a faint rustling sound against the floorboards.
Soteria stirred.
Her long eyelashes fluttered once, twice, and then her eyes slowly opened, blinking against the dim silver light of the room.
She shifted her head on the pillow, her gaze drifting sleepily toward the dark shadow towering over her bed.
She froze.
Her eyes narrowed in total confusion, her voice a tiny, fragile whisper that carried the thick weight of sleep.
“Akila...?”
She shook her head slightly, lifting her hand to vigorously rub her eyes, clearly thinking she was trapped in another vivid, desperate dream of my return.
I couldn’t help it.
A soft, incredibly tender smile broke across my face, the moonlight catching the lines of my jaw as I looked down at her.
“Yes, Ziniya. It’s me.”
The moment my voice cut through the quiet of the room, her entire body went rigid.
Her eyes flew wide open, locking onto my smile, onto the sling across my chest, onto the reality of my frame.
Soteria didn’t just wake up; she erupted.
“My babyyyyyy!” she screamed, a high-pitched, ecstatic cry of pure, unadulterated joy that shattered the midnight silence of the entire house.
She threw the duvet off her body like a wild whirlwind.
“My babyyyyyy! My babyyyy!”
Before I could even warn her about my shattered shoulder, she launched herself off the mattress, her arms flying around my neck with a desperate, terrifying force.
She gripped me so tight her fingers dug into the fabric of my collarbones, burying her face into the crook of my neck as a loud, broken sob tore from her throat.
She began to cry violently, her hot tears soaking straight through my clean t-shirt against my skin, her entire frame shaking with the overwhelming shock of my presence as she held onto her man as if she would never let him go again.
Chineke Nna!!
What did we do to deserve this oppression?
Ohhh!!
I pity Amara and Naya who always get a front row seat to this mushiness.
Run the numbers up babiessss and I might just drop a bonus chapter.
Restack and comment 💙
As a medical personnel, Akila was supposed to stay in the hospital and be transfused, not walking about with low PCV because he wants to see his baby.😒
They should not bring him back to the hospital during my shift o.😒
It's his love that will admit him.😒
Wahala for who no get baby like this o , cheesed so hard 😂
If only Nigeria had sense to free the captive like Akila and his soldiers . Jesus be a shield