Episode 7- Soteria, You Talk Too Much
Soteria
Something crashes beside us.
The sound is violent and sharp.
It sounded like ceramic shattering against tile. My body jerks awake before my mind does. I spring up from the couch in pure instinct, and my knee catches the edge of a standing sculpture, some abstract metal-and-wood thing placed beside the console.
It wobbles once, twice and then it falls.
The crash echoes through the house like gunfire. Naya screams and I freeze.
That is when I see him clearly.
He is standing a few feet away, gun raised, shoulders squared, eyes alert in that way that makes it very clear he was prepared to shoot.
Wait!!! Prepared to shoot.
In his own house???
My throat goes dry.
He lowers the gun slowly and drops, but his jaw is tight enough to crack stone. His eyes move from the fallen sculpture to me, then to Naya. His breathing is controlled. But there is cold fury there.
“What is going on here?” His voice is low and dangerous.
Naya rushes up immediately. “Brother Akila!! Why are you pointing a gun at us? You scared us!”
He doesn’t answer her. His eyes are still on me.
Of course they are.
I swallow. “I…. I didn’t mean to… I was just….”
“You were just what?” he cuts in.
His voice isn’t loud, but it slices.
Naya frowns. “Why are you talking to her like that? She’s my guest!”
That does it.
He turns to her sharply. “Guest?” he repeats, and the word sounds like an accusation. “You brought someone into this house. Into the barracks. And you did not think to inform me?”
“I tried to get a ride home!” Naya argues. “No bolt was coming. It was late. She offered to drop me. She even showed me her family details….”
“And you believed that?” His voice rises just slightly. “Naya, do you understand what my job is?”
“I know your job!” she snaps back. “You think I’m a child?”
His jaw ticks.
“Yes,” he says flatly. “Right now? Yes.”
Naya looks hurt. And I feel it.
That is my fault.
Before I can say a word, he strides forward and grips my arm firmly. Soldier firm.
“Come with me,” he says.
I blink. “What…?”
“Now.”
He pulls me toward the hallway. Naya calls after us, confused. “Brother Akila? What are you doing?”
“Stay where you are.” He barks at her.
He drags me into a nearby room and shuts the door behind us.
The click of the lock sounds final.
For a second, I just stare at him.
He runs a hand over his face, then turns to me, and when he speaks, his voice is raised now.
“Are you out of your mind?”
The words hit harder than the sculpture hitting the floor.
“What?” I snap back, my heart racing. “What did I do?”
“You hang out with my sister? You brought her back home? What are you playing at? You think this is a game?”
“Game?” I scoff. “Excuse me? I dropped her because no ride came!”
“You should have left her at the café. She should have called me. Not driven her here.”
“I tried!” My voice shakes. “You were busy. She said you were working. What was I supposed to do? Abandon her there?” I fumed.
“You should not have brought her home. That's my point.” He sounds very calm and it sounds like he is talking to a child.
The finality in his voice does something ugly to my chest.
I take a step toward him.
He smells like night air and sweat and something metallic, like gun oil.
“Do you hate me that much?” I ask.
His expression doesn’t change.
I hate that it doesn’t change.
Something inside me cracks.
I step closer again, and before I can stop myself, I poke his chest with my finger.
“You are so rude,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “So unnecessarily rude.”
He looks down at my finger like it’s an inconvenience.
“Remove your hand from my chest,” he says quietly.
“No.” I poke him again.
“Why do you hate me?” My eyes burn. I hate crying. I hate it. “What did I do to you?”
He exhales slowly, like he’s trying not to explode.
“This is not about hate.”
“Then what is it about?” My voice rises. “You act like I’m some criminal. Like I’m beneath you. Like I’m…. I don’t even know!”
He looks away.
“I offered to drop your sister because I didn’t want her stranded,” I continue, the words spilling now. “I showed her my family details so she will feel more comfortable with me. My dad is a major. My brother is a captain. You know I am not some random street girl!”
His eyes flick back to mine at that.
“I’m not a bad person,” I whisper.
“I know we met… badly. Very badly.” I wince at the memory. “But that was an embarrassing meeting it was in no way malicious.”
He says nothing.
I hate that he says nothing.
My voice softens.
“I genuinely like Naya. She’s sweet. She’s kind. I want her in my NGO. I want to build something good with her.”
Still nothing.
“And whatever friendship you have with my brother… I like that too. I respect it.” I swallow. “I want to enjoy that. With her and even with you, if you will allow.”
My hand drops from his chest.
“If you don’t want me around,” I say, quieter now, “I’ll stay out of your way.”
I look down, then back up.
“I just don’t know what to do to make you… not look at me like I’m a problem or a liability.”
There!!! I said it.
The room feels smaller suddenly.
He hasn’t moved.
I realize how close we are.
Too close.
My chest is rising fast. His is steady and solid.
My eyes flick to his hands. To the veins running along them. To the muscles beneath his shirt. Why is he built like that? Why is he standing so still?
Why does the air feel heavy?
He looks down at me slowly and I suddenly become aware of the space between us.
Aware of how close my hand is to his arm.
Aware of the way I’m looking at him.
My fingers twitch.
I want to touch him.
To see if that stone exterior feels as solid as it looks.
My breath catches.
His gaze drops for half a second and then immediately moves back to my eyes.
The tension snaps tight.
It feels like if either of us moves an inch, something irreversible will happen.
I swallow.
His voice comes out rougher than before.
“You are too carefree.” My heart stumbles. “That is your problem.”
I can't find it in me to retort.
“You do not think before you take actions. You live a very reckless life and it makes no sense. You are always in the wrong crowd, with the wrong people and it makes you look irresponsible.”
My eyes sting. I lift my chin defiantly so as not to let the tears fall.
He takes a step closer.
Now there is barely space between us.
“You think emotionally,” he says. “And emotions can be dangerous. I don't like it when someone is not tactical.”
My eyes become teary… I don't know why I'm acting like some hormonal teenager.
His eyes darken and he swallows.
“And….” he adds quietly, “ I do not hate you. I just….. maybe dislike you a bit.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach flip.
I open my mouth to respond but right then, the door opens.
We jump apart like guilty teenagers.
Naya stands there, looking between us.
“What is going on?” she asks slowly.
I immediately step back another inch.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly as I wipe the tears now falling from my eyes. Naya notices.
Akila turns away, running a hand down his face.
“Naya,” he says in that commanding tone again, “go to your room.”
She frowns. “Why are you acting like this? She was just helping me.”
“I said go.”
She hesitates, then walks in fully instead of leaving.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says stubbornly. “You’re just overreacting.”
He exhales sharply.
And for the first time tonight, I see something besides anger on his face.
Conflict??? Maybe.
He glances at me once more and walks out.
AkilaHyel
I leave the room before I say something I cannot take back.
The door shuts behind me with a quiet click, but inside my head everything is loud.
The way her finger pressed against my chest like she had a right to question me.
I walk straight to my room without looking at either of them. My boots feel heavier than they should. The house smells faintly of the coffee Naya must have made earlier and something else, something softer.
Her perfume. Floral and fruity.
I pause mid-step.
What is wrong with you? Floral and Fruity Kenan??
I shut my bedroom door and stand still for a second, staring at nothing. My mind replays the moment in that room whether I like it or not.
I remember the warmth of her breath when she spoke. The way her eyes shifted from anger to something uncertain..
And for a split second I almost reacted.
Not as a captain.
My jaw tightens.
No.
I drag a hand over my face and walk to the window. I push the curtain aside slightly and stare into the dark compound. Barracks lights glow in the distance.
I exhale slowly.
“Holy Spirit,” I mutter under my breath, not even fully aware I’m speaking, “guard my mind.”
There is a soft knock and before I answer, the door opens slightly and Naya peeks in.
“Yaro…?” she calls tentatively.
I don’t turn immediately. “Yes.”
She walks in carefully, like she expects another lecture.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
I sigh and face her.
“It’s fine,” I tell her.
She studies me for a second, then walks closer. “I know you were scared.”
It’s not a question.
“Yes.” I reply.
Her shoulders drop. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
I nod once.
Then she clears her throat. “She’s… she’s feeling really bad.”
I don’t respond.
“She was crying.”
My jaw tightens slightly.
I look away.
I hate women crying.
Especially when it is because of me.
“She thinks you hate her,” Naya continues carefully.
I exhale through my nose. “This is not about liking or hating. I do not hate her.”
“I know,” she says quickly. “But she doesn’t.”
She paused then she says the real reason she came in.
“Can you help drop her off at her house?”
I turn slowly. “What?”
“It’s late,” she says. “Almost midnight. Bolt is still not coming. The drivers are rejecting the request.”
“She has a car, Naya.”
“She doesn’t want to drive alone this late.” She whines.
I study her face.
“Is this her idea?” I ask.
Naya shakes her head quickly. “No.. Not at all oo. She even said she would just manage to drive or call her brother to pick her up. But she was crying, and I feel bad. The way you spoke to her…”
Her voice trails off.
“She was just trying to help me,” Naya adds softly. “And it’s very late. She’s a lady. It’s scary driving out by 12am.”
I fold my arms and heave a sigh.
“The only other option is that she sleeps over,” Naya says cautiously.
My head snaps up.
She lifts her hands quickly. “I know! I know you won’t like that.”
I scoff.
Sleep over? In this house? After tonight?
No way.
Absolutely not.
I don’t say anything.
I’m tired and drained from the day. From the emergency meeting to planning deployment routes and reviewing intel.
And now this.
I close my eyes briefly.
Naya watches me carefully. She bites her lips like she's stopping herself from saying something again
I do not argue.
I simply walk past her toward the table where my keys are.
She blinks. “So… you’ll drop her?”
I don’t answer.
I pick up the car key and that is answer enough.
Her face lights up instantly. “Thank you! Thank you, Yaro!”
She runs out before I can change my mind.
I stand there for a moment longer, keys in hand.
She is Effiom's sister and for the sake of whatever connection exists between our families, I cannot allow her take that risk.
I shake my head and walk toward the living room.
They are both standing now.
Naya is whispering something to her excitedly. Soteria looks surprised. Her eyes lift when she sees me.
They're red and slightly puffy.
I move past them and stop by the door.
“Are you ready?” I ask flatly.
She looks shocked for a second, like she wasn’t expecting that from me.
Then she nods quickly.
“Yes.”
She turns to Naya and hugs her tightly. I look away, giving them that small privacy.
“Call me when you get home ko…,” Naya says.
“I will,” she replies softly.
Then she walks toward me.
I step outside first. The night air is cool and quiet.
I unlock the car and walk to the driver’s side without waiting for her.
I hear her heels against the pavement behind me. Slower now and less confident than earlier.
I open the door and get in.
A second later, the passenger door opens.
She settles into the seat carefully.
I start the engine and neither of us speaks.
Soteria
The car door shuts with a soft, heavy thud, and just like that, it is only the two of us.
I do not know why my heartbeat picks up.
It is not fear exactly. I can't place what it is.
The engine hums low beneath us, steady and controlled, like him. He adjusts the rearview mirror without looking at me. His jaw is tight. His fingers rest firm on the steering wheel, veins slightly visible under the dashboard lights.
He does not say a word.
The gate slides open and we drive into the Abuja night.
For a few minutes, I just sit there.
I stare at the road ahead. The streetlights streak across the windshield in golden lines. My hands are folded in my lap, but I am very aware of him beside me. His presence fills the car. It is ridiculous how someone can be so quiet and still take up so much space.
I clear my throat softly.
“My house is… um…” I pause, then change my mind. “Can you drive me to our guest house in Maitama instead?”
His eyes flick to me briefly, then back to the road.
“Why?” he asks.
His voice is low and calm.
“I don’t want to scare my mum by coming home this late,” I explain. “If she sees me by midnight, she’ll start asking questions and I don’t have the energy to lie.”
He nods once and I take that as agreement. I input the address on my Google map and place my phone on the headboard.
The silence returns, thicker now.
My chest feels tight.
I cannot leave things the way they were in that room.
“I… I’m sorry,” I say finally.
His fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel but he does not look at me.
“For everything,” I add. “For barging into your office, for being rude to you, for bringing your sister home without your consent and for..… for poking your chest.”
The last part almost makes me smile nervously.
He does not smile.
He nods once.
That nod again.
I exhale slowly.
“I didn’t mean to disrespect you,” I continue softly. “I just… I don’t know. I react before I think sometimes.”
He remains quiet.
The road curves and he turns smoothly, controlled, precise. Even his driving is disciplined.
After a while, he clears his throat.
The sound is small but it shifts the air between us.
He is about to say something.
And for some reason, that makes me more nervous than his silence.
“Are you,” he starts, then pauses.
His jaw tightens.
I turn slightly toward him.
“Are you using my sister as a ploy to become my friend?”
The question lands heavy and straight.
My stomach flips and for a moment, I do not answer.
Because the truth is complicated.
The streetlight passes over his face, illuminating the sharp line of his nose, the slight furrow in his brows. He does not look at me, but I can feel that he is waiting for my answer.
I swallow.
“Do you want an honest answer?” I ask quietly.
He does not respond.
But his posture shifts slightly. His shoulders square. His grip tightens again.
He wants it.
He just will not say it.
I stare down at my hands.
“Yes,” I say softly. “Initially… that was the plan.”
The air feels fragile now.
“I thought if I got close to Naya, maybe you would….. soften toward me,” I admit. “Because you clearly do not like me.”
He exhales slowly through his nose.
“But today,” I continue quickly, “today changed something. She is actually very sweet. Very warm. I like her. Not because of you though. Just because she’s… her.”
He says nothing.
“I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” I add.
His voice comes again, steady.
“Is that how easy it is for you to make friends?”
The question surprises me and I blink.
Then I smile a little.
Ah.
We are in interrogation mode now. At least he's talking to me.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “It is.”
That makes his eyebrow twitch slightly.
I lean back in my seat, relaxing just a little.
“I make friends easily,” I explain. “I have a lot of friends. Not all close-close friends, but I’m good with people. I talk, I laugh. I connect. I’m usually the life of the party.”
He glances at me briefly. Just briefly.
Then he looks back to the road.
Encouraged, I continue.
“I don’t have that many close friends though. Those ones are rare. Amara is one of the close friends I have. She’s the one you saw with me the other day. Then there’s Zainab, I call her Zee. She’s married now and lives in the UK with her husband. He’s in the navy. It just feels like everyone around me is in the military”
That makes him look at me again.
Just for a second longer this time.
His eyes lift slightly.
The corner of his lip moves.
Just a tiny shift and I catch it.
And something inside me glows.
Ohhh that caught his attention.
“Her husband travels a lot,” I continue, watching him carefully. “Naval operations and all those international stuff.”
He nods once.
That small movement again. He keeps nodding like a lizard.
“So you understand,” I say gently. “Military families aren’t new to me.”
His jaw relaxes slightly.
I take that as permission to keep talking.
“Then there’s Chiamamanda,” I continue. “Sophia and a few others. I know a lot of people. I don’t always keep them close. But I know them.”
He does not interrupt neither does he ask follow-up questions.
He just listens.
After a while, I become aware that I am rambling.
My words are flowing too freely.
He looks tired, exhausted even.
The shadows under his eyes are more obvious now that I am close to him in this confined space.
“You look tired,” I say softly.
He does not deny it neither does he acknowledge it.
The car slows as we approach the Maitama area.
The houses here are quiet and very secure.
He pulls over in front of the guest house gate.
Silence fills the car again.
This is my moment.
If I do not ask now, I might never get the chance.
“Can I ask for a favour?” I say quickly.
He looks at me finally.
He looks impatient.
“What is it?”
His tone is clipped and professional.
I swallow.
“I’d like your permission for Naya to join my NGO outreach in Benue.”
His expression changes instantly.
His shoulders stiffen and his eyes narrow slightly.
He does not like that so I quickly rush to explain.
“The security will be very tight,” I say quickly. “We are coordinating with people in Abuja. I’ll personally ensure she’s safe. We are visiting a rural community. We are very organized and security conscious.”
He studies me for a long moment.
Then he looks away.
“I’ll think about it,” he says.
That is not a no.
It is not a yes either.
But it gives me hope.
My face stretches into a smile before I can stop it.
“Thank you,” I say too quickly. “Thank you so much.”
He looks faintly irritated by my enthusiasm.
Before he can respond, my phone lights up in my hand.
Ayoola❤️❤️
My stomach tightens.
The timing feels like a trap.
I instinctively press decline.
The phone vibrates again almost immediately.
And again.
I risk a glance at AkilaHyel.
His eyes flick briefly to my screen. He does not ask who it is. He does not comment. But there is something in that look that makes heat creep up my neck.
It feels wrong to reject the call in front of him.
Like I am hiding something.
Like I am guilty so I swallow and answer.
“Hello,” I say softly.
AkilaHyel’s gaze shifts back to the road immediately. His fingers remain firm on the steering wheel, but I can see the muscle flex along his cheek.
“I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday,” Ayoola’s voice comes through, irritated but layered with concern. “Your phone has been busy or off. What’s going on?”
I force a light tone.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been choked with work and plans for the outreach. Meetings, planning, logistics. You know how it gets.”
There was silence on the other end.
Then a softer sigh.
“I miss you, babe” he says.
I hum in response. “Hmm…. Yeahhh”
I am suddenly hyper-aware that I am sitting in another man’s car.
And not just any man.
Captain AkilaHyel.
The air inside the car feels smaller.
“Yeah?? Babe….We need to talk properly,” Ayoola continues. “You’ve been distant.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I’ll call you back, okay? I just got home.”
“Now? Why are you just getting home now?” he asks immediately.
“Uhhhh,” I say quickly. “I’ll explain later. I have to go now. Bye”
I end the call before he can probe further.
My reflection stares back at me faintly from the window.
I turn slightly toward AkilaHyel, about to say something—anything—to ease the awkwardness.
But he speaks first.
“Are you not getting down?”
His tone is flat. Very flat.
Reality slaps me.
Oh.
Right.
This is still Captain AkilaHyel.
The reserved soldier. The one that gets easily irritated.
Not the man who listened to me talk for twenty minutes.
I quickly unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Uhmmmm… Goodnight, Akila,” I say softly as I open the door.
His voice comes immediately.
“AkilaHyel. Not Akila.”
I freeze for half a second.
Then I smile slowly.
“Yes, sir,” I tease lightly.
He does not respond and he starts the engine fully this time.
I step out and shut the door.
The car pulls away almost immediately.
I stand there under the gate light, watching the taillights disappear down the road.
My heart is beating too fast for someone who just had a normal ride home.
Why did I feel guilty answering my boyfriend’s call in another man’s car?
Andddd… Akila actually listened to me.
He asked me questions. Even if they were one worded. He still asked.
He did not shout at me.
He did not dismiss me.
He even considered my request!!!!
He sat down for over 20 minutes to hear me talk and even though he looked irritated, not once did he stop me.
I know I talked a lot and I feel bad for even making him listen to my long gist.
I press my palm to my mouth and whisper to myself,
“Ahhhhh!!! Soteria, you talk too much oo.”
But I am smiling too hard to mean it.
He might look traumatized by my rant.
He might look like he hates me.
But at least he listened to me and that feels like a small victory.
Hiii babiesssssss…..
Soteria finally stood up to Akila!!!
Heheheheee
Okayyyy… Do we say a new friendship is budding between them?
Fingers crossed🤭🤭.
See you all on Friday💙💙
😂😂😂me I am waiting for the famous break up😂 so I can ship my ship😂🤭
This Chapter gave me Joy 😂🤭