He Promised Me Work In Lagos, Na Trap I Enter (EPISODE 22)

EPISODE 22 – He Follow Me Reach There

The next morning, my stomach twisted with both excitement and fear. I had planned to go early to the shop, sweep, mop, and maybe earn enough to buy my own small meal for the day. My heart felt light for the first time in weeks — small freedom had begun to taste sweet.

I stepped out of the house, the Lagos sun already hot on my skin, the streets alive with the usual madness: okadas zipping past, touts shouting for buses, hawkers pushing bread, sachets of water, and roasted yam. I kept my eyes on the ground, hoping to remain unnoticed, though deep inside I knew he was watching me more closely than ever.

Halfway down the street, my phone buzzed. I ignored it. A warning bell rang faintly in my mind: I knew that number too well. But my determination to hold on to independence outweighed my fear.

I arrived at the shop and got to work. Sweeping, mopping, organizing shelves. The few naira I would earn today already felt like a treasure. I felt alive — alive in a way I hadn’t felt since leaving Umunze.

Then I heard footsteps — firm, deliberate, heavy. I froze. My stomach sank.

“Nkiru?”

I turned. My heart stopped. There he was, calm, composed, yet radiating a quiet authority that made me feel tiny. My “benefactor.” My captor in disguise.

“Wetin you dey do here?” His voice was low, smooth, but cold.

I tried to explain: “I just dey try small work, na small cleaning job…”

Before I could finish, the shop owner stepped forward, his expression tense.
“Ah, sorry Nkiru. I can’t employ you. This man… he says he is responsible for you. Na im you dey work for him now?”

I shook my head, feeling shame rise like bile. I had been caught, exposed.

“I dey responsible for you. Nothing go happen wey I no know. No more small-small jobs,” he said quietly, eyes on mine.

The boss nodded reluctantly. “I no want wahala. Sorry, girl.”

Just like that, my small taste of independence was snatched away. I left the shop with empty hands, stomach growling, heart heavy. The Lagos air felt thicker, heavier. Even the noise of the city seemed to press down on me.

He walked beside me all the way home, calm as if nothing had happened, but I could feel the weight of his presence. Every step I took, every thought I tried to form, he was there, silently reminding me: freedom was an illusion.

That night, as I lay on my bed, the small naira notes I had hidden yesterday felt useless. My dignity had been stolen before I could even taste it fully.

Episode 23 Coming Soon
Nkiru realizes that in Lagos, even when she tries to fight for herself, the city can be a trap. But a small, rebellious idea begins to form — could there be a secret way to regain independence without him knowing?