My father didn't say another word.
He went into his study and shut the door gently, like nothing serious had just happened. Like he hadn't just told me that my dead husband might be alive… and that I should forget it.
But how could I?
I stood there, heart racing, replaying his words again and again.
Some people are dead for a reason.
What did that even mean? What kind of father tells his daughter to ignore a ghost from her past, unless he knew something? Unless… he had something to hide?
I didn't go after him. I just left the house in silence and walked all the way to the bus stop. I didn't even know where I was going. I just needed to move, to breathe, to think.
My wedding was in ruins. Emeka hadn't called. His family had sent me a text saying I needed help. And maybe I did. Because none of this made sense.
I ended up at Ada's apartment.
She opened the door, her eyes swollen like she hadn't slept much either. She pulled me in, locked the door behind me, and made tea without saying a word.
When I finally spoke, my voice came out like a whisper.
"My dad said I should let it go."
She raised a brow. "And you believed him?"l
"I don't know what to believe."
She sat beside me, pulled her knees to her chest. "You said you got a message. Is it still there?"
"No. It disappeared. Like a flash message."l
"Then we go with what we do have." She reached for her phone. "You said you saw him at the wedding, right? Maybe someone recorded it. You know how Nigerians are. Even if their house is on fire, someone will still be filming."
We searched online for a while…Instagram, Facebook, even TikTok. Most videos were of Emeka kneeling, and my shocked expression. No one had captured Tochi.
But just as we were about to give up, Ada froze.
"Wait," she said, scrolling back. "Come and see this."
She turned the phone to me.
A blurry photo. Probably taken by someone way at the back of the hall. It showed the crowd standing, half-turning, reacting to something.
In the background, near the exit, was a tall figure in a black kaftan. Face half-hidden, but sharp jawline, posture… even the shape of his head.
It looked like him.
"Can you zoom in?" I asked quickly.
She tried, but the image pixelated.
Still, my hands were cold.
It wasn't proof. Not real proof. But it was enough to make my stomach twist.
Later that evening, I went home and dug out an old photo album I had buried at the bottom of my wardrobe. One of the few things I hadn't been able to throw away after the funeral.
Tochi's smile beamed from the pages. Graduation pictures. Beach days. Our engagement shoot. And one photo in particular stood out , him wearing the exact black kaftan.
I placed it side by side with the blurry screenshot.
My chest tightened.
It was the same outfit. The same frame. The same aura.
I sat there for minutes, staring at them. My thoughts felt like noise in my skull.
Then something strange happened.
I noticed something in the old photo I had never paid attention to before. Tochi's hand. He was holding something small, something shiny.
A key.
Tiny. Silver. With a red tag hanging from it.
I picked up the photo and held it closer.
There was a number on the tag. 42.
My brain lit up.
There had been a locker key missing the day he died. I remembered asking about it. He said he lost it.
Was this it?
Was this the missing piece?
I didn't sleep that night either.
The next morning, I went back to the apartment we used to share before he died. I still had the spare key.l
The place was dusty. Cold. Frozen in time.l
I checked the boxes in the wardrobe. Searched through his drawers. Nothing.
But just when I was about to give up, I opened the old briefcase under the bed. It was locked. But not tightly.
I forced it open.
Inside was a single envelope.
I opened it slowly, my hands trembling.
There were two things inside.
One — a small, red locker tag. 42.
Two — a polaroid picture. Old and grainy.
It showed Tochi… with a woman I had never seen before.
They were standing by a car. Smiling like lovers.
And behind them… was my father.
I stared at the photo in my hand like it might catch fire and disappear.
Tochi. Smiling.
With another woman.
Their hands were too close. Their bodies were too relaxed. You could tell it wasn't just casual. She was beautiful too… tall, light-skinned, and wearing a red dress that screamed confidence. She had her hand on his chest like she owned him.
And behind them, standing slightly to the left but very visible, was my father.
Not in the background. Not walking past.l
He was standing still. Looking right at the camera.
And he wasn't smiling.
I sat on the floor, shaking.
My husband had died in a supposed car crash. They said his body was too damaged to view. That the explosion was bad. That we had to accept and move on.
Now here I was, staring at a photo that shouldn't exist.
Why was my father in it?
Why was Tochi with another woman?
And why did it feel like I had been married to a stranger?
That evening, I went back to Ada's place. I didn't call. I just showed up.
She opened the door and saw my face.
"What happened?"
"I found something," I said. "Come."
We sat at her dining table. I placed the picture in front of her.
She picked it up, confused at first. Then her mouth slowly opened.
"Is that your dad?"
"Yes."
She stared again. "Is that… Tochi?"
I nodded
"And the woman?"
I shook my head. "Never seen her before."
Ada looked up at me, serious now. "Maka, this thing you're digging up… are you sure you're ready for it?"
"No," I whispered. "But I need to know."
She leaned back, arms folded. "If your dad was with them, then whatever happened to Tochi wasn't random. And that woman… maybe she has something to do with it."
"I need to find that locker," I said.
Ada blinked. "Locker?"
I told her about the red tag. The number. How Tochi once mentioned a box he kept safe. At the time, I thought it was for business documents. Now… I wasn't so sure.
The next day, I went to the storage facility I vaguely remembered Tochi mentioning once. It was in Surulere, tucked between an old gas station and a block of shops.
The manager was an old man with grey hair and tired eyes.
"Locker 42?" he asked, looking at me like he didn't want trouble. "That's been locked for over three years."
"I have the key."
He stared at me again, then motioned for me to follow.
We walked through rows of metal doors until we reached a red one labeled 42. It was dusty. Quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl.
I inserted the key.
It turned.
The door creaked open.
Inside was a single suitcase. Brown leather. Slightly worn.
My heart pounded as I reached for it and placed it on the floor. The man didn't ask questions. He just stood back.
I opened it slowly.
And what I saw inside almost made me faint.
Bundles of money.
Documents.
Two passports.
One was Tochi's. The other was for a man with a different name but the same face.
There was also a small USB flash drive. I held it in my palm, afraid to even blink.
Because in that moment, I knew one thing for sure.
Tochi was never who he said he was.
And if my father was part of it…
Then maybe he wasn't who I thought he was either.
I sat in Ada's car like I had just escaped from a different world.
The suitcase was on my lap. My fingers kept running over the flash drive like it would explain itself. But it didn't. It just sat there, small and silent, daring me to open it.
Ada was driving but she kept looking at me.
"You have to check what's inside," she said. "Now."
We parked at her place. No words. Just heavy silence. She handed me her laptop and I plugged it in.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then a folder popped up.
It was named Ayo.
That wasn't his name. My husband's name was Tochukwu.
I clicked it.
Inside were video files. Dozens of them. Each one named with a date.
I opened the first one.
Tochi's face filled the screen. Not smiling. Not relaxed. Just focused.
He was speaking to someone off camera.
"There is no way I'm marrying her," he said.
My heart froze.
Ada gasped beside me.
"She's too innocent. She has no idea who I am. If they find out I used her to get close to the commissioner…"
He paused. Looked away. Then back at the camera.
"Just make sure my new identity is ready. Once the money clears, I disappear."
I felt my soul leave my body.
The man I loved.
The man I mourned.
He married me to get close to someone?
Used me for money?
Was I even his type? Or just a pawn in something bigger?
Ada touched my arm gently but I pulled away. I couldn't breathe.
The second video started playing automatically.
This time, he was with the same woman from the photo. She was laughing, running her fingers down his chest like she knew every part of him.
They were talking about me.
About the plan.
About how my father wouldn't suspect a thing because he trusted me too much.
I stood up suddenly, the laptop crashing to the floor.
"Maka!" Ada shouted.
But I didn't care. My ears were ringing. My skin felt too tight. I was going to be sick.
The third video started playing from the ground.
It showed Tochi packing a bag. He looked serious.
"This is my last day in Nigeria," he said. "By the time she wakes up, I'll be gone. Her father will cover it up. They always protect their own."
I kicked the laptop screen shut.
Tears burned my face.
The man I cried for. The man I prayed for. The man I buried…
Was never even mine.
I didn't sleep that night. I just sat on Ada's couch, staring at the wall.
My thoughts were a mess. Every memory suddenly felt fake. Every kiss. Every promise. Every night we held hands and planned our future.
All of it was a setup.
I kept thinking about that suitcase.
The money.
The passports.
The new name.
And my father.
How much did he know? How deep was he in it?
I had a right to know.
So the next morning, I put the flash drive in my bag, got dressed in all black, and went straight to my father's office.
His secretary tried to stop me but I walked in anyway.
He looked up, startled. "Maka, I'm in a meeting…"
I threw the flash drive on his table.
"Play it," I said, my voice shaking. "Right now."
He looked at it, then at me.
And for the first time in my life, my father looked scared.
He picked up the flash drive with trembling fingers.
"I warned you," he whispered.
I took a step closer.
"And now you are going to tell me the truth about my husband.