It was 10.50pm. Leke had fallen asleep after the pastors left. Dinner had been a slow ritual graced by the clinking of cutlery on plates, light chatter, and an uneasy Leke, who chuckled nervously at all their jokes— even the ones that were drier than harmattan-crisp leaves. All night, he waited for the important discussion, but it never came.

I did that—I destroyed his career.

Sure, now I had to tell him. Maybe Jare would do the same—tell his wife. He'd put us out of this misery. That woman. They were the problem—Leke and Jare’s wife. If they could be erased from the picture somehow...