The Hands I Trusted [Episode 2]

The change came like NEPA.

First flickering. Then darkness.

Tunde got a job after NYSC. Technician at a garage in Ikeja GRA. The pay was better than his uncle’s place, and he was proud.

“Finally, babe. We can start saving for T&B Autos.”

I was proud too. I posted him on my status: “My technician ❤️”

But with the new job came new excuses.

Suddenly: “Babe I’m on site.”

“Client emergency. Benz broke down on the express.”

“I’ll call you later, I’m in a meeting.”

Later became 3 days.

Later became “seen” with no reply.

Later became him coming home smelling like perfume that wasn’t mine.

I defended him to everyone.

To Nkechi: “Lagos is hard now. Men are stressed.”

To my mom on the phone: “Work is just a lot, ma.”

I cooked jollof and took it to him at the garage. I prayed for him. I sent him 2-minute voice notes saying “I believe in you, king.”

I was trying to hold us together with both hands.

Then Instagram did me dirty.

I was just scrolling at night, bored. “Suggested for you.”

Bisi.

Her and Tunde at Landmark Beach. Sunset background.

His arm around her waist. Her head on his shoulder.

Caption: “My peace ❤️ 12.03.2025”

My chest froze.

12.03.2025.

The night he told me he was doing “overnight shift” because “one customer’s Benz spoilt on Third Mainland and they can’t tow it.”

He even sent me a voice note at 1am: “Babe I’m tired, sleep. I’ll call tomorrow.”

My stomach dropped. My hands started shaking.

I didn’t sleep. I took the first bus to Ogba the next evening.

He opened the door in a singlet, eyes wide.

“Amara? What are you doing here?”

“Who is Bisi, Tunde?”

He sighed. Deep. Annoyed. Like I was disturbing him.

“Amara, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. We’ve been fighting. You’re always nagging.”

Not that deep.

Four years. My family knew him.

“You cheated.”

Silence.

I sat on his floor. The same floor we watched Big Brother, shared one plate of Indomie, and planned our future.

That night my phone rang non-stop. Nkechi. My sister. Him.

I didn’t pick any.

I thought betrayal was the worst pain.

I was about to learn what pain really was.