Single Ladies Zone

IN LOVE WITH REGR3TS

CHAPTER ELEVEN – SHADOWS OF OBSESSION

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Amara felt the walls of her life closing in. Even in the safety of her office, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

It began subtly — a car idling across the street, the same face in a crowd, a phone call that went silent the moment she answered.

At first, she told herself it was paranoia. But when she stepped out of her office one evening and found Tunde leaning casually against her car, she knew the nightmare had taken a darker turn.

“Amara,” he said smoothly, as if nothing were wrong, “you’ve been avoiding me. That hurts.”

His smile was charming to anyone else, but to her it was venom.

She tried to brush past him, but he caught her arm, his grip like iron.

“Don’t make me angry. You know what I can do.”

She pulled free, her voice trembling.

“Leave me alone, Tunde. I’ll never see you again.”

But as she drove off, his laughter followed her, chilling her more than his threats.

At home, Chike grew even more distant, his silence a punishment sharper than words.

Amara longed to confide in him, to tell him the extent of Tunde’s harassment, but shame held her tongue.

Instead, she suffered in silence, her nights restless, her days haunted.

Then the gifts started. A bouquet of roses delivered to her office with no card.

A box of perfume left at her doorstep.

Even a gold necklace slipped into her handbag when she wasn’t looking.

Each item was a reminder: he was near, he was watching, he owned her.

One night, as she stepped out to take the trash, she felt it — eyes on her from across the street.

She turned quickly, and there he was, leaning on a lamppost, half-hidden in shadow. He didn’t approach, didn’t speak.

He just stared.

The silence was worse than any words.

Amara’s knees buckled, and she stumbled back into the house, locking every door, her heart pounding.

But the worst came two days later. Chike walked into the living room holding a small envelope that had been slipped under their front door.

Inside were photographs — Amara and Tunde at the hotel, caught in moments she thought were private, sacred in their secrecy.

Chike’s face was a mask of fury as he held them out.

“Is this what you call a mistake?” he demanded, his voice shaking with rage.

Amara’s breath caught, the world spinning around her.

Tunde had crossed the final line. He wasn’t just threatening her anymore — he was poisoning what little was left of her marriage.

And Amara knew, with sinking dread, that she was running out of time.

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IN BED WITH REGRETS

CHAPTER TEN – IN BED WITH REGRET

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The house that once felt like home had turned into a battlefield of silence. Chike barely spoke to Amara. He moved about stiffly, his presence heavy with wounded pride. At night, they lay side by side in the same bed, but worlds apart — Chike with his back turned, Amara staring at the ceiling with tears slipping silently down her cheeks. The regret weighed on her chest like an anchor, suffocating her.

Every attempt she made to reach him only deepened the wound. “Chike, please, can we talk?” she whispered one night. But his reply was a hollow silence, his breathing sharp, as though even acknowledging her voice was too much. Amara cried herself to sleep, the sheets damp with guilt and loneliness.

Meanwhile, Tunde grew bolder. With Amara’s secret out in the open, his threats became more reckless. He sent her voice notes, his tone mocking and confident. “So your husband knows now? Good. That means you really have nothing to lose. Come to me, Amara. You know I’m the only one who can make you feel alive.”

Amara deleted the messages quickly, but Chike’s suspicious glances told her he could sense the invisible strings Tunde was pulling. It made her feel trapped — damned if she answered Tunde, damned if she ignored him. Her life was no longer her own.

One evening, she returned from work to find Chike drinking alone in the living room, his tie loosened, his eyes dark. He looked at her as though she were a stranger. “Do you know what it feels like,” he said bitterly, “to imagine another man touching your wife?” His words slashed at her, each syllable soaked in pain. Amara knelt before him, her hands trembling as she reached for his.

“It was a mistake, Chike. Just once. I swear on everything I hold dear,” she cried. But he pulled his hand away, his face hardening. “Once is enough to ruin everything, Amara. Once is enough to make me question if I ever knew you at all.”

That night, she turned to him in bed again, desperate for some sign of forgiveness, some crack in the wall between them. But he shifted further away, leaving her to curl into herself, sobbing quietly. The bed they once shared in love had become a cold prison of regret.

Outside their fragile home, Tunde circled like a predator, waiting for the moment when Amara’s desperation would break her completely. And deep inside her, she feared he was winning.

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CHAPTER NINE – THE CONFRONTATION

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The silence in the house had grown unbearable.

Amara could feel Chike watching her more closely now, his questions sharper, his tone colder.

For days, she had been careful with her phone, deleting Tunde’s messages the moment they arrived, but the pressure was suffocating.

One evening, she left her phone charging in the living room while she hurried to stir a pot of egusi soup in the kitchen.

When she returned, she found Chike standing over it, his face carved with fury.

“Who is Tunde?” His voice was low, but the restraint in it was more frightening than if he had shouted.

Amara froze, her throat closing up.

She wanted to grab the phone from his hand, to explain, but her lips refused to form words.

Chike turned the screen toward her, displaying a message that had slipped past her frantic deletions: “Stop pretending. You can’t run from me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her knees weakened, and she gripped the edge of the dining chair for balance.

“Chike, please, let me explain,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Explain what?” he demanded, his control beginning to crumble.

“That you’ve been lying to me? That another man sends you threats like this? Who is he to you, Amara?!” His voice rose, echoing through the house, raw with betrayal.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “It was a mistake,” she sobbed.

“It was one night, I swear! I didn’t mean for it to happen… I was lonely, I was hurting… but it’s over, Chike. It’s over.”

Chike staggered back as if her words had struck him physically. He ran a hand over his face, breathing heavily, shaking his head in disbelief.

“After everything… after all we’ve been through, this is what you do to me?” His voice cracked with pain.

“You let another man touch you?”

Amara reached out to him, desperate, but he pushed her hand away. His eyes were red, blazing with a mixture of rage and heartbreak.

“And you had the audacity to lie to my face all these weeks.”

For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by Amara’s sobs.

Then Chike said in a voice so cold it sent a chill through her: “I want his name. All of it. Who is this man?”

Amara’s lips trembled.

Saying it aloud would make it all real, irreversible. But she knew the truth was no longer something she could hide.

With her heart pounding, she whispered: “His name is Tunde.”

The moment the name left her lips, Chike’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides.

Amara could see the storm brewing in his eyes.

This was no longer just about betrayal. It was war.

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IN BED WITH REGRETS

CHAPTER EIGHT – CRACKS IN THE MASK

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Amara sat at her vanity mirror late that night, staring at her reflection as if the woman looking back was a stranger.

Her makeup was washed away, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion, but what unsettled her most was the fear etched across her face.

Tunde’s threats haunted her.

She tried to act normal at home, but every time Chike spoke, every time his eyes lingered on her, she felt as if he could see through her, as if her guilt was written on her skin.

The next morning at breakfast, Chike’s mood was different. He barely touched his food, his gaze shifting between Amara and his phone.

“You’ve been… distracted,” he finally said.

The words were casual, but the weight behind them made Amara’s hand freeze midair, the spoon of pap trembling between her fingers.

She forced a smile, muttered something about work stress, but his silence afterward was louder than any accusation.

Later that afternoon, her phone buzzed again. A new message from Tunde: “If you keep ignoring me, your husband will know everything. Don’t test me.”

Amara’s heart pounded as she quickly deleted the text, terrified that Chike might see it.

But her nerves betrayed her — she jumped when Chike entered the living room, her phone slipping from her hand to the floor.

Chike raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you so jumpy? Who keeps texting you?” His tone wasn’t angry, just probing, but it sent panic flooding through her veins.

She stammered something about a client and rushed to the kitchen, leaving him staring after her, suspicion now firmly planted in his mind.

That night, Amara tossed and turned in bed, unable to rest.

Chike shifted beside her, pretending to sleep, but she could feel his body tense, his breaths uneven.

They were lying side by side, yet the gulf between them had never felt wider.

Each was carrying secrets, each hiding wounds, but only Amara’s façade was beginning to fracture under the weight of fear.

By midweek, Tunde escalated further. He waited for her outside her office building, bold and shameless.

When she tried to brush past him, he whispered harshly, “Don’t forget who holds the power, Amara. One wrong move and your perfect husband will know everything.”

His words clung to her skin like poison.

Back at home, Chike’s questions grew sharper.

“Who dropped you at the office today?” he asked one evening.

Amara’s breath caught.

She lied again, but the cracks were showing. She could feel the walls of her double life closing in on her.

Amara realized she was living on borrowed time.

Between Tunde’s threats and Chike’s suspicion, the mask of control she had been wearing was splintering.

One more slip, and everything would shatter.

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When you are blessed, avoid showing off, avoid some gatherings and events, and some misunderstanding and confrontations that may escalate. Some persons just hate you for doing well for yourself.

IN LOVE WITH REGRETS

CHAPTER SEVEN – THE POSSESSIVE LOVER

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Amara tried to bury herself in work, hoping to drown out the chaos in her heart. But Tunde wouldn’t let her be.

He called at odd hours, sent endless texts, and even waited for her outside her office once.

At first, she ignored him, thinking he would eventually get bored. Instead, his persistence only grew stronger.

One evening, as she stepped into her car after work, she found him leaning against the driver’s door with that same mischievous smile she once found charming.

“Amara,” he said softly, “why are you avoiding me? You know what we shared wasn’t ordinary.
You can’t just act like it never happened.”

His voice carried a dangerous edge, his confidence unshaken.

Amara’s heart thudded painfully.

She glanced around nervously, praying no one from her office would see them. “Tunde, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“That night was a mistake. I am married. We can’t do this.”

She tried to walk past him, but he caught her wrist firmly, his grip both gentle and threatening.

“You think you can walk away from me?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “I gave you something your husband couldn’t. Don’t fool yourself, Amara. You wanted me. You still do.”

His words cut deep, not because they were true, but because a part of her feared they might be.

She yanked her hand free, her face flushing with anger and shame.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” she snapped before sliding into her car.

But as she drove away, her hands shook on the steering wheel. Tunde wasn’t going to let her go easily—she knew it now.

That night, her phone buzzed again and again.

“You belong to me.”

“I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow.”

“Don’t think you can hide.”

Amara’s chest tightened as dread consumed her. What had she gotten herself into?

Sleep refused to come. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Tunde’s smile twisting into something menacing.

The regret she felt had transformed into fear.

What began as a night of weakness had turned into a trap she couldn’t escape.

For the first time, Amara realized Tunde wasn’t just a mistake—he was a threat.

And if she didn’t find a way to cut him off completely, he might destroy everything she had left.

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IN LOVE WITH REGRETS

CHAPTER SIX – SECRETS OF ABUJA

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Amara sat at the dining table one Saturday morning, sipping tea while Chike prepared to leave yet again.

He claimed he had a “conference” in Abuja, but his suitcases were too light for such a trip, and his eyes too evasive.

She had grown used to his excuses, but something inside her snapped that day. The guilt she carried from her night with Tunde was already eating her alive; now, suspicion of Chike’s lies made the wound deeper.

Later that afternoon, curiosity got the better of her. She picked up Chike’s iPad, which he often carelessly left behind. With trembling fingers, she unlocked it using the code she knew by heart.

At first, everything looked normal—emails, business contracts, bank alerts. But then she stumbled upon a thread of messages that froze her blood. They were from a woman saved simply as “Ada.”

The messages were shameless.

“Safe trip, baby. Don’t forget to bring me that perfume from Duty Free.”

Another read: “I miss you already. The bed feels cold without you.”

Amara’s chest tightened as her eyes scanned the screen.

There were pictures too—Ada in silk dresses, lounging in an apartment Amara instantly recognized wasn’t theirs.

Her hands shook violently. This wasn’t just a fling. Chike had built a secret life in Abuja.

Tears blurred her vision as anger boiled within her. She wanted to throw the iPad against the wall, to scream until her voice broke.

Instead, she placed it back carefully, her face burning with humiliation.

She remembered how many nights she had prayed for her husband’s love, how many times she had blamed herself for their distance.

All along, he had been giving his affection to another woman.

That evening, when Chike called to say he had “landed safely,” Amara forced herself to reply with calmness, though her heart was on fire.

After ending the call, she collapsed onto the sofa, clutching her chest as if to hold her shattered heart together.

For the first time, she felt her betrayal with Tunde was not just weakness — it was a mirror of Chike’s own sins.

But instead of easing her guilt, the discovery only tangled her in deeper regret. She had betrayed him, he had betrayed her, and yet the pain was not equal.

Amara realized that while her own sin was one night of weakness, Chike’s betrayal was calculated, long-standing, deliberate.

The weight of that truth crushed her.

As she lay awake later, her mind raced with conflicting emotions — rage, sorrow, and a dangerous sense of justification.

If Chike had broken their vows so easily, what right did he have to judge her? The thought burned like fire in her chest, making her heart harder.

And yet, deep down, Amara knew the truth: two wrongs could never heal the gaping wound of a broken marriage.

They only widened it, dragging her further into the pit of regret she was now trapped in.

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THE MAN BENEATH THE STORM

He walks the pavement, neat in gray,
A tailored shell in disarray.
Above his head, a thundered crown,
A swollen cloud, ash-colored, down.

His face is fire, no flesh, no bone,
A burning truth he walks alone.
Each step he takes, the rain pours near,
Yet flames refuse to disappear.

The world around moves blind, unaware,
Of burdens carried, of hidden despair.
A storm inside that none can see,
But smoke and fire make prophecy.

Is he a warning? A dream gone wrong?
A silent scream, too fierce, too long?
Or just a man, in suit and tie,
Whose soul combusts beneath the sky?

IN BED WITH REGRETS

CHAPTER FIVE – THE WHISPERING GUILT

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Amara woke the next morning with a pounding heart and a bitter taste in her mouth.

The storm had passed, but inside her, a greater storm raged.

Tunde was still asleep beside her, his face calm, as though nothing in the world was out of place. She stared at him, panic rising in her chest.

How had she let this happen? How could she ever look Chike in the eye again?

She slipped quietly out of bed, wrapping a robe around her trembling body. Her reflection in the mirror startled her — the smudged lipstick, the wild hair, the haunted eyes of a woman she barely recognized.

She wanted to scrub the night away, to erase every trace of what she had done, but the memory clung stubbornly.

No amount of water could wash away the guilt seeping into her soul.

When Tunde finally stirred, he smiled at her as if nothing was wrong.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said smoothly, reaching for her hand.

Amara snatched it away, her voice sharp.

“Tunde, this was a mistake. It can’t happen again.”

He leaned back, unconcerned, a sly grin on his lips.

“You can call it a mistake if you like, but I saw the way you wanted me. I know you’ve been starving for affection. Chike left a gap, Amara. I only filled it.”

His words cut her deeper than she expected.

She wanted to argue, to scream, but part of her knew he was right. That truth made her hate herself even more.

She begged him to leave, and reluctantly, he did, but not before brushing her cheek with a kiss and whispering, “You’ll miss me.”

The day dragged on like a punishment. Amara avoided Ngozi’s calls, too ashamed to speak.

When Chike finally returned home that evening, she forced herself to act normal. He kissed her forehead absently, already distracted by his phone.

Amara felt bile rise in her throat. The guilt screamed inside her, yet Chike’s indifference made it seem as though her sin was invisible.

But Tunde did not let her breathe. That same night, he sent her a message: “Still thinking of you. Can’t get last night out of my head.”

She deleted it immediately, her hands trembling. Minutes later, another came: “You deserve more than a husband who doesn’t see you.”

This time, she didn’t reply, but her silence only seemed to embolden him.

Lying awake beside Chike, Amara’s heart raced with fear and shame. The bed felt smaller, the air heavier, every second a reminder of her betrayal.

She closed her eyes and prayed for strength, but the whisper of Tunde’s voice lingered in her mind like a shadow, tempting, taunting, refusing to let her go.

And in that moment, Amara realized with horror that the real battle had only just begun.

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No allow your money finish o, e get one new insult wey just come out yesterday.