The sky over Lagos that afternoon was heavy with grey clouds, the kind that held back rain like a held breath. The Okechukwu mansion, usually so quiet and composed, felt unusually tense.
Zaria had returned from the hospital two days earlier, and the staff had taken to treating her with the soft kind of reverence they might reserve for royalty. Madam Yejide cooked light soups and herbal teas. The gardener clipped her favourite hibiscus flowers to place near her window. Darius, true to his word, didn't leave her side for more than a few hours at a time.
But even peace can be fragile.
And sometimes, the past comes not as a memory, but as a man.
---
It began with a knock on the main gate.
The security guard, Emeka, buzzed Darius immediately.
"Sir, there's a man outside asking for Miss Zaria."
Darius frowned. "Who?"
"He said his name is Alhaji Yusuf Bello. Her father."
Darius stood so quickly his chair screeched back across the tiles.
---
Zaria was in the sunroom when Darius entered, face unreadable.
"You have a visitor," he said.
She turned, cradling a mug of tea. "Who?"
He hesitated. "Your father."
Her body went still.
She didn't speak. Didn't blink. Just stared at him like he'd spoken in a foreign language.
"I can send him away if you want," Darius offered gently.
She stood slowly, placed the cup down without a word, and walked past him.
---
The man who stood in the foyer had aged considerably. His beard was peppered with white, and his once-proud frame looked a little sunken under the fine agbada he wore.
He turned when Zaria approached, eyes uncertain.
"My daughter," he said, voice rough. "You've grown."
Zaria stood several feet away, arms folded, spine straight. She said nothing.
He tried to smile. "It's me, Zaria. Baba."
"Don't call yourself that."
He winced. "I deserve that."
She didn't argue.
There was silence. The weight of it hung like a storm between them.
"Why are you here?" she asked finally.
He looked down, embarrassed. "I saw the news. I—I've been following, even from a distance. When I read your name… I had to see you. To know you're alright."
"You haven't cared if I was alright for ten years."
"I wanted to come before."
"But you didn't."
He sighed. "I made mistakes, Zaria. I failed your mother. I failed you."
She folded her arms tighter. "You left us in a one-room flat. Mama worked herself to the bone, and you? You found another woman and vanished like we were nothing."
"I was ashamed," he murmured.
"No. You were selfish."
He didn't deny it.
Darius appeared silently in the background, his presence quiet but protective.
Zaria noticed. She drew in a deep breath, calming her voice. "What do you want, Baba?"
Her father hesitated. "To ask for forgiveness. And to… to be in your life again. Even if only a little."
Zaria stared at him. Then looked down at her belly, which had grown undeniably round.
"Do you even know who I am now?" she asked. "Do you know I write? That I got a scholarship to study in South Africa? That I lived with Mama until she died and then worked three jobs to survive?"
Tears shimmered in the older man's eyes.
"No," he admitted. "But I want to."
"I don't know if I want you in my life," she said, her voice tight. "This child I'm carrying—he or she will not grow up wondering why someone walked away."
She looked at Darius as she said it.
Then turned back to her father. "I'll think about it. But not today."
Her father nodded, a single tear falling. He reached into his pocket and handed her a small, worn photograph—of her as a baby, sitting in his lap. Both of them smiling.
"I never stopped loving you," he whispered.
She took the photo silently.
Then, without another word, she walked away.
---
Later that evening, Zaria sat on the edge of the bed in her room, the photo in her hand.
Darius entered quietly.
"You did the right thing," he said.
"I don't know what that is anymore," she whispered. "He abandoned us. But part of me… still wanted him to come back. Isn't that pathetic?"
"No," Darius said, sitting beside her. "It's human."
She looked at him, her voice soft. "Did your father ever come back?"
Darius's jaw tensed. "He tried. Once. When I made my first billion. He showed up smiling like he'd never left."
"What did you do?"
"I gave him a cheque and told him to disappear."
Zaria looked down. "And do you regret it?"
A pause.
"No," he said. Then added, "But I regret never giving myself the chance to forgive him. That kind of bitterness… it eats away at you."
She nodded slowly.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For not leaving. For sitting with me through all this."
Darius looked at her belly.
"I'm not going anywhere."
---
Outside, the storm finally broke—rain falling heavy on the roof like a cleansing.
Inside, two hearts sat quietly, learning how to rebuild what the past had broken.