Mobola Johnson
Episode 1: The Return
Zainab Adeyemi hadn’t set foot in Lagos for 12 years. But on that hot Thursday afternoon, her Uber pulled up to the familiar street in Surulere, and her heart sank.
She was back.
She had left as a frustrated 25-year-old — broke, broken-hearted, and bitter. Her dream of starting a media company had crumbled after her co-founder (and boyfriend) had disappeared with their startup funds and ghosted her. It was the kind of betrayal that rewired a woman permanently.
Now 37, Zainab had built a quiet life in Abuja — consulting gigs, a few bylines in international publications, and enough savings to stay out of trouble. She hadn’t looked back. Until her aunt died.
Aunt Dupe was the only family member who hadn’t judged her during her crash-and-burn Lagos exit. In her will, she left Zainab two things: a small bungalow in Surulere… and a sealed envelope marked “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL YOU ARE BACK IN LAGOS.”
Zainab held that envelope in her hand now as she stepped into the musty living room. Everything smelled of mothballs and old memories. The neighbours watched her from their balconies — Lagos was still Lagos.
She dropped her suitcase and tore open the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten note:
“Zee, I know why you left. But there are things you never knew — about the startup, about your ex, and about your father. Start in the backroom. Don’t trust easily. – Aunty D.”
Zainab blinked. What the hell did that mean?
She hadn’t spoken to her ex, Tayo, since he vanished. And her father? He died when she was 8 — or so she thought. The message stirred something buried under years of cynicism.
She walked to the backroom — a tiny box space that used to be her aunt’s prayer room. Nothing unusual at first glance. Then she noticed the floor tile near the shelf wasn’t flush. She lifted it.
Underneath was a rusty biscuit tin.
Inside:
- An old diary.
- A USB stick.
- And a brown envelope addressed to “Zainab Adeyemi – PRIVATE.”
Zainab stared at the items. This wasn’t just nostalgia. This was something deeper — a trail. A clue.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. It was a text message.
“Welcome back. You shouldn’t have come.”
She looked out the window. A man in a black Toyota was parked across the road, engine running.
Zainab knew then — this wasn’t just a trip to bury the past. It was a return into a story she hadn’t finished writing… and someone didn’t want her to.
Next Episode: What’s in the diary? Who’s watching Zainab? And what secret did her aunt die protecting?
Mobola Johnson is a creative writer with years of experience in storytelling.