THE MAN WHO NEVER SPOKE TO HIS WIFE
CHAPTER 2
The house was too quiet.
I woke up in a strange room, not the one from last night. The sheets were different. Cleaner. The air smelled like lemon polish and secrets.
I sat up slowly. My head throbbed. My gown was gone—replaced with a plain white robe. I had no memory of changing.
My heart started to race.
Where was I?
I looked around. The room was huge—walls painted cream, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling like it didn’t belong in Nigeria. It felt like a hotel. But colder. Too perfect. Too silent.
I got up and tried the door. Locked.
Panic hit me like hot water.
I banged. “Hello? Somebody! Please!”
No answer.
Just silence. Heavy, thick silence.
Then suddenly—click.
The door opened slowly, by itself.
I froze.
And then—he walked in.
Dami.
Still in that same dark suit. Still silent. Still watching.
I backed up. “Where am I?”
No answer.
My hands shook. “Why did you lock me in?”
He stepped closer. Calm. Cold. Calculated.
He didn’t speak.
Not a word.
I noticed something in his hand—a tray. Food. Toast, eggs, tea.
He placed it on the table and looked at me.
Like I was a science experiment.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked again, my voice breaking.
Still, nothing.
Tears stung my eyes. “Say something, damn it!”
He blinked slowly. Then walked toward the window, drew the curtains open.
Sunlight poured in.
And that was when I saw it—a high fence. Barbed wire. Guard dogs pacing. The gates were shut tight.
My stomach dropped.
This wasn’t a house.
It was a prison.
My prison.
I turned to him, shaking. “You can’t do this to me.”
His expression didn’t change.
But then—he handed me a note.
Just a plain white paper with words written in neat, block letters.
“You agreed to this.”
My knees almost gave way.
“What do you mean I agreed? What did I agree to?!”
He pointed at the ring on my finger.
Then walked out—slow, calm, silent.
And locked the door behind him.
I stood there, shaking, staring at the paper in my hand.
My eyes went to the corner of the room where a tiny camera blinked red.
And for the first time…
I realized this man—this stranger I married—was not who I thought he was.
He never spoke.
But he was watching.
And I had no idea what he wanted from me.
