THE SECOND PROPOSAL
PART 2
The days after the proposal were a blur of celebration. Emeka’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—calls from friends, family, and coworkers all eager to congratulate him. His mother had screamed so loud when he told her that his father had joked, "Ah, this woman don forget she get high blood pressure!"
Nneka, now his fiancée, was glowing. She had immediately changed her social media status to "Engaged" and posted a dozen pictures of the ring from every angle. Emeka didn’t mind. He loved seeing her happy.
But something… tiny… nagged at him.
One evening, while scrolling through old photos on his phone, he stumbled upon a picture from two years ago—a group photo at his friend Tunde’s wedding. There he was, standing beside Chioma, her smile soft and familiar. And just behind them, barely in the frame… Nneka.
His thumb froze.
Wait… Nneka was at that wedding?
He frowned. He had met Nneka that night, or so he thought. But in this photo, she wasn’t just a random guest—she was standing right next to Chioma, their arms linked like close friends.
Since when did Nneka and Chioma know each other?
A cold trickle of suspicion ran down his spine. He had never heard Nneka mention Chioma, not even once in two years. And Chioma had never come up in their conversations, even when he talked about his past relationships.
That’s… strange.
The next day, he decided to test the waters.
"Nneka," he said casually as they drove to her parents’ house, "do you remember Tunde’s wedding? The one where we met?"
She was scrolling through her phone but glanced up. "Of course. Why?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I got that day." He paused. "You know, I never asked… did you go with anyone? Friends?"
A flicker of something—hesitation?—crossed her face before she smiled. "Just some girlfriends. Why this sudden nostalgia?"
"No reason," he said lightly.
But his mind was racing. She didn’t mention Chioma.
Later that night, while Nneka was in the shower, her phone buzzed on the bedside table. Emeka wasn’t the type to snoop, but when he saw the name on the screen, his blood turned to ice.
"Amaka (Chioma’s Sister)"
Why is Chioma’s sister calling Nneka?
Before he could process it, the phone stopped ringing. A notification popped up—a WhatsApp message preview:
Amaka: "She knows. If she contacts Emeka—"
The rest was hidden.
Emeka’s heart pounded. Knows what? Contacts me about what?
Just then, the bathroom door opened. Nneka stepped out, wrapped in a towel, humming to herself. She froze when she saw him staring at her phone.
"Everything okay?" she asked, her voice suddenly tight.
"Yeah," he lied, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about wedding plans."
She relaxed and picked up her phone, quickly locking it. But the damage was done.
Something was very wrong.
Three days later, Emeka got a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: "We need to talk. It’s about Nneka. And Chioma."
His fingers trembled as he typed back:
"Who is this?"
The reply came instantly.
Unknown: "Amaka. Chioma’s sister. Meet me at Jazzhole tomorrow. 4 PM. Come alone."
Emeka stared at the message, his stomach twisting.
What the hell was going on?
Jazzhole, a quiet bookstore café in Ikoyi, was nearly empty when he arrived. In a corner booth, a woman sat waiting—Amaka. She looked just like Chioma, same high cheekbones, same sharp eyes.
The moment he sat down, she didn’t waste time.
"Nneka was Chioma’s best friend," she said bluntly.
Emeka’s chest tightened. "What?"
Amaka leaned forward, her voice low. "They were close. Very close. Until the day you proposed to Chioma."
Emeka’s mind flashed back—the hesitation in Chioma’s eyes, the way she had left without explanation.
"What are you saying?" he whispered.
Amaka’s next words hit him like a punch.
"Nneka was the reason Chioma said no."
According to Amaka, Nneka had spent *months* subtly poisoning Chioma’s mind—whispering that Emeka was controlling, that he would never let her pursue her career abroad, that he wasn’t as loyal as he seemed.
And on the night of the proposal?
"Nneka was there," Amaka said. "She followed Chioma to the bathroom right before you proposed and told her, ‘If you say yes, you’ll regret it forever.’"
Emeka felt sick.
"And after Chioma left you," Amaka continued, "Nneka swooped in. Exactly as she planned."
Emeka’s hands clenched into fists. All this time, he thought Nneka had saved him. But she had orchestrated his heartbreak.
Amaka slid an envelope across the table. Inside were printed WhatsApp messages—exchanges between Nneka and Chioma from years ago.
One message stood out:
Nneka: "Don’t worry, he’ll move on. And when he does… I’ll be there."
Emeka’s vision blurred with rage.
Nneka hadn’t just been there.
She had stolen him.
TO BE CONTINUED...