THE SECOND PROPOSAL
PART 4
The world slowed to a crawl as Emeka cradled Chioma’s limp body in his arms. Her skin was cold, her breathing shallow. The word she had whispered—"Poison"—echoed in his skull like a death knell.
"Chioma! Stay with me! Look at me!" He tapped her cheek, but her eyelids barely fluttered.
His mind raced. Did Nneka poison her? How? When?
Then he remembered—the cup of tea on the table when he walked in. Nneka had been holding it, offering it to Chioma with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
"You must be thirsty after all that talking," she had said.
Emeka grabbed his phone with shaking hands and dialed emergency services. The operator’s voice was calm, but every second felt like an eternity.
"We need an ambulance NOW! She’s not breathing properly—I think she’s been poisoned!"
He dragged Chioma to the couch, propping her head up. Her pulse was weak, her lips slightly blue. He remembered basic first aid from a company training—keep her awake, don’t let her sleep.
"Chioma, listen to me," he begged, gripping her hand. "You have to stay awake. Do you hear me? Stay with me!"
Her fingers twitched in his. A weak squeeze.
She’s still fighting.
While waiting for the ambulance, Emeka’s eyes darted around the room. The teacup—where was it?
Then he saw it.
On the side table, half-empty. Nneka must have taken it with her when she left. But there was still some liquid left.
Evidence.
He grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen, carefully tipping the cup into it without touching the rim. *Fingerprints.* If Nneka had done this, he wasn’t letting her walk away.
The paramedics burst in minutes later, their uniforms crisp, faces grim. They took one look at Chioma and immediately strapped her to a gurney, hooking her up to an IV.
"What did she ingest?" one asked, checking her pupils.
"I think it was in her tea," Emeka said, handing over the plastic bag. "My ex-fiancée gave it to her. She just left—you have to find her!"
The paramedic’s expression darkened. "We’ll alert the police. You ride with us."
Lagos General Hospital was a blur of white walls and fluorescent lights. Emeka paced the waiting room, his mind replaying every horrible moment.
Chioma was pregnant. She lost their baby. And now… this.
Had Nneka known? Had she planned this all along?
His phone buzzed—a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: "You should have chosen better."
His blood turned to ice. Nneka.
Before he could respond, the doctor emerged from the emergency room.
"Mr. Emeka?"
He stood so fast his chair clattered to the floor. "Is she—?"
"She’s stable," the doctor said. "But it was close. We found traces of a fast-acting sedative mixed with something more dangerous. If she had drunk the whole cup…" He didn’t need to finish.
Emeka’s legs nearly gave out. "Can I see her?"
Chioma lay in the hospital bed, small under the thin blanket, an oxygen tube in her nose. But her eyes were open.
When she saw him, tears welled up.
"I’m sorry," she whispered.
Emeka sat beside her, gripping her hand. "You have nothing to apologize for."
"I should have told you… about the baby… about Nneka…"
"Shhh," he said softly. "Just rest."
But Chioma shook her head weakly. "No. You need to know… Nneka didn’t just break us up. She stalked you. After I left, she made sure no other woman got close. She paid people to warn them away."
Emeka’s stomach twisted. That time Ada suddenly ghosted him. The way Bisola had acted strangely after one date.
"She’s obsessed, Chioma whispered. "And now that she’s lost you… she won’t stop."
Two officers arrived, taking Emeka’s statement. They confirmed the tea was laced with a dangerous cocktail of drugs—enough to hospitalize, maybe even kill.
"We’ve issued an arrest warrant for Nneka," one said. "But she’s vanished. Her phone is off, her accounts emptied."
Emeka’s jaw clenched. "She’s not done."
As night fell, Emeka stepped outside to call Amaka. The hospital courtyard was quiet, the air thick with the scent of rain.
Then his phone buzzed again. Another message—this time with an attachment.
A photo.
Of Chioma’s hospital room. Taken minutes ago.
Unknown: "You can’t protect her forever."
Emeka sprinted back inside, heart hammering. Had Nneka been here? Was she watching them right now?
He burst into Chioma’s room, startling the nurse.
"We have to move her. Now."
Chioma’s eyes widened. "What’s wrong?"**
Emeka showed her the photo. Her face paled.
"She’s coming for me," she whispered.
Emeka gripped her hand. "Not if I stop her first."
TO BE CONTINUED...
THE SECOND PROPOSAL PART 4 The world slowed to a crawl as Emeka cradled Chioma’s limp body in his arms. Her skin was cold, her breathing shallow. The word she had whispered—"Poison"—echoed in his skull like a death knell. "Chioma! Stay with me! Look at me!" He tapped her cheek, but her eyelids barely fluttered. His mind raced. Did Nneka poison her? How? When? Then he remembered—the cup of tea on the table when he walked in. Nneka had been holding it, offering it to Chioma with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "You must be thirsty after all that talking," she had said. Emeka grabbed his phone with shaking hands and dialed emergency services. The operator’s voice was calm, but every second felt like an eternity. "We need an ambulance NOW! She’s not breathing properly—I think she’s been poisoned!" He dragged Chioma to the couch, propping her head up. Her pulse was weak, her lips slightly blue. He remembered basic first aid from a company training—keep her awake, don’t let her sleep. "Chioma, listen to me," he begged, gripping her hand. "You have to stay awake. Do you hear me? Stay with me!" Her fingers twitched in his. A weak squeeze. She’s still fighting. While waiting for the ambulance, Emeka’s eyes darted around the room. The teacup—where was it? Then he saw it. On the side table, half-empty. Nneka must have taken it with her when she left. But there was still some liquid left. Evidence. He grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen, carefully tipping the cup into it without touching the rim. *Fingerprints.* If Nneka had done this, he wasn’t letting her walk away. The paramedics burst in minutes later, their uniforms crisp, faces grim. They took one look at Chioma and immediately strapped her to a gurney, hooking her up to an IV. "What did she ingest?" one asked, checking her pupils. "I think it was in her tea," Emeka said, handing over the plastic bag. "My ex-fiancée gave it to her. She just left—you have to find her!" The paramedic’s expression darkened. "We’ll alert the police. You ride with us." Lagos General Hospital was a blur of white walls and fluorescent lights. Emeka paced the waiting room, his mind replaying every horrible moment. Chioma was pregnant. She lost their baby. And now… this. Had Nneka known? Had she planned this all along? His phone buzzed—a message from an unknown number. Unknown: "You should have chosen better." His blood turned to ice. Nneka. Before he could respond, the doctor emerged from the emergency room. "Mr. Emeka?" He stood so fast his chair clattered to the floor. "Is she—?" "She’s stable," the doctor said. "But it was close. We found traces of a fast-acting sedative mixed with something more dangerous. If she had drunk the whole cup…" He didn’t need to finish. Emeka’s legs nearly gave out. "Can I see her?" Chioma lay in the hospital bed, small under the thin blanket, an oxygen tube in her nose. But her eyes were open. When she saw him, tears welled up. "I’m sorry," she whispered. Emeka sat beside her, gripping her hand. "You have nothing to apologize for." "I should have told you… about the baby… about Nneka…" "Shhh," he said softly. "Just rest." But Chioma shook her head weakly. "No. You need to know… Nneka didn’t just break us up. She stalked you. After I left, she made sure no other woman got close. She paid people to warn them away." Emeka’s stomach twisted. That time Ada suddenly ghosted him. The way Bisola had acted strangely after one date. "She’s obsessed, Chioma whispered. "And now that she’s lost you… she won’t stop." Two officers arrived, taking Emeka’s statement. They confirmed the tea was laced with a dangerous cocktail of drugs—enough to hospitalize, maybe even kill. "We’ve issued an arrest warrant for Nneka," one said. "But she’s vanished. Her phone is off, her accounts emptied." Emeka’s jaw clenched. "She’s not done." As night fell, Emeka stepped outside to call Amaka. The hospital courtyard was quiet, the air thick with the scent of rain. Then his phone buzzed again. Another message—this time with an attachment. A photo. Of Chioma’s hospital room. Taken minutes ago. Unknown: "You can’t protect her forever." Emeka sprinted back inside, heart hammering. Had Nneka been here? Was she watching them right now? He burst into Chioma’s room, startling the nurse. "We have to move her. Now." Chioma’s eyes widened. "What’s wrong?"** Emeka showed her the photo. Her face paled. "She’s coming for me," she whispered. Emeka gripped her hand. "Not if I stop her first." TO BE CONTINUED...
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