Edmond, an indigene of Akwa Ibom, was born and raised in Lagos State.
After the tragic death of his parents, he found solace in the love of a beautiful Yoruba woman named Rukiyat, whom he married.
Rukiyat, the only child of her wealthy parents, adored Edmond deeply. Her love for him was so strong that she convinced her father to offer him a lucrative position in his company.
Their marriage was blessed with two beautiful children—a boy and a girl. Edmond was living his dream life until fate dealt him a devastating blow.
One fateful evening, Edmond was out having fun with his friends, a habit of keeping late nights that his father-in-law had repeatedly warned him about.
By the time he got home, tragedy had struck. His beloved wife, Rukiyat, had collapsed from a sudden cardiac arrest.
Rushing her to the hospital, Edmond could only watch helplessly as the doctors pronounced her dead.
Her family was shattered, and their grief quickly turned into anger. They accused Edmond of causing her death.
After her funeral, his world crumbled. He lost his job at his father-in-law's company and, to his despair, the court ruled that his two children be taken from him.
With nothing left but his phone and credentials, Edmond returned to Akwa Ibom, a broken man. The once vibrant and successful young man was now a shadow of his former self.
For eight long months, Edmond struggled to find work. Eventually, he secured a job with an oil firm in Uyo.
Three months into his new job, the firm's headquarters in Lagos appointed a new Managing Director to oversee the Uyo branch.
On her first day, a select group of staff, including Edmond, was invited to a brief introductory meeting with the new MD.
The atmosphere in the conference room shifted when the MD entered. She was stunning, with brown eyes, dimples, and a commanding presence.
As she settled in, she removed her glasses and pushed her hair back. When she lifted her face, her eyes locked with Edmond's.
"You?" she screamed, her voice slicing through the room. "What are you doing here? Who hired you? You can't work here. I don't want to see you anywhere near me. Keep your distance!"
She turned sharply and addressed the HR manager.
"Who is the HR here?" she demanded.
"I am, madam," stammered Victor, rising to his feet.
"What is your name?"
"Victor. Victor Mbakwe."
"Mr. Victor, I want that young man out of here immediately. If he's still here in 15 minutes, consider your job gone. Am I clear?"
"Yes, madam. I'll handle it right away," Victor replied nervously.
With that, the meeting ended abruptly.
As the MD stood up to leave, everyone else followed suit—except Edmond. He sat frozen in his seat, his eyes glued to her as she walked out of the room.
Victor approached him cautiously. "Oga Edmond, abeg come collect your letter from my office. We go talk later," he said.
But Edmond didn't move or speak. His colleagues tried to get him to say something, but he remained silent, his face pale with shock.
Finally, under their persistent urging, he raised a trembling hand, pointing towards the door she had exited.
"That... that is my wife—Rukiyat," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "She died 11 months ago. We buried her in Lagos. Her family accused me of killing her. They took my children and everything I had. She's dead. I have her pictures in my phone."
Victor, now visibly alarmed, asked, "Who is dead?"
"The MD," Edmond whispered. "She's my late wife. She's dead."