Omolola sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floral patterns on the curtains. Her mind raced, replaying her confrontation with Adekunle and the subsequent conversation with her parents. Frustration bubbled inside her. How could her family, the people she trusted most, dismiss her concerns so easily?
Her parents' unwavering support for Adekunle wasn't just frustrating; it was suffocating. Every time she raised a red flag, they countered with a list of his virtues—his charm, his ambition, his impeccable manners. But Omolola couldn't ignore the unease creeping through her thoughts.
That evening, she decided to try again. She needed to convince her parents that something was wrong before it was too late.
---
The dining room was lively with the aroma of freshly cooked jollof rice and grilled chicken. Her mother had set the table meticulously, as she always did when Adekunle was expected. Omolola's father sat at the head of the table, scanning through the day's news on his tablet.
Omolola took a deep breath and approached her parents. "Mama, Papa, can I talk to you before Adekunle arrives?"
Her mother looked up, her face softening with a smile. "Of course, dear. What's on your mind?"
"It's about Adekunle," Omolola began, trying to steady her voice.
Her father set down his tablet, his brows furrowing slightly. "What about him?"
"I've been thinking about what I overheard," she said. "And I really believe there's something you're not seeing. Adekunle is not who he pretends to be."
Her mother sighed, exasperated. "Omolola, we've been through this already. You're overthinking. Adekunle has been nothing but respectful and loving."
"He's manipulative," Omolola said, her voice rising slightly. "He's using you, using us, for some hidden agenda. I don't know the full details yet, but—"
"Enough," her father interrupted, his tone firm. "Do you hear yourself? Accusing a man who has done nothing but treat you and this family with respect? Omolola, this isn't like you."
"Papa, please," Omolola pleaded. "I know what I heard. He's not honest. He's hiding something, and it involves our family's influence."
Her father shook his head. "Influence? What influence are you talking about? You're imagining things. Adekunle has been open with us about his intentions. You're just being paranoid."
"Paranoid?" Omolola echoed, her voice breaking. "How can you call me paranoid when I'm trying to protect this family?"
Her mother reached out, placing a hand on Omolola's arm. "My dear, I understand that you're nervous about marriage. It's a big step. But you can't let your fear cloud your judgment. Adekunle is a good man."
Omolola pulled her arm away, tears stinging her eyes. "You don't understand. You're so blinded by his charm that you can't see the truth. He's not who he says he is!"
Her father stood, his face stern. "That's enough, Omolola. You're letting your emotions control you. Adekunle is everything a parent could wish for their daughter—a man with ambition, vision, and respect. If you can't see that, then perhaps you need to reflect on your own biases."
Omolola stared at him, disbelief washing over her. "Biases? Papa, this isn't about bias. This is about the truth!"
Her mother sighed again, this time with an air of finality. "We've made our decision, Omolola. Adekunle is the right man for you. You'll see it in time."
---
That night, Omolola retreated to her room, feeling utterly defeated. She sat on her bed, clutching her pillow as tears streamed down her face. Her parents had always been her source of strength and guidance, but now they felt like strangers. How could they dismiss her concerns so easily?
Her thoughts turned to Adekunle. He had them exactly where he wanted them—wrapped around his finger, hanging onto his every word. And she was the one left isolated, her voice silenced.
---
The next morning, Adekunle arrived with his usual charm, bearing gifts for her parents and showering them with compliments. Omolola watched from the doorway, her heart sinking as she saw how easily he captivated them.
"Good morning, Adekunle," her father greeted warmly, shaking his hand.
"Adekunle, you're too kind," her mother said, accepting a beautifully wrapped box of chocolates.
"It's the least I could do," Adekunle replied, flashing his signature smile. "You've welcomed me into your family with open arms. I'm truly grateful."
Omolola couldn't take it anymore. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed. "Adekunle, can we talk?"
"Of course," he said, turning to her with an innocent expression. "Is something wrong?"
"In private," she added, glancing at her parents.
Her father frowned. "Omolola, what are you doing?"
"It's important," she said firmly.
Adekunle nodded, his smile unwavering. "Let's step outside."
---
As soon as they were alone, Omolola turned to him, her frustration boiling over. "How do you do it?"
"Do what?" he asked, feigning confusion.
"Convince everyone that you're perfect," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "My parents don't even listen to me anymore because of you."
Adekunle's expression softened, as if she had wounded him. "Omolola, that's not fair. I've done nothing but try to make things work between us. If your parents like me, it's because I respect them and value their opinions."
"You're manipulating them," she accused. "Just like you tried to manipulate me."
He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what you want from me, Omolola. I've been honest with you from the start. If you're feeling overwhelmed, we can take a step back and figure things out together."
"Don't patronize me," she snapped. "I'm not overwhelmed. I'm onto you, Adekunle. And I won't let you get away with it."
He held her gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he smiled.
"You're a strong woman, Omolola," he said, his tone almost admiring. "I can see why your parents are so proud of you. But strength doesn't mean being stubborn. Sometimes, you have to trust the people who care about you."
Omolola stared at him, her resolve hardening. "And sometimes, trust is earned, not demanded."
---
That night, Omolola called her best friend, Bimpe. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would believe her.
"Bimpe," she said, her voice shaky. "I think I'm in trouble."
"What's wrong?" Bimpe asked, her tone immediately concerned.
Omolola explained everything—the phone call she overheard, her confrontation with Adekunle, and her parents' refusal to listen.
"Omolola, this is serious," Bimpe said. "You can't fight this alone. You need to find proof."
"Proof?"
"Yes," Bimpe said. "If Adekunle is hiding something, there's bound to be evidence. You need to find it and show your parents the truth."
Omolola felt a flicker of hope. "You're right. I can't just sit here and let him win. I'll find out what he's up to, no matter what it takes."
---
As the chapter closes, Omolola's resolve is stronger than ever. Despite the isolation and the dismissal of her concerns, she begins planning her next move with Bimpe's support, determined to uncover Adekunle's secrets and protect her family. The stakes are higher than ever, and the battle for the truth is just beginning.