THE ILLUSION OF PERFECTION 19

Tayo pressed the phone to his ear, breath held as his heart thudded against his chest like a fist hammering on a locked door.

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

Then the line clicked into a dead empty silence that felt more violent than a hang-up. Tayo pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the bright screen as if it had betrayed him. Then he frantically dialed again. And again. Each ring stretched longer than the last, a rhythmic taunt, dragging his hope to the limit. 

"Deji, pick your call… abeg," he whispered, his voice quivering with desperation. 

The unanswered rings each felt like a fresh wound. Deji was the one person who always answered. Even when he was angry. Even when he was tired. Even when they had fought. Deji always picked. So why was he not answering his calls? Tayo analyzed, his head throbbing with the weight of exhaustion.

Unknown to him, Deji was miles away from his phone. A phone left behind on the counter in his room while its battery blinked a dying red with each call. Tayo didn't know that Deji was out in the streets of Lagos, embracing the shadows, invading dark alleys, frantically pulling down doors in an attempt to retrieve him. 

He dialed again, his thumb shaking. This time, there was no ring at all. Just a flat, metallic beep followed by a voice that felt like a hard slap to the face, worse than the one he had received earlier that night: The number you are calling is currently unreachable...

Tayo’s knees buckled. He gripped the cold edge of the counter, the phone slipping slightly in his sweaty palm. His throat tightened until breathing felt like punishment. Ignoring the intensifying pain in his heart, he tried one last time—because hope, even when dying, fights.

The line failed to connect. 

“Deji… where you dey?” he whispered barely audible.

At that moment, the officer cleared his throat behind him—his impatience sharp as a drawn blade. Tayo slowly lowered the phone, feeling the last thread connecting him to the outside world snap. His eyes burned, but no tears came. He had gone beyond tears. Beyond fear. Beyond pride. He turned and blinked rapidly with surprise; an officer he could not recognize was standing there with a frown that seemed etched to his face.

“Your time don finish,”  he said, already reaching for the device.

When did the other young office leave? Tayo wanted to ask but thought otherwise. He lowered his head as his hope of being rescued withered, leaving only the bitter taste of betrayal.

"Give me the phone." The officer barked with obvious irritation.

Tayo's head snapped back up, spinning as he met the officers angry gaze. Reality instantly washed over him like a cold wave as his grip tightened on the phone. If he handed back the phone he would be giving up on his life. At that moment, his entire world seemed to be hanging on a single decision. 

Tayo knew he might not get another chance like this so he pushed the despair threatening to drown him aside and reached for the faded whisper of the Tayo he had discarded along with his past.

“Abeg, sir…” Tayo’s voice cracked. “One more call. I go pay. Anything.”

The officer’s eyes sharpened, his earlier boredom vanished and was replaced by a predatory glint. “You go pay?”

Tayo' chest tightened but he nodded, swallowing the bitter remains of his dignity. “Yes, sir. I go pay.”

The officer’s mouth curled into a slow, knowing smirk. “Make it quick.”

Tayo’s fingers flew across the screen, scrolling through the fog of his memory. He wasn't looking for Deji or family anymore. He was reaching for a number he had once memorized with a devotion that used to make his heart ache with warmth. A number he had spent a year trying to forget: Nadia.

The brand couldn't save him here. Deji had abandoned him. All he had left was the ghost of a meaningful past relationship.

He pressed the call button. The line rang—each tone felt like a blow against his ribs. 

The phone rang once.Twice.

Then her voice—soft, warm, groggy and wrapped in sleep—slipped through the speaker and gently eased the weight of despair suffocating him.

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