Binary Hearts

109 | A Burning Bridge

Adaora sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts spiraling into an abyss of memories that refused to let go. The weight of Tunde's absence pressed on her chest, stealing her breath. She thought of the way his laugh had always been genuine, the kind of sound that could dissolve her worst fears. Tunde had been her rock, the one who believed in her when she doubted herself, encouraging her to take leaps she never thought she could.

Even the simpler times in his garage, before success reshaped their world, brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. Back then, they didn't have much, but they had each other. It was in that cramped space their romance had bloomed—between late nights filled with laughter and quiet moments of vulnerability. Those memories now felt like fragments of a distant dream.

Her mind drifted to Paul's revelation: Tunde had orchestrated her employment at Paystack. The man she had pushed away had been her silent benefactor, ensuring she had a foothold in a competitive world. She remembered the shares he had allocated to her at Spark Technologies without her lifting a finger. It was too much. The weight of her decisions bore down on her, and tears welled in her eyes.

"I need to find him," she muttered, a sense of urgency rising within her. Wiping her tears, she dragged herself to the bathroom. The sight of her reflection brought back a surge of longing. Tunde had always teased her about how long she took in the bathroom, his playful tone softening the edges of her insecurities. Unlike Chidi's rushed, impersonal energy, Tunde's tenderness had made her feel cherished.

The warm water cascading over her skin couldn't wash away the ache in her heart. She cried quietly, her sobs mingling with the sound of the shower. When she finally emerged, she dressed with deliberate care, her resolve hardening. Clad in black clothes, a scarf, and oversized sunglasses, she looked every bit the celebrity trying to avoid attention.

Adaora slid into her car and dialed Paul's number. The line was dead. Frustration clawed at her as she hit redial repeatedly. Just as she pulled into Paul's driveway, her phone buzzed. Paul's name flashed on the screen. "I've traveled to Singapore to see my sister," he explained. His voice carried a note of concern as he asked, "Is everything alright?"

Adaora swallowed her disappointment and forced a curt response. "Never mind." She ended the call and made a sharp U-turn. Her destination was clear now: Spark Technologies.

Parking a short distance from the imposing building, Adaora took a moment to steel herself. Inside, she approached the front desk and asked to see the CFO. The receptionist's expression was polite but firm. "Do you have an appointment?"

Before she could respond, a familiar figure walked by. "Mide!" she called out, her voice barely above a whisper. Mide turned, his surprise evident.

"Adaora? What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and wariness. She motioned for him to lower his voice and led him to a quieter corner.

"I need to see Tunde," she began, her voice trembling. "Please, Mide. I need to explain everything to him. I regret everything I did."

Mide's expression darkened. "Regret?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. "Do you even know what you're saying? You and Paystack have been playing dangerous games. People are getting hurt."

"Games?" Adaora asked, her confusion genuine.

"Don't pretend you don't know," Mide snapped. "Killing innocent people to sabotage Spark Technologies? That's on you and your new team."

The words struck Adaora like a physical blow. She barely remembered how she got back to her car, Mide's accusations echoing in her mind. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she drove home, her thoughts a whirlwind. Chidi is more dangerous than I imagined.

Tunde and Adeola's arrival in Singapore was marked by a palpable sense of relief. Eager to escape the shadows of the past, they wasted no time immersing themselves in the vibrant culture of the city. In a bustling local market, Adeola's laughter rang out as she tried to convince Tunde to buy a bracelet from an elderly vendor.

"It's just a bracelet," she coaxed, her face transforming into an exaggerated pout.

"Fine," Tunde relented, handing over the money. The vendor blessed them as she handed over the bracelet, her words leaving Tunde flustered. "We're not a couple," he mumbled, but Adeola's infectious grin left him smiling despite himself.

Monday morning dawned with Adaora determined to sever the toxic ties binding her to Chidi. Her resignation letter was ready, neatly folded in her bag. At the office, Chidi approached her, his tone unusually contrite. "Ada, we need to talk."

She met his gaze coldly. "We do. But not here. I'll come to your office."

When she entered his office later, she was greeted by an unexpected presence: Bam Bam. Their eyes met briefly before Bam Bam averted her gaze, guilt written all over her face. "Bolanle, excuse us," Chidi instructed, but Adaora shook her head.

"There's no need for that," she said, placing two letters on his desk. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

"Adaora!" Chidi called after her, his voice echoing through the hallway, but she didn't stop. The weight of her decision lightened with every step she took.

That evening, Chidi sat alone in his study, the unopened letters before him. The first was her resignation letter. He didn't need to read it to understand what it meant. The second letter, however, drew his attention. As he unfolded it, her words cut through him like a blade.

It's when you lose someone that you realize their true value. I made a terrible mistake thinking I didn't love Tunde. I thought I needed something new, but all I found was regret. Chidi, you could never be Tunde. Not in kindness, not in integrity, not in love. You're a killer, and that's all you'll ever be.

Chidi's hand trembled as he read the final lines. In a fit of rage, he set the letter ablaze, crushing the ashes in his fist. His anger burned hotter than the flame. Adaora had crossed a line, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to make her his.