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A story written by STANLEY UMEZULIKE (PHONE: +2347060745771)

A lot of emotions washed over me. I was taken back. We have been reluctant to really say the love word even though it is in our eyes. The heart knows what it wants. Our hearts have been communicating. Sometimes, you don’t need to say the words. We both feel it and we felt it now.
It took me a moment to get myself together. I looked into her eyes and she quickly looked down again.
“Why does he hate Nigerians?” I asked.
“I don’t know. A lot of his friends hate your people. He swore and he left my apartment instantly. I didn’t know he was planning something else. The next thing I know, I was with you and suddenly you were arrested. I made the connection, because he was the only one apart from me that have the information about where I will wait for you,” she said.
It’s all beginning to make sense. That man is a coward. This is how he fights his battle. What kind of person is he? You don’t like her. You detest her and you don’t want another man to like her? What kind of jealousy is this? For all I know, this is pure wickedness.
But some things don’t add up. “I understand the fact that he knows that I am coming. He surely has the motive for framing me but he needed more information. They said they found drugs in my hotel room. How was he able to know that I was in Fairland?”
“He also read through the previous messages you sent to me. When you first arrived, you texted me and said you have arrived at Fairland,” she said.
“But he doesn’t know my hotel room. And what evidence does he have that connects me to the crime he said I commit. Police can’t just arrest me without evidence.”
“Here, they can,” she said.
I was taken aback by her response, “What?”
“Here there is a deep hatred for foreigners. They accuse them of being the cause of all our problems. If you are a foreigner and you are accused of any crime, you will just be arrested even without evidence, until there is evidence that proves your innocence. The hatred is too much. Last year, a lot of foreigners were killed. The scars of apartheid have not healed,” she said.
This was a startling revelation. I looked up to her and said, “Honey, I understand but there are still a lot of unanswered questions. The time limit was just thirty minutes. When he got the message that notified you of my coming, how was he able to find out all the information he needed, and accuse me of dealing in drugs? How was the police able to make the investigation and discover that I was guilty of the crime he accused me of within that short time? And the drugs, who planted the drugs in my room? The time was so small for him to put all the things together. Everything happened so fast. I know he has the motive but I need to know how he did it. How was he able to pull all these off? How was he able to frame me?”
“My dear, that’s what we have to find out. There are a lot that we don’t know. Even the police have not given us the details of how they were able to investigate you and find you guilty,” she said.
“Honey, the whole thing smells. My gut tells me that there is something else at play here.”
She nodded.
I looked at her, she looks so tired, I touched her hand and asked, “Honey do you still believe in us?”
She said, “Yes, I do.”
“We won’t allow him to win. He can’t just do whatever he wants and get away with it. We are in this fight together and we will see this through. Nothing will come between us, not him, not this, we will come out of this mess together, I promise,” I assured her.
She nodded as she used her right hand to wipe off her tears.
“Please, I will give you this number. He is helping us in this. Meet him and tell him all you know. Let both of you work together and prove my innocence.” I said. I gave her Eddie’s phone number. I showed her the contact on my phone, she looked at my phone screen and typed the number and saved it in her phone as tears began to drop from her eyes again. I tried to wipe her tears but I couldn’t. “Everything will be alright. I promise.” I assured her.
She nodded.
“Now go.” I said.
She left and I sat down on the hard floor thinking about how things have gone so wrong.
Sergeant Zithembe
Something else is at play here.

To Be Continued…

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