Claraara nodded quickly. “Yes. I’m right here.”
Austin studied her face like he was searching for lies.
After a long moment, he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered.
Martins let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
With care, they helped Austin into the SUV.
Claraara climbed in beside him, letting him hold her hand the whole way.
Martins sat opposite them, watching his father like he might disappear if he blinked too long.
The convoy moved as the dusty streets gave way to smoother roads.
Claraara stared out the window, stunned. Tall buildings rose around them. Clean streets. Bright billboards.
Lagos looked like a different world from inside the SUV.
Austin leaned his head against her shoulder. “You smell like home,” he murmured.
Claraara’s chest tightened.
When they arrived at the mansion, Claraara almost forgot to breathe.
The gate alone was taller than her entire apartment.
As it opened slowly, she saw wide green lawns, tall palm trees, and a white mansion glowing under the evening sun.
This place didn’t look real.
Austin lifted his head and stared. Something flickered in his eyes.
“I know this place,” he whispered.
Martins’ heart skipped. “Yes, Baba. This is your home.”
They helped Austin inside.
The marble floor felt cold under Claraara’s feet. Everything smelled clean and expensive.
But Austin suddenly stopped walking.
His face twisted again.
“No,” he said sharply. “This is not my house.”
Leave a Comment