The sun was starting to set. Evening had come, and soon night would descend upon the earth.

They had finished lunch hours ago, now sitting in the living room, resting. Itunu stared at the 43' inch TV. It had not been turned on ever since Hameed disappeared.

Hameed. It was too painful to think about.

She looked at her cousin Dami, who was standing in between her father's legs, making meaningless sounds. She was so cute, Itunu thought. Her hair was neatly done in puff puff style with hair ruffles, and her baby hairs were so cute. She wore shorts and a pink top.

The small girl had no idea of what was going on.

Few minutes later, Modupe's phone rang. It felt like deja vu. She excused herself and went into the dining room.

She checked the caller ID. It was her husband, Tunde.

What now, she thought. She rolled her eyes and picked the call, holding the phone against her ear.

"Hello?" She heard him say on the other side of the line.

"Hello," she replied.

"Hey, Modupe. I...I just wanted to apologise for how I...talked to you. I'm sorry."

Modupe was surprised that her husband apologised to her. He never did that. She couldn't remember the last time he ever apologised to her, yet he offended her frequently.

Am I in a toxic marriage? She wondered.

She exhaled deeply. "That...that's okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I forgive you."

He heaved a sigh of relief. "Ah, thank you. How's the situation now? Still the same?"

She sighed, "Yes oh. He's still missing. I don't even understand."

"Damn. Anyway, I hope he's found early. As soon as possible, so you can come home to me."

She smiled at his words. Just like that, Modupe had forgotten her previous thoughts, and how he treated her."I hope so too."

"Okay Dear. I love you. I have to go now."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."

Click. The line was off.

She exhaled again, dropping her phone on the table.

She would have gone back to the living room immediately, but she felt thirsty. She went to the water dispenser, reaching on top of it to take a glass cup to drink water when her side mistakenly hit the tray continuing the glass cups, making a small glass cup tumble down and break into pieces.

She placed her hands on her waist. "I just wanted water," she sighed to herself.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the silence in the living room was too uncomfortable for Tamilore, so when she heard her phone ring, she was thankful.

She picked up the phone, not even bothering to excuse herself. Checking the caller ID, she realised it was her sister Modupe's husband. Surprised, she picked it up.

"Hello Sir," she said.

"Hello? M-Tamilore, how are you?"

"I'm okay, Sir."

"I just heard the...the news. I'm calling to offer my condolences. I'm so sorry to hear this..."

But Tamilore had zoned out. When he finished talking, she said, "Alright Sir. Thank you...for calling us."

They ended the call soon enough.

She scowled, a look of deep contempt apparent on her face. She clapped her hands in that bewildered African woman manner.

"Can you believe," she started, garnering the attention of everybody in the room. "That aunty Modupe," her voice broke, she was becoming emotional.

Just then, Modupe emerged from within the dining room. She had finished cleaning up the mess she made there.

Tamilore raised her head and saw her. Then her sadness turned to anger.

"Aunty Modupe."

"Ehn?" Modupe asked. Her braids, which she had tied with two of them, fell from the tie and she was trying to redo it.

"Why did you go and tell your husband that my son is missing?"

Modupe looked surprised at her tone. She didn't think it was a big deal. "I just..."

"Why did you tell him?!"

Modupe exhaled, "He called me, wanting to know why I haven't returned back home, and I told him the reason."

"So you're telling people all around my story? Who else have you told?" She looked like she was about to cry.

"Haba, Tamilore. Is Tunde "people"?

"I'm sure it's because you don't know how it feels, that's why you're presenting my matter to everybody!"

Modupe gave her a look and walked away from the living room.

When she left, Bisola said to Tamilore, "Come on. You shouldn't have said that."

"So she should have talked about my problems to other people? Do you know the implication of what she has done? The media is always on my husband's tail! Imagine if this gets out. Just imagine what this would cause!"

Bisola had to admit, she reasoned with her. "But still," she said. "You shouldn't have said it like that. You know how she'll take it."

As she walked to her room, Modupe felt anger burning in her heart. I'm sure it's because you don't know how it feels kept ringing in her ears. You don't know how it feels. You don't know how it feels. You've never conceived a foetus, talk less of giving birth to a child.

Invisible smoke was coming out of her ears. The only other time she had felt this anger was when she heard Dipo, this same girl's husband, she thought, talking about her barrenness on the phone and suggesting that she could be responsible for Hameed's disappearance.

Like husband like wife huh? She thought, as she pushed open the door to her room.

Because of these same people, she was locked here. Away from her husband---not like he was any good anyway---and her work. Her home. Yet, they were talking to and about her like this.

Her patience was growing thin. Her niceness was wearing out. Modupe felt the strong urge to let the evil side of her out.

* * *

It was evening, and Modupe hadn't come out of her room, still.

Itunu, who was sitting on one of the couches in the living room, along with everybody else, noticed that somebody else was missing---and had been missing since early afternoon.

Dipo. Her aunt's husband. He had been in his room---at least that was what she thought---since.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when her aunt Tamilore's phone rang.

Tamilore picked her call there, not even bothering to stand up and go somewhere else. "Hello Ma." She said into the phone.

When Tamilore checked the caller ID, she was surprised at the name she saw there. Alhaja.

Alhaja hadn't called her since the beginning of this misfortune, and she was her mother. Still, she had no time to be angry. She wanted to hear what her mother had to say, and the excuse she would give.

"Hello Ma," she said. She suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of emotions all over her. She thought of everything that was going on and just felt...tired.

"Omo mi. Tamilore. How are you?"

Tamilore noticed that her voice sounded husky. Was she...sick?

"Alhaja," Tamilore started. When she said this, all heads turned to her. "Are you okay Ma?"

"I-I'm s-sick." She was coughing. "Th-that's why I..I hav-vent called you since. And you know the network in my area, how it is. And then, this Glo network." She coughed again

Tamilore felt empathy for her mother. "It's okay Ma. That's okay. Are you in the hospital? Is somebody taking care of you?"

"A nurse comes everyday to treat me and I'm very much better," she revealed. "But...it's even hard to move around and get things, and this boy that is not at home..." she drawled, referring to Bode.

Tamilore exhaled. "Please just manage, Ma. If...if the police lets us out soon, your house boy will return to you. Please feel better. I'm not much better here, too."

"I understand, and I'm just so sad. I wish...I wish I wasn't sick. My...my grandson..."

Tamilore felt herself welling up with tears. "I..."

"I know," Alhaja said in a soft whisper. She swallowed. "It'll be okay. Let the will of Allah be done."

Tamilore heard someone else talking. Her mother took a deep breath, "My nurse wants me to come and take my medicine."

Tamilore nodded although her mother couldn't see her, blinking back tears. "Alhaja, I'll talk to you later. Please be well."

And then she hung up, without a notice. Because she knew if she didn't do it that moment, she probably wouldn't be able to bring herself to do it.

She exhaled deeply, wiped her tears that had started to fall with her hand. Then she looked up at her family and said, "That was Alhaja. She said she's been sick, that's why she...she hadn't called me..."

Tiwa stood up and went to sit beside her. She rubbed her shoulder gently, channeling comfort into her.

* * *

Later in the night, most of them were already yawning. Even Dami had slept It was around eight thirty, and nobody had made mention of dinner. Bisola was usually the one that did it; everybody pushed that responsibility to her because she was pregnant. But tonight, she hadn't said anything.

A few minutes later, Daddy Dami came out from the room. He didn't say anything, he hardly even looked at them. He just went into the kitchen.

When he came outside, he was holding a glass cup containing chilled orange juice. He sat on one of the couches.

"Ahan, Daddy Dami," Bisola said, looking at what was in his hands.

"What?" He asked.

"Come on," she rolled her eyes at him. "That's insensitive."

"What? Look," he began, "Have you ever heard the saying 'I can't come and kill myself'? Because that's how I'm feeling right now." He raised both his hands slightly in the air, "See my hands. They're clean. I know I didn't kidnap the baby and I have no hands in this situation. My heart is clean and I'm guilt-free. You know me na, Bisola. I can't keep moping around for long. I'm a jovial fellow. So, I can't come and die."

Bisola eyed him, bent her mouth at him. "Hm, a ti gbo."

Tamilore couldn't even say anything.