Olumide parked his car in front of the two storey building. He shut down the engine, closed the door, locked his car then entered through the transparent front door. A woman sat behind a white desk, staring at the flat screen TV on the wall.

“Hello, good afternoon. I’m here for an appointment.”

“What time, Sir?”

“1:15. The name is Olumide Makinde.”

He stared at his wristwatch. Half past two. Traffic in Lagos was really something else. The traffic lights weren’t helping at all.

“Alright, you’re here for a wedding fitting. Climb the staircase, the second door on the right.”

He climbed the staircase, coming to a row of wooden doors on the right. He opened the second door and stepped into a bright room.

Two black settees were against one width of the wall. On the opposite side was a moveable cloth rack with various clothes on it. A man stood beside a mirror with a measuring tape in his hand while a little girl ran from one end of the room to the other, spreading out her arms as she ran.

“Where are the rest of the guys?”

“Thank God, you’re here.” Yetunde said.

She stood. His eyes ran down her gold sequin shirt on a tight fitted red skirt with fluffy slippers.

“Why are you here?” Olumide asked.

“I came for my fitting. I’m the bridesmaid.”

“Okay... Where my friends?”

“They left. Why are you late?”

“I was working.”

He entered into the room as Modupe hugged him around the legs. He picked her up and held her in his arms, smiling down at her. Her hair was braided, with each individual strand  pulled into a ponytail atop her head ending in columns of colourful cuboid beads.

“Alright, I’m ready for you, ma.” The tailor said.

Yetunde dropped her dark green purse and phone on the chair, rising to her feet, walking over to where the tailor stood. Olumide sat in the chair she vacated. It was still warm. A large cream hand bag sat beside her purse. Cream was not Yetunde’s type of colour.

“So, they just left you like that?”

He waited for an answer. It came after several minutes, like she had a delay in hearing.

“Victoria was here. She just left to check the ring shop your mom recommended.”

The ring shop. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten how his mother went on and on about how unique the woman’s designs were and how she couldn’t wait to get a new set of matching ring bands for herself and his father.

He set Modupe down and she turned away from him, sitting on the chair and picking up Yetunde’s phone.

“Dupe, I thought I told you not to touch that phone?”

“But Aunty Yetunde, I just want to play candy crush.”

“Drop it.” Yetunde sent Modupe a stern look.

The girl cast the phone aside, frowning and folding her arms. She reminded him so much of little Yetunde, back when he still thought of her as a little girl.

He sat down, running his hand over his face. He had made so many stupid decisions and there was no way to undo any of them. Like leaving the pictures on the table. He had never been concerned about who shared Romola’s pictures until that girl had mentioned it. Now, curiosity ate him alive.

Yetunde faced the tailor who backed the large window where lights streamed in from. He had seen that window from outside and a picture of some clothes overlaid the window so that those outside could not see in even while it allowed the maximum light possible into the room, tinted in certain places by the colour of the cloth on the picture so that Yetunde had a purple light spot on her hand.

Olumide felt someone reach to his side and watched Modupe pick up the phone again. He shook his head as she turned down the volume sound of the button and began to play the game. It was so easy. To pick up someone’s phone while they were not watching— to do what you wanted.

The thought hit him with a degree of something akin to fear.

Romola’s beach pictures had been on his phone. He had never sent them to anybody. And the only other person in his house on the day that Romola’s nudes surfaced was Yetunde. Dami still mad at him over the argument about Romola staying in the house, had refused to return.

“Yetunde!”

“What?” She didn’t even send him a backward glance.

He opened his mouth and let out air. What if he was overthinking this? Was Yetunde actually at his house that day? Didn’t she come by after he saw Romola at the hotel?

He groaned.

His memory of that day was foggy. All he knew was that he saw Romola’s nudes and he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t even get out of bed until Dami and the others came to drag him to the club for a good time which turned out to be the worst idea possible. Then Yetunde had come over to his house… Was he getting the sequence of order wrong?

“Mide?”

He sat up, noticing that he was sitting at the edge of the chair with his fingers gripping the settee and his body leaning forward.

He stood, staring at Yetunde. “Yeah?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No. I just forgot something I was supposed to do at the office.”

“Okay.” She didn’t look like she believed him. “The tailor wants you.”

She bent towards the chair to pick up her bag. Then her eyes lit on the child engrossed with the phone. “Modupe? I thought I told you not to touch the phone?”

Modupe dropped the phone and her face transformed to a small sad one with large eyes. “I didn’t touch it.”

“So what did I see then?” Yetunde grabbed the phone with one hand while her other hand flew at Modupe’s head.

Olumide held Yetunde's wrist as Modupe scampered off the chair, hiding behind him. “Don’t do this.”

“Why do you get to tell me what to do with her?”

“Please.” He said, dropping Yetunde’s hand while his other hand curled around around Modupe’s body.

“Oga, you dey measure today abi you no measure again?” The tailor asked.

*Sir, will you allow me take your measurements today or are you no longer interested?*

“I’ll be there in a second.” Olumide answered, then turned to Yetunde. “You only want to hit her because you are angry. Not because you want to correct her.”

“How is that a bad thing?” Yetunde eyed him.

“You’ll end up hurting her more than you intend to.”

Yetunde grabbed Modupe’s hand roughly. “When you have your own children, you can raise them the way you want.”

Olumide stared at Modupe’s face. The poor girl was beginning to cry.  She was wrong but he didn’t subscribe to such extreme methods of punishment. He had never forgotten what his father did to him because of the Zobo experience. The scar on his back had never faded. When he had his own children, he would behave nothing like his father.

Yetunde began to walk towards the door with Modupe trying to keep up in small hurried steps. The poor girl would stumble over her own feet if Yetunde did not slow down.

“Aren’t you going to wait for Vicky to get back?”

“VIcky isn’t coming back. I’m going to drop these things at home. I’m not even the one getting married and I’m already tired.”

“Wait, I’ll drop you. I didn’t see your car outside. Wait for me in my car” He tossed her his key and hurried to the tailor.

While the tailor measured the length of his hands and torso, he thought of how he would bring up the conversation about Romola. After the fitting, he hurried down the staircase to the car and got in the driver’s seat. He set the car in motion and manoeuvred to join the main traffic.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She sat in the back seat and he could see her eyes from the mirror. “What about?”

He kept his gaze on the road. “Romola.”

“Lord! Olumide can you stop obsessing over this girl?” Yetunde dug her hands into her hair, her fingers displacing strands of her brown weave-on. “Did she use waist beads to tie you to her destiny.”

“I’m just curious about something?”

“What is it that you think you want to know about her that I haven’t already told you?”

“Her pictures. I want to know who started sharing her nude pictures. There is this one in particular. The one where—”

“Please, don’t corrupt Modupe.” Yetunde put her hands over Modupe’s ear. The girl struggled out of her hold, trying to keep her eyes on the phone screen.

“She was on the beach. I just want to know who sent it and I’ll drop every other thing that concerns her.”

For good this time. He hoped.

“How in the world do you expect me to know who exposed her? Yes, a couple of her online videos were already on my phone because she shared them with me, trying to teach me how to dance like she did but I don’t know who else she shared them with? Till today, I’m not even sure I know that girl very well.”

“The one on the beach—”

“Olumide, please. Please, I don’t if you are trying to insuniate that I shared those pictures? Why would I do that? After going to such lengths to find her mother? Besides, even if I wanted to post it, which I didn’t, I would have done that long before the housewarming but why would I do that? I thought she was my friend.”

“I’m not saying you did. I was just wondering if you knew anyone that could’ve done it?”

“I don’t and I don’t want to know. Do you know how people looked at me when they knew that and thought I was still friends with her? I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

Olumide sighed as the car gained speed, following the ease of traffic. Something else ate at his spirit. He had not shared those picture of Romola. They were for his eyes only and somehow they had ended up on the internet for the world to see.

“You know,” Yetunde added. “I heard she was selling nudes. Maybe she’s the one who leaked her nudes herself.”

Olumide nodded. It was plausible. After all, she had deceived him into thinking she had lost her memory. But, the woman who came to Pillard did not look like she would sell her own nudes.

Were things that bad for Romola? The answer didn’t sit well in his spirit.