The kind of quiet that makes you forget someone is in the room.
The kind of quiet that allows them to observe. To learn. To wait.
If someone had told me then that this same girl would one day stand in my sitting room and offer herself to me like a plate of hot amala, I would have laughed in their face.
But here we were.
“Oga, I wan knack.”
This time, I knew exactly what I had heard.
I pushed my chair back slowly. The laptop nearly fell, and I caught it with the reflexes of a man whose entire livelihood depends on that device.
I cleared my throat.
“Are you talking to me?”
She nodded.
Then took one step closer.
My heart immediately started beating like a talking drum at a village festival — the kind they beat when the Oba is about to enter, or when someone has done something very wrong.
She was holding a duster in her right hand. The same duster she had been using to wipe the shelves five minutes ago. But she wasn’t dusting anymore. She was standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, looking at me like I was the answer to a prayer she hadn’t told anyone about.
“Oga, no vex,” she said softly. “I just dey pity you.”
I frowned.
“Pity me for what?”
The smile that appeared on her face made me uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
It wasn’t a mischievous smile.
It wasn’t a seductive smile.
It was the smile of someone who knows something you don’t want them to know.
She lowered her voice — even though there was no one else in the house.
“Because madam no dey allow you enjoy yourself.”
The blood drained from my face.
How did she know that?
How much had she heard?
Had she been standing outside our bedroom at night? Listening through the walls like a spy?
My mouth opened, but no words came out. I looked down at my hands. I looked at the family picture on the wall. I looked at the door, calculating how fast I could run.
Before I could ask another question, she moved even closer.
I could smell her soap now. Ordinary Dettol. The same soap my mother used. So why did it smell so distracting on her skin?
She leaned in, just a little. Close enough that I could see the tiny scar above her left eyebrow. Close enough that I could count her lashes if I wanted to — and I really, really didn’t want to want to.
Then she whispered something that almost made my knees give way.
“I fit give you wetin madam no fit give you. Nobody go ever know. Na our secret.”
🔥💖 OGA, I WAN KNACK 💖 – EPISODE ONE: THE DAY TEMPTATION KNOCKED 💖🔥