The numbers wouldn’t leave her mind.

7429.

Three days.

Each time Amina closed her eyes, the image of Kazeem appeared. Not as she remembered him, warm and alive, but pale and hollow-eyed, his lips barely moving as if trying to whisper a warning she couldn’t quite catch. The silence between those moments was louder than any sound, filling the spaces of her restless nights.

Sleep evaded her like a distant dream. By the time dawn crept through her curtains, her decision was clear: she needed answers. The mystery was pulling her back to a place she had tried to forget.

She approached the window cautiously, her breath fogging the glass. The numbers were gone, vanished as if they had only been a cruel trick of her mind. Was grief twisting her memories? Was her heart playing games to keep hope alive?

Ignoring the doubt gnawing at her, she called in sick and slipped into her favorite worn hoodie. Her fingers lingered on the small wooden box Kazeem had given her years ago the one she’d vowed never to open unless he came back. The promise felt heavier than ever today.

Before she left, the comforting voice of Mama Salma called out from her veranda.“You don’t look well, Amina. Is everything alright?”

Amina hesitated, then forced a faint smile. “Just... memories playing tricks,” she whispered.

Mama Salma’s eyes softened, but her warning cut through the air.

“Be careful where memories take you. Not all of them stay in the past.”

Those words settled like a stone in Amina’s chest as she made her way to Layi street. The place where her life had fractured forever.

She hadn’t set foot there since the accident. The day they found Kazeem’s bloodied cap near the road, but no body. Only silence and questions that had never been answered.

The storage unit loomed ahead, its paint chipped and faded. She hesitated before gripping the rusted lock. It clicked open far too easily, sending a shiver down her spine.

Inside, dust drifted in the stale air. The faint scent of something burnt lingered, twisting the atmosphere into something almost unrecognizable.

Then, on a broken table, she spotted it.

An envelope, carefully placed. Her name scrawled across it in the handwriting she hadn’t seen in years.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up, breaking the seal.

*“Welcome back. You're one day late.”*

The words burned into her skin.

Her breath caught.

What had she missed?

A sudden knock echoed from the window — soft, deliberate.Amina spun around, heart pounding. The street was empty. No footsteps. Only the chilling silence of the night.

Her eyes drifted back to the envelope, the weight of its message anchoring her to a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

*To be continued...*