Atoms
PrimeVistas Advisors
Victoria Island
4:30pm
The entire office was empty except for two occupants. One sweating alone in the server room, the weight of an old debt hanging over his head and the second, pacing restlessly outside the corridor, phone clutched tight against her ear.
“John, I don’t care how deep you have to dig,” Sonia whispered fiercely. “OAU alumni records, old faculty contacts, police blotters from Ile-Ife, even gossip from the 2011 set WhatsApp groups. Tomide did not appear from thin air. Find me something. Anything. A cult affiliation rumor…something!”
John’s voice was strained. “Sonia, this is crossing lines. If HR finds out I’m running personal background checks-“
“I am head of HR, are you drunk?” Sonia said, laughing drily. The amusement left her face the next second. Her voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Listen, I covered for you, when you and Femi caused that client’s confidential file to disappear last year. You owe me. Get it done by tomorrow or I will make sure your next performance review includes that incident.”
She ended the call, lips pressed into a thin, determined line. She would not let Tomide dismantle the position she had spent years carving out. Not when she was this close to becoming indispensable.
****************************
Abule Ijesha
7:45 p.m.
Tomide sat on the edge of his bed, the soft whirring of the standing fan at the end of the room, the only sound in the quiet room. He was already dressed, his patterned brown shirt tucked into dark jeans. His simple black blazer was folded neatly beside him, and his favorite cologne lingered in the air.
He glanced at the clock on his phone and thought how quickly the day had passed. A quiet tension coiled in his chest as he recalled his suspicions of Sonia. With a slow exhale, he closed his eyes. The room faded behind his eyelids, and he let his shoulders drop, leaning forward slightly with his elbows on his knees.
Lord, he prayed inwardly, the words forming with careful urgency. I need to know what Sonia is up to. Help me here.
The prayer hung in the silence of his mind, simple and raw. Something in his spirit wouldn’t settle. He needed clarity. Wisdom. Protection, even.
He stayed like that for a moment longer, breathing steady, eyes still shut, waiting for the peace that sometimes followed such prayers. Outside, the evening traffic hummed faintly through the window, but inside, it was just him, the weight of uncertainty, and the hope that he wasn’t walking into this date with his arch rival blind.
A calm familiar voice spoke gently within him.
Separation is but an illusion. The teachers of your day confirm what the scribes of old taught the chosen. That within everything, every person and every thought is the atomos. At the core of all that exists is the same fundamental particle.
Silence followed. Tomide nodded, knowing innately that there was more.
Atoms. Okay?
There is no space and no distance between men as there is none between the atomos. You and her whose intentions you seek to know are one at your core and undivided by distance. At the deepest level, your minds already touch. Command the illusion to dissolve. Open what has never truly been closed.
When he finally opened his eyes, the room felt a little lighter. He stood up, adjusted his shirt, and reached for his blazer.
The new silver-grey Toyota Camry waited for him under the waning yellowish gleam of the streetlights outside, a sleek symbol of the risk he had taken with most of his savings. He walked past it and to the POS shop at the junction beside his house. A few meters away, Sule’s suya stall glowed with charcoal embers, the spicy aroma of barbecued meat thick in the air.
Nearby, Mama Sunday and her daughter sat behind a large tray holding an array of fried foods that included akara, yam, sweet potatoes, and tilapia fish. Razor stood before them, collecting his akara wrapped in old newspaper.
“No pay today, Razor,” Mama Sunday said, waving away the five hundred naira note Razor extended to her. “No worry yourself.“
Razor grinned, crooked teeth flashing. He folded the five hundred naira note back into his pocket with a dramatic flourish.
“E se gaan Iya mi. Mama Sunday, we go ever mount for you. Wo, tí ẹnìkan bá ń yọ̀ ọ́ lẹ́nu níbíyìí, rán ọmọ rẹ kí ó wá pe mi. Na me and my boys go handle dem!”
As he turned to leave, he looked at the daughter and winked, “Iyawo mi, báwo ni?”
The mother gave an uncomfortable laugh and quickly shooed him away.
“Má pè ọmọ mi ìyàwò rẹ, o ṣì jẹ́ ọmọdé.” She added another strained cackle. “Abeg comot, make I sell market.”
When Razor was safely out of earshot, Mama Sunday turned on her grinning daughter, shooting her a dirty look.
“Shebi I don tell you say na Ekpoma you go go?” She mimicked the girl’s earlier smile in an exaggerated, caricature. “See as you dey shine teeth like mumu. So, as you dey like this, na agbero you wan carry belle for?”
Her daughter, Charity drew back, a frown on her pretty oval face.
“Ahn ahn, mama! Wetin bring belle come inside this one now?”
Mama Sunday’s lips curled in a sneer.
“No worry, na Ekpoma go fit you, because for dis Lagos wey you dey, you no be like who get sense.”
Charity crossed her arms and pouted. “Mama, na Unilag I go go. I no dey go Ekpoma o!”
Her retort drew a sharp insult in their native Isoko language from her mother.
“Fio unu oyivo ra kpare no. Idiot!”
Tomide collected his cash from the POS vendor just as the mother-daughter drama came to an end. He walked back to his car, knowing that he would miss the everyday chaos of the neighborhood when the renovation on the modest one bedroom his firm had paid for on the Island was completed.
In his car, he exhaled, hands on the wheel and eyes ahead. Soon, a quiet power settled in his chest, buoying his spirits. He started the car and drove toward Ikoyi.
**************************
The Loft
Ikoyi
8:40 p.m.
Tomide guided Sonia to their table, moving with the easy confidence of a man who knew everything would go his way. Every eye in the room followed him. A stylish lady in red at the corner table stole glances at him, her conversation with her male companion faltering. A younger woman dining with friends whispered something that made her companions turn their heads. Even the poised woman at the window table paused mid sip of the champagne in her hand, eyes lingering on him as he pulled out Sonia’s chair.
Sonia noticed every stare. It only made her sit straighter, colder.
The evening began with cautious pleasantries, but she soon steered the conversation with surgical precision.
“So, what was your childhood like? Any interesting stories?” She smiled with humour she did not feel. “You dont look like the type to get into trouble.” She paused for a moment and tried to copy the enthralled look of the women around them. “Did you?”
He met her gaze evenly, charisma undimmed as he shook his head. “Did not. I had a regular childhood.”
She leaned forward slightly, turning up the charm, lashes lowering.
“And campus life at OAU? Economics set of 2011, right? Were you in any clubs? Social circles? I hear those years were quite intense.”
Tomide smiled and glanced away briefly. She was fishing for cult connections, dirt, anything to bury him with. He turned back to her, his face pleasant and warm, but his mind acrid with contempt.
Bitch.
He let the silence stretch just long enough to unsettle her, then turned the tables smoothly.
“No clubs. I kept my head down mostly, attended lectures and went straight back to the hostel.”
He leaned back and gave her a complimentary look.
“But enough about me. Let’s talk about you because I think you are a lot more interesting than me. You carry yourself with that Port Harcourt energy, did you grow up there?”
Sonia’s smile froze. Surprise flashed across her face before she could mask it.
“How did you…”
She caught herself, lips pressing into a hard line. The charm vanished instantly.
“Never mind.”
She went cold again, stabbing at the rice and steamed vegetables on her plate. The rest of the meal passed in charged silence. They watched each other like predators across the table. Tomide was pleased by her surprise. She was not the only one digging into past lives for answers.
Every time their eyes met, he repeated the silent command, voice steady in his mind.
There is no space between atoms. No distance between us. Open your mind to me. Show me what you are planning.
Suddenly Sonia paused, her fingers tightening around her wine glass. Her jaw tensed, and she looked away. She dragged in air into her lungs that felt weighed down with something that made feel uneasy. Things were not going her way. She had to think fast.
**************************
Outside Sonia’s apartment
Keffi Street, Ikoyi
11:05 p.m.
The Camry purred to a stop beneath the ixora trees. Sonia unbuckled her seatbelt, movements deliberate.
“Thanks,” she said stiffly, voice cool. “The restaurant was… okay.”
Tomide turned toward her, the dashboard lights highlighting the strong planes of his face.
“Thank you for coming out. It was nice hanging out with you.”
Sonia glanced at him suspiciously but then her gaze diverted, unbidden, to his mouth. It lingered. The full, serious curve of his lips held her for two dangerous seconds. Realization hit her like a slap. Her eyes snapped up, wide with shock and unwilling heat.
She fumbled for the door handle.
“Goodnight.”
Tomide watched her go, his smile dropping. He had learned two things from their date.
She was gunning for his university records.
Her toughness was only a facade.
He had seen the crack in her armor in those last moments before her exit from his car. His hands tightened around his steering wheel.
We are only atoms.
Her mind was his playground from now on. He would break her before she broke him.
****************************
Sonia’s bedroom
Keffi Street, Ikoyi
1:47 a.m.
Sleep refused her once again. Sonia tossed in the sheets, skin hot, mind replaying the evening against her will. The way Tomide had commanded the room without trying. The steady depth of his eyes. That mouth.
Her hand drifted downward, slipping beneath silk. Fingers found slick heat. A soft gasp escaped as she circled slowly, imagining hands much bigger, much stronger than her own.
No.
She snatched her hand away, breathing hard. She spoke to herself as though she were another person.
Focus Sonia. That guy is a threat to everything you have built at the firm. Destroy him before he destroys you.
She sat up, grabbed her phone, and typed furiously to Dupe, her old OAU friend.
Dupe how far? Urgent please. Remember the thing I said we will discuss tonight. His name is Tomide Adeyemi, Economics 2011. Try and find stories, rumors, scandals from his set. Especially shady stuff, cults, trouble, whatever. Need it yesterday. I owe you babes.
She hit send. The message delivered. Blue ticks appeared. Dupe began typing. The three dots pulsed, stopped and started again.
Sonia stared into the darkness, pulse racing, body still aching with unsatisfied need, and the growing certainty that whatever reply came next could decide everything. The game was no longer just about removal. It was about survival.
© Umari Ayim.
2026