Chapter four : No signal, No Escape

The sun woke hef.

Not the kind of waking that crept in gently, but the kind that splashed across her face and made her blink against its certainty. Amaka sat up slowly in the massive bed, realizing for the first time that she'd slept the entire night without checking her phone.

No doomscrolling. No headlines. No betrayal in her inbox.

Just silence. And the sound of the sea.

She turned. The other half of the bed was empty.

For a second, panic rose. Then she saw the sketchbook on the nightstand and heard the faint sound of pencil strokes coming from the balcony.

She stepped out quietly.

Tunde sat cross-legged on the floor, back to the sunrise, sketching with soft intensity. He didn't turn when he spoke.

"You curl your hand when you sleep," he said. "Like you're holding onto something."

She blinked, caught off guard. "And you watch people when they're vulnerable?"

"I study people when I'm trying to understand them."

She leaned against the railing. "So what have you understood about me?"

He flipped the sketchpad closed. "That you want to be seen, but not too clearly."

Amaka gave a slow, quiet smile. "That's pretty accurate."

"Thought so."

They stood in silence again, this one deeper than comfort. Then she said:

"Tunde… when this weekend ends, what happens to us?"

He didn't answer right away.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Do you want it to end?"

She opened her mouth to answer—but her phone buzzed on the nightstand behind her.

Her body tensed. Two days of no contact. She should have expected this.

She walked inside and picked it up.

57 missed calls. 32 messages.

All from lawyers, reporters, and investors.

And one message from her former assistant, Rita:

"Girl, you're trending again. You and that artist. They're calling it #TheRunawayCEO and #TundeTheMuse. You need to see this."

Amaka sat on the bed, heart sinking.

Tunde walked in. Saw her face. Knew.

"It's everywhere, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"There's a video," she said. "Someone at the airport recorded us pretending. Now everyone thinks I've fled Lagos to play romance games on a beach while my company burns."

Tunde ran a hand over his beard. "We shouldn't have leaned into the lie."

"You offered it."

"You ran with it."

She stared at him. The shift in tone was subtle but sharp.

"What exactly did you think this was?" she asked.

"I thought it was borrowed time," he replied. "I didn't think we'd get caught spending it."

Amaka looked away. "So what now?"

He sat beside her. Gently.

"I don't regret a second of it," he said. "But we can't outrun the world forever."

"Maybe I don't want to run," she said. "Maybe I want to fight back. But this time… not alone."

She met his eyes.

"Are you with me?"

Tunde didn't answer with words. He reached out and took her hand.

And this time, she didn't curl it.