What Halima Didn’t Say

The safehouse was quiet.

VDM had fallen asleep with his phone in his hand, the screen still playing protest chants on mute. Tayo was out meeting a contact in the slums of Ajegunle.

Only Halima was awake.

She stood in the bathroom, staring at her reflection.

Her face looked normal again—skin healing, lips no longer cracked.

But she knew what they did to her could never be washed off.

🔙 FLASHBACK – The Detention Center

After the protest raid, she was taken to Black Block, a secret underground military holding facility.

No cameras. No records. No rights.

They didn't beat her—at first.

They tried kindness.

An older woman, in a uniform with no name tag, offered her food.

Spoke softly.

"You're smart, Halima. You're the only one of them who can still go back to school. Leave the protests. Help us. Talk to your friend VDM. Tell him to stop before more people die."

Halima spat on the floor.

That's when the gloves came off.

They locked her in darkness for days.

Pumped loud static through the speakers so she couldn't sleep.

She was interrogated blindfolded—by men who spoke like politicians, not soldiers.

They asked:

"What's VDM planning next?"

"Is he being funded by foreign agents?"

"Who is Tayo connected to?"

"Do you have proof he's arming students?"

She said nothing.

Until one day… they showed her something.

The Betrayal File

A fake dossier.

It claimed that VDM had struck a deal with a political party—one of the very same corrupt houses they were fighting.

The file said VDM would rise as a false hero, then "negotiate a soft landing" for the corrupt elite while silencing the youth.

It was fake.

But it was detailed.

Too detailed.

They said if she didn't talk, they'd release the file online and frame her as his "media handler."

Then they beat her.

Not with fists—but with shame.

They said she was "just a pretty face they used for PR."

That "no one would believe she was a leader."

That "the movement would forget her before morning."

She still heard those words every night.

🔙 BACK TO PRESENT

Halima sat by the window of the safehouse, scribbling something in a worn notebook.

VDM stirred.

"Can't sleep?"

She closed the notebook.

"I saw too much in that place," she said softly.

"Heard things I can't unhear."

VDM sat beside her.

"You're safe now."

She hesitated, staring into his eyes.

"Are we? I mean… do you trust everyone around you?"

"Only a few," he answered. "Tayo. You. No one else."

Halima bit her lip.

"Don't trust Korex. Don't even smile around him."

VDM looked surprised.

"Why?"

She didn't answer directly.

Instead, she whispered:

"They want to turn this movement into a myth… then rewrite it with you as the villain."

She stood and walked back to her mattress.

But what she didn't say—what she couldn't—was this:

One of the voices behind her blindfold… sounded like someone close.

Maybe even Tayo.

She wasn't sure.

And that uncertainty was slowly killing her.

⚠️ Halima's Hidden Conflict:

She hasn't told VDM about the fake dossier.

She doesn't trust Korex.

She's starting to question even Tayo—the voice in the dark still echoes in her mind.

She's scared that saying the wrong thing could burn the whole revolution down.

The generator had gone off again.

The safehouse sank into shadows, lit only by the blinking red dot on Tayo's laptop.

He was working late, as usual—alone in the corner, headphones on, typing code like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Halima watched him. Quiet. Still. Observing.

The same way she had observed her interrogators in the dark.

She finally spoke:

"What are you building?"

Tayo paused his music but didn't turn.

"Firewall system. Encrypting VDM's cloud. Too many leaks lately."

Halima stepped closer.

"And the footage Korex gave you? You said you'd check it."

Tayo's jaw tightened. He shut the laptop slowly.

"I did."

"And?"

"There's some shady stuff on it. Staged headlines. Press releases pre-written with lies. He's planning something."

Halima's eyes didn't move.

"And you were going to tell us… when?"

Tayo stood now, turning fully to her. The glow from the laptop made the sweat on his brow glisten.

"Don't come at me like that. I've been protecting VDM since before Korex knew his name."

Halima crossed her arms.

"I know. But I also know what I heard in detention."

Silence.

"One of them… one of the voices asking questions about VDM and our plans… it sounded like you."

Tayo took a slow breath.

"That's a dangerous accusation."

"It's not an accusation. It's a fear."

Her voice cracked slightly—but she held his gaze.

"They tried to break me. They showed me fake files. Told me you and VDM were working with the people we claim to hate. That this whole thing was a setup."

"And you believed them?"

"No. But it sounded real enough to make me question everything."

⚡ The tension snapped.

Tayo stepped forward, voice low and sharp:

"You think I'd betray VDM? After everything?

You think I'd sell him out to the same uniformed pigs who killed my best friend in front of me?"

Halima flinched.

"I don't want to think it. But I've been tortured. Starved. Lied to. And now we're surrounded by cameras and Korex's dirty fingerprints all over the movement."

"We're being played, Tayo. And I don't know who's safe anymore."

Tayo turned away, fists clenched.

"I'll prove it to you," he said. "When the time comes—when Korex moves—I'll have the receipts."

"And if I'm wrong?" Halima asked quietly.

"Then you'll owe me an apology."

"And if I'm right?"

Tayo didn't answer.

Instead, he opened the laptop again.

"Then we'll both lose more than we're ready for."

📌 Scene Ends:

Outside, a motorcycle zoomed past, its engine loud in the night.

Inside, two revolutionaries stood under the same roof…

But trust had already cracked.