ADEBIMPE (Episode 4)

Prince Adewale (POV)

I like her.

The thought came uninvited, bold and unsettling.

She has a beautiful face soft but not weak. A quiet confidence in the way she carries herself. Even her silence speaks. And her shape… I caught myself noticing it before I could stop.

I frowned.

All these good compliments… for a palace maid...

“Adewale,” I muttered under my breath, “snap out of it.”

That evening, I took a slow stroll through the palace grounds, hoping the cool air would clear my thoughts. The sun was setting, washing the courtyard in gold. That was when I saw her.

Adebimpe.

She stood among the other maids, her hands moving as she spoke, her laughter light and unguarded. Real laughter. Not the forced smiles servants wear to survive. For a moment, she forgot where she was.

I stopped walking.

I watched.

 The moment they noticed my presence, their joy vanished. Instantly, all the maids dropped into a bow, heads low, bodies stiff with fear.

The palace returned to order.

I nodded once and walked past them, my face unreadable. But my mind was already made up.

I found Iya Morounkeji supervising the evening preparations.

“Iya,” I said.

She bowed deeply. “My prince.”

“I want Adebimpe to be the one serving me every day.”

Her eyes flickered just slightly but she did not question me.

“Yes, my prince,” she replied immediately.

Good.

Or so I told myself.

Adebimpe (POV)

That night, sleep refused to come.

The darkness of the servants’ quarters felt heavier than usual. I lay on my mat, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifting far from the palace walls to my mother.

I remembered her voice.

Her laugh.

The way she used to hum while pounding yam, the sound steady and comforting.

Do not forget who you are, she had said.

A tear slipped down my temple and into my hair. I missed her so much it hurt to breathe. In that moment, I was no slave, no palace servant just a daughter aching for home.

Morning came too quickly.

“Adebimpe!”

Iya Morounkeji’s voice cut through the air.

I hurried to her side, my heart already uneasy.

“From today,” she said, watching my face carefully, “you will be the one serving the prince.”

My chest tightened.

Me? Every day?

“What if I make a mistake?” the thought screamed inside my head. In this palace, mistakes were not corrected they were punished.

As if reading my fear, she continued, “You will also be in charge of cleaning his room.”

My breath caught.

“So now,” she said, placing cleaning materials in my hands, “take these and head to the prince’s room. After that, you will return to serve him his breakfast.”

“Yes, Iya,” I whispered.

My legs felt weak as I walked down the corridor. Each step echoed too loudly. Each breath felt borrowed.

Why me?

Why now?

I knocked.

“Come in,” the prince said.

I entered quietly.

The room was just as beautiful as before sunlight spilling across polished floors, the soft sound of water from the fountain, the faint scent of books and incense. But today, I was not a visitor.

I was responsible.

I began to clean carefully, dusting surfaces, straightening fabrics, wiping slowly, afraid that even the smallest mistake would be noticed. I felt his presence without looking at him, like a shadow that knew my name.

“You are quiet,” he said finally.

“I am focused, my prince,” I replied.

“Hm.”

I did not know if that pleased him or not.

When I finished, I bowed. “I will return with your breakfast.”

As I left the room, my heart pounded like a drum.

Serving him every day.

Cleaning his room.

Being seen.

I did not know if this was a blessing or a trap.

Continue reading Episode 5