ADEBIMPE (Episode 5)

Adebimpe (POV)

From the very first morning I was assigned to the prince’s chambers, I felt it.

The change.

As I crossed the courtyard with my cleaning tools, the air around me shifted. Conversations stopped when I passed. Laughter lowered. Eyes followed me sharp, measuring, unfriendly. Some maids stared with disbelief, others with something darker.

Jealousy.

I kept my head down. In the palace, attention was dangerous, but envy was deadly.

By the time I reached the prince’s door, my palms were damp.

I knocked.

“Come in,” he said.

The chamber welcomed me with its familiar quiet. I set down my tools and began my work carefully, dusting the shelves, smoothing the bedspread, wiping the carved table near the window. Prince Adewale sat nearby, reading. The soft sound of turning pages filled the space between us.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then he broke the silence.

“You clean as if the room can feel your hands,” he said.

I paused. “My mother taught me that spaces remember how they are treated, my prince.”

He looked up. “Your mother.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Where is she now?”

The question was gentle, but it pierced me. I hesitated, then answered truthfully. “I don’t know, my prince.”

His eyes softened. “I see.”

I returned to my work, but the room felt different now less formal, more human. After a moment, he spoke again.

“Do you miss home?”

I swallowed. “Every day.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You know, people think living in a palace means comfort. But this place can be… lonely.”

I glanced at him, surprised by his honesty, then quickly looked away. “Loneliness does not respect titles, my prince.”

A slow smile touched his lips. “You speak boldly for a servant.”

“I speak carefully,” I corrected softly.

That made him laugh quiet, genuine. The sound startled me more than shouting ever could.

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

“Take your time,” he said. “And Adebimpe…”

I paused.

“Do not let anyone make you feel small for doing your work well.”

I left the room with my heart racing, his words echoing in my ears like a secret meant only for me.

The kitchen was alive with noise when I returned pots clanging, fire crackling, voices overlapping. But when I entered, the noise dulled.

One maid scoffed. Another whispered too loudly.

“So it’s true,” one said. “She’s the prince’s favorite now.”

I pretended not to hear.

“She thinks she’s better than us,” another muttered.

Iya Morounkeji noticed the tension immediately. “Enough,” she snapped. “Get back to work.”

But the damage was done.

As I carried the breakfast tray through the corridors, my back felt exposed. I wondered how quickly admiration could turn into hatred.

Continue reading Episode 6