ADEBIMPE (Episode 11)

Prince Adewale (POV)

I noticed her quietness immediately.

Adebimpe greeted me as she entered my room that morning, her voice soft, respectful, perfectly trained yet something was missing. The warmth. The careful honesty she once carried in her eyes.

“Good morning, my prince,” she said, bowing.

Then she faced her work.

No lingering glance.

No thoughtful pause.

No gentle words about the room remembering hands.

I watched her from where I sat, pretending to read.

So… this is anger.

I smiled to myself.

She is angry with me because of the seal issue, I thought. And for the first time since becoming prince, that realization did not irritate me it intrigued me.

Most people feared me too much to be angry. Those who were wronged swallowed it whole and called it loyalty. But Adebimpe… she carried her displeasure quietly, with dignity. It sat on her shoulders like a folded cloth—present, controlled, undeniable.

She moved around the room carefully, dusting, arranging, cleaning with the same excellence as always. Yet there was a wall between us now. A wall she had built without a single word.

“Adebimpe,” I called.

“Yes, my prince?” she replied immediately, without turning.

“You are unusually silent today.”

She paused, just for a heartbeat. Then continued wiping the table.

“I am only doing my duty, my prince.”

Ah.

That answer was sharp beneath its softness.

I closed my book.

“Look at me.”

She hesitated, then turned and lifted her eyes. Calm. Respectful. Guarded.

“I did not wrong you,” I said.

Her jaw tightened barely noticeable, but I saw it.

“No, my prince,” she answered. “You only doubted me.”

The truth landed squarely between us.

Few people spoke truth to me like that.

“You must understand,” I said carefully, “that I live in a palace where betrayal hides behind bows.”

She lowered her eyes again. “And I live in a palace where innocence is often not enough.”

Silence followed.

Heavy. Honest.

I exhaled slowly. “I should have trusted my instincts.”

She did not respond.

That was worse than accusation.

As she returned to her work, something shifted in me not pride, not authority but regret. Real regret. The kind no apology spoken too loudly could fix.

I watched her hands steady, capable, restrained and realized something unsettling:

I did not like being the reason her spirit withdrew.

Adebimpe (POV)

I was angry.

Not loudly. Not foolishly. But deeply.

When I entered the prince’s room that morning, my heart had already decided what my mouth would not say. I greeted him. I worked. I kept my distance.

Because when the seal went missing, I had knelt on cold stone while he looked away.

He did not ask me to stay.

He did not defend me until truth forced its way out.

And though he later cleared my name, something in me had cracked.

When he called my name, I felt it in my chest before I heard it with my ears.

“You are unusually silent today.”

I wanted to laugh.

Silence had saved me in this palace more times than words ever could.

“I am only doing my duty,” I said, because duty was safer than honesty.

But when he asked me to look at him, I did.

I saw something new there not suspicion, not authority but something closer to guilt.

Still, guilt does not erase fear.

When I told him he doubted me, my voice did not shake. But my heart did.

He spoke of betrayal. I spoke of innocence.

Neither of us was wrong.

Continue reading Episode 12