ADEBIMPE (Episode 12)

Adebimpe (Episode 12)

Yet I felt the distance between us widen.

As I cleaned, my thoughts wandered to my mother again. She used to say, “When someone shows you how much they trust you, believe them. When they show you doubt, remember it too.”

I remembered.

After finishing, I bowed.

“I will return later, my prince.”

“Wait,” he said.

I stopped.

“You are free to speak here,” he added. “No one else is listening.”

I faced him slowly.

“What would you have me say?” I asked.

He stood and walked closer not too close, but close enough that I felt the air shift.

“That you forgive me.”

My chest tightened.

Forgiveness.

Such a heavy word for someone whose freedom was already taken.

“My prince,” I said carefully, “forgiveness does not mean forgetting.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“And trust,” I continued, “once broken, does not return the same way.”

His eyes softened. “Then tell me how it returns.”

I hesitated.

Then spoke from a place deeper than fear.

“With consistency,” I said. “With listening. With believing me before the palace convinces you otherwise.”

He studied my face as though engraving it into memory.

“You have my word,” he said.

I did not bow this time.

I only nodded.

Prince Adewale (POV)

After she left, the room felt emptier than usual.

Not because she was gone but because she had left something behind.

Expectation.

I had assumed clearing her name would restore everything. I was wrong. Justice delayed had already wounded her. And in this palace, wounds did not heal easily.

I realized then that my position did not excuse my hesitation.

Power did not absolve doubt.

That afternoon, I called for Iya Morounkeji.

“She is quieter,” I said.

“Yes,” the old woman replied. “Quiet comes after storms.”

“I want to regain her trust.”

Iya Morounkeji looked at me for a long moment.

“Then stop seeing her only as someone you protect,” she said. “See her as someone you respect.”

Her words stayed with me.

Adebimpe (POV)

That night, as I lay on my mat, sleep came slowly.

I replayed the conversation in my head—his voice, his eyes, his attempt at honesty.

I was not foolish enough to believe kindness erased danger. But I was also not made of stone.

He had listened.

That mattered.

Still, I promised myself something silently, staring into the dark:

I will serve him well.

I will respect him.

But I will never again forget that even princes can doubt the truth.

In the palace, survival was balance.

And I was learning how to stand on my own feet

even when the ground shifted beneath me. Continue reading Episode 13