ADEBIMPE (Episode 17)

Prince Adewale (POV)

I had already given the order.

“Iya Morounkeji,” I told her the previous evening, “Adebimpe is to stop all other duties. She will only clean my room and bring my meals. Nothing else.”

She looked at me for a long moment, the way elders do when they see trouble forming but cannot stop it.

“She is recovering well, my prince,” she said carefully.

“That is why,” I replied.

By morning, I had heard the report: Adebimpe is doing fine now.

The words should have settled me.

They didn’t.

I paced my room more than necessary, pretending to rearrange books that were already in order. When I heard the knock, my heart reacted before my mind did.

“Come in,” I said.

She stepped inside.

Adebimpe looked stronger than the last time I saw her still a little slimmer, still a little pale, but standing. Alive. Present. Her wrapper was neatly tied, her head slightly bowed, her greeting soft.

“Good morning, my prince.”

Before I could stop myself, I crossed the room in three quick steps.

I reached out and placed my hand lightly on her neck.

“Are you still warm?” I asked instinctively.

She jumped back like she had been stung.

“My my prince!” she stuttered, eyes wide, breath caught. “I am fine.”

The room froze.

My hand hovered in the air, suddenly heavy with meaning.

What was I doing?

I, a prince, touching a maid openly, instinctively, without command or permission.

The reality of it crashed into me all at once.

I withdrew my hand immediately, straightening as if posture alone could undo the moment.

“Yes good,” I said quickly, too quickly. “That is… that is good.”

Awkwardness thickened the air.

I cleared my throat and turned away, grasping at conversation like a lifeline.

“You should not overwork yourself,” I continued, pretending to inspect the window. “This room is… large enough already. No need to rush.”

Smooth, Adewale. Very smooth.

She nodded stiffly and moved past me, beginning her cleaning with extra care, as though the space between us needed to be measured now.

I watched her quietly.

The way she swept.

The way she avoided my eyes.

The way her shoulders stayed tense.

I had frightened her.

And worse I had revealed myself.

When she finished cleaning, she bowed and left without lingering.

I exhaled.

When she returned later with my breakfast, I forced myself to stay seated.

Control. That was the word.

She placed the tray down, her movements respectful, distant.

“You are feeling better?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

“Yes, my prince,” she replied.

Good. Simple. Safe.

I picked at my food for a moment, then spoke again.

“You will only attend to me for now,” I said. “No other tasks.”

She looked up sharply. “My prince, I can”

“That is not a discussion,” I cut in gently but firmly. “It is for your health.”

She nodded. “Thank you, my prince.”

Thank you.

Two words that stirred something uncomfortable in me.

As she turned to leave, I added, “Adebimpe.”

She stopped.

“You did well… to recover quickly.”

She bowed again. “By God’s grace.”

When she left, I sat back and stared at my hands.

These hands had been trained to rule.

Yet this morning, they had reached out to care.

And that was the problem.

Continue reading Episode 18