It was early in the morning. Jasper sat on his couch reading a romance novel. The living room was cloaked in darkness, dimly illuminated by the television, which played the soap opera Sagar Ki Saanjh on mute. He took a sip from a cup filled with ruby-red liquid as he read.
Beside the couch, Shaggy lay curled up in an adorable pose, her abdomen rising and falling with each breath.
The sun began to rise; golden beams of light filtered through the gaps in the closed curtains. As the warmth of the sunbeams danced across her fur, Shaggy stirred, her limbs unfolding like a crumpled piece of paper. She arched her back, letting out a deep yawn that revealed her fangs, her tail wagging lazily. Blinking the last traces of sleep from her eyes, she perked up her fluffy ears and focused her gaze on Jasper.
"You're awake, huh? Morning." Jasper greeted breifly before returning to his novel.
Shaggy whimpered slightly, her ears drooping. She took a moment to scan the living room curiously before rising to her feet. Padding across the room, she approached a console table against the wall. With a graceful hop, she landed on the tabletop, skillfully avoiding the items on it. Then, balancing on her hind legs, she pressed her front paws against the wall and reached up with one to flick on the light switch.
Jasper lifted his head from the pages of his novel, watching as she hopped back down and trotted over to sit before him, tongue hanging out.
"You're a smart dog, but I prefer the lights off," he said.
Shaggy tilted her head slightly, her expression filled with curiosity. A faint smile appeared on Jasper's face as he reached out and petted her forehead. He folded his page, took the final sip of his drink, and rose from the couch.
"Rob isn't back yet, and I don't have any food," he remarked as he carried his cup toward the kitchen, Shaggy following closely behind. He placed the cup in the sink, then turned to face her.
"What?"
She stared at him, unwavering.
Jasper sighed. "Fine, let's go get you some food," he relented. Glancing at his watch, he added, "Work starts in about two hours."
Moments later, Jasper and Shaggy stepped out of the apartment, Jasper pulling on his coat as they made their way down the street.
***
Uche sat in the upstairs sitting room of his home, watching television. Normally, he would be fully engrossed in this show; he'd give his undivided attention to the romantic struggles of Pragia and Krishna. But not today. Today, he seemed unsettled—his mind elsewhere, wandering far beyond the walls of his home.
Regardless of Uche's state of mind, 'Sagar Ki Saanjh' continued to play. Oh, how Krishna and Pragia glided across the waters of Lake Saif ul Malook, the famed Lovers' Paradise in Pakistan's Kaghan Valley.
The way Krishna rowed gently, singing a romantic tune to Pragia in their native tongue. His deep melodic voice echod through the serene atmosphere, ripples spreading beneath their boat, distorting their reflection as they cruised through the tranquil waters.
Pragia: Running away with you was the best decision of my life; now mother surely cannot spoil our fun.
Krishna: Yes, my love. I swear to you, from this moment forward, we shall live happily ever after. And Sindora's disapproval will never extinguish the flame that burns between us.
Yet, Uche paid no mind to the tender moment that unfolded before him. Instead, he stared far out into space, lost in the depths of his own mind.
"I'm ready to go now." Antonia emerged from the corridor and posed by the entrance of the sitting room, dressed for a casual outing. Her voice snapped him back into reality.
"How do I look?" She requested of her husband.
"Stunning as always." He admited.
"Even at my age?" She mused.
"No matter what your age is, you will always be beautiful."
"Awwn, thanks, honey." She approached him and placed a kiss on the cheek. A slight smile appeared on his face.
"Say hi to Cherry for me, and ask her when she'll finally decide to get married." He jests.
Antonia laughed. "I will." She was about to step out when she noticed his smile fade as quickly as it had appeared, his mind drifting once again.
"Are you sure you're alright, dear?" She sat next to him on the couch
Uche was pulled back to reality once again by her question. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Well, you've been acting strange lately—ever since the nightmares came back."
"I—I—I have?" he stammered.
"See? Right there."
"What?"
She stared directly into his eyes. "Uche, you are the love of my life. I know you better than anyone. You're a strong man, Uche; you never stutter, you never show weakness, and you never get awkward." She held his hands, her gaze never leaving his. "Sometimes, this may come off as cold and reserved, but it's one of the things I love about you. You always know how to control any situation you're in. But for as long as I've known you, I've only ever seen you like this twice."
"What times were those?" he asked.
"The first was when you proposed to me." She giggled a little
Uche made an expression that barely masked his embarrassment.
"You were trembling, and back then your Nigerian accent was still heavy, so watching you stutter the words 'will you marry me' made it even funnier."
Uche interrupted, trying to shield what was left of his pride. "What was the other time?" he asked.
Her smile faded slightly. "The other time was when Rob ran away."
Uche's face darkened into a frown.
"Even when Herald died. You showed no emotion; or at least that's what you wanted people to think."
Uche furrowed his brows in confusion.
"You thought I didn't notice," she continued, "but Herald's death really hurt you. It hurt everybody, but it hurt you the most. You were broken, but you were so afraid of showing that to others—of showing it to me—that you buried your pain. You hid your tears. You pushed it all down. And now, those suppressed emotions are eating you from the inside, aren't they?"
Uche's expression turned sheepish.
"That's why, when Rob ran away, you actually showed a bit of emotion. You had already been holding so much in that there was no more room left to suppress what you were feeling at the time."
"Nothing is wrong with me," he said, his voice steady but unconvincing. "I've just been really tired lately, is all." He lied.
"There you go again, trying to hide your emotions." Antonia sighed. "Really, I'm also at fault for not calling this out earlier."
"You haven't done anything wrong," he hurriedly said.
"Uche, I know you made a promise to Herald to take care of Rob if anything ever happened to him, and I know how much it hurt you that you couldn't keep that promise. But you don't always have to play the role of the strong man. You're allowed to show your emotions; you're allowed to share your problems with me—your wife. Your mental health matters."
Uche remained silent.
"I hope we have an understanding." Antonia said.
Uche sighed. "Yes, we do. I'll try to be better, but for now, you don't want to miss your outing with Cherry."
"I'm glad you understand." She kissed him on the cheek once more and got up. "Bye, honey." She waved as she exited the room.
As soon as she was out of sight, Uche resumed his thoughts. He waited until he heard the front door shut before standing up and heading to their bedroom. Walking over to the bed, he pulled back the sheets and lifted the mattress, revealing the file he had found in the attic, along with a notebook.
He picked them up and moved to his desk. Opening both the file and the notebook, he stared at the contents. All the papers and documents in the file were written in a foreign language—the same language the figure in his dream had spoken. His notebook contained numerous failed attempts to translate it.
'A thorough internet search couldn't identify this language,' Uche thought. 'But based on my nightmares, I've been trying to identify patterns and decipher it.'
He scanned his scribbles and jottings, frustration building within him. With a sharp exhale, he banged the table. After a moment, he took a deep breath to calm himself before muttering, "Maybe he can help me."
Closing the file and notebook, he picked up his phone and dialed James Hawkins.
—Ring—Ring—Ring—Picks up—
Jim: Hey, Uche! How ya been? It's been a while since we spoke.
Uche: Yes, Jim, how are you?
Jim: I'm doing great. How's the wife treating you?
Uche: She's amazing. I'm really lucky to have her.
Jim: I hear that—you okay, buddy? Never heard you open up like that. Is something wrong?
Uche: No, nothing's wrong. I guess retirement just gave me time to think, is all.
Jim: Hmm… okay, if you say so.
Uche: Anyway, I need a favor. Do you happen to know Robert's address?
Jim: Oh wow, retirement's really doing a number on you. You actually sound like you're seeking redemption. Never thought I'd see the day.
Uche: Come on, Jim, just answer the question.
Jim: Alright, alright. He lives on Donald Winslow Avenue. His apartment building is number 22—it's a mixed-use building, apartments on top, barbershop below. Directly across from it, tucked inside a tight alley, is a café—number 11. He spends a lot of time there.
Uche: Thank you, Jim. I appreciate it.
Jim: Anytime.
—Hangs up—
Uche sighed, then picked up the file and notebook. He grabbed a coat, slipping it over his clothes, and left the house, locking the door behind him.
***
Jasper was walking back from the store, a grocery bag of dog food in his hand. Beside him, Shaggy trotted along, her tongue hanging out. As they neared the apartment, Jasper spotted a man standing in front of Rob's door, holding a briefcase in hand from a distance.
Shaggy barked at the sight of him, her tail wagging excitedly as she let out a high-pitched whine, turning her attention to Jasper.
"You know that man?" Jasper asked.
She yipped again; her ears pearked up in anticipation.
"Sure, knock yourself out."
That was all the permission she needed. Joyfully, she darted away from Jasper towards the apartment.
Meanwhile, Uche tried Rob's doorknob to find it locked. Then he heard the sound of barking. Shaggy? He turned his head, and before he knew it, he was ambushed by a furry bundle of energy. Shaggy's tail wagged wildly as she attempted to slobber him with a greeting, but Uche skillfully held her head back, preventing any saliva from landing on him.
"You will not dirty my outfit today, dog; get off me!" He commanded.
Shaggy obediently stopped and sat in front of him, her tail still wagging and thumping on the floor, tongue sticking out.
Uche got up from the floor, looking at his saliva-stained hands in disgust. "I missed you too, mutt," he muttered.
"My friend's dog seems to be fond of you."
Jasper's voice catches Uche's attention. Both he and Shaggy turned to see Jasper walking up the stairs. Their eyes met.
"Come on, you can wash all that dog spit off at my place. I live next door," Jasper said calmly as he picked up Uche's breifcase and walked past him, Shaggy eagerly following him.
Uche's face scrunched up as he watched them head to the next door. Jasper pulled out a key and began unlocking it before Uche finally decided to follow. As Jasper pushed the door open, they all stepped inside.
"The bathroom's over there," Jasper pointed.
"Thank you," Uche replied, walking toward it with his hands held apart to avoid touching anything.
Jasper made his way to the kitchen. Soon after, the bathroom door opened, and Uche stepped out.
"Are you a relative of Rob's?" Jasper's voice carried from the kitchen.
"No... Yes... Something like that," Uche responded uncertainly from the doorway.
Jasper made a perplexed look as he emerged from the kitchen, a bowl in one hand and a can of dog food in the other. "Please, have a seat," he gestured toward one of the couches.
"I'm his uncle," Uche finally admitted as he sat down.
"Might your name be Uche?" Jasper asked, pouring food into the bowl. Shaggy immediately dug in, devouring her meal.
"Rob told you about me?" Uche asked.
"Yes, quite a bit. I know you two aren't exactly on the best terms," Jasper said, placing the empty can on a side table before sitting on the couch.
"Where is he now?" Uche asked.
"He went out with some guy... I think he said he was his cousin."
"He's with Victor? Where?"
"I assume you know he's a detective. He went to Birchwood University to find leads related to a case he's working on. He said he'd be back yesterday, but he hasn't returned since."
Uche processed the information for a moment before speaking. "How has he been lately?"
"He's doing well. His work as a private detective pays enough to keep a roof over his head and food on his table. He's a good kid—cares a lot about the people around him, his friends, what's left of his family, and most of all, his dog. Sometimes he's driven by his emotions, which can lead to reckless mistakes, but he always means well."
"You certainly know him well," Uche commented. "You know him better than I do, that's for sure."
Jasper chuckled. "I guess I do. He lived under my roof for a while before he could get on his feet."
"Is that so?" Uche murmured under his breath.
"Sorry, I don't have any snacks to offer you. I don't usually have guests."
"No, it's fine," Uche said as he rose to his feet.
Shaggy lifted her head, noticing his movement.
"Since he's not here, I guess I'll be leaving... I never got your name."
"Jasper—Jasper Van Bakke."
They shook hands.
"It was nice to meet you," Uche said before breaking the handshake and heading for the door. With his briefcase clutched in his hand, he walked down the stairs of the apartment building.
Like a ghost, Uche strolled down the street, lost in thought. The usual stern look on his face was now tinged with a hint of introspection. In the distance, he spotted the bus stop. A man sat on the bench, dressed in a construction worker's outfit.
Arriving at the stop, Uche stood near the bench, waiting for the same bus.
"Good morning, sir," the man greeted.
Uche snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh? Ah, yes, good morning," he replied.
"If I may pry, sir, you don't look too happy. Is life giving you a hard time?" the man asked.
Uche sighed. "Oh, no, it's nothing you should worry about," he responded politely.
The man lowered his gaze, idly fiddling with his thumbs. "I'm a hunter," he said suddenly. "That's my true calling."
Uche raised an eyebrow, glancing at the man's construction uniform.
"Hunting is an art—a way of life, I always say. It doesn't make the most money, but life is about doing what you're passionate about, not just making money, right?"
Uche didn't answer, but the man could tell he was listening, so he continued.
"I used to support my family as a hunter. We live on the outskirts, but we were okay with that. Then my son got into university, and my wife started nagging me about getting a real job so we could support him properly." A bittersweet smile flickered across his face. "I didn't want a new job—I love hunting. I thought I could keep up with the school fees by catching extra game, and I actually managed to pay for three years. This year is his third."
The man's smile faltered. "Yeah, I always paid late, and that caused problems for my son sometimes. But I always got it paid."
He hesitated before continuing. "Recently, I had a near-death experience. You might've seen the news about that huge, unidentified beast that attacked a couple near the woods. Turns out, it's not just a rumor. I encountered that thing." His voice grew tense. "I was terrified—I thought I was going to die. It wasn't like any animal I've ever seen before." He stretched out his hands as if trying to shape the creature in the air. "I shot it with my gun, but it had no effect."
Uche's expression darkened with intrigue.
"I ran for my damn life," the man admitted. "Damn near had a heart attack while running. I thought that thing would catch up to me any second." His face lit up with the ghost of a chuckle. "Of course, my wife didn't believe me when I got home. 'That's crazy talk! You're getting senile!' she said."
He shook his head. "Real or not, that experience made me realize something: life is short. You never know when you'll kick the bucket. And when you do, you leave behind a lot of regrets—regrets that don't just haunt you but also the people around you. Once you're gone, the people who care about you will never see you again."
The man turned to Uche with a warm smile. "So when you die, you should die with no regrets." He exhaled. "Now I've got three jobs, one of them being construction work. They're still not the best-paying jobs in the world, but they pay better than hunting ever did. This time, I'm making sure I pay my son's fees on time. This time, I'm going to make my family proud."
Taking in the hunter's words, Uche couldn't help but reflect on himself.
"I fear I've made a grave mistake," he admitted. "I made a promise to my best friend—no, to my brother. He asked me to take care of his son if anything ever happened to him. Not long after, he died."
Uche exhaled, his voice thick with regret. "I took the boy in, treated him like my own son. But he was troubled, plagued by the loss of his father. He didn't like me very much. We were always arguing, always at odds. One day, he had enough—and he ran away."
His expression grew solemn. "We searched everywhere in this goddamn town. I was a police officer back then. The whole station was behind me, ready to help. We scoured the city, turned over every stone, but we never found him. In the end, we had no choice but to assume he was dead."
For the first time in a long while, Uche let emotion seep into his voice.
"Then, out of the blue, seven years later, he came back—knocking on my front door, no place to stay, asking if he could live with us again."
A frown creased his face. But just as quickly as it formed, it melted into a wistful smile.
"Let me be honest with you—I was overjoyed. I was so damn happy to see him again. But at the same time, I was furious. Incredibly angry. Angry at what? I don't know. Maybe because he was still alive and never once tried to contact us. Or maybe because, for all those years, I believed I had failed to keep my promise to my brother."
He let out a bitter chuckle. "When my wife saw him, she cried tears of joy. Everyone else was ready to welcome him back. But me? I couldn't. I sent him away. He wanted independence, so I gave it to him. He doesn't get to just show up after seven years and expect everything to be dandy."
Uche clenched his fists. His voice softened.
"But every day, I wonder if I made the right decision."
He turned to the hunter, his eyes glistening. "Did I? Was it right to not accept him?"
The hunter sat in thought before speaking. "Do you still care for him?"
Uche broke down completely. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground.
"Yes! Yes, I do, goddamn it!" His voice cracked. "I do!"
Tears spilled down his face. "All this time, I thought being a man meant being strong, taking everything life throws at you without flinching. I thought there was a standard to masculinity—a line that, if I didn't meet, I couldn't call myself a man. But I was wrong." His hands trembled. "Now I'm starting to realize—showing others how you feel doesn't make you any less of a man. If anything, it makes you stronger."
He let out a shaky breath. "Damn it all, I'm a fool. A goddamn fool."
The hunter placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"The answer to your question depends on you," he said. "But as I told you before—when you die, you're going to leave behind a lot of regrets. The best thing you can do is cherish the people around you while you still can. Make things right; finish what you need to do. So that when the time comes, you can go with no regrets."
Uche took in the hunter's words, breathing deeply. Slowly, he rose to his feet, wiping his eyes and dusting off his coat.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said respectfully, adjusting his collar.
The bus finally pulled up.
"Looks like our ride is here," the hunter said, standing.
"Yeah." Uche glanced at him, offering a small, genuine smile.
Together, they boarded the bus.