10/07/2025
UNSPOKEN - A Story by Listening Ears International
Episode 4
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In the office, long after everyone had left, Melissa remained. The overhead lights were off - only her desk lamp was on, casting a sterile white light across her workspace. Her desk, as always, was perfectly arranged. Pens aligned. Files labeled. Notebooks stacked.
She reached for a folder in the filing cabinet. As she flipped it open, she frowned.
โUnbelievable,โ she muttered. The documents inside were out of order - pages shuffled, dates misaligned. Quickly, she began sorting them, shaking her head.
Once everything was neatly back in place, she returned to her seat and opened the draft of the questionnaire on her laptop. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, then froze.
She leaned back, exhaled.
โI couldโve said it better,โ she thought. โI didnโt have to say it wasnโt good.โ
But then again, she wasnโt paid to sugar-coat things. โWeโre not here to play nice. Weโre here to get it right. Weโre here to make something excellent.โ
She shakes off the doubt, adjusts her posture, and types with renewed focus.
Click-clack. Click-clack.
The only sound in the office is the rhythm of someone who believes standards matter more than sentiments.
After a while, she pauses, re-examining the questionnaire. She sighs. โIs this really up to par?โ She picks up her phone, contemplating whether to call Kola for advice. But she decides against it, knowing exactly what he'd say. He'd tell her that anything she touches becomes gold, and while his reassurance would be comforting, she's not in the mood for hollow words. She's aware of her own self-doubt and doesn't want to burden Kola with her insecurities. Instead, she sets her phone down and returns to typing away on her system, lost in her thoughts.
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The weight of the day clung to Jane like heavy fog. She sat on her bed in her pajamas, her journal open in front of her, pen resting between her fingers. The page remained blank.
She stared at it, then wrote slowly: โMaybe I couldโve done better.โ
She paused, looked at the words, then scratched them out.
โMaybe he was just stressed. Heโs under pressure too.โ
Still, the sting of Aminuโs words hadnโt dulled. She remembered the way he picked her work apart like it was nothing. No filter, no cushioning - just cold disapproval. And yet, somehow, she still found herself trying to make sense of it.
Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. โPeople handle stress differently, Jane. Donโt take it personal,โ she murmured to herself.
There was a soft knock on her door. Her mum peeked in, voice gentle. โStill awake?โ
Jane nodded with a faint smile.
โDonโt stay up too late,โ her mum said before closing the door.
Alone again, Jane crawled under her duvet, leaving the journal open beside her. She stared at the ceiling in silence. โIโll try harder tomorrow,โ she whispered as she drifted to sleep.
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In a cluttered apartment, Kola was sprawled across his bed, laptop still open beside him, pizza box tossed onto the floor. The screen glowed blue on his face as he mindlessly scrolled through job posts.
โCreative strategistโฆ nah, Iโm done with that life. I want something fresh and edgy,โ he muttered.
Then, without warning, an image of Jane crying flashed in his memory. The smirk on his face faded. His chest tightened with quiet guilt.
โThis guy too dey do anyhow,โ he said aloud, voice low. He closed the laptop and let it drop beside him.
He stared at the ceiling, replaying the day in his head. โBut that Melissa ehnโฆ nothing can move that babe.โ he chuckled softly.
Then came a pause. A sigh. A whisper.
โMy cute little angelโฆ You really tried today.โ
He didnโt know if he was referring to Jane or Melissa. Maybe both. He closed his eyes.
โThis job sef. Make we just finish abeg. Tiring something.โ
Sleep crept in quietly, finally catching him mid-thought.
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Aminu sat in his apartment, hunched over his home-work table. His laptop was open, tabs filled with marketing research, segmentation tools, and Melissaโs questionnaire draft. His room was silent except for the faint tick of the wall clock.
He stared at the screen, reading, analyzing, revising. Then, he hears a knock at the door. He sighs as wife walks in wearing her nightwear.
โItโs past bed time, babe.โ He rolls his eyes knowing she was about to nag and he wasnโt in that headspace.
He dismisses her reminding her that he hates to be interrupted while working. Understanding that he wouldnโt spare her a second of his time, she walks out peacefully without another word. Sheโd come to realize that for her husband, itโs work over anything else, he had to get what he was doing over and done with before he had time for chit chat. It took her just 2 weeks into dating him to realize this.
Then he paused.
He could still hear Kolaโs voice ringing out, accusing him of discrediting others, of making everyone feel small. Janeโs expression - hurt, vulnerable. Melissaโs calculated disapproval. He let the silence stretch.
โWas I too hard?โ he whispered.
There was no answer. Just the quiet.
He shook his head slowly.
โEmotions and professionalism shouldnโt mix,โ he told himself. โThis is not pride. This is discipline.โ
He took a sip of his tea. Cold. He didnโt flinch.
โIf I donโt raise the bar, who will?โ
His fingers returned to the keyboard, and he typed with renewed focus, though something in his expression remained unsettled - like a man building walls to keep something in, not just out.
Everyone had gone quiet. But the silence didnโt mean peace - only that the storm had gone inward.
And tomorrow, the team would meet again.
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๐ฏ๐๐๐๐๐...๐พ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐?
๐ณ๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐๐
๐ 5.๐ฅฐ
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๐ด๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐...
๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐...๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐จ๐๐๐๐๐๐ 4?
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐จ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐ฒ๐๐๐, ๐ด๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐ฑ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐!๐คฃ๐คฃ
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๐ญ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐ ๐ฐ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐
๐ ๐
๐๐๐๐.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐..๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐.
