Build A story (The choice)

⚖️Hi, everyone. Before we begin, there’s something you need to understand: in this story, you are not just reading. You are shaping it. Every heartbeat, every choice, every life in this story… it is in your hands. By the end, your decisions will determine how this story unfolds. The lives of these people, their hopes, their fears, all of it depends on what you choose.Now… let’s begin. Bisola rubbed the sleep from her eyes, listening to the usual chaos of Ikeja seeping through her window. The honking from Obafemi Awolowo way, the shouting of street hawkers selling bread and puff-puff to people who came to buy gadgets, the low hum of danfos weaving recklessly through traffic, all of it gave her a headache but she couldn't complain 'na she carry herself go live for computer village' Her husband, Arinze, leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone.“At this rate Tobi would forget his bag in the living room again,” he said, looking up.His voice carried that tired husky tone that made her ache for him even though she was dressed for work.Tobi, their four-year-old, was bounding in and out of the hallway, chasing his small plastic car across the tiles. “Mummy! Daddy! Look! Look at how fast I go!” he shouted, his energy filling the room like sunlight.Bisola laughed. “Careful, Tobi, don’t crash into the wall.” She said as she reached out to steady him, feeling the warmth of his small hands in hers. “Go and eat your breakfast now so you won't be late to school.” The morning was ordinary, perfect in its chaos, and bisola treasured it. But bisola felt an unusual tension.She chalked it up to Lagos traffic wahala, after all Okadas were swerving recklessly through the estate roads, danfos were cutting corners, and the familiar smell of fuel mixed with roasted plantain from the street vendors made her tummy churnYes it was all routine, predictablebut today, something felt off. A car lingering behind them a little too long, a shadow watching from the sidewalk. A prickling sense telling her to watch carefully. Something is not right.She shook her head, trying to focus on the small arguments Tobi was having with his seatbelt. Arinze held her hands briefly, a small gesture of comfort. Of course he could tell she was fidgety. She didn't want him asking questions So she forced herself to believe it was just a feeling, nothing more.But Ikeja has a way of turning ordinary moments into life-altering ones in a heartbeat. By mid-afternoon, they were back in their apartment in GRA Ikeja. Bisola unpacked the items she got from the jara mall. while Tobi did homework at the table, complaining about pencils that kept breaking. Arinze worked on his laptop, occasionally muttering at emails. The routine was a comfort, a reminder that their lives were safe… normal.Then came the knock.At first, soft, polite.A delivery, maybe. But then it was repeated, louder, more insistent. “Who is it?” Bisola called, walking toward the door she stood and peered through the peephole.No one familiar. No uniformed delivery man. Just shadows shifting, quick, purposeful.Before she could react, the door burst open. Hands grabbed her , A cloth pressed to her mouth. Tobi screamed. Arinze lunged forward, but two men tackled him. The room descended into chaos. When Bisola woke, the first thing she noticed was the damp, metallic smell of fear and panic. She was bound to a chair. Across from her, Tobi sat, small and crying, and Arinze struggled against his bonds in an attempt to save his family. The room was dim, the walls bare, the hum of Lagos far away, replaced with the low menace of quiet footsteps.A man stepped forward, his face unreadable. His voice was calm, measured.“Now madam you go do something for me, you see this gun" he said, shoving a gun up her chin, forcing her to look up "na you go use am, your oga or your pikin one gats go and na you go decide"Her chest constricted. The room spun. Her heart pounded in her ears.She had built her life around them: laughing with Arinze on weekends, helping Tobi with school, cooking meals, sharing the small joys of their GRA apartment. And now, in an instant, she was being asked to destroy it.Her eyes flickered between them. Her son’s small, terrified hands gripping his knees, and her husband’s strong, steady gaze, searching hers for a plan that didn’t exist.Just then the metallic click of the gun reached her earsShe realized, with a clarity so sharp it cut through her chest: He wasn't joking. she could only save one. This is where I leave it to you.Which will she save? Her husband, the person who built her life and anchors her in the world? Or her child, the small being who carries her hope, her blood, her future?Your choice will shape the story. Comment, discuss, vote this is where Part 1 ends.Part two will continue based on the choice you make.Remember… sometimes, even the right decision has consequences you cannot imagine

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