WHO MURDERED VALENTINE??????? - by Eyitoluwase Soyinka

I don’t watch everyone. That would be exhausting. Most people confuse habit for love, and I let them.The endless flowers and chocolates that parade the streets... ugh, even I grow weary for this particular reason for the season.But her—She was different. And I like difference. So I pay close attention to what interests me.Valentine’s Day is my day. I choose carefully. And my darling... she didn’t disappoint. My gaze rested on her perfectly sunburned face as she struggled to contain her anger. They were trading words in her driveway. A day before my day? I found that interesting.Snippets of their argument filled my head as he ground out, “It’s just one day, babe. The company called me in... I couldn’t say no.”“It’s always work, work, work with you. We had plans. Tomorrow of all days.”“I’ll make it up to you, okay?”Her fists clenched, controlled, deliberate, as she turned away and slammed the door. He followed halfway, hesitated, then thought better of it. Misery has a way of retreating when it’s no longer welcome.I waited. And I was rewarded.The curtain shifted. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him drive away.The next morning, she woke up to the insistent ringing of her doorbell. With bed hair and a threadbare pajamas, she opened the door... only to be greeted by a large bouquet of flowers filling her arms.One handwritten note, tucked between the stems:“I love you.”Her lips curved despite herself. “We can’t stay mad at each other forever,” she murmured, already turning back inside. She walked into work dressed in a red pantsuit studded with golden gems.“Ever immaculate,” Janice—her assistant—noticed. She watched her smile, listened to the gentle morning motivation she gave to her team.Then her expression shifted into a slight frown as a deliveryman stepped into the hall alongside security.“What’s going on here?” she asked.“Delivery for you, ma’am.”“Me?” The words had barely left her mouth before large baskets of truffle chocolates, cookies, and pastries from B&M were wheeled halfway in.The deliveryman handed her a card with a wink. “Your man truly loves you.”Envy bloomed quietly in Janice’s chest. Her own man had managed movie tickets—barely. No flowers. No fuss. No effort.She hated herself for the thought, but it came anyway: Why her?Even I understood Janice’s bitterness. It is easier to be alone on my day than to share it with someone who forgets. But Janice was not my concern.I watched her lift her phone and dial. Disconnected.She smiled anyway and left a voice note, warmth lacing her voice in gratitude. Evening met her on the drive home. She parked and stepped toward the doorway,And froze. A two-tier red-and-white themed cake sat on the walkway, frosting gleaming under the porch light. And beside it were two police officers already bringing out their IDs.Now I was definitely amused.She sat across the detective in the interrogation room. A recorder was placed on the table between them.“Ma’am, can you tell us the last time you saw Mr. Valentine—your fiancé?”“Yesterday morning...we—” She scraped her nails through her hair, frantic. This was nonsense. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.“Detective, are you sure he’s dead?”“Ma’am, please just answer the question,” the male officer interjected.The female detective shot him a look, then knelt beside her.“I shouldn’t have argued with him,” she bellowed through tears.“Ma’am, I need you to calm down. Your fiancé was murdered in cold blood. We need you to tell us everything you know so we can find the killer.”She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering, “Killer... killer...”I watched the shift in her—the focus, the control sneaking back in—as she drew a shaky breath and began to explain. Everything she knew, he seemed normal, wasn’t scared. He didn’t act like anyone was after him.The detective leaned back.“You didn’t find it strange that you didn’t hear from your fiancé on Valentine’s Day?”“He told me he was going to be busy,” she said.“Busy?” the detective repeated “He’s a doctor, yes. But not too busy to send gifts.” She held his gaze" i told you. We had an argument. He was trying to make it up to me, Officer, are you...are you suspecting me? Shouldn’t you be talking to his colleagues? He was at work.”The detectives exchanged glances.“Ma’am... your fiancé was at home.”Her face froze.“He was at home...with another woman. She was the one who called the police.”"Are you implying he was seeing someone else?” she screamed, standing, enraged.“No! No, no, no! He loved me! You’re mistaken! He would never do that! He would never cheat on me—““Ma’am... please calm down.”“Did she kill him? She killed him!” Throwing things around, she screamed at them. “I can’t believe you. He wouldn’t cheat. That lady—whoever she is—she’s the killer.”Fear coated her features. This wasn’t going according to plan. She remembered what she had done. She remembered how she had tailed his car, ready to scream at his boss... only to be shocked when he picked up a girl (she couldn't remember the name, but she recognized her from their church).A girl he took to his house. She watched as he kissed her and undressed her on the front porch. He couldn’t even wait to take it inside, louder than he had ever been with her, saying things he had never said to her, touching her like he had never touched her.Was this her fiancé? The same one who told her making love was an act of worship and shouldn’t be rough? He always had work excuses. How many times had he lied to her? He knew how much she loved celebrating Valentine’s, and yet here he was. And rage built a holy temple in her heart, But wisdom guided her. She drove back home and parked her car. It wouldn’t do for her neighbors to say she wasn’t around during those hours.She went upstairs and changed. Sneaking out the back, she got a ride to his place. Even she didn’t know what she was waiting for. But she knew what she was going to do.The other woman had left. She rang his doorbell.“Krista, did you leave something?” he said as he pushed the door open. He didn’t finish the sentence.The first stab went in just below his ribs. He bent forward immediately. The second went into his side. He collapsed near the entrance. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.There wasn’t much blood at first. She waited. When he stopped moving, she dragged him into the living room, He was heavier than she expected.She cleaned the floor near the door. And she started crashing things in the house. Let it look like they had fought... and his little whore had killed him in rage.She placed the knife somewhere inconspicuous. Somewhere someone thinking fast might hide a weapon.And for the final touch... She opened his phone and ordered gifts for herself. One to the house in the morning. One to her workplace. One to her house in the evening. The perfect Valentine’s gift. So I watched her... even as she hugged his mother and wept. Such a good actress. I told you. I was interested in her.Now you know why.The forensic tech passed them, the bagged blade glinting in his hand."Found it," he muttered. "Hidden behind the radiator."The mother’s eyes tracked the steel, her face curdling."That woman...She killed my valentine?” his mother asked, her voice cracking.“Yes,” she whispered, squeezing the older woman’s hands. “I can feel it in my bones, Mum. That whore... she murdered your son.”The mother’s grief curdled into something sharp and dark. “I’ll ruin her life,” she spat, her eyes turning cold. “I’ll ruin her for taking Valentine away from both of us.”“Yes,” the girl replied, leaning her head on the mother's shoulder so her smile was hidden. “We’ll ruin her.”She'll remember this Valentine's Day for years.

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