The silence in Mina's small apartment was a physical presence, thick and heavy with everything left unsaid.
"I am returning to Abuja tomorrow, because I cannot remain here while you disrespect my wishes. You can go ahead and do whatever you think is right for you." Her mother turned to Safiya. "I have sent you some money for your upkeep until you are well. We will take nothing more from that man. Make sure you reach out whenever you need something." With a definitive snap, Mina's mother reached for her bag and headed out to find a hotel.
Her departure left a void filled only by Safiya's worried glances and the lingering ghosts of her words. A transaction. A receipt. A love that begins in favor may not end in favor.
For two days, Mina moved through her life like a sleepwalker, Adams's absence a palpable ache. She returned to her teaching job, where the cheerful chaos of the children served as a stark contrast to the turmoil in her heart. She cared deeply for him, yet her conversations with Safiya carefully skirted the one subject that consumed them both: his kindness and the depth of his care.
Tunde resumed calling every night. His calls became a source of mounting guilt—each ring a reminder of the settled, predictable future she was expected to want. She answered him with a voice that was bright but brittle, speaking of her students and Safiya's recovery, while carefully editing out any mention of black cars, poetry books, or the man whose name felt like a secret on her tongue.
Adams, perceptive as always, gave her the space she needed. There were no books, no food deliveries. There was only a single text the day after her mother left: "I hope you and Safiya are settling in well at home. I'm here if you need to talk." That restraint, that profound respect for her turmoil, was its own form of courtship. It made her miss him with a physical intensity.
On the third evening, as the sun set over the rusted rooftops of her neighborhood, casting long shadows through her window, there was a knock at the door. It wasn't the firm, official rap of a landlord, but a confident, familiar tap.
Her heart stuttered. She knew who it was before she even moved.
Adams stood there. He wasn't in a business suit or a casual linen shirt; he wore a simple, well-cut agbada of deep indigo cotton. The elegant traditional attire made him look both regal and grounded—a man who truly belonged to this place. He looked serious, his eyes intent.
"Mina," he greeted calmly. "May I come in?"
Wordlessly, she stepped aside. From her bed in the corner, Safiya slowly set down her book, her eyes wide. "Good evening, sir," she murmured.
He entered, his presence immediately filling the humble room. He didn't sit; instead, he stood in the center of the home, his gaze taking in the worn furniture, the neatly stacked papers from her students, and the photo of her parents on the wall. He didn't look out of place. He looked as though he were truly seeing her world, and by extension, truly seeing her.
"Safiya," he nodded. "Good evening, dear." Then he turned his full attention back to Mina. "I gave you space. I heard everything your mother said—and I heard her words echoed in your silence. I know the doubts that have been planted, and I know exactly what she thinks of me."
Mina wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive gesture. "Adams, how?"
"Let me speak," he said gently, but with an authority that stilled her. "I have spent my life building things—businesses, magazines, reputations. I am good at it. I can look at a complex problem and see the most elegant solution. But you… you are not a problem to be solved, Mina. You are a mystery I want to spend a lifetime unraveling."
He took a step closer as Safiya held her breath.
"Your mother is right to be skeptical; she sees what the world sees. I understand that the world is often unkind to women, and a love that started where ours did is… unconventional." He acknowledged her fear, giving it its due weight. "But she is wrong about one fundamental thing. This was not a transaction. It was a collision. It is too late now, and no amount of skepticism will change that. I refuse to let her influence change my mind. It has only made me braver, and I am here to confess that—and to stay."
His eyes burned with a fierce intensity. "I was one man walking into that hospital—a man who calculated everything. I collided with you, and I walked out as someone entirely different. You didn't just change my day, Mina. You changed my atomic structure."
Mina felt the air leave her lungs. Her mother's words began to crumble under the sheer weight of his conviction.
"I don't want to court you in secret. I don't want to send drivers and books, and I never wanted to have intellectual debates in hospital rooms." He took another step forward, standing directly before her. "I want to argue with you over breakfast. I want to bring kolanuts to your house. I want to speak to your uncles and aunties until they are hoarse from talking. I want to build a life with you in the open sun, not in the shadow of a crisis."
He reached into a small pouch tucked into his agbada and withdrew a single, beautiful box. He held it out to her. "This may not look like the traditional symbol of a serious man with honorable intent, but it is modern," he paused. "Nor am I here to buy you. I have come to ask you, Mina: will you let me prove to you and your family that a love beginning in compassion can be built on respect? Will you let me stand beside you, in front of everyone, and promise to be your husband?"
It wasn't just a question; it was a vow. A declaration of war against doubt, tradition, and the easy path.
The world narrowed to the space between them and the box in his hand. She could hear Safiya's soft, shocked gasp. She could feel the ghost of her mother's frown and the echo of Tunde's steady, predictable promises.
Torn was too small a word. She was split in two. Her heart, a wild and soaring thing, was already shouting its answer. It was in the tears streaming down her face and the way her body leaned toward his as if pulled by a fundamental force. Yet her mind, her duty-bound mind, screamed of the consequences—of shaming her family and breaking a good man's heart.
"Adams…" she whispered, her voice shaking. "My family… there is a family friend, Tunde. He proposed to me, and my family accepted him. It's all so… complicated for me right now."
"Love is not complicated," he said, his voice unwavering. "It is the simplest thing in the world. It is yes or no. The complications are just noise. Tell me, Mina—past the noise, what does your heart say?"
He was offering her a choice between two selves: the Mina who was safe and dutiful, and the Mina who was brave and passionately loved.
"But who told you about my mom?" she asked.
"Emmanuel. I called him when your number wasn't connecting. When he came to deliver my message, he overheard your mother. He wasn't ready to tell me, but seeing how disturbed I was, he opened up."
"Okay. Thank you," she whispered. "My family pushed for stability, but you offered a different foundation. Not just financial, but emotional and intellectual. A partnership of minds and souls. I am a grown woman, and I know exactly what I want."
She looked into his eyes, her decision solidifying. Her hand trembled as she slowly reached out. Her fingers brushed against his, and a current—bright and terrifying—shot through her.
She took the ring.
It was the smallest of movements, the quietest of acceptances. But in that moment, her world shifted. A brilliant, devastating smile broke across Adams's face—a sunrise after a long night. He didn't sweep her into a kiss; he simply closed his other hand over hers, holding the ring between them like a sacred seal.
Safiya let out a soft sob of pure joy from the corner. Mina's tears fell faster. She had done it. She had chosen the thrilling, terrifying ocean over the safe, familiar shore.
But as she stood there, a cold dread slithered alongside the euphoria. She had said yes. Now, she would have to face her family, stand by her choice, and say no to everyone else. The battle, she knew, had only just begun.