Chapter 15 - ONE MISTAKE AWAY PART FOUR (Final Season)Chapter 1: The Heavy Third Trimester ‎

The rain pounded the zinc roof of their face-me-I-face-you room in Egbeda just like that fateful night years ago, but this time there was no passion — only quiet fear and exhaustion. Naomi was now well into her third trimester, her belly round and heavy under loose wrappers. At nearly seven months, the baby kicked strongly, reminding them daily of the life they had created from one forbidden mistake.Zion sat on the edge of the thin mattress, gently rubbing Naomi's swollen feet while the rechargeable lantern cast a soft glow. The shared bathroom down the corridor smelled of damp concrete and cheap soap, and NEPA had taken light again, leaving the compound noisy with generators. "How you dey feel today?" he asked softly, his voice full of care.Naomi winced as another Braxton Hicks contraction tightened her belly. "The back pain dey worse, and this belle… e heavy. But the baby dey move well." She placed her hand over his on her stomach. Tears welled up. "Zion, I still regret am every single day. We be half-brother and sister. We got ourselves pregnant from that one reckless night. Now we dey struggle here alone while Mama dey search for us. What kind of parents go we be?"Zion leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently against hers, a tender gesture that had replaced their old passion. "I regret it too, Naomi. Deeply. The way we let lust blind us, the way we ignored the blood between us. Every time I see your belly, I remember we crossed a line we no suppose cross. But this child… e innocent. And I no fit regret the love we get for each other now." He held her close, arms wrapped protectively around her as she cried quietly into his chest.Their days revolved around survival. Zion woke at 5 a.m. to shoot quick vlogs around Egbeda market — capturing the chaos of okada riders, women frying akara, and morning traffic on the expressway. His "celedit" channel had grown to 3,200 subscribers through consistent Lagos hustle content, bringing in small but steady AdSense money — enough for food and basic antenatal supplements, but far from the ₦450,000+ needed for proper hospital care many women now faced in Lagos. He took extra editing gigs for local events, traveling in crowded danfos that left him drained.Naomi rested more as fatigue and leg swelling set in. She helped with small tasks when she could — sorting Zion's video files or preparing simple meals like indomie with eggs on their kerosene stove outside. Aunty Shade, the nosy neighbor, still watched them closely. "That belle don big well well o. When una go do introduction?" she asked one evening while sharing garri. Naomi smiled weakly and changed the topic, but the pressure mounted.Evenings were for deep talks. They sat together on the plastic chair, Naomi leaning against Zion as he rubbed her back. "Sometimes I wish we never kissed on that balcony," she whispered. "But then this baby no go dey here. I dey sorry for the pain we go cause Mama." Zion nodded, guilt still heavy in his eyes. "Me too. But we don come this far. We go face am together — no more hiding forever."Money was tight. Rent reminders loomed, and clinic visits for check-ups drained their savings. Yet in the quiet moments, their bond grew stronger through care, not desire — Zion fetching cold water during her discomfort, holding her during emotional mood swings, and promising a better future