He had worried about her condition.
He had shared what he had with her.
That did not erase the lie.
But it made walking away more complicated.
Nikki looked at the bags she had packed.
Earlier, she had been completely certain she would leave.
She had imagined lifting those bags and walking out before Roland could stop her.
She had believed dignity required distance.
Now she was exhausted.
She was pregnant.
She had nowhere stable to go.
And the anger that had carried her through the confrontation was slowly being replaced by the heaviness she had been trying not to feel all day.
Roland noticed her looking at the bags.
“Please stay,” he said.
Nikki looked at him.
“You should not be outside moving from place to place in your condition.
Whatever problem you have with me, we can settle it here.
I promise I will not lie to you again.”
Nikki did not answer immediately.
She remembered how she had felt when her husband chased her away.
She remembered the humiliation of having no explanation for the pregnancy.
She remembered trying to make sense of something that did not make sense even to her.
And she remembered that Roland had helped her when he did not have to.
Finally, she reached for one of the bags.
Roland stiffened, expecting her to carry it to the door.
Instead, Nikki placed it back beside the wall.
“I guess I forgive you,” she said.
Roland blinked.
“For lying about where you work,” she added quickly.
“I am not saying I like what you did.”
“I understand.”
“And if there is anything else you are hiding from me, tell me before I discover it myself.”
Roland gave a small nod.
“There isn’t.”
Nikki wanted to believe him.
She was too tired to continue interrogating him, and there was no proof that he knew anything about her past stay in Ward 10.
Familiarity was not evidence.
A face that seemed remembered was not enough to make an accusation.
Still, she stored the feeling away.
Not as a conclusion.
As a question.
The tension slowly left the room.
Nikki looked toward the area where she usually prepared food and suddenly remembered something ordinary enough to make the evening feel strange.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Roland looked confused.
“For what?”
“I did not cook the jollof rice again.”
For the first time since he returned home, her mouth formed a gentle smile.
“I was unhappy throughout the day.”
Roland’s expression softened.
“It’s fine.”
He reached for the bag he had brought home.
“I bought fruits.”
He brought them out and placed them between them.
The simplicity of the gesture unsettled Nikki in a different way.
Only minutes earlier, she had been holding his cleaner’s uniform like evidence.
