THE TRANSFER

CHAPTER SEVEN-THE FALL

From that day, Kunle withdrew.

He slept and turned away. He spoke only when required. He touched nothing that belonged to intimacy.

Silence was not punishment.

It was discipline.

Some men rage.

Kunle went quiet.

And that decision followed him into divorce, into restraint, into a life where damage did not need witnesses.

Kunle stopped touching me.

There was no argument to announce it. No confrontation. Just silence that settled politely into our home and never left.

At work, the auditors arrived. Quiet people with neutral faces and careful questions. They didn’t accuse. They observed. Transfers. Approvals. Access points. They spoke in patterns, in probabilities, in data that had already reached its conclusions. The files stacked quickly.

Transfers approved under my credentials. Executed through Tosin’s terminal.

The truth revealed itself faster than I could shape a defense. I confessed to what I could bear the affair, the negligence, the trust I had misplaced and then abused. I told myself my confession was honest. It wasn’t. It was survival.

I did not protect Tosin. Fear edits faster than love ever could.

When Tosin was arrested, something inside me broke without a sound. No tears came. No scream followed. Just a hollowing, a quiet collapse that mirrored everything I had chosen. At that moment, I understood the cruelty of silence not as absence, but as a consequence.