Just for you

Chapter twelve

Favour’s pov

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the blurred silhouette of my own reflection through a film of unshed tears.

I lifted a trembling hand to my face, wincing as my thumb brushed against my swollen, split lower lip. Blood was still slowly oozing from the corner, metallic and warm on my tongue. I looked at the dark bruise already blooming along my jaw where Nathan’s fist had made contact, but the physical pain didn't even compare to the hollow, suffocating weight sitting in my chest.

He should have hit me harder, I thought, letting my hand drop heavily to the edge of the marble sink. I truly deserved to be punched.

I had destroyed everything. My brotherhood with Nathan, my dignity, and any lingering piece of my soul. I had used a fragile girl who had loved me for seven years just to score a cheap, bitter point against my own wife, and now the wreckage was lying wide open for the whole world to see.

The bathroom door creaked open.

I didn't turn around. I just watched in the mirror as Maya stepped quietly into the room, her reflection framing mine. Her eyes were sharp, dark, and rimmed with a cold, terrifying calm that made my stomach drop into a free fall.

She walked up right beside me, leaning her hip against the counter, her eyes locking onto my swollen lip before rising to meet mine in the glass.

"Why did you meet with Joanna again, Favour?" Maya asked, her voice dropping into a low, deadly register that cut through the silence of the room like glass.

I took a slow, heavy breath, refusing to look directly at her face, keeping my eyes fixed on her reflection. "Maya, please... not tonight—"

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the ragged sound of Favour’s breath. Maya stood frozen, the harsh glow of the room catching the raw disbelief etched across her face. She had already known about the betrayal—the painful truth of them sleeping together was a jagged pill she had already swallowed—but this was different.

"Why did you have to meet her again?" Maya asked, her voice trembling, laced with a bitter mix of betrayal and exhaustion. "You promised me. You promised you wouldn't see her."

Before the words could fully settle between them, Favour snapped. A sharp, agonized cry tore from his chest—a sound so unraw and uncontained that it seemed to rattle the very walls.

"Because I love her!" Favour screamed, his voice cracking under the crushing weight of his own grief. He buried his face in his hands, trembling as the confession spilled out of him like open venom. "I love Joanna! Do you think I want this?! Hurting her is killing me—it's hurting me more than you could ever know!"

The words hit Maya like a physical blow, knocking the air straight out of her lungs.

She stood utterly shocked, paralyzed where she was. She had prepared herself for excuses, for lies, or even for guilt, but not for the searing honesty of his devotion to another woman. The realization that his anguish wasn't over losing Maya, but over the pain he was causing Joanna, pierced through her defense. Tears flooded her eyes, hot and heavy, threatening to spill over, but she gripped her fists tightly, fighting with every fiber of her being to keep them from falling.

I hope the love you're talking about is the kind made for brothers and sisters," Maya said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, carrying a quiet, devastating finality that cut deeper than any raised voice ever could.

Without waiting for a response, she released her grip on the small plastic handle in her hand. The plastic first aid kit hit the floor with a hollow, echoing thud, spilling a roll of gauze and a tube of antiseptic across the cold tiles—a silent testament to the care she had walked in with, and the absolute ruin she was walking away from.

She turned on her heel and walked toward the exit. Her posture was rigid, her steps measured and deliberate, even as her vision blurred behind a hot reservoir of unshed tears. She didn't look back to see him reacting to her words, nor did she pause as the heavy front door clicked shut behind her, leaving Favour alone in the middle of the mess he had created.

Favour moved through the bedroom in a numb rhythm, buttoning his shirt and packing a small bag. When he stepped into the living room, Maya was sitting on the edge of the sofa, her knees drawn tightly together.

"I'm going to stay at a hotel for a few days," he said, his voice flat.

Maya’s eyes locked onto his with an unshakable resolve. "I'm not leaving you, Favour," she said firmly. "I'm not walking out on this."

Favour froze. He stared at her, his throat tightening so hard that not a single word could escape. Unable to speak, he simply turned, stepped into the night, and drove away.

Later, standing in front of the framed mirror in the dimly lit hotel room, Favour stared at his own hollow reflection. The silence was broken only by the relentless hum of his phone vibrating against the nightstand.

He glanced over. The screen illuminated a familiar name: Joanna.

He let out a heavy breath. This was the same call that had been reaching out to him for the past seven years—a call that nourished him yet left him entirely drained, making his heart melt into complete chaos.

He slid his thumb across the screen. "Favour?" Joanna’s voice came through, fragile and completely shattered. "Please... I need to see you."

Hearing her like that made his chest tighten. As he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, an overwhelming wave of realization washed over him. Why was he truly running away? The truth he had been trying to suppress surfaced with undeniable clarity: he had never stopped loving her.

Hours slipped by in silence after the phone call before a soft, hesitant knock finally came against the hotel room door.

Favour pulled it open. Joanna stood in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light. Her eyes were bloodshot and deeply swollen, surrounded by dark shadows that betrayed hours of relentless crying. She looked utterly drained, her shoulders slumped under an overwhelming exhaustion.

Favour felt a sharp pang in his chest as he stared at her, realizing just how much she had wept alone in the hours before finally dragging herself to his door.

Joanna’s pov

The ringing felt endless, each dial tone scraping against her frayed nerves. When the line finally clicked and Favour's heavy breathing filled the speaker, Joanna didn’t even give him a chance to say her name.

"Where are you?" she burst out, her voice cracking, completely devoid of pride or restraint.

She gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. She desperately hoped he would just tell her right away, without the games, without the walls he always tried to build between them. The crushing weight in her chest was so unbearable that she felt like she was going to die if she didn't see his face. The hours of crying had hollowed her out, leaving behind a suffocating panic. She didn't care about the consequences anymore; she just needed to see him.

Through the receiver, Favour exhaled a ragged breath. To her immense relief, he didn't fight her. In a low, defeated voice, he gave her the name of the hotel.

Joanna didn’t even bother hanging up properly. She shoved her phone into her pocket and practically sprinted out of her room. Adrenaline masked her exhaustion as she hurried down the stairs, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs, her mind entirely focused on getting out the front door.

But as she reached the bottom of the staircase, Jonathan stepped out of the living room, directly into her path.

He took one look at her frantic state—her swollen, bloodshot eyes, her messy hair, the desperate hurry in her steps—and his brow furrowed. "Joanna, where are you going?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion and concern.

She didn't have the time or the emotional energy to construct a lie. She couldn't even force herself to deflect. "I'm going to see Favour," she burst out, her voice trembling as she tried to brush past him toward the door.

Before she could take another step, Jonathan reached out and grabbed her hand. His grip was tight and unyielding, anchoring her in place despite her frantic momentum.

"You can't be serious," Jonathan said, staring at her in absolute disbelief.

Jonathan’s grip on her wrist tightened, his eyes narrowing as he studied her chaotic, desperate expression. "Are you crazy?" he snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh, warning register. "Or do you want to go back to Nigeria again?"

The threat hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating, designed to put her back in her place. But instead of intimidating her, the words sparked a sudden, fiery defiance. The blinding panic in Joanna’s chest instantly hardened into fierce resolve.

"I am not some seventeen-year-old girl you can just ship off to Nigeria anymore," Joanna fired back, her voice shaking but laced with venom. She stared him dead in the eye, refusing to shrink under his towering presence. "I am an adult, Jonathan. I can make my own choices now."

Jonathan’s jaw clenched. The lingering trace of brotherly concern in his expression completely vanished, replaced by a cold, brutal detachment. He let her words ring out in the tense silence of the hallway before delivering his ultimatum.

"Fine," he said, his voice terrifyingly flat and devoid of emotion. "But if you walk out that door to meet Favour... don't bother coming back."

The sheer finality of his words was meant to paralyze her, to force her into submission the way it always had in the past. Instead, Joanna violently yanked her arm free from his grasp.

She didn't offer a rebuttal, an argument, or even a second glance. With her heart still pounding in her ears, she simply turned her back on him and walked out into the night, letting the heavy front door slam shut behind her as she headed straight for the hotel.

The drive to the hotel felt like a blur, her body moving purely on adrenaline and sheer desperation. By the time Joanna finally stood in the quiet, softly lit hallway, staring up at his room number, the remaining fumes of her energy seemed to evaporate into the chilled air.

She stood in front of the door, completely helpless. Her hand hovered just inches from the wood, heavy with the staggering weight of the night. She had just walked away from Jonathan’s ultimatum; she had practically burned her own bridge to be here. A sudden, terrifying wave of doubt washed over her in the silence. Was any of this right ?was she making a monumental mistake?, walking blindly into the very fore that had consumed them both years ago?

Summoning the absolute last shred of willpower she possessed, she gave it her all, balling her trembling hand into a fist and knocking softly against the door.

She didn’t have much time to let the fear or the regret take hold. Almost instantly, the lock clicked, and the heavy door swung inward.

Favour stood there. The harsh light of the room cast deep shadows over his face, highlighting his hollowed-out expression. He looked utterly drained, his defenses stripped away entirely. He didn’t say a single word, but the raw, unfiltered vulnerability in his dark eyes told her absolutely everything she needed to know. He was just as broken, just as terrified, and just as deeply tied to her as he had always been.

A ragged breath broke free from her throat. Without a second thought, Joanna stepped across the threshold and threw herself forward, collapsing into his arms as she wrapped him in a desperate, deeply aching hug.