Yemi leans against the kitchen counter and says, "I can't keep doing this, Lola," in a frustrated tone. He seems to be trying to make sense of something he doesn't comprehend, as seen by his aloof glance. The tension is heavy and oppressive, and I can feel it hanging in the air.
I gulp, clasping my palms together with shaking hands. "Yemi, I understand. I am aware. I'm not giving up, though. Not quite yet. I didn't mean for the words to sound so desperate, but that's all I have left to say.
His gaze briefly flits over me before he turns his head away once again, his jaw clenched in a way that makes me want to shout and tear down the barrier he has erected around himself.
"We’re not the same, Lola," he murmurs, practically to himself. "Not in light of everything that has transpired. I'm
