"You don’t trust me."
Yemi’s voice was calm, but the accusation in it was razor-sharp.
Lola froze in the middle of unbuttoning her coat, her fingers stiffening on the fabric. The air between them thickened, the silence stretching long enough to press against her ribs. She didn’t turn around immediately. She needed a second. Just one.
Then, slowly, she exhaled and faced him.
Yemi stood by the window, his silhouette dark against the dim glow of the city. His suit jacket hung open, his tie slightly loosened, but his posture was rigid.
"What kind of question is that?" she asked, her voice even, careful.
Yemi’s jaw tightened. "It’s not a question, Lola. It’s a fact."
Her heart pounded, but she kept her expression unreadable. "You’re overthinking again."
Yemi’s laughter was short, humorl
