Lara spent the entire day in silence.
No music. No scrolling. No frantic touching to take the edge off.
She cleaned the apartment like it was a ritual—wiped down every surface, changed the sheets (though they still smelled faintly of him), lit a single unscented candle on the nightstand just to watch it burn. She showered until they water ran cold, letting it pound against her shoulders while she stood motionless, palms flat to the tiles, breathing through the hollow ache in her chest.
The money was real. Over thirty million naira now sat in her account—enough to finish school, move to a better flat, maybe even help her mother back in the village. Enough to never eat Indomie again unless she wanted to. Enough to walk away clean.
But walking away felt like tearing something vital out o
