The ride from the hospital back to the penthouse was the quietest I had ever shared with Alexander. Usually, our car rides were filled with his sharp phone calls, my frantic typing, or a thick, unspoken tension. Tonight, the interior of the car was a sanctuary. Alexander sat close enough that I could feel the radiant warmth of his body, his hand firmly, possessively, yet gently cradling mine. He kept his thumb tracing soothing circles over my knuckles, a silent apology written in every touch.
As we pulled into the drive of the penthouse, the city lights of Ibadan twinkled below, but for the first time in months, they didn't look like symbols of a life I needed to escape. They looked like a backdrop to the life I was finally beginning to understand.
We entered the penthouse, and the fa
