Chapter 207

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked, watching the waves crash against the shoreline.

Yemi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. His grip was steady, warm—exactly what I needed. "We need this, Dee. Just us. No secrets. No past haunting us."

I wanted to believe that was possible. That stepping away from everything, even for a few days, could somehow help us breathe again. But the truth had a way of following you, no matter how far you ran.

Still, I nodded, letting him lead me toward the private villa perched on the edge of the cliff. It was breathtaking—isolated, serene, untouched by the chaos that had consumed our lives in recent weeks. For the first time in what felt like forever, the air was light, carrying the scent of salt and freedom.

"Okay," I said softly. "Let’s try."

Later that night…

The fire crackled in the outdoor pit, casting flickering golden light over Yemi’s face. He was watching me, his gaze intense, unreadable.

"You keep looking at me like that," I murmured, taking a slow sip of my wine.

"Like what?"

"Like you’re waiting for me to fall apart."

His jaw flexed. "I just… I hate what this has done to you, Dee. You haven’t been yourself."

I sighed, setting my glass down. "I don’t even know who ‘myself’ is anymore."

Yemi leaned forward, his fingers brushing against my knee. "You’re the same woman I fell in love with. The same woman who drives me crazy, who challenges me, who makes me want to be better. None of that changes because of what our parents did."

I bit my lip, staring at the fire. "But it does change things, Yemi. It’s in the way we look at each other now. There’s something unspoken between us, like we’re both waiting for the other to say, ‘this is too much.’"

"I’m never going to say that." His voice was firm, absolute.

"You might."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I won’t."

His certainty unnerved me. I wanted to believe in it. Desperately. But doubt had taken root in me, and I wasn’t sure how to shake it.

Yemi exhaled, running a hand over his face. "You know what? Come with me."

I frowned. "Where?"

"Just trust me."

With hesitation, I let him take my hand, leading me down the stone pathway toward the beach. The sand was cool beneath my feet as we walked in silence, the waves whispering secrets to the shore.

Then, suddenly, he stopped.

"This is why I brought you here."

I followed his gaze—and my breath caught.

A small wooden boat bobbed in the shallow water, moonlight reflecting off its smooth surface.

"Yemi…"

"Let’s go," he said, climbing in first before offering me his hand.

"You’re insane."

"Maybe." His lips twitched. "But I think you need this."

Hesitantly, I stepped in, and he pushed us off, rowing us deeper into the water. The further we drifted from the shore, the quieter the world became. Just the sound of the oars slicing through the sea. Just the stars above us, stretching endlessly.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

"See?" Yemi said, his voice softer now. "Peace."

And for the first time in weeks, I felt it.

We sat there, lost in the moment, the tension between us easing. Yemi reached for me, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against my palm.

"I love you," he murmured.

I looked at him then, really looked at him. And despite everything, I knew one thing for certain.

"I love you too."

But peace never lasts.

The next morning, the world crashed back into us.

It started with a phone call.

I was still half-asleep when Yemi’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. He groaned, reaching for it without opening his eyes.

"Who the hell is calling this early?"

But the moment he saw the caller ID, his entire body went rigid.

"Who is it?" I asked, instantly alert.

He didn’t answer right away. His thumb hovered over the screen before he finally muttered, "It’s my mother."

Something was wrong. Yemi barely spoke to her these days, not since everything had unraveled.

He answered, his voice rough. "Mama? What’s wrong?"

I sat up, watching his face carefully as he listened. Then—

His entire expression changed.

His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened, and his grip on the phone turned bone-white.

"What?" he snapped.

My stomach twisted. "Yemi, what is it?"

He shook his head, still listening, but I could see it now—the storm building in him, whatever he was hearing threatening to pull him under.

Then, finally, he ended the call.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"Yemi," I whispered. "Tell me."

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before looking at me.

"We need to leave. Now."

I blinked. "What? Why?"

He hesitated. Then, with a voice like gravel, he said—

"My father is alive."