I'm currently beginning to understand something I never used to consider. Healing, it is not an event. It is not a single sunrise after a dark night. It is a slow motion, it is uneven, unfolding like petals resisting bloom, unsure if the light is safe or not.
I take each day one decision at a time.
Today, that decision is going back to my own office. I've been using Gloria's office since...
The building feels the same. But I don't feel like my usual self.
My heels click softly on the marble floor as I step out of the elevator. People pause when they see me a few nod respectfully, a few avoid eye contact. I see wariness in some, maybe guilt. Maybe pity.
I give them none of my attention.
Gloria is waiting in my office, already going through the morning reports. She looks up and grins.
"Well, well. The Queen returns."
I laugh softly, sinking into my chair. "Don't start with flattery. It's too early."
She shrugs. "Had to say it. You've been missed."
I glance at my desk. Everything is exactly where I left it the day after Kolade "went out for petrol" and never came back. My framed photo is still tilted at the same angle. There's dust in the grooves of the keyboard. I wipe it clean with my sleeve.
A new beginning.
+++
By noon, I've held three meetings one with legal, one with HR, and one with the newly restructured audit team. The energy is shifting. There's less hesitation in the air now, more clarity.
Mariam calls just after lunch.
"He's responded," she says. "Through a lawyer named Ade. Smooth guy. Says Kolade wants a 'peaceful resolution.' But he's asking for an undisclosed settlement and a portion of your company's offshore profits."
I almost laugh.
"Ade," I repeat. "Of course he'd hire someone charming. What else does a conman do when the mask falls off? Send in a new one."
"We'll refuse. I've already drafted the countersuit full damages, restitution, and a fraud claim strong enough to bury him."
"Good," I say, voice even. "Bury him legally. Not emotionally. I've done enough emotional burial for one lifetime."
She pauses. "You sound… calm."
"I am," I say. "For the first time in a while."
+++
Later, I stand on the rooftop balcony just outside the boardroom. The Lagos skyline stretches before me like a painting in motion. Cars hum below. Neon lights flicker to life in the distance. The air is soft, almost forgiving.
My phone buzzes.
It's a message from someone unexpected: Titi, my former executive assistant one of the staff who left during the collapse.
> "Madam, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't understand the full story until now. You didn't deserve any of it. If there's ever a way I can make it right, I'd love to try."
I read it twice.
Then again.
Another piece clicking into place. Not forgiveness. But recognition.
I reply:
> "Thank you. We all make choices in survival. Take care of yourself."
I don't offer her job back.
Not out of pride. Just peace.
Sometimes the cleanest healing is letting go of people, too.
+++
In the evening, I go home, take a long shower, and sit quietly in the living room with the lights dimmed. There's music playing soft jazz, something soothing. I cradle a cup of tea and touch my belly again. The bond is stronger now. There's movement I can feel beneath the skin. Light flutters.
Like a whisper of life.
I speak again, like I did the night before.
"You've changed everything, you know. Not because I expected you, but because you showed up anyway. Like life insisting it isn't done with me."
The words settle in the air like a prayer.
I'm not done.
Not broken.
Not finished.
Still becoming.
And tomorrow, I'll rise again with a sharper mind, a steadier hand, and a heart that knows the cost of loving blindly… and the grace of rising wisely.