The small Lagos apartment was unusually silent as Mike sat on the worn couch, the soft hum of the ceiling fan the only sound filling the room. His laptop was open on the table, but the screen blurred in his tired eyes. The incubator program email stared back at him like a verdict a gateway to a new life, or the closing of a door.
His phone buzzed. A message from Danika:
"Mom's here again. She says she'll stay until I prove I'm worthy of love."
Mike's heart clenched. The past and present were colliding in ways neither of them were prepared for.
Later that evening, they met at a quiet café near the shop. The warm lights cast soft glows on their faces, but the tension was palpable.
"I need to tell you something," Mike began, voice low.
"I know," Danika said, eyes fixed on her coffee cup. "I heard about Abuja."
Mike nodded. "It's a huge opportunity, but it means leaving everything here. Leaving you."
She swallowed hard. "Maybe… maybe this is where we find out if love is enough."
Mike reached across the table, taking her hand gently. "You mean the world to me. But I can't promise that distance won't change things."
Danika's lips trembled. "And I can't promise I'll be waiting if it does."
The weight of their words hung between them fragile, heavy, uncertain.
The following days were filled with calls, texts, and visits. Danika's mother grew more insistent, pushing old wounds and new demands that strained Danika's spirit. Mike struggled to support her while preparing for the move.
One evening, Danika broke down in tears. "I don't know if I can keep fighting this."
Mike held her close. "You're not alone."
But as they clung to each other, the crossroads loomed a choice between dreams and love, sacrifice and survival.