Balogun Market had a way of swallowing you whole. Its chaos didn't just surround you—it got under your skin, tangled in your hair, clung to your clothes. Stephanie had spent the entire day navigating its narrow alleys, weaving through crowds that moved like restless tides. Traders shouted over each other in a chorus of competing offers, hawking bolts of fabric, handbags, jewelry, and anything else a person could possibly buy. The air was thick with a mix of roasted corn, engine fumes, and the faint metallic scent of coins changing hands. Somewhere behind her, a bus conductor barked the names of destinations with the urgency of someone auctioning off time itself.
By the time she stepped out of the market's unending maze, her legs were on fire. Every step sent a dull ache crawling up her calves, and her shoulders were sore from the weight of the bags she carried. But it wasn't just her body that felt heavy—it was her heart. The conversation she'd had with Victoria earlier that day lingered like a shadow she couldn't shake. It had been raw, personal, and far too close to the wounds she tried to ignore.
"I should go," she had told Victoria quietly, the words almost getting lost in the noise around them.
Victoria's brows had knitted together. "Are you okay?"
"I just… need to be alone. I need time to think."
There had been no judgment in Victoria's eyes, only understanding. Without another question, she'd pulled out her phone and ordered Stephanie a ride.
---
The sun was gone by the time Stephanie arrived at Samuel's apartment. The street outside was quiet, save for the soft hum of distant traffic. The compound's gates stood tall, painted a deep green that was peeling at the edges, and a row of mango trees lined the walkway, their leaves whispering in the evening breeze. The air felt cooler now, the heat of the day finally loosening its grip.
Inside, the apartment greeted her with a stillness she hadn't realized she craved. The faint scent of lavender floated in the air—probably from the air freshener Samuel used—and the soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound. After a day of noise, the silence felt like stepping into warm water. She slipped off her shoes, set her shopping bags neatly on the floor, and allowed herself a long exhale.
Her reflection in the darkened TV screen caught her off guard. She looked older, worn down. Her eyes, ringed with faint shadows, betrayed her exhaustion in a way no smile could hide.
One by one, she began unpacking her bags, folding each new piece of clothing onto the side chair. Her hands moved automatically until they stopped at a cream-colored blouse. The fabric was soft, threaded with delicate embroidery along the neckline. Something about it made her think of her mother—of afternoons spent in the living room, her mother's voice humming along to gospel songs on the radio. The memory was so sharp she felt it in her chest. She clutched the blouse to her, sinking onto the couch, and before she knew it, sleep had claimed her.
---
That was how Samuel found her when he returned. She lay curled on the couch, her body angled toward the armrest, shopping bags scattered near her feet. Her face was relaxed but marked by the faint streaks of dried tears, and the blouse was still cradled against her chest as if she were guarding something fragile. He stood there for a moment, a warm paper bag of freshly made pizza in his hands, and simply looked at her. Something tightened in his chest—not the kind of tightness that hurt, but the kind that made you want to protect what you were looking at.
He set the pizza down gently, slipped out of his shoes, and disappeared into the bedroom. After a quick shower and a change into comfortable clothes, he returned to find her still sleeping. Crouching beside her, he reached out and tapped her arm softly.
"Stephanie."
She stirred, her lashes fluttering before her eyes found him. "Samuel… you're back. I must've…" She rubbed her eyes. "I must've fallen asleep."
"No worries," he said, a small smile curving his lips. "Maybe take a shower. Freshen up. You'll feel better."
Her hand brushed over the folded clothes beside her. "Wait… let me show you what I got first." She reached for the pile, unfolding a patterned dress. Her movements were still sluggish, but there was a flicker of pride in her voice.
"These are nice," Samuel said, running his fingers over the fabric. "You've got good taste."
"We went to Balogun Market," she explained, rubbing the back of her neck. "It was… overwhelming. The noise, the crowd. I thought I was going to lose my mind."
Samuel chuckled. "That place can chew you up if you're not careful. But it looks like it was worth it. Was the card enough?"
"It was more than enough," she said, her smile faint but sincere. "I even had some left over."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"I'll shower first," she decided. "Then I'll show you the rest properly."
---
When she returned, dressed in modest, soft nightwear from her purchases, Samuel's gaze found her instantly. The TV was on, volume low, but his attention wasn't on the screen.
"Wow," he said honestly. "You look… lovely."
She gave a playful spin. "You like it?"
"I love it."
Her stomach growled audibly, making her laugh. "I'm starving."
"I brought pizza," he said, pointing toward the kitchen counter. "It's waiting for you."
"Pizza?" Her face lit up, and she headed straight for the kitchen like a child promised candy.
---
Minutes later, they sat side by side on the couch, sharing slices straight from the box. A rom-com played on the TV, its background laughter mixing with the soft rustle of the pizza box. Stephanie leaned into him without thinking, the warmth of his shoulder grounding her.
At one point, she turned to him, her expression shifting from lighthearted to serious. "Thank you, Samuel. For… all of this. For letting me stay. For not making me feel like a burden. I don't know what I would've done without you."
"You're not a burden," he said firmly. "You're someone who needed help. And I'm glad I was here."
She lowered her gaze. "Why? You didn't even know me. You just… took me in."
"Because no one deserves to be abandoned," he said, his voice quieter now. "Especially someone young, pregnant, and trying to survive. I don't know the man who left you like this, but I know I'm nothing like him."
Her eyes glistened. "You've done more than help. You've changed everything."
He reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. "We'll take it step by step. No rush. When you're ready to talk to your parents—or go to a hospital—I'll be right there."
---
The movie's light flickered across their faces. Stephanie eventually lay her head on his lap, and he began running his fingers through her hair, slow and soothing.
"I could stay like this forever," she murmured.
"Me too."
Silence stretched comfortably between them before she spoke again. "I was scared today. Not just because of the market… but because of what Victoria said. I thought… maybe you'd regret helping me."
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "Not once. You walked into my life unexpectedly—but sometimes the best things happen that way."
She sat up, looking at him seriously. "I'm not easy to deal with, Samuel. I cry too much. Overthink everything. And I'm carrying someone else's baby. You deserve someone without all this baggage."
He laughed softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "You think I'm perfect? I'm not. But you don't have to be easy to be worth loving."
Her breath caught. "Loving?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Yes. I think I'm falling in love with you."
She blinked rapidly. "Say it again."
"I love you, Stephanie."
Her hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide. "I didn't expect that."
"You should," he said. "You're strong, you're kind, and even when you're scared, you keep moving forward. Somehow, you've brought peace into my life."
Her tears spilled freely now. "I love you too, Samuel."
Their lips met, tentative at first, then deeper—like a truth they had both been holding back. Stephanie climbed into his lap, her arms winding around his neck. The kiss grew more urgent, more certain.
"I want this," she whispered between breaths.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
---
They never made it to the bedroom. On that same couch where she'd cried, slept, and now laughed, they gave in to each other. It wasn't rushed or reckless—it was slow, deliberate, a conversation without words. The kind that leaves you changed.
Later, wrapped in a blanket, her head rested against his chest, she spoke again in a sleepy voice.
"Samuel… you've turned my world around."
He kissed the top of her head. "And you've changed mine."
In the quiet that followed, something had undeniably shifted. Love—still fragile but real—had rooted itself in the spaces between them. And though neither could see the road ahead, both knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever be the same again.