Amina didn't pack much.
Not because she didn't want to… but because there wasn't much to take. Her clothes fit into a small bag, her notebooks into another. The house felt too silent as she moved around. Not peaceful. More like the silence after a strike of lightning—bright, shaky, waiting for the next hit.
Maryam's door stayed shut the whole time. Not a sound came from behind it.
Her father hovered near the corridor, wringing his hands like he wanted to say something but didn't know where to start. When Amina finally zipped the last bag, she turned and saw him standing there—older than she remembered, smaller somehow.
"Baba…" she whispered.
He swallowed hard. "Are you sure about this?"
Amina nodded. "Just until exams."
He forced a smile that didn't rise to his eyes. "I know. I only… I just hope this house hasn't failed you too terribly."
She wanted to say It's not your fault. She wanted to say I understand. She wanted to say I wish you could protect me the way you want to.
Instead she stepped forward and hugged him. His body trembled.
When they pulled apart, he avoided looking at her bags. "He's waiting downstairs."
She nodded and walked out before her courage cracked.
Rafi stood by the doorway with his hands in his pockets, watching the gate like he expected something to jump out. His car was parked outside sleek, black, and deeply out of place beside the dusty compound wall.
When he saw Amina carrying her bags, he straightened.
"Is that everything?" he asked softly.
"Yes."
He took the heavier bag from her without another word. His face was calm but too focused, like he didn't allow himself to feel anything until they were far away from the house.
Amina stepped outside.
Her father followed, stopping by the veranda. He lifted a hand in a small, broken farewell. Amina managed a tiny smile back.
But Maryam did not come out.
Not even once.
Rafi opened the car door for her. Before she entered, she looked back at the house—its cracked walls, its old paint, the windows she had cried under, the staircase where she had learned to make herself small. She looked until her vision blurred.
Rafi touched her arm gently. "It's okay."
She nodded, wiped her eyes, and sat inside.
The door closed with a soft click that sounded strangely final.
The drive was quiet at first. Not awkward—just heavy. Abuja's early morning traffic rolled past them, noisy and alive. But inside the car it felt like the world had muted itself.
Amina stared out the window, her mind racing.
"Are you scared?" Rafi asked suddenly, eyes still on the road.
"A little," she admitted. "Everything is happening too fast."
He hummed. "Fast isn't always bad."
She glanced at him. "Isn't it?"
His jaw flexed slightly. "Not when someone has been suffering slowly for too long."
Her breath caught.
She turned away again, not sure how to handle the warmth that spread in her chest.
After a long moment, she asked quietly, "Where are we going?"
"To the apartment I arranged. It's quiet. Secure. Close to your exam center. No one will bother you there."
She stared at her hands. "Why are you doing all this?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Amina," he said finally, his voice low, "you deserve stability. Even if it's temporary."
She swallowed. "And after exams?"
"That's up to you," he replied. "You'll choose what comes next. Not your stepmother. Not fear. Not pressure."
Amina held onto his words like rope.
They arrived fifteen minutes later.
The building wasn't luxurious—just modern, safe, clean. The entrance had a small garden, and the security guard greeted Rafi respectfully.
Inside, the elevator hummed softly. Amina stood beside him, feeling the strange closeness of his presence. He didn't touch her, but the air between them felt charged with everything unsaid.
When the doors opened, he guided her down a hallway with warm lights and quiet walls. He unlocked a door and stepped aside for her to enter first.
Amina froze.
The apartment was simple but beautiful. Soft cream walls. A neatly made bed. A small study desk with new pens and notebooks already arranged. Even a kettle and tea set by the window.
Her heart tightened unexpectedly.
"You… set up all this?" she asked.
"Yeah." He shrugged lightly, pretending it was nothing. "Figured you'd need a place that felt… calm."
Calm.
Something she hadn't had in years.
She walked deeper into the room. "It's perfect."
Rafi watched her with an expression she couldn't read fully. Relieved. Worried. Something else beneath that.
"If anything is missing, tell me," he said. "I'll fix it."
Amina turned to him. "Rafi…"
He met her eyes slowly.
And for the first time since the morning began, she saw something crack through his composure, something raw, protective, almost too intense.
"You're safe here," he said quietly. "That's all that matters."
The words hit deeper than she expected. She had heard "you're safe" many times growing up. But not once had they been true.
This time… she believed it.
Rafi stepped back, clearing his throat. "I'll let you rest. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
But before he reached the door, she called softly, "Rafi?"
He paused.
"Thank you."
Something flickered in his eyes, warm and dangerous.
"Don't thank me yet," he murmured. "This is only the beginning."
After he left, the apartment settled into a deep, comforting silence.
And for the first time in a long time… Amina didn't feel alone.