The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the thin curtains of Emmanuel's room. He woke with a strange mix of hope and anxiety swirling in his chest. Last night's conversation with Funmi had cracked the silence between them, but questions still lingered. How long had she been carrying this burden? And how could he help now?
His phone buzzed on the bedside table. A message from Funmi: "Can we meet later? I want to show you something."
Curious and cautious, Emmanuel replied, "Of course. When and where?"
"Meet me at my place around 5?"
The hours crawled by. Emmanuel distracted himself with notes and assignments, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Funmi. He wondered what she wanted to show him. Was it related to her mother's illness? Or something else he wasn't prepared for?
At exactly five, Emmanuel arrived at Funmi's apartment building. The small, familiar place felt different somehow—quiet, but heavy with unspoken things. He knocked gently on the door.
Funmi opened it, eyes bright but tired. "Thanks for coming," she said, stepping aside.
Inside, the apartment was neat but lived-in, with books stacked on shelves and soft jazz playing quietly from a speaker. Emmanuel noticed a small stack of medical pamphlets on the table.
She led him to the couch and sat down, patting the seat beside her. "I wanted to show you this," she said, pulling out a worn folder. "It's everything about my mother's condition—doctors' notes, test results... I haven't really talked about it with anyone."
Emmanuel took the folder, flipping through the papers. The medical terms were complex, but the weight of the situation was clear. "This looks serious."
"It is," Funmi admitted, biting her lip. "Some days are harder than others. Sometimes I don't know if I'm doing enough."
Emmanuel reached out, taking her hand in his. "You're doing more than enough, Funmi. You're strong. And you're not alone in this."
She looked down at their joined hands, a faint smile breaking through. "I want you to be involved, Emmanuel. I don't want to push you away anymore. I want us to face this together."
He nodded, feeling a fierce protectiveness swell inside him. "We're a team. Whatever comes, we face it side by side."
For a moment, the room was filled with a quiet understanding.
Then Funmi's face shifted, and she hesitated.
"There's something else," she said softly, "something I haven't told anyone."
Emmanuel's heart quickened. "What is it?"
She swallowed, eyes searching his. "It's about my mother's illness... the doctors think it might be hereditary. There's a chance I could be at risk too."
The words hit him like a sudden storm. Emmanuel felt the room tilt slightly as the implications sank in.
"How are you feeling about that?" he asked gently.
Funmi shrugged, but her hands trembled slightly. "Scared. Angry. I don't want to lose her... and now I'm scared for myself."
Emmanuel squeezed her hand tighter. "We'll get through this. I promise."
A tear slipped down Funmi's cheek. "Thank you, Emmanuel. For not giving up on me."
He wiped the tear away. "I'm not going anywhere."
They stayed like that for a while, holding each other in the soft glow of the evening light. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside that small apartment, Emmanuel and Funmi had found a fragile sanctuary — a place where love and courage could grow even in the face of uncertainty.