Exile
The rain came that morning not in gentle taps, but in furious lashes, as if the sky itself had something to say.
Favour stood at the window, watching the grey sheet pour over Abuja like a cleansing ritual,her eyes were dry, though her heart had wept all night, she could still hear Daniel's voice echoing in her skull.
"Maybe we rushed this."
She hadn't packed much, just a single travel bag, the same red one she'd used when she first left Warri for university, a reminder of simpler times, when deception wasn't survival, just ignorance.
Daniel didn't stop her when she left, he didn't ask where she was going, he only watched, his silence heavy with disappointment more devastating than anger.
She sent a message to one person she had kept at arm's length for too long:
Nkechi, I need a place to stay, just for a few days. Please.
Favour
Within minutes came the reply.
Come. My doors are open, but I hope you're finally ready to be real.
Nkechi
As the Uber pulled away from the gate, Favour couldn't look back, not because she didn't care.
Because she was afraid she'd crumble if she did.