Stephanie tiptoed her way into the bathroom and gently shut the door behind her. Her body ached in places she couldn't explain, and the emotional exhaustion clung to her like soaked clothes in a storm. She turned on the faucet, letting the sound of running water distract her from the whirlwind of thoughts screaming in her head.
She cupped her hands, splashing cold water on her face again and again, trying to wash away the pain, the fear… the shame. But it clung stubbornly. Everything that had happened—from the night she ran away to this morning's warmth in Samuel's arms—felt like a blur wrapped in too many emotions to name.
In the kitchen, Samuel moved with steady grace, cracking eggs, whisking them, stirring them slowly in the pan. This wasn't just about making breakfast—it was his way of bringing calm, offering something normal, something kind. It was all he had to give her right now.
When the eggs were done, he plated them with two slices of toast and a few grapes on the side. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and carried the plates to the living room. He placed them on the table and sat, his eyes drifting toward the bathroom door, waiting.
Eventually, the door creaked open.
Stephanie stepped out.
Something had changed.
Her hair was softly combed into loose waves, her lips carried a faint blush, and her skin looked fresher, almost glowing. There was a quiet grace to the way she walked, like someone trying to hold herself together.
Samuel blinked. She looked… different. Not just cleaned up. Calmer. But the storm was still in her eyes.
"You're just in time," he said, sliding a plate toward her. "Come eat."
Stephanie glanced at the meal, then at Samuel. A small, grateful smile tugged at her lips. "You've been really kind. I don't even know how to thank you."
"You don't have to," he said with a shrug. "You needed help. I helped. That's all."
Curious, she tilted her head. "So… what do you do? When you're not saving strangers?"
He chuckled. "I'm a chef. Just opened a pizza place actually. Today's the grand opening."
Her eyes lit up. "Are you serious? That's amazing!" She sat straighter. "I'd love to come. Maybe I could even help out, if you'd let me."
Samuel hesitated. Something in his posture shifted. "I think… you should focus on going home."
Stephanie's smile dropped.
"I don't know if I can," she said softly. "Going back isn't an option. And I don't have anyone else. I just need a few days. Somewhere to stay. Somewhere safe."
Samuel studied her. There was no deceit in her tone—just raw vulnerability. He exhaled slowly.
"I have an apartment. Rented it months ago but haven't used it. It's been sitting empty."
Her eyes widened. "You're not joking?"
"I'm not. It's a bit dusty, but clean. You could stay there a few days… fix it up if you want."
Stephanie blinked back sudden tears. "That would mean so much to me."
Samuel nodded, but his gaze turned cautious. "I need to ask you something first." He hesitated. "How old are you?"
"Nineteen," she replied too quickly.
He raised a brow. "Be honest."
She bit her lip. "Eighteen."
He frowned.
"…Okay, I'll be eighteen in two months."
Samuel's heart sank. "So, you're seventeen."
"That doesn't make me a child," she snapped, suddenly defensive.
"No," he said gently, "but it makes you vulnerable. And that matters. Especially with everything that's happened."
Stephanie stood abruptly. "You think I'm just some reckless kid who doesn't know what she's doing?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you think it."
Samuel stayed silent, watching her wrestle with her pride and pain.
She grabbed her purse. "You've done enough. I'll figure things out."
"Stephanie," he said, standing. "Please. Don't walk out like this."
She turned at the door, eyes glassy. "You don't know what I've been through."
"Then tell me," he said softly. "Help me understand."
Her voice cracked. "I trusted the wrong person. Someone who took advantage of me. Then turned his back when things got hard. I can't go home, Samuel. My parents will kill me. And his family… they threatened me."
Silence hung between them like a blade.
She looked at the door again, her fingers on the handle, hesitating.
"I'm not trying to control you," Samuel said. "But I won't let you walk back into danger. If you need a safe place—I'll give you that. But I need you to be honest with me moving forward."
Stephanie slowly let go of the doorknob. She turned and walked toward him.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered, voice breaking.
Samuel stepped forward and pulled her into a gentle hug. She didn't resist. She clung to him, grounding herself in the safety of his arms.
When they finally pulled apart, he said, "Let me take a quick shower. Then we'll head out."
---
The Uber pulled up twenty minutes later. Stephanie sat beside Samuel in silence as the city passed by in quick flashes. She stared out the window, her thoughts racing. Her stomach churned. She didn't know what this place would look like or how long she could stay. But it was the first sliver of hope she'd felt in days.
The car pulled up in front of a gated residential complex near the coast of Lekki. It was quiet. Clean. Secure. A world apart from the chaos she'd known lately.
A towering black gate stood before them. Samuel stepped out first and approached confidently.
A tall security guard in a dark uniform emerged from a small booth.
"Good afternoon. Who are you here to see?" the guard asked, voice professional but firm.
"I live here," Samuel said, reaching for his wallet. "Apartment 3A."
"Do you have your gate pass, sir?"
Samuel blinked. "Gate pass?"
"Yes. All residents were issued passes last quarter. You can't enter without it."
Samuel's brow furrowed. "No one informed me."
"I'm sorry, sir. That's protocol."
Samuel's tone sharpened. "I paid for this apartment in full. I haven't been here in months, but I'm a legal resident."
Stephanie watched tension rise in his shoulders. She stepped out of the car and touched his arm gently.
"Maybe we should just call the building manager?" she suggested softly. "There's no need to argue."
He looked at her—at the calm in her voice, the sincerity in her eyes. She wasn't panicking. She was grounding him, the way he'd tried to do for her.
He sighed. "You're right."