Maria stood by the roadside in Abeokuta, the bus ticket crumpled in her hand.
Junior clutched her fingers, half-asleep, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Are we going to see Daddy?" he asked quietly.
Maria nodded. "Yes, baby. But this time, Mummy walks in with her head high."
The bus ride back to Lagos was quiet. Her heart raced the closer they got to the city. Every street looked louder. Brighter. Faster.
She had left with nothing but fear.
Now she returned with purpose.
When they arrived, Alexander's driver was waiting, holding a placard with her name.
She almost turned back—but Junior tugged her hand, smiling. "I missed this."
At Alexander's estate, the security guard greeted her with surprise but respect.
Alexander came out, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, eyes tired but lit up when he saw them.
Maria held Junior's hand tightly.
"I'm not here to stay," she said firmly.
"I didn't expect you to," he replied.
"I just want to talk. Set boundaries. Figure out what's best for our son."
Alexander nodded. "That's all I want too."
Inside, she saw that the penthouse had changed. No fancy flowers. No diamonds. Just toys. Books. A framed photo of Junior's drawing.
He was trying.
And Maria felt it.
That night, after Junior was tucked in a guest room, Alexander sat across from her at the kitchen table.
"Whatever comes next," he said softly, "it will be your choice. No pressure. No expectations."
Maria looked him in the eye.
"Then we can begin," she whispered.
And for the first time, it wasn't about the past.
It was about building something new.