The silence between Jane and Chuka stretched into days.
She stopped going to the beach. Stopped visiting in the evenings. Even Ezinne's knock on her gate the next morning went unanswered—though it broke Jane's heart to ignore it.
Everything she had started to feel—hope, joy, warmth—now floated just out of reach, like driftwood she couldn't grasp. It wasn't only about Adaora's return. It was the sudden realization that life could twist without warning, that love, no matter how gentle, could arrive tangled in impossible timing.
At home, her mother watched her carefully, saying little but cooking more. Her father didn't ask questions, but each time he passed Jane sitting idle on the porch, he placed a cup of tea beside her.
Finally, after three days of waiting, Jane found herself walking. First slowly. Then faster. Her feet knew the way even when her mind resisted.
She ended up at the lighthouse—the place Chuka once said helped him think.
He was already there.
Sitting alone on the stone wall, staring out at the water. When he saw her, he stood, but didn't approach. The air between them was heavy.
"She's living in her uncle's house on the other side of the village," Chuka said without being prompted. "Says she wants to rebuild things—for Ezinne… for us."
Jane crossed her arms tightly. "And do you?"
His jaw clenched. "I don't even know who she is anymore."
"That doesn't answer the question."
He took a deep breath. "I've lived in survival mode so long, I forgot what it felt like to be open again. To laugh. To look at someone and feel… safe. I only remembered that when I met you."
Jane's heart trembled.
"She was gone three years, Jane. Without a trace. I grieved. I buried her in my heart. But now that she's here, people expect me to pick up like nothing happened."
Jane stepped closer, her voice softer now. "And what do you expect?"
"I expect it to hurt no matter what I choose."
He looked into her eyes—raw, unsure, honest. "But I know this: I want a life that feels real. And I haven't felt more alive in years… than I have with you."
Tears welled in her eyes. She had wanted to hear something like that. But not like this. Not when a woman he once loved stood just across the village, demanding her place back.
Later that day, Jane sat by the water alone, her thoughts swirling louder than the waves.
What was she doing here?
She had come to heal, to rest, to find her footing again. Not to be tangled in another woman's unfinished love story. Not to fall for a man who belonged to a past still clinging to the present.
And yet…
There was Ezinne. Her light, her laughter, her easy trust.
There was Chuka, solid and vulnerable, a man who had offered her peace without promises.
Jane wrapped her arms around her knees, the wind catching her hair. She wanted clarity. She wanted simplicity. But life never gave you those things. Life gave you crossroads.
And here she was, standing at one.
That night, Adaora came to her.
No warning. No knocking. Just stood outside Jane's parents' gate, eyes fierce.
"You think you can just come into my home and take what's mine?" she hissed.
Jane stepped outside slowly. Her mother hovered near the door, but Jane held up a hand.
"I came here broken," Jane said, her voice calm. "I didn't take anything. I didn't ask for any of this."
"But you stayed."
"I stayed because this village helped me breathe again. Because your daughter made me smile when I hadn't in months. Because Chuka… cared."
Adaora's eyes flinched at that.
"I'm not here to fight you," Jane added. "But I won't pretend it didn't matter. That it doesn't still."
Adaora's mouth tightened. "He's still my husband."
Jane nodded slowly. "Then be his wife. Not his ghost."
And with that, she turned, leaving the woman in the darkness—alone with her truth.