The garden behind the old church was quiet that morning. Dew clung to the grass, glinting like tiny jewels under the soft sunlight. Amara arrived first, her heart beating faster than it had in months. Every step toward the wrought-iron gate made her stomach twist.
She leaned against a tree, arms crossed, and tried to calm herself. The air was cool, but it did nothing to ease the storm inside her. She kept telling herself this was necessary—for closure, for clarity, for the part of her heart that refused to stay broken forever.
A sound of crunching leaves made her turn sharply.
Dapo stepped into the garden, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense. His eyes found hers immediately, a mix of fear, longing, and regret reflected in them.
"Amara…" His voice was low, "You came."
She nodded, unable to speak at first. Words felt heavy, like they had been trapped in her throat for too long.
He stepped closer, slowly, he try to say something when ," she interrupted softly.
Her voice was steadier than she felt. "Just… let me breathe first."
He froze but nodded, taking a respectful step back. The tension between them was almost tangible. For a moment, the garden seemed suspended in time two hearts hesitating, each afraid to speak too soon.
Finally, she whispered, "I need to know the truth, Dapo. The whole truth."
He swallowed, gaze dropping to the grass for a brief moment before returning to her eyes. "I'll tell you everything," he said. "No excuses. No hiding. No half-truths."
Amara drew in a shaky breath. "Start from the beginning. Tell me why you do it ? What happened with Teni."
Dapo's jaw tightened. His hands unclenched, then clenched again. "Amara… that day, when you saw me with Teni, I wasn't thinking straight. I was frustrated, confused, and yes… scared. Scared that I might lose you. And instead of talking to you, instead of being honest, I made the worst decision of my life—I leaned on her for comfort, for advice, for… attention I shouldn't have sought anywhere but from you."
Amara felt a flicker of anger rise, but she forced it down. She needed to hear the full story.
"She knew she had no place," Dapo continued, his voice breaking slightly. "She never crossed a line with me—I never let her. But I made it look like something more than it was. And when you saw me… I realized I had betrayed you in the worst possible way—just by being weak, by not handling my feelings properly."
Amara's chest tightened. The words confirmed what she had suspected, but hearing them aloud made the wound ache all over again. "So… it wasn't because you didn't love me?"
"No," he said firmly, stepping closer, keeping just enough distance for her to feel the tension. "It was never because I didn't love you. Amara, I've loved you since the day I met you. And even when I let my pride and fear take control, my heart never stopped calling your name."
Tears pricked her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. "Dapo… I need to know why you didn't tell me. Why you let me believe… that I wasn't enough?"
He lowered his gaze, swallowing hard. "Because I was a coward. Because I thought pushing you away would make you safe. Because I was too scared to face the consequences of my own mistakes. And I hated myself for it every single day."
Amara's chest ached as his words sank in. The man she loved had truly been tormented by the same mistakes that had nearly broken her.
"You could have spared me all this pain," she whispered.
"I know," he said quietly, a single tear escaping down his cheek. "I know I could have. And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right if you'll let me."
She looked at him, really looked at him—the man standing before her, soaked with regret, raw honesty, and love. Every fiber of her body wanted to rush into his arms, to forgive, to forget… and yet, a part of her held back. She needed more than words. She needed proof that he had changed.
"I can forgive you," she said slowly, "but forgetting… I can't do that yet. I won't pretend this never happened. And I can't promise things will be like before, Dapo. Not yet."
He nodded solemnly. "I wouldn't ask you to. I only ask for the chance to rebuild, piece by piece. To show you every day that I choose you—Amara. That you're the only one I've ever truly loved."
Her breath caught in her throat. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and filled with the kind of sincerity that demanded trust.
"Dapo…" she murmured.
He took another careful step closer. "I'm willing to wait for however long it takes. I'm willing to earn back your trust. And I promise… I will never give up on us."
Amara's hand shook slightly as she reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. "And what if my heart can't catch up yet?"
"Then I'll wait," he said softly, his hand hovering near hers. "I'll wait until it can. I'll wait until you're ready. I've waited this long to tell you the truth—I can wait longer to prove it."
She looked into his eyes, searching for lies, for manipulation, for anything that might hint he was deceiving her again. But all she saw was honesty, raw and unfiltered.
Slowly, she let herself lean into him, a tentative, almost imperceptible step. He mirrored her motion, careful not to overwhelm her. Their foreheads touched lightly, breaths mingling.
"I'm scared, Dapo," she whispered. "Scared of being hurt again. Scared of letting my heart rely on someone who could break it."
"I know," he murmured. "And I'll never make the same mistake twice. I can't promise life won't be hard—but I promise I'll face every challenge with you. Together."
Amara closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, letting the words settle into her soul. For the first time in a long while, she felt the beginnings of hope. A fragile, tentative hope—but hope nonetheless.
When she opened her eyes, Dapo was still there, watching her like she was the most precious thing in the world. And for the first time in months, she believed him.
"Then… let's start again," she whispered.
He smiled—a mixture of relief, love, and something that made her heart leap—and gently took her hand in his.
"Piece by piece," he said.
"Yes," she replied softly. "Piece by piece."
And in that quiet garden, beneath the gentle sunlight, they began the first steps toward healing… together.