“You may be kind,” she said, “but I am still afraid.”
“That is fair.”
“What if after marriage you change?”
“Then I will be the liar, not you.”
“What if you are only saying these things because you want me to agree?”
He rested both hands lightly on his cane.
“Then time will expose me.”
There was no urgency in him, no desperate performance, only patience.
Then he said the one thing that entered her heart and stayed there.
“If you come with me and find no peace, I will not cage you. I do not want a prisoner. I do not want a servant. If all you can give at first is honesty, give me that. I can wait for the rest.”
No one in Nia’s life had ever spoken as though her comfort mattered.
Even kindness from neighbors had limits. Food. An old blouse. A prayer. A smile.
This was different.
This was room.
And room is a powerful gift to someone who has lived crowded by other people’s anger.
Before she could answer, Deka’s voice cracked through the yard.
“Nia, stop gossiping and come clean the blender!”
Timba stepped back at once.
“I did not come to trouble you,” he said. “I only wanted you to hear one truth from my own mouth. Whatever else happens, I will not dishonor you.”
He turned and walked toward the front.
For one brief second before he remembered the rhythm of his limp, his stride looked almost even.
Nia noticed.
And that small detail joined the growing pile of things about him that did not fit.
The wedding came quickly.
It was so small it almost felt secret.
A local pastor arrived, wiping sweat from his forehead. A plastic table stood in the sitting room with a Bible, a pen, and one artificial flower bending sideways in a bottle.
Uncle Gideon wore his best agbada and self-importance. Aunt Sarah tied her gele too high, as if height could turn bitterness into class. Deka and Reena sat together, looking as though they had come to watch a punishment.
Nia entered last in a pale green dress that had once belonged to Deka. It had been badly altered. One sleeve was tighter than the other. A faint oil stain sat near the waist. Mama Tulu had secretly given her a little shea butter and a pair of earrings missing one stone.
“They are not new,” the old woman had whispered. “But from far away, nobody will know.”
Nia wore them like treasure.
