Chapter 10: Fractures in Smoke and Silence

The house glowed with soft fairy lights, draped across the curtain rails, glittering like captured stars. Friends filled the parlor, voices overlapping, teasing, laughter thick in the air. The scent of suya and popcorn mingled, music low in the background. It should have been perfect, one year of love, survival, of choosing each other every single day.

Amina’s friends had crowded the couch, while Chi’s friends sprawled on the rug, sipping drinks, balancing paper plates. Even Mimi had stayed up until her little body gave way, falling asleep warm against Amina’s chest before being tucked into bed.

Chi’s chest swelled when she pulled out the handwritten letter she had hidden in her journal, her palms sweating slightly. Her voice trembled at first, then steadied as she read aloud:

“You walked into my life like breath after drowning, Amina. You were not just love, you were a home I thought I’d never find. Thank you for being gentle with my scars and fierce with my joy. Here’s to many more years of our forever.”

The room erupted into applause, whistles and claps echoing. Amina smiled softly, eyes glistening. She stood, unfolding her own letter. Her voice was steady, firm, her kind of love always came in strength.

“Chi, you are the storm and the calm after. I didn’t know love could look like this, equal, patient, real. You are my safe place, even when the world claws at us. I love you. Always.”

Their friends teased, “Kiss already!” and they did, to more laughter. Gifts exchanged hands, Chi unwrapping a leather wristband Amina had crafted, Amina opening Chi’s gift, a silver necklace with Mimi’s initials engraved.

It was joy, loud and messy, exactly the kind Chi wanted to hold forever.

The movie played next, The Valley of a Thousand Hills. The queer love story filled the room, silence wrapping around them as everyone sank into the film’s rhythm. Discussions broke after voices overlapping with opinions, everyone comparing scenes to their own lives.

Amina slipped away to tuck Mimi properly in bed. That’s when her eyes caught it, the faint glow of Chi’s phone on the nightstand. A notification banner. Unsaved number. But the profile picture made her throat dry, Nonye.

Her pulse quickened. She sat down on the bed, staring at it. Nonye’s face on Chi’s phone. Who had saved her number, how? Why was she texting now?

For a long moment, Amina didn’t breathe. Then she closed her eyes, forced composure like armor. She tucked Mimi in gently, stood, and walked back into the parlor. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Chi saw it instantly, the small distance Amina carried back with her, the way her laughter thinned.

“What’s wrong?” Chi whispered when their eyes met across the couch.

Amina only shook her head. Nothing. Not now.

The movie conversation ended, and Stan, Chi’s stud friend, pulled out a cigarette. She lit it, smoke curling like shadows in the fairy lights. Vanessa poured shots of rum, handing glasses around.

Then someone suggested a game. Truth or Dare.

The energy returned quickly, dares to sing badly, truths about first kisses, dares to dance. The room pulsed with laughter again, until Amina’s voice cut through, calm but sharp.

“Chi,” she said suddenly, leaning forward, her eyes steady. “Truth. Have you kissed anyone since we got together?”

The room stilled.

Chi’s throat closed. The weight of Nonye’s lips, that single reckless moment, returned sharp as glass.

Her silence stretched. Stan shifted uncomfortably, Vanessa bit her lip.

“Chi?” Amina’s voice was quieter now, trembling, but demanding.

Chi’s eyes dropped. “Yes,” she whispered.

The air shattered. Gasps, then silence so heavy it pressed against walls.

Amina laughed bitterly, standing. “Wow. I knew it. And to think… to think I believed I was enough for you.”

“Amina—” Chi reached for her, but Amina stepped back.

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t touch me.”

Bisi rose, Vanessa close behind. Kingsley only watched, his calm gaze heavy with pity. From the bedroom, the sound of muffled sobs carried out, Amina’s tears spilling where Chi couldn’t reach.

Stan stayed behind, her jaw tight as she leaned back on the couch, smoke curling from the blunt in her fingers. The room still carried the taste of spilled alcohol, laughter that had curdled into silence. Amina was gone into the room, Bisi and Vanessa trailing after her. The only sound was Chi’s restless pacing, her bare feet dragging against the rug.

“I didn’t even let it tarry for long,” Chi muttered, more to herself than anyone. “I pulled away. I pulled away.” Her hands were pressed into her hair like she could rip the guilt out from the roots.

Kingsley had been quiet, his deep eyes tracking the chaos like someone watching a storm circle over the ocean. Now, he stood, calm in a way that almost made Chi want to scream.

“Chi.” His voice was steady, a grounding weight. “You can’t chase her into that room right now.”

Chi spun toward him, eyes glassy. “She thinks I wanted it, Kingsley. She thinks I wanted Nonye.” Her voice cracked, low and desperate. “Amina is my home. I chose her. I’ve always chosen her.”

Kingsley took a step closer, his tone soft but firm, like a father breaking bad news to a child. “Then you need to let her feel that on her own. Right now, she’s raw. Every word from you will sound like an excuse, even if it’s the truth.”

Chi swallowed hard, her throat burning. “So I’m just supposed to stand here? Watch her hurt like this? Watch her—”

“No,” Kingsley interrupted gently, but his eyes didn’t waver. “You’re supposed to give her room. Let Bisi and Vanessa hold her while she falls apart. That’s what she needs right now, safety that doesn’t feel like betrayal.”

The word betrayal sliced through Chi’s chest. She sank onto the arm of the couch, her shoulders folding in. Stan reached over, resting a hand on her knee, her voice low.

“You love her. Nobody’s doubting that. But you can’t demand her forgiveness in the same breath she’s choking on the pain.”

Chi bit her lip hard, tasting iron. She remembered Amina’s smile hours ago, the softness in her eyes when Chi had read her letter out loud, the way she had held Mimi between them like they were an unshakable family. And now, all of that had cracked under the weight of a kiss Chi hadn’t even wanted.

Kingsley crouched a little, meeting her eyes. “Give her time. Let the girls hold her. When she’s ready, when she’s steady, then she’ll listen to you. Not before.”

Chi blinked at him, tears threatening. Her voice came out a whisper. “What if by then… she’s already decided I’m not worth it?”

Kingsley sighed, his face shadowed with empathy. “If your love is true, Chi, then it’s not about proving it in a night. It’s about showing it every damn day after. Even when she’s gone cold. Even when it hurts.”

Chi couldn’t respond. The silence between them carried everything, the ache, the fear, the quiet plea that maybe love could still survive this night.

From down the hall, muffled sobs cracked through the walls, Amina’s pain pouring out. Bisi’s voice came soft and steady, Vanessa’s humming somewhere in between. Chi pressed her palms together, bowing her head like a sinner at confession.

Stan rubbed her shoulder once. “Just… don’t give up on her. Even if tonight feels like the end.”

Chi closed her eyes. I won’t, she thought, though the doubt wrapped itself around her ribs like barbed wire.

**^^*****^^***^^*****^^^*********^^^*******^^^**

The night was quiet except for the faint hum of Lagos outside, horns in the distance, a generator rattling somewhere down the street. Inside, the house felt too full of silence, the kind that pressed against Chi’s chest until she could hardly breathe.

Amina finally came out of the bedroom. Bisi and Vanessa flanked her like bodyguards, their eyes sharp and protective. Her face was damp, swollen from crying, but her chin was lifted with a strength that hurt more than her tears.

Chi shot to her feet instantly. “Amina—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was hoarse, broken at the edges, but steady enough to slice through the air. “Don’t say my name like you didn’t let her kiss you.”

Chi stepped forward, hands out, desperate. “I did okay? But, I pulled away, I swear. I love you, not Nonye, Only you.”

Amina’s laugh was hollow, painful. “Do you hear yourself? You’re standing here trying to convince me that you almost didn’t betray me. That you caught yourself just in time to not fuck her.” Her voice cracked, tears spilling fresh. “Do you know how small that makes me feel?”

Chi froze, her hands trembling in the air before falling uselessly to her sides.

“I believed you,” Amina whispered, her gaze glassy. “I believed that I was enough for you. That all the times you said home, that it meant something real. But maybe I was just a stop for you, Chi. Maybe you were always going to drift back to her.”

“No.” The word tore out of Chi, raw. She closed the space between them, her fingers brushing Amina’s arm before Amina stepped back sharply. “Don’t walk away from us. I don’t care what it looks like, I don’t care what you think you saw, I chose you. I’ll always choose you.”

Amina shook her head, chest rising and falling too fast in tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting to be chosen?”

The room tilted for Chi. She stumbled, her knees nearly buckling, because the truth in Amina’s voice landed harder than any accusation.

Stan was silent in the corner, jaw clenched. Kingsley stood near the doorway, arms folded, his earlier words heavy in Chi’s ears: Give her time.

But time felt like a knife now, slicing away at everything they’d built.

“I can’t do this tonight,” Amina whispered, her voice breaking at last. “I can’t stay here and pretend we’re okay. I need space, Chi. I need to breathe without wondering if you’re telling me the whole truth.”

Chi’s tears blurred everything, Bisi’s hard glare, Vanessa’s hand on Amina’s back, the way Amina’s body shook even as she tried to stand tall.

“Amina, please…” Chi’s voice cracked, the plea spilling from somewhere deep in her chest. “Don’t leave me.”

But Amina didn’t answer. She turned, walking out with Bisi and Vanessa flanking her, her shoulders trembling but unbroken.

The door closed.

Kingsley shifted by the door, watching Amina disappear into the night with Bisi and Vanessa shielding her like armor. His shoulders slumped.

“I’ll… I’ll head out too,” he said, voice low. “Bisi’s my responsibility. I need to make sure she gets home safe.” He paused, glancing back at Chi, his eyes heavy with something softer than judgment. “Give her time, Chi. Sometimes love isn’t about holding on, it’s about stepping back.”

Chi couldn’t answer. Her throat was too tight, her chest too raw.

Kingsley left quietly. The door clicked shut behind him.

Stan’s jaw clenched as she watched the girls go, then sighed and followed them outside. She didn’t even say anything to Chi, just slipped out to make sure her girlfriend too was okay.

The house was emptying one piece at a time, and Chi felt it, every goodbye carving deeper into her.

Minutes later, Stan returned, her footsteps soft but unyielding as she walked back into the living room. She didn’t speak right away. She just grabbed a glass, poured herself a drink, and sat down heavily, exhaling into the silence.

Chi sat frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the door as if Amina might walk back in.

But she didn’t.

And for the first time in years, Chi felt completely alone.