Kian Adeyemi wasn't the type to make reckless offers.
But as he walked out of Naya Lawal's office, hands shoved in his pockets, one thought played on repeat:
She didn't say no.
He'd expected her to laugh him out of the building. Maybe throw a book. Maybe drag him with one of those therapist lines: "Let's unpack why you think this is a solution."
But she didn't.
She listened.
She questioned.
She considered.
That was more than he'd gotten from anyone in months.
---
Back at his apartment, the silence was familiar. Heavy, but safe.
Tami, his daughter, sat on the rug with a box of crayons, humming to herself. She glanced up when he walked in.
"Daddy, I made you a sun."
He smiled, crouched beside her. "Looks like a happy sun."
"She's a girl sun. She has earrings."
He laughed softly. "Of course she does."
Her hair was pulled into two little puffs. She looked like her mother—but her eyes? Those were all him. Wide. Watchful. Always thinking.
He kissed her forehead and sat back, watching her color with all the intensity of a child who believed in magic.
God, he'd do anything for her.
Anything.
That's what this marriage was about.
Not love. Not romance. Not some fantasy ending.
It was about keeping his daughter in his life.
And maybe—just maybe—giving her a picture of stability the courts couldn't ignore.
---
Later that night, he sat on the balcony, city lights reflecting in his untouched glass of whiskey. The proposal played back in his head.
Naya.
Sharp-eyed. Controlled. With that crisp voice that sliced through bullsh*t like glass.
She didn't rattle easily.
But when she did, she got quiet.
And quiet—Kian had learned—was where the real stuff lived.
He didn't trust easily. He didn't invite people in. His last relationship had left scars no one could see but him.
But Naya wasn't asking for access. She was asking for space. Order. A reason to breathe.
He could work with that.
---
His phone buzzed.
A message.
From Naya.
> "If we do this, there are going to be rules."
Kian stared at the screen.
Then typed back:
> "I wouldn't expect anything less."
She replied instantly.
> "And no sex."
His mouth curved, slow and dry.
He typed back:
> "You sound disappointed, don't flatter yourself."
He let the phone rest on his chest.
She hadn't said no.
And that… was the most dangerous yes he'd ever heard.