My phone buzzed later that evening.
Femi:
I enjoyed today. Not just the museum..the conversation. I hope you got home safely.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary.
Me:
I did. Thank you… for today.
The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Then appeared again.
Femi:
I won't assume anything. I just want you to know I respect where you are. If friendship is all you're comfortable with, I can stay there.
That was it.
No pressure.
No guilt.
No emotional bargaining.
My throat tightened.
Me:
That means more than you know.
A pause.
Femi:
Good. Then I'll say this carefully—whenever you're ready, I'd like to take you out again. No rush. No expectations.
I locked my phone and pressed it to my chest.
This was how the danger crept in...not loudly, not recklessly—but patiently. Respectfully. Like something waiting for permission to exist.
And the most frightening part?
I wasn't sure how long I could keep saying no.