BUKKY'S POV
Pain was the first thing I felt, not sharp not sudden, just heavy - like my body had been carrying something it could no longer hold alone.
My eyelids fluttered.
Voices hovered around me, distant, blurred, as if I was underwater. Then slowly, painfully, the world began to come into focus.
White ceiling.
Soft beeping.
The smell of antiseptic.
Hospital.
I tried to move, but my body protested.
"Bukky…" a voice said.
That voice.
My eyes shifted instinctively toward it.
Akanni.
He was standing beside my bed, closer than anyone else, his face tight with restraint, eyes dark and fixed on me as if looking away would break something fragile between us. For a second, I thought I was imagining him.
I blinked.
He was still there.
"Akanni?" My voice came out weak, cracked.
Relief hit his face so fast he couldn't hide it. He leaned forward immediately, his hand hovering near mine, unsure if he should touch me.
"You're awake," he said softly. "You're safe."
Safe.
The word unlocked something inside me.
Tears welled up without warning, sliding down the sides of my face. My chest tightened as memories rushed back—anger, shouting, fear, pain.
"I…" I tried to speak, but my throat closed.
"I'm here," Akanni said quickly. "Don't talk yet. Just breathe."
His voice grounded me. Only then did I notice the room wasn't empty.
My parents stood a little behind him—my mother crying quietly, my father's expression unreadable. And then, farther away, almost pressed against the wall like he didn't deserve space, Demi.
He looked nothing like the man I married. His eyes were swollen and red, his shoulders slumped, his hands shaking as though they no longer belonged to him. When our eyes met, he broke.
He fell to his knees beside the bed.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed openly. "Bukky, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what came over me. I swear I didn't mean it—please—"
My body stiffened instinctively.
Akanni straightened immediately.
"That's enough," he said, his voice low but final.
Demi looked up at him, desperation written all over his face.
"She's pregnant," Akanni continued calmly. "Eight weeks."
The words landed like thunder.
Pregnant?
My hand moved to my stomach without thinking.
"You beat your wife," Akanni said, each word controlled, deliberate, "while she was carrying your child."
A sound escaped Demi's throat—half sob, half ashamed. He crawled closer, reaching for me, his hands trembling.
"No… no, Bukky, please," he cried. "I didn't know. I would never—"
"Don't touch her," my father said sharply.
Demi collapsed fully then, his forehead hitting the floor as he cried—loud, broken, humiliating sobs.
"I ruined everything," he kept repeating. "I lost… I lost everything."
I watched him from my bed, tears still on my cheeks—but something had shifted inside me. The fear was gone, I turned my head slowly back toward Akanni. He was already looking at me, and in that moment—seeing him there, steady, protective, unshaken—I understood something painful and undeniable:
Some people show you who they are when things are easy. Others reveal themselves when everything falls apart. My fingers moved weakly, nkanni noticed immediately and gently took my hand. I held on.