Kojo turned to me then, and his eyes were soft in a way he rarely showed in public.
“I’m proud of you,” he said.
That sentence broke the last thread holding my tears back. I let them fall, heavy and hot, and I leaned into my husband’s chest like I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up anymore.
Kojo wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, rubbing my back with slow pressure like he was soothing something wounded inside me.
“You did the right thing,” he murmured. “You did, and I know it wasn’t easy.”
I didn’t speak at first because my throat felt full. I just cried against him, and I hated the way it felt, but I needed it.
Kojo kissed the top of my head. “You have a beautiful soul,” he said. “You’ve always had one, even when you don’t let anyone see it. Now it can rest.”
I pulled back eventually, and I knew my makeup was smeared, but I didn’t care. Kojo wiped at my cheek gently, then kissed me again.
“I’m staying on the island a day longer,” he told me. “I want to make sure she doesn’t try anything foolish.”
I nodded, because he was right to do it.
Then I turned and walked back toward the jet, my posture finding its shape again, and my face settling back into composure the way it always did, even after a moment like that.
Once I was seated again, the cabin felt too quiet. The space where Preslan had been was empty, and the absence had its own sound. I stared out the window while the jet lifted back into the air, and my mind replayed Kashmere’s face when she saw her baby, the way her body nearly collapsed and the way her tears hit his cheeks like rain.
My throat tightened again, but I forced myself to breathe through it.
I was done with this chapter, I told myself. I had closed it, but the body didn’t always listen to the mind.
A sharp pain hit my chest, sudden enough that I froze. It wasn’t a gentle ache. It was a hard, tight grip that made me gasp in a way that startled me. I pressed my hand against my chest instinctively and tried to ignore it, because acknowledging pain had never been my habit.
I sat up straighter, telling myself it was nothing. I tried convincing myself that it was the day, the emotions and the adrenaline wearing off. I told myself it would pass.
Then another wave hit, stronger, and my muscles tightened like they were pulling against themselves. My hand trembled against my chest, and I tried to inhale, but my breath came shallow.
One of my men turned from across the cabin, his eyes narrowing. “Mrs. Mensah?”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, but the words didn’t even sound convincing to me.
The pain surged again, and this time my body betrayed me fully. My arm jerked, and a spasm rolled through my chest and shoulder like something was trying to twist me from the inside.I gripped the armrest, but my hand slipped because my fingers weren’t obeying me.
My man was on his feet instantly, moving toward me.
“Abeni,” he said, his voice tighter now. “Mrs. Mensah, look at me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but my vision started to blur. The cabin lights stretched for a second, then snapped back, and my heart thudded hard enough that I could hear it in my ears.
The spasm hit again, and this time my body slid out of the seat like I couldn’t hold myself upright. I tried to catch the armrest, but my strength wasn’t there. I fell to the floor, and the shock of it made my stomach turn.
Two of them rushed to me at once, calling my name, asking questions, and I could hear the urgency in their voices even though the world was starting to sound far away.
I wanted to tell them to stop panicking and to pull themselves together. I wanted to tell them I didn’t need help, but my body didn’t care about my pride.
The last thing I saw was the ceiling of the jet and the blurred shape of one of my men leaning over me, and then everything dimmed fast, like someone had shut off the light inside my head.
And just like that, it all went black…
When I finally came to, I realized I wasn’t in my home, and I didn’t need anyone to confirm it for me because the room itself told the truth.
The walls were too plain, the light was too white, and the air had that clean chemical smell that only existed in places wherepeople came to die. Something was beeping near the side of the bed, and it was consistent enough to remind me that my body was being watched by a machine.
