Dinner was already on the table when Rose walked in. Everyone was present.
Nosa at the head. Yemi beside him. Eric across, quiet as usual. Kemi close to Favour, who looked more interested in her food than the conversation.
“Sit,” Nosa said, gesturing. Rose sat. For a moment, only cutlery spoke.
Then Nosa looked up. “So, Rose. How are you finding Lagos?” “It's fine,” she replied.
“I've noticed you go out often,” he continued, casual. “I hope you're settling. Finding placement maybe?” Rose hesitated. Just a second too long. “It's okay,” she said. “I'm managing.”
Yemi smiled lightly. “How is your work going?” The table froze.
Nosa turned slowly. “Work?” Rose looked at Yemi, then back at Nosa. “Yes, sir.”
“When did this happen?” Nosa asked. His tone wasn't angry—just… unsettled. “Recently,” Rose replied. “I didn't think it was necessary to announce.”
“I would have helped,” he said. “You didn't need to struggle.” “I'm grateful,” Rose said carefully. “Really. But you don't need to worry.”
The silence thickened. Eric stared at his plate.
Yemi cleared her throat. “Eric, you'll be accompanying your father to the board meeting tomorrow.” Eric looked up. “Tomorrow?” “Yes,” Yemi said. “And you'll be traveling this weekend. The South Africa conference. Agricultural collaborations.” Eric nodded. “Okay, mum.” But his face didn't agree.
Nosa turned to Favour. “And you? How are lessons going?” “They're fine,” Favour said quickly. “I like the school.” “Good,” Nosa said. “I've spoken to the teachers. They say you're doing well.” He paused. “I'll take care of your fees. All of it.”
Rose spoke before thinking. “You don't have to.” Every head turned. She swallowed. “I mean—thank you. But—”
“It's okay,” Nosa said, gently but firmly. The table went quiet again.
Eric pushed his chair back slightly. “Dad, I wanted to talk to you. I have some ideas for the company.” “Not tonight,” Nosa replied. “I've had a long day. We'll talk later.” Eric nodded. “Okay.” But he didn't look okay.
Dinner ended shortly after.
In the hallway, Yemi caught up with Nosa. “That was unnecessary,” she said. “What was?” he asked. “You brushing Eric off like that.” “I said later.” “He wanted to talk to you.” “And I wanted to rest.”
Yemi stepped closer. “He's your only son.” “I know.”
“Do you?” she asked quietly. “Because sometimes it doesn't look like it.” Nosa sighed. “What are you implying?” “I'm saying,” Yemi replied, voice low, “that blood matters. And you should act like it.” Nosa's eyes hardened. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” she said smoothly. “I'm reminding you.” She turned and walked away.
In the sitting room, Rose sat with Kemi. “How's work?” Kemi asked. “It's good,” Rose said. “Serious people. I like that.” “You'll enjoy it,” Kemi smiled. “You always liked structure.”
Rose nodded. “I don't really have hobbies.” Kemi laughed softly. “Lagos will force you to find some.” “Maybe,” Rose said.
Across the room, Eric stood alone, phone in hand, unread messages glowing. And upstairs, lines had already been drawn—quietly, firmly, and without consent.
Yemi didn't knock. She rarely did.
Rose looked up from her desk when the door creaked open, already bracing herself for criticism or instruction. Instead, Yemi stood there holding a folded cardigan.
“You left this in the sitting room,” Yemi said, her tone light. Almost careful. “It gets cold in the evenings.”
Rose blinked. The cardigan was hers. She had searched for it the night before and eventually given up. “Oh—thank you,” she said, standing to take it. “I didn't even realize.”
Yemi smiled. Not the tight, polite one. This was softer. Almost… maternal. “You work too much,” Yemi added, glancing at the papers on the desk. “I noticed you've been up late again.”
Rose felt heat rise to her face. She hadn't known anyone was paying attention. “I just didn't want to fall behind,” she said.
Yemi hummed thoughtfully and reached out, straightening one of the papers that had begun to slide off the table. It was a small gesture, but it startled Rose more than she expected. “You remind me of myself at your age,” Yemi said. “Quiet. Focused. Always planning three steps ahead.”
Rose laughed softly, surprised. “I don't think I'm that impressive.” Yemi tilted her head. “People who say that usually are.” The words landed gently. Too gently.
Rose hesitated, then said honestly, “Thank you. For the cardigan. And… for noticing.”
Yemi's smile widened just a fraction. As she turned to leave, she paused at the door.
“Rose,” she said, almost casually, “not everyone celebrates progress the same way. Some people clap. Others… count.” Rose frowned. “Count what?”
Yemi shrugged. “Time. Opportunity. Advantage.” Then, as if realizing she had said too much, she chuckled lightly. “Anyway. Rest a little. You deserve it.”
The door closed behind her. Rose stood there, cardigan in hand, gratitude still warm in her chest — but now threaded with something colder. She couldn't explain it.
Yemi had been kind. Genuinely kind. And yet, for the first time, Rose felt like she had just been seen, not admired — assessed.
She folded the cardigan over her arm slowly. And made a mental note to lock her notebook that night.