Rose was in the living room with Kemi, listening half-heartedly as her aunt asked about work — whether she was settling in, whether Lagos was treating her kindly.
“I'm managing,” Rose said. “The hours are long, but it's fine.”
Kemi nodded. “You've always managed.”
Favour hovered near the doorway, restless. She had been quiet all afternoon, her phone clutched too tightly in her hand.
Then she blurted it out. “I got it.”
Everyone turned. “Got what?” Kemi asked.
Favour swallowed. “The scholarship.”
Rose straightened. “What scholarship?”
“The one I applied for,” Favour said, breathless now. “Medicine. Paediatrics. Abroad.”
The room shifted. Kemi gasped softly. “Favour…”
“I was top of my class,” she continued, words tumbling over each other. “They said my grades and interviews were exceptional. They're covering everything — tuition, housing, allowance.”
Rose felt pride surge first. Hot, immediate. “That's incredible,” she said.
Favour nodded, smiling — then her face fell. “But the flight isn't covered. And the visa process… it's expensive. I might have to defer till next year.”
The silence that followed was heavier. “I don't want to lose it,” Favour whispered. “But I don't know if we can manage it right now.”
Rose didn't hesitate. “I'll handle it,” she said.
Everyone looked at her. “The flight. The processing. I'll take care of it.”
Favour stared. “Rose—”
“If the school is good enough, international standard, then it's worth it,” Rose added calmly. “If not, we'll find another one. You're not settling.”
The words surprised even her. Kemi watched her closely. Nosa said nothing — only leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
The tension hung in the air like a thin wire, fragile but taut.
Before anyone could respond, the door opened. Yemi walked in.
“What did I miss?” she asked lightly.
Favour repeated the news, excitement returning as she spoke. Yemi's face lit up. “That's wonderful.”
She turned to Favour immediately. “You know, I have contacts in Australia. Teaching hospitals. Residency pathways. Even people who help with placements after graduation.”
Rose's chest tightened.
“And,” Yemi added, glancing at Rose, “I know you're trying to handle everything yourself, but… realistically? Flights, visas, accommodations… you can't do this alone. Favour's future shouldn't rest on her sister's shoulders.”
Rose stiffened. “I've already said I can handle it.”
Yemi's eyes softened, but her voice carried quiet authority. “Yes, you can handle a lot, Rose. But this… this is bigger than work experience, bigger than a project. You need help. The person who can do it properly is Nosa.”
Rose's heart skipped. She looked at her father. Nosa's eyes narrowed slightly. “Me?” he asked, voice calm but faintly surprised.
“Yes,” Yemi said firmly. “In honor of your wife, in honor of Favour's mother. You're the one who can ensure this is done safely, properly. Rose cannot handle all of it herself.”
The room went still. Kemi's eyes flicked between them, watching, silent but knowing.
Rose's jaw tightened, her pride bristling. She had wanted to do this herself. She had wanted control. But now she saw the truth — the expenses, the responsibility, the logistics — she couldn't manage it all without risking everything.
After a pause, Nosa's voice finally broke the quiet. “Very well. I will handle it. In honor of her mother.”
Rose exhaled slowly, tension sliding from her shoulders. She gave a small nod, conceding.
Yemi turned back to her, softer now. “See? You don't have to carry everything. You've already done enough.”
Rose's chest heaved. Relief, fatigue, pride, and guilt all knotted together, leaving her dizzy. She let herself lean back, allowing herself a moment of quiet surrender — knowing that for once, she didn't have to do it all alone.
Rose stood at the sink, scrubbing a plate a little too hard, her fingers stiff from the warmth of the water. The clatter of dishes echoed softly in the kitchen.
“You really don't have to wash it that hard,” Kemi said from the doorway, leaning casually against the counter, a towel draped over her arm. Her voice was gentle but teasing, like she was sharing a secret.
Rose looked up, embarrassed. “I… I just like things done properly. It's… I don't know, a habit.”
Kemi chuckled, stepping closer. “I see that. Always taking responsibility. Always trying to fix everything yourself.”
Rose gave a small shrug. “It's just… easier if I do it.”
Kemi smiled, soft but sharp, as if she could see everything Rose tried to hold inside. “You know, I liked the way you handled everything today. Favour, the scholarship… stepping in without hesitation. I could tell you were thinking of her first. That was… impressive.”
Rose felt a flicker of pride but hid it. “Thanks… I just did what I thought was right.”
Kemi shook her head slightly, leaning on the counter. “In this house, kindness is a beautiful thing, Rose. But…” she let her eyes twinkle with mischief, a half-smile playing on her lips, “…in this house, it can also be war.”
Rose paused, puzzled, then laughed quietly. “War?”
“Yes,” Kemi said, still watching her. “It moves, it shifts. It can fight you, it can test you. Sometimes people use it, sometimes they give it freely. And sometimes it's both at the same time.” She leaned a little closer, her tone softening. “The trick is knowing when to give, when to accept… and when to be ready.”
Rose leaned back against the counter, letting her hands rest in the warm water. She looked at Kemi and then down at the plate, smiling a little. “I think… I understand.”
“Good,” Kemi said, her smile now gentle. “Kindness here is alive. It's playful, serious… teasing, even. But if you know how to read it, it will guide you.”
Rose exhaled, her chest lightening. The kitchen felt warmer now, alive not just with the sound of dishes, but with the weight of understanding.
“I'll try,” Rose said, quiet but firm.
“And I'll help you,” Kemi added, her voice soft, sincere. “But only if you let it be.”
Rose let herself smile fully this time. “Okay… I'll let it be.”