"You could have moved me," he said. "Nobody would have blamed you for protecting your job."
"I might have blamed myself," Nkiru replied. "But the point isn't that everyone should risk being suspended to prove they are decent. The point is that your employees should not be asked to make that choice alone."
Folarin nodded. He told her the board had approved a fund to support workers who suffered retaliation for reporting misconduct, and that the oversight committee would publish anonymous results so people could see whether complaints were actually being handled. Nkiru thanked him for the information and asked whether the fund could be accessed without the permission of the supervisor being reported. He said yes, and this time he seemed pleased that she was checking the mechanism rather than praising his generosity. Before he left, he paid for his soup and quietly thanked Chima by name.
At the apartment, Nkiru was packing a bag for a visit to a friend's house when Tobi arrived to collect the last of his books. He had grown more confident since beginning work again, though he still looked uncomfortable walking into rooms where she might not want him. They spoke about the repaired reference, the new role, and an appointment scheduled for further counseling. He told her he had started writing down difficult things he was tempted to leave unsaid, because he was learning to recognize the moment fear disguised itself as thoughtfulness. Nkiru did not know whether the habit would last, but she was glad he had stopped treating honesty as something that only mattered during a crisis.
"I'm not asking you to come back tomorrow," he said. "Or next week."
"Good. Because I don't know when I'll be ready to decide."
"If we try again, I want you to choose it with everything on the table."
She looked at him for a long moment. "That's what I wanted before we married. I didn't know I had to ask for it twice."
His eyes filled, but he did not turn the conversation into a request for comfort. He placed the last book in his bag and asked whether she needed help carrying anything downstairs. She said no, and he accepted the answer. After he left, Nkiru stood in the doorway listening to his footsteps recede and felt both sadness and relief. Their marriage had not ended that night, but it had also not been repaired by the discovery that he was innocent of theft.
Nkiru turned her attention to the documents Amina had sent. The investigator wanted her to confirm which anonymous materials she had opened and whether any had been forwarded before the forensic copies were made. Nkiru reviewed the list carefully, noticing the dates on which the Abuja video, the corporate payment files, and the references to the Balogun archive had arrived. Ronke had admitted sending two of them, but the others still came from unknown accounts. Nkiru wondered whether the unknown sender was trying to prevent another cover-up or using her for the same reason Ronke had: because Nkiru would react to injustice even when powerful people preferred silence.