For the past week, Esther had been finding quiet, careful ways to avoid Daniel's touch.
Not because she didn't love him, she did. Fiercely. But love wasn't the issue.
It was the way he touched her. The way his body claimed hers like he was trying to erase the space between them completely. On the jet, she'd given in to him, wholly, without reserve, and afterward, she'd barely been able to walk straight. He hadn't meant to hurt her, of course. He was simply… intense. Hungry. Possessive.
And it frightened her.
She hadn't said anything. How could she? Daniel wasn't cruel, he was just powerful, and in those moments, entirely overwhelming. He devoured her, body and soul, and somewhere in that pleasure, she'd felt herself slipping, her strength melting too fast. She wasn't used to losing control like that, not with anyone.
So now, every time his lips brushed hers, she pulled away with a smile. Every time his hands slid beneath her clothes, she found a reason to leave. At first, it was Betty. Then her new job. Then exhaustion. None of it was true.
The truth sat quietly in her chest: she was afraid that if she let him in again, if she allowed his hands to take, to press, to demand, he might break her. Not emotionally. Physically.
And that thought terrified her more than she wanted to admit.
Daniel hadn't pushed. Not yet. But his eyes had changed. They lingered longer, searching her face. His hands hesitated more often now, as if unsure if they were still welcome.
Esther didn't know how to tell him what she was feeling. That it wasn't rejection. It was fear. And maybe, just maybe, a need to feel safe again in his arms, before surrendering completely.
The late morning sun poured through the glass walls of Daniel's office, casting warm streaks across the polished floors. Papers were stacked neatly on one side of the desk, but Daniel sat back, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes distant.
Sankoh dropped into the seat across from him, legs crossed casually, a coffee cup in one hand.
"You've been quiet all morning," Sankoh said, glancing up from his phone. "Is this work stress, or one of those husband-type silences?" His eyes studied Daniel's face, curious. Daniel had asked him to drop by for a talk, yet hadn't said a word since he arrived.
Daniel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "If your wife suddenly started avoiding you… pulling away every time you got close, what would you think?"
Sankoh raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't have a wife, but I'd assume I either did something stupid, or forgot her birthday."
Daniel let out a quiet breath, the corner of his mouth lifting briefly, but he didn't respond.
Sankoh leaned forward, sensing more. "You're not talking about someone else, are you?"
Daniel sighed and gave in. "Esther's been… distant. Not cold. Just… avoiding certain things."
"Certain things," Sankoh echoed with a knowing smirk. "You mean bedroom things."
Daniel didn't respond, but the look on his face was answer enough.
Sankoh chuckled, setting his phone down. "What did you do to the poor girl, Lewis ?"
"Nothing." Daniel sounded genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we've been fine. Happy, even. But it started after we got back from the honeymoon."
That made Sankoh pause. Then a slow grin stretched across his face.
"Wait, hold on. You didn't… tell me you didn't unload years of celibate frustration on your wife all at once?"
Daniel blinked. "What?"
"You know what I mean," Sankoh laughed, slapping his knee. "Jet-setting across the skies, , Greece, no one else around just you, her, and… freedom. You probably broke her back, didn't you?"
Daniel frowned. "I wasn't rough. Not intentionally."
"Lewis." Sankoh gave him a look. "You've been holding back for years. And let's not pretend you're not… intense."
Daniel looked away, brow furrowing.
"I'm not saying you hurt her," Sankoh continued, his tone softening. "But maybe it overwhelmed her. Some women need time to adjust, especially when it's not just lust but love involved. Your wife's young… a bit small in size," he added cautiously, noticing the sharp look Daniel shot him.
He raised his hands slightly in defense. "What I'm trying to say is… maybe she's still figuring out how to ask you to slow down, without bruising your ego."
Daniel leaned back in his chair, silent for a long moment as Sankoh's words settled in.
"Maybe," he murmured, voice low. "Maybe you're right."
"Talk to her, Lewis," Sankoh said, rising. "Not as a husband trying to fix things, but as a friend. Let her speak."
Daniel nodded slowly. "Thanks."
Sankoh grabbed his coffee again, heading for the door. "Anytime. Just don't break your wife before the first anniversary, eh?"
Daniel let out a soft laugh, but his mind was already racing ahead, toward home, and Esther.
Meanwhile, across town, Esther had taken a quiet detour of her own, one that led her back to her family home. But what Esther didn't expect to find was her sister Zianab and Dija, seated side by side in the living room, deep in conversation and laughter.
It was a strange sight. Zianab, ever composed and traditionally distant, now smiling and laughing freely beside Dija, her own vibrant, outspoken best friend. Esther paused in the hallway for a second, watching them with a mild sense of disbelief before walking in.
They looked up as she entered, Dija flashing her usual wide grin. "Look who finally showed up. We were just about to start gossiping without you."
Zianab smiled too, more subtle but genuine. "I told her you'd come eventually."
Esther raised a brow as she dropped onto the couch opposite them. "Since when did you two become besties?"
"Since you won't make time for us to go out," Dija shot back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Plus, my uncle already stole you from me."
Esther smiled faintly. "Where's Mom?"
"She already left for the market," Dija answered, stretching her legs out across the floor. "She promised to make me fufu. I've been craving it ever since Uncle D boasted to my dad about how great his wife cook was, and my poor dad went home requesting the same ." She sighed dramatically. "Too bad my mom's everything but a master chef. So here I am, trying to get my second mom to cook it instead."
"She really knows how to get Mom to do things without lifting a finger," Zianab said, giving Dija a knowing look. But then her eyes drifted to Esther, her tone softening. "Are you okay?"
Esther offered a weak smile, her fingers twitching nervously against her knees. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"No, she's not," Dija cut in, folding her arms. "She does that finger thing when she's lying or stressed."
Zianab leaned forward, studying her sister more closely. "What's wrong? Is it Mr. Lewis? Did he… hurt you?"
"No! No, it's not that." Esther quickly waved her hands. "He hasn't done anything wrong. It's just…" She took a breath, then added in a low voice, "I think I'm the problem."
Zianab frowned. "What do you mean?"
Esther's voice dropped further. "I've been avoiding him lately. Ever since we got back from the honeymoon."
Confused looks spread across both faces.
"You're saying you've been avoiding your husband's touch? Like… really?" Zianab asked, eyes narrowing.
"Yes," Esther mumbled, cheeks flushing. "It's just… I'm scared. He's a bit… overpowering. It's not that he's rough or unkind. He's just… intense. And I wasn't prepared for that."
She buried her face in her palms, already regretting the confession.
Dija tried to hold back her laugh, but a small giggle slipped out. "Okay, okay, sorry." She leaned over, placing a hand on Esther's knee. "I wasn't laughing at you. I just didn't expect that. You, of all people."
Zianab blinked at her sister. "You were the one always talking about wanting him and him holding . Now look at you, blushing like a bride on day one."
"I know," Esther muttered. "And that's why this is so embarrassing."
"But listen," Zianab said, her tone gentler now, "it's not silly. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. You've never been with anyone before, and Daniel's a… let's just say, a man of experience. That can be a lot to take in."
"Literally," Dija added with a wicked grin, earning a small nudge from Zianab.
Esther couldn't help it, she laughed. Just a little. "Exactly. It's like… he's still carrying the weight of all those years of celibacy. And he's… strong. My body's still adjusting."
The three sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Dija spoke again, this time more sincerely. "You don't have to suffer through it quietly. You can tell him to slow down. To be gentler."
"Daniel loves you, Esther," Zianab added. "He'll listen. But only if you talk to him."
Esther nodded slowly. "I know. I just… didn't know how, but now am sure I do"
"Good" Zianab said
And just like that, Esther found herself back at her maternal home, a short escape that cleared her mind and softened her heart. The weight she'd been carrying seemed lighter now, her worries tucked away in the warmth of familiar voices and laughter. More than anything, she felt ready, ready to face Daniel and the conversation they both deserved.
It wasn't long before Daniel returned home that evening, the routine unfolding like muscle memory. He freshened up, came down for dinner, exchanged brief pleasantries with Esther, nothing new, nothing unusual. Then, like the past few nights, he made his way upstairs alone, already bracing himself for the quiet distance she'd built between them.
Daniel was half-turned toward the window, sleeves rolled to his forearms, when he heard the quiet knock. He glanced back, surprised to see Esther lingering by the doorway.
She stepped inside before he could say anything, her fingers clasped in front of her. "I thought you'd be asleep."
"I could say the same," he replied gently, eyes scanning her face. "Did you forget something?"
She shook her head and slowly crossed the room. "No. I came to talk… if you're not too tired."
Daniel set the glass of water on the nightstand and motioned toward the bed. "I'm not."
She sat at the edge, smoothing her palm over the blanket, then looked up at him. "I owe you an apology."
"For?"
"For the past week. For avoiding you. I wasn't being fair to you, and I know you've noticed."
Daniel sat beside her, leaving just enough space between them that she didn't feel crowded. "I did notice. But I didn't want to pressure you." His voice was calm, patient. "I figured if you needed space, I should give it to you. But I admit, I've been confused."
Esther exhaled slowly. "It wasn't you. It was me. Or rather, something I've been struggling to say."
Daniel turned toward her fully now, his tone gentle. "Then say it, Esther. Whatever it is, I want to hear it."
She nodded, then lowered her eyes. "Since we came back from the honeymoon, I've been… scared. Not of you, but of how intense things got. That first night, and even afterward, it felt like you'd been holding years in, and when it came out…" Her voice faltered. "It overwhelmed me."
Daniel's expression shifted with understanding. He hadn't realized how much she'd been holding in.
"I'm sorry," he said, his hand reaching but stopping short of touching her. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I got carried away, I didn't stop to consider if you were truly ready for all of me."
"You didn't do anything wrong," she murmured, finally meeting his gaze. "I didn't know how to say I needed gentleness. I didn't want to disappoint you or seem… childish."
Daniel leaned forward, his voice firm but kind. "You're not childish, Esther. You're honest. And that takes strength. What we have, it's new for both of us in different ways. But I'm not here to break you, I'm here to love you. And if that means slowing down, softening up, then I'll do that. Every time."
Her throat tightened at his words. Slowly, she reached for his hand.
"I still want you," she whispered. "I just want to feel safe while I'm with you."
Daniel lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "Then that's exactly what you'll feel from now on."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy, it was full of understanding.
Daniel shifted slowly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. "May I hold you?"
Esther nodded, and before she could blink, he'd pulled her gently into his arms. The moment their bodies touched, she exhaled deeply, as though letting go of a tension she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying.
His warmth surrounded her, solid, steady, familiar. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to sink into it.
Daniel pressed his lips against her temple. "You don't have to do anything. Just let me be close to you tonight."
But Esther tilted her face toward him, her eyes locking with his. "I want to… I just needed to hear you say that."
Their kiss started slow, unhurried. A soft brush of lips that deepened only when she reached for him, fingers curling at the back of his neck, guiding him closer. Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest, but this time it wasn't fear, it was need. A need laced with trust.
Daniel was patient. Every movement, every touch, was tempered with care. His hands found her waist, not to pull but to cradle. His kisses trailed from her lips to her jaw, down the curve of her neck, each one soft, deliberate, asking rather than taking.
Esther melted beneath his touch, feeling her earlier fears dissolve with every gentle press of his mouth. He was reading her without words, matching her pace, waiting for her cues, holding her as if she were something precious, not just desired.
When his fingers brushed the hem of her nightshirt, he paused, lifting his head. "Is this okay?"
She looked up at him, eyes clear. "Yes."
The fabric slid away with his help, revealing more than just her skin, it revealed her willingness, her trust.
He took his time, his lips exploring her collarbone, her sh, arch, sigh, respond.
She reached for him then, her touch more confident, running her hand beneath his shirt to feel the warm skin of his back. His muscles flexed under her palm, but he didn't rush. He leaned into her pace, responding only when she invited him deeper.
There was no frenzy in their love-making this time. No urgency. Just a slow unfolding of connection, skin to skin, soul to soul. Each motion carried emotion, not just desire, his hands learned her all over again, gentle and reverent, while she rediscovered the power of her own longing.
Esther gasped when he entered her, not from pain, but from the ache of how tender he was. He didn't move right away, letting her adjust, their foreheads pressed together, breaths shared.
"I've got you," he whispered against her lips. "Every step."
And he did.
Their rhythm built gradually, waves lapping a shoreline rather than a storm. She clung to him, not in fear, but in release. And when she finally broke, it wasn't with a scream, but with a trembling sigh of surrender, soft and beautiful, like her.
Daniel followed soon after, burying his face in the crook of her neck, whispering her name like a prayer.
They lay tangled afterward, limbs entwined, skin slick with warmth. He kissed her shoulder, her cheek, her fingers, silent promises written in touch.
Esther rested her head on his chest, his heartbeat thudding strong beneath her ear. "Thank you," she murmured, eyes already closing.
"For what?"
"For making me feel safe again."
Daniel wrapped his arms tighter around her. "Always."
And for the first time in a week, Esther didn't run.
She stayed. Wrapped in love. Wrapped in him.