Two months out, and the apartment still felt new. Not because of the furniture. It was the same chair, same mug, same yellow throw I’d bought on impulse in Ogba. It felt new because nothing in it was performing.

No "good wife" mug on the shelf. No "church girl" playlist on rotation. No draft open on the laptop telling me what to do next.

Just quiet. And me in it. It felt nice. The change.

Dr. Amina asked me last week, "What’s the one thing you haven’t let yourself do yet?"

I knew immediately.

"Want something. And say it. Without asking permission first."

Maybe it was because of the shame...