"She’s always holding it together—until she can’t."- Toby

The fluorescent ceiling lights hummed above Toby’s desk, matching the buzz of his brain as he pored over the Velartech file. Something wasn’t aligning. The numbers. The dates. The so-called oversight. It had taken him hours of circling the same page, but now, he had it.

He leaned back, heart thumping. This wasn’t just a headline. This was a crack in the shiny legal armor Velartech wore—a lead, one he was sure Tami would want to hear.

He grabbed his phone and texted her:
“Need to talk. Break in the case. Want to grab dinner?”

He waited. The three dots didn’t appear. Odd. She usually responded, even if it was with her signature curt “I’m busy.”

He shrugged, set the phone down, and tried to focus on outlining the story.

Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
He called.

No answer.

Hours later.

At first, he assumed she was ignoring him. It wasn’t a stretch. She wasn’t the chatty type and had made it clear she didn’t like being disturbed during work hours.

But then a strange thought crept in—what if she hadn’t left work at all?

He grabbed his bag, slid his phone into his pocket, and headed out into the humid Lagos evening.

---

By the time Toby arrived at her firm, most of the building had emptied out. The parking lot was half full, the lobby eerily quiet, save for the distant humming of a generator. He approached the security post.

“I’m looking for Miss Tami… Barrister,” he added, unsure if that would help.

The man gave him a look. “You have an appointment?”

“No. I’m a colleague. Just need to check if she’s still in.”

The guard shrugged. “Some lawyers still dey upstairs. I no sure if she don go. You fit check that second office by the corridor.”

Toby nodded and walked through the near-empty hallways, the soles of his shoes clicking against the tile. Most of the rooms he passed were dark, doors left ajar in a rush to clock out.

He reached the one labeled “Tami Adedayo - Associate Office” and pushed gently

“Tami?”

No response.

He pushed it open fully—and froze.

She was slumped over her desk, one hand still curled near her laptop. Her skin looked pale. There was a half-drunk bottle of water beside her, her glasses pushed off to the side. Cold coffee. Unsent emails. An unfinished report blinking on the screen.

“Tami.” He stepped in, urgent now. “Hey, Tami—”

She stirred faintly, mumbling. Her forehead glistened with sweat.

“I’m fine,” she whispered hoarsely, trying to sit up.

He crouched beside her. “No, you’re not.”

She blinked up at him, dazed. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t answer your phone. I was worried.”

“I just—just needed to finish this brief. I’m okay.”

He ignored that. “Come on, we’re going to the hospital.”

“I don’t need—”

“You do,” he said, not unkindly. “Trust me.”

Her breath trembled, and for once, she didn’t argue.

---

At the hospital, Toby did all the talking.

Name, age, allergies—he fumbled a little but remembered enough from their banter and her file to get the basics right.

The nurse looked up mid-form. “Relationship to the patient?”

He hesitated. Just a beat too long.

“Friend,” he said finally. “Colleague.”

Tami didn’t flinch, but she didn’t look at him either.

He sat in the waiting area with his leg bouncing, staring at the sliding doors that led to the examination room. His phone buzzed.

Naya.
He didn’t recognize the name at first, but then the screen lit up again with the word: Calling.

He answered, hesitantly. “Hello?”

“Hello? Who is this?” The woman’s voice was sharp with concern. “Why do you have Tami’s phone?”

“She’s at the hospital. She collapsed at work.”

A pause, and then a mix of anger and panic. “I told her to clock out. I told her she looked like she was about to crash!”

Toby blinked. “You’re a friend?”

“I’m her colleague. Naya. She was supposed to leave early today. I left before her. I shouldn’t have—” She stopped herself. “Where is she now? Is she conscious?”

“She’s with the doctor. I’ll let you know once I hear anything.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, softly: “Thank you.”

---

Later, Tami was lying on the hospital bed, IV in her arm, color slowly returning to her cheeks.

“It’s just stress,” the doctor explained. “Exhaustion. Likely a fever on top of it. She’ll need rest, fluids, and no screen time for a while.”

“Easier said than done,” Toby muttered, glancing at her.

Tami didn’t meet his eyes. She hated this—being looked after, being seen like this.

When they were alone, he pulled the chair closer.

She sighed. “You didn’t have to come.”

“You didn’t have to nearly pass out either.”

“I said I was fine.”

“You weren’t.”

That silence again. It stretched between them until she broke it.

“I can’t drop the ball,” she said quietly. “Not here. Not now. There’s too much riding on—”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Tami.”

She glanced at him then, really looked. He wasn’t mocking her. Just present. Just there.

“I’m not used to people noticing,” she admitted.

“Well,” he shrugged, “you make it hard to.”

A half-smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t last long.

“Everyone thinks I’m this perfectly tied-up thing, and maybe I’ve helped them believe that. But I’m tired, Toby. And I hate that I’m saying it out loud.”

“You’re allowed to be tired.”

“I don’t know how to rest.”

He didn’t respond to that. Just stayed there, leaning slightly toward her, elbows on his knees.

“I should go,” she said, voice low.

He shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

---

An hour later, Toby was sitting on the floor of her hospital room with a cup of vending machine coffee while she drifted in and out of sleep.

He’d texted Naya again with a brief update: She’s stable. Just needs rest. I’ll keep you posted.

The nurse came in once to check her vitals and glanced between them.

“You can stay, you know,” she said quietly.

Toby nodded.

There were no grand gestures. No confessions. Just the soft, uncomfortable truth of what it means to be seen when you least want to be.