Kojo's insult reached the table before his smile could disguise it again. Jake stopped moving beside me, while Ruby lowered her book with one finger marking the page. Nina turned toward Kojo slowly enough that every person understood she had heard him clearly.
"Explain the charity," she said, keeping her camera against one hip while her voice remained level.
"I was joking," Kojo replied, looking around the table for an easier audience, "everybody knows what happened between you two."
"What happened?" Nina asked, removing the escape without raising her volume.
I wanted to answer because the lie had placed me beneath her generosity. Kojo had called my date purchased through injury, reducing Nina's interest plus my effort inside the same sentence. Anger offered a speech before Nina finished choosing hers in that moment.
"He saved your life," Kojo said, shrugging as though the conclusion followed naturally, "then you spent a week beside his hospital bed."
"Those are events," Nina replied, moving closer without allowing him to turn away, "where is the charity?"
"You would not have dated him otherwise," he answered, glancing toward me before returning to her face.
The claim hurt because I had considered the same possibility every night inside the hospital. Nina might never have spoken to me without the accident for now. That truth did not determine what she chose after gaining other exits.
"You do not know who I would have dated," Nina said, placing her camera on the table before continuing, "you barely knew what I wanted when I was flirting with you."
Kojo's expression tightened at the public reference to whatever had existed between them. I recognized him as the unnamed man from the car before certainty could improve my anger. Nina had withheld the name so my behavior would belong to me.
"We went out twice," Kojo said, correcting the history while his smile finally disappeared.
"We attended two club events," Nina replied, refusing his preferred label, "then you called me dishonest because I would not leave the second one with you."
Several students near the bench began listening while carefully pretending the confrontation had not captured them. Kojo noticed them, then shifted his attention toward me as though another man could return the conversation to safer territory. His jaw tightened before the next question during the next uncertain moment nearby.
"You are comfortable with this?" he asked, gesturing toward Nina while he addressed me, "she will replace you when the guilt wears off."
The bait promised dignity if I defended my claim to her today. Answering for Nina would prove his argument that her choice mattered only through whichever man spoke louder. I kept my hands flat against the table until the first response passed.
"Whether Nina replaces me is her decision," I said, accepting how unpleasant the sentence felt, "but you lied about my motive, so I will correct that part."
Kojo folded his arms, giving me the floor because he expected performance. Nina looked toward me without interrupting, her expression alert rather than rescued. I addressed only the claim that belonged to my choices nearby today.
"I asked her on a date because I wanted one," I continued, keeping my voice conversational despite the watching courtyard, "not because saving her earned payment."
"Convenient distinction," Kojo replied, shifting his weight while several people looked toward him.
"It is the only distinction I control," I said, refusing the invitation to prove Nina's feelings, "she already explained hers."
Silence followed because the argument had nowhere masculine to continue around me. Kojo could call me desperate, but he could not make Nina's answer disappear without ignoring her in public. Ruby closed her book softly beside us during the next uncertain moment nearby.
"You heard both people involved," Ruby said, giving Kojo one final path away from the table, "continuing would become research into your own problem."
"Nobody asked you," Kojo replied, turning toward her before Jake stood from the bench.
"She answered anyway," Jake said, remaining beside Ruby without moving closer to Kojo.
The exchange threatened to expand into alliances nobody needed in that moment. Nina collected her camera, then stepped away from the table without asking permission. She looked toward me only after reaching the open path nearby today.
"I am leaving," she said, placing the decision where Kojo could hear it, "Kofi, do you want to walk with me?"
"Yes," I replied, collecting my bag while Jake moved the heavier notebook toward me.
"I will bring this to seminar," Jake said, keeping the practical offer separate from the confrontation.
I thanked him, then followed Nina across the courtyard without another word toward Kojo. Victory would have required returning something cruel enough to make spectators remember me. Leaving made his attention irrelevant before my anger felt satisfied nearby today.
We crossed beneath the acacia trees while Nina maintained a faster pace than my recovery preferred. I told her when pain reached four instead of trying to follow silently. She slowed immediately, though frustration remained visible across her shoulders around me.
"Do you need the bench?" she asked, pointing toward the shaded seats beyond the path.
"Not yet," I replied, matching the safer pace while I examined her face, "do you want company or distance?"
"Company," Nina said, looking forward as the media building appeared ahead, "without questions for one minute."
I accepted, letting our footsteps carry the remaining anger between us again. Students passed without recognizing what had happened, returning the morning to lectures plus deadlines. The silence gave Nina room to decide what she wanted from it.
"Thank you for not defending my honor," she said after we turned behind the library.
"The available speech was impressive," I admitted, moving my bag higher while she glanced toward me.
"I am sure it contained several historical consequences," Nina replied, allowing humor to loosen her mouth.
"Civilizations would have reconsidered themselves," I said, relieved when she laughed once.
The moment remained serious beneath the joke because my restraint had not been automatic. I told Nina that hearing charity case hurt, then admitted I still feared the accident created everything between us. She stopped near the library wall instead of dismissing the fear again.
"It created the first conversation," she said, facing me while sunlight moved through leaves above us, "it did not make me dress for the market or ask you difficult questions."
"I know," I replied, letting evidence challenge fear without asking for a larger promise.
"Knowing will need repetition," she said, touching the camera strap where it crossed her chest, "but I will not spend every date proving I am not guilty."
"You should not have to," I agreed, recognizing reassurance could become another caretaking expectation.
The System appeared after her boundary rather than my public answer, connecting confidence with accepting what I could not control. I read the receipt while Nina waited beside me before moving forward. Nothing on it claimed she would remain inside the quiet room around us.
"I did not give you his name because I was afraid you would prepare a victory," Nina said, resting one shoulder against the library wall.
"That fear was accurate," I replied, remembering several speeches my shower had already received.
"Kojo knows how to make another man's anger the center of my refusal," she continued, looking toward the courtyard we had left, "then everybody discusses the fight instead of what I said."
The pattern explained why she had challenged him through questions rather than insults. Kojo wanted a contest where her history became evidence between men quietly. Nina had refused the entire structure before I understood it around me.
"You did not need me to remain silent forever," I said, checking the distinction carefully, "only until your answer had room."
"Exactly," she replied, moving away from the wall when another class began releasing students nearby.
I told her that standing beside her felt less satisfying than defeating him would have felt. The admission embarrassed me because restraint was supposed to become morally effortless after one correct choice. Nina accepted the uglier truth without praising it inside the room nearby.
"Satisfaction is not the same as support," she said, adjusting the camera strap across her chest, "you can want the fight and still choose me over it."
The sentence gave my anger somewhere useful to exist without making Nina manage it. I could talk to Jake later, write every response I had withheld, then delete the document. None required returning Kojo to the center of our connection nearby today.
"Next time, ask whether I want backup," Nina said, stepping back onto the path while she waited for me, "sometimes my answer will be yes."
"Then I will ask," I replied, joining her at the slower pace we had established.
The System appeared only after her boundary, connecting confidence with accepting what I could not control. Nothing on the receipt claimed she would remain, making the earned confidence belong entirely to my behavior.
[Confidence milestone recorded: corrected your own motive without claiming another person's voice.]
[Confidence: 20 → 21]
[Relationship stage: Mutual Interest remains UNCONFIRMED.]
"One Confidence point," I said, dismissing the screen before the final line tempted me toward another question.
"For doing less?" Nina asked, though her expression showed she understood the distinction.
"For limiting the empire," I replied, beginning the walk again once she indicated readiness.
We reached the corner where the media building path divided from history. Nina stopped before our directions separated, then checked the students passing behind me. Her hand moved toward mine without completing the gesture during that exchange.
"My interview begins in four minutes," she said, looking at the space between our fingers, "walk me to the door?"
"Gladly," I replied, turning with her instead of asking whether the invitation meant more.
The building stood less than one hundred meters away, though Nina shortened the distance between us after the first corner. Her fingers touched mine, retreated, then returned with a decision I felt through my entire arm. She slid her hand into mine before either of us could call the contact practical.