The eviction notice was taped to Nina Cole’s front door.

It fluttered in the evening breeze, its edges curling from the damp air. She didn’t need to read it to know what it said. The landlord had been warning her for weeks.

Still, her eyes drifted to the bold black letters.

FINAL NOTICE.

Outstanding Rent: ₦280,000.

Vacate the premises within seven days if payment is not received.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

Seven days.

As if seven days could magically produce almost three hundred thousand naira.

She tightened her grip on the grocery bag hanging from her wrist. Inside were two packs of noodles, a loaf of bread, half a dozen eggs, and her mother’s medication. That was all she could afford after spending nearly everything in her account.

With a sigh, she peeled the notice from the door before any of the neighbors noticed it. Pity was the one thing she couldn’t stand.

She unlocked the apartment and forced a smile before stepping inside.

“I’m home.”

The tiny apartment smelled of tomato stew and boiled rice.

Grace Cole peeked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a faded apron. Although illness had stolen some of the fullness from her face, her smile remained as gentle as ever.

“There you are.”

“I brought your medicine.”

“You shouldn’t have spent so much.”

“I spent what was necessary.”

Grace looked at the grocery bag and frowned.

“And what about you? Did you buy anything for yourself?”

Nina chuckled as she placed everything on the table.

“I bought toothpaste.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Grace shook her head.

“You’ve become just like your father.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The older woman sighed but smiled anyway.

Dinner was simple. Plain rice, tomato stew, and one boiled egg they quietly shared without arguing over who deserved the larger half.

They had become experts at pretending everything was fine.

Halfway through dinner, Grace cleared her throat.

“Did your salary come today?”

Nina kept eating.

“No.”

“They delayed it again?”

“They said there are cash flow issues.”

Grace lowered her spoon.

“But the rent…”

“I’ll sort it out.”

“The hospital appointment is this week.”

“I know.”

“And Ethan’s tuition?”

“I know.”

Grace reached across the table and held her daughter’s hand.

“You don’t have to carry everyone.”

Nina smiled softly.

“I don’t mind.”

“That’s the problem.”

Before either of them could continue, someone knocked on the door.

Three slow, familiar knocks.

Nina closed her eyes.

“I’ll get it.”

She opened the door to find Mr. Balogun standing outside.

The landlord removed his cap and sighed.

“Good evening, Nina.”

“Good evening, sir.”

“I hate these conversations.”

“So do I.”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ve been patient.”

“I know.”

“I have another family willing to pay six months in advance.”

She nodded quietly.

“I understand.”

“I don’t want to throw you and your mother out.”

“Then don’t.”

“I can’t keep waiting forever.”

“I just need a little more time.”

“How much?”

She hesitated.

“One week.”

He looked at her for several seconds before exhaling deeply.

“Seven days.”

“After that, I won’t have a choice.”

Relief flooded through her.

“Thank you.”

As he walked away, Grace appeared beside her.

“What did he say?”

“Seven days.”

Her mother’s shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry.”

Nina immediately wrapped an arm around her.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“If I wasn’t sick—”

“Mum.”

“If your father was still alive—”

“Mum.”

Her voice grew firmer.

“We promised not to live in ‘what ifs.’”

Grace nodded, blinking away tears.

That night, long after her mother had fallen asleep, Nina sat alone at the small dining table with her aging laptop open.

Job applications covered the screen.

Receptionist.

Executive assistant.

Customer service.

Virtual assistant.

Anything that paid better than her current job.

She submitted application after application until her eyes burned.

Then she opened her banking app.

Available Balance: ₦18,240.

She stared at the number.

Rent.

Food.

Transport.

Medicine.

The figures refused to make sense.

Just as she was about to close the app, another notification appeared.

An email.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Maybe payroll.

She opened it.

Instead, it was a reminder from her younger brother’s university.

Outstanding tuition fees due in five days.

Nina leaned back in her chair and covered her face.

For the first time in months, she allowed herself to cry.

The tears were silent.