1

Ayrah pov 

I was already tired before the day had even begun to end.

The meeting had drained me, the noise, the fake smiles, the endless negotiations dressed as respect. Now, I sat alone in my office, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound that didn't irritate me. My eyes stayed fixed on the CCTV screen mounted on the wall, watching employees move in and out like ants, busy, replaceable, predictable.

A knock came, Soft. Careful.

Before I could respond, the door opened slightly and Hawra stepped in, clutching her iPad like it carried something fragile.

"Ma... I think you need to see this," she said, her voice cautious but laced with curiosity. "You're on the news again."

I didn't turn immediately. I let the silence stretch, hoping she would take the hint and leave it there.

She didn't.

"People are talking," she continued, stepping closer. "They're asking why you and the Muktar company are not doing business together. Some are saying maybe there's... history. Or that you're enemies."

That got my attention.

I shifted my gaze to her slowly, then to the screen of the iPad she extended. Headlines. Speculation. Nonsense dressed as journalism.

A faint scoff escaped me "Not again." I exhaled, rolling my eyes as I leaned back into my chair. "Just ignore it."

I pushed the chair back and sat upright, reaching for my black heels under the table. My fingers worked the straps with practiced precision, my expression unchanged.

Hawra hesitated "Ma... if I may ask..." 

I didn't look up.

"Why don't you want to do business with them?" she continued carefully. "Their company is one of the biggest. If we partner with them, we'll earn a lot. I don't think we should reject them again."

Again?

That word made me pause.

I lifted my head slowly and looked at her, my gaze sharp enough to cut through whatever courage she had gathered. "Again?" I repeated.

She swallowed but nodded. "Yes, ma. They sent another proposal."

I breathe.

For a second, something twisted in my chest, annoyance... or something older. Something I had buried well.

"Hm." I slipped on the second heel and stood up, smoothing down the crease of my suit. "Reject it."

Hawra stepped closer this time, her sandals making a soft sound against the tiled floor. "Ma, I think you should give it a thought."

I turned, just a look, Nothing more, but it was enough.

Her shoulders stiffened slightly, yet she didn't retreat.

"Sorry, ma... but is there something that happened between the two of you?"

Of course she would ask.

Hawra was the only one bold enough to question me like this, and I hated that. 

"Hawra."

Her head snapped up. "Yes, ma'am."

I walked past her toward my desk, picking up my bag and dusting an invisible speck off the sleeve of my suit.

"Do you love your job?" I asked calmly. There was a pause.

"Yes, ma."

I stepped closer until the distance between us was almost nothing. Close enough for her to feel it. Close enough for her to understand. "Then don't ever ask me something like that again," I said quietly. "It's none of your business."

Her fingers tightened around the iPad. "Sorry, ma."

I held her gaze for a second longer, then looked away like she no longer existed. "Make sure the documents are ready tomorrow."

"And the news?" she asked, softer now.

I stopped. Turned slightly. "Have you been deaf?" I asked, my tone sharpening just enough. "Or your ears are not working, abi?"

"Sorry, ma."

Of course, Always sorry. Always smiling.

She quickly reached for my bag and suit before I could stop her. "Let me help you with this, ma."

I didn't respond. I simply walked past her, heels clicking against the floor with measured authority.

The office floor fell silent the moment we stepped out.

Employees rose immediately.

"Have a good day, ma."

"You too," I replied without looking at any of them.

Outside, the Lagos heat wrapped around us like a second skin. Hawra hurried ahead and placed my things in the backseat of the car, moving with the same quiet efficiency she always had.

"Have a good day ahead, ma," she said, smiling as usual.

That smile.

I don't know why it irritated me... or maybe it didn't.

No matter what I said to her, no matter how sharp my words were, she never stopped smiling. Sometimes, when I wasn't paying attention, I found myself watching her, wondering what it felt like to be that light.

To be that free.

I slid into the car and rolled the window down halfway, resting my arm against the edge. My fingers tapped lightly against the door.

"First thing tomorrow morning," I said, my voice returning to its usual cold steadiness, "I don't want to hear anything about the news or the Muktar company. Am I clear?"

Hawra nodded immediately. "Yes, ma."

I held her gaze for a brief second, then rolled the window up without another word.

I drove off without looking back.

And I already knew, Hawra would bring it up again tomorrow.

The thought sat at the back of my mind like an unfinished argument.

Lagos traffic welcomed me the way it always did, thick, impatient, alive. Horns blared from every direction, danfo buses squeezed through impossible spaces, and street hawkers weaved between cars like it was a choreographed dance.

I didn't mind it.

In fact, I preferred it.

The stillness inside my car, trapped in the middle of chaos, it gave me space to think.

My fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, then stopped. I glanced down at my black trousers, brushing off an invisible crease before letting out a quiet sigh. I unclasped my wristwatch and placed it carefully beside me.

No music.

Never music.

Silence made it easier to remember.

And I remembered everything.

How far I had come.

How hard it had been.

How I had clawed my way out of a place I never wanted to return to.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

It was not easy.

Nothing about me was accidental.

By the time I got home, the call to Maghrib prayer had already settled into the evening air.

Ikeja GRA was quieter, controlled, like it belonged to people who had successfully escaped something.

I keyed in the door code and stepped inside.

"Girl, I have been calling your phone! Have you seen the news?"

Nazra.

Of course.

I shut the door behind me slowly, my shoulders dropping just a fraction. "Not this again," I muttered, the irritation already rising.

She sat comfortably on the couch, legs folded beneath her, a bowl of popcorn balanced carelessly on her lap. Her long boubou draped around her like she didn't have a single worry in the world.

"Come on, listen," she said, leaning forward slightly, eyes sharp now. "You have to respond. Say something. If you don't, they'll start digging. And you know what that means..."

She didn't finish it.

She didn't have to.

"They might eventually find out the truth you are hiding."

I sat down slowly, letting my body sink into the couch. My heels felt tighter than usual. I slipped them off, one after the other, and stretched my feet forward, wiggling my toes slightly.

"I am not going to say anything," I said flatly.

Nazra clicked her tongue. "You don't understand how crazy these media people are—"

"Okay," I cut in, standing abruptly. "I'll just go back to my car and sit there."

That got her.

"Hey!" She dropped the popcorn bowl to the side and quickly grabbed my hand. "Don't go."

I looked down at her hand on mine.

For a second, I considered pulling away.

Instead, I sighed and sat back down.

"Listen," she said softer now, her voice losing its sharp edge. "I know whatever you went through in the past wasn't easy..."

My jaw tightened.

"...but this is the present. And you need to be wise. This your nonchalant behavior? It won't help you."

I didn't respond.

I leaned back, my head resting against the couch, my eyes dropping to my feet. I stretched them again, slower this time. The exhaustion in my body felt deeper than physical.

I reached for my phone.

6:30 PM.

"Please," she added, almost gently now. "Just accept his proposal. Work with him."

My fingers stilled.

For a split second, something cracked beneath the surface.

If only you knew.

If only she knew what that man had taken from me.

What he had done.

What I had survived.

My throat tightened, and I felt it, that dangerous, rising emotion.

I swallowed it.

Locked it down.

Buried it where it belonged.

"I'm going upstairs," I said, my voice steady again.

I stood up, picked up my heels and handbag, and didn't wait for her response.

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked away.

But I didn't turn back.

The warm water ran over my skin, but it didn't soothe anything.

It never did.

I performed my ablution slowly, carefully, like each movement was something to hold onto. Then I stood to pray.

Maghrib.

Isha.

Each sujood felt heavier than the last.

Ya Allah...

Words I couldn't say out loud stayed in my chest.

Hunger dragged me downstairs.

"You're down?" Nazra said, surprised. "I thought you had already slept."

"No," I replied.

I stopped at the last step of the staircase, one hand resting lightly on the rail. I watched her as she moved toward the dining area, now dressed in her soft sleeping pajamas.

"You're going back to Abuja?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, like it was nothing. "Come, let's eat."

A small discomfort settled in my chest.

"I'll be all alone here," I said quietly. "You know I don't like staying alone."