Tunde's smile was charming, but fake. Amira could see it from across the room.
Damian felt it too. There was something about the man's eyes, like he walked in already smelling trouble.
"I didn't know you had company," Tunde said, his voice cool.
Amira forced a polite smile. "He's… helping me with the business."
"Oh," Tunde said, raising a brow. "Interesting. I thought you only worked with professionals."
Damian said nothing. He simply looked at the man, calm on the outside, boiling inside.
"I'll give you two some space," Damian said, standing and walking toward the back room.
Tunde watched him go, then turned back to Amira with a knowing smirk. "So, that's Damian Cole? The almighty billionaire? Didn't recognize him without the private jet and gold watch."
Amira sighed. "Tunde, what do you want?"
He leaned against the counter, flashing his perfect teeth. "Can't I check up on an old friend?". "You haven't called in a year."
"I heard you were doing well. Thought I'd come see for myself."
"And now that you've seen me?"
His smile dropped just a little. "Now I see you've picked up a stray."
Amira's eyes narrowed. "Don't talk about him like that."
Tunde chuckled. "You used to have better taste, Amira."
She folded her arms. "I also used to believe in men who disappear the moment things got hard."
His smile faded completely.
Touché.
In the back room, Damian wasn't pretending anymore. He paced the floor, fists clenched. Every word he overheard from Tunde made his chest tighten. So this was Amira's ex. The man she once loved.
He had the looks, the charm, the money… still. Damian had none of that now.
And yet, the anger he felt wasn't jealousy. It was fear. Fear that she'd choose the man with stability.
Not the broken one sweeping her floor.
A few minutes later, Amira walked in. Damian turned to her.
"Is he gone?"
She nodded.
"Should I leave too?"
She blinked. "Why would you say that?"
He shrugged. "He still wants you."
Amira scoffed. "He wants the version of me that stays quiet and smiles at his jokes."
"You smiled."
"That was fake. Like his Rolex." Damian cracked a small laugh.
She stepped closer. "Don't let people like him get into your head, Damian. You've got bigger things to fix."
He looked at her, eyes searching. "And what if I want to fix more than just the spreadsheets?"
Her eyes held his for a moment.
Then she looked away.
"Not now."
That evening, as Amira locked up the boutique, she saw something odd.
A black car parked across the road. Same model as Tunde's, but the windows were tinted dark.
It had been there all day.
She felt a chill in her stomach. When she looked again, the car was gone.
The next day, tension returned. Tunde sent flowers. Roses. Chocolates. A card with a handwritten note:
"You still deserve better. Let's talk. -T."
Damian saw the delivery guy before Amira did. He read the card. His chest burned. He didn't mention it.
Later that evening, he found himself scrubbing the boutique floors harder than normal.
Amira walked in.
"You okay?"
He nodded. But she saw the card on the table.
She froze.
"Oh…"
Damian looked at her, his voice low. "He's trying."
"I didn't ask for it."
"I know."
"But you're angry."
"No," he said. "Just reminded that I'm not enough."
She stepped closer. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Compare yourself to a man who left me when I needed him most. You, Damian… you stayed."
He swallowed hard.
"But how long can I stay?" he whispered. "In your shop. In your space. In your life?"
Silence.
She looked away. Her heart wanted to say forever. But her head said not yet.
That night, the power went out. Rain poured hard. Lagos didn't forgive weak roofs.
Damian moved fast, placing buckets to catch the leaking water near the entrance. Amira came downstairs with candles and a blanket.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
"For what?"
"For everything. For you ending up like this."
He shook his head. "Don't be. Maybe I needed to fall."
She looked at him.
He looked at her.
The room went quiet except for thunder outside. And in that silence… something changed.
Not love. Not yet. But something.
A seed. A softness. A truth.