Rain traced delicate patterns down the tall windows of the rooftop restaurant, the neon glow of Lagos blurred and distant. The city sparkled below, but up here the music was low, the linen was crisp, and every table seemed to float in its own quiet world. Alexa sat across from Charles, her hands curled in her lap, her pulse ringing in her ears.
She had dressed carefully; a subtle blue dress and her neatest braids, hoping for kindness, maybe even warmth. Sometimes, beneath his cool exterior, she caught glimpses of the boy he must have once been. On the taxi ride over, she clung to that fragile hope. But now, as she watched his jaw set and his dark eyes grow colder, hope slipped further away.
Charles was everything the world admired: successful, composed, utterly in control. But tonight, he wielded silence like a weapon. He'd barely touched his food, his wine sat untouched. With every minute, the air tightened, leaving Alexa struggling to breathe.
He finally spoke, not looking up. "This…." he gestured between them with a flick of his hand "... .isn't working, Alexa. We both know it."
His words struck her like a slap. She waited for more. An explanation. An apology for the way he'd drifted out of her life these past months. But all she got was emptiness. Cars slid past on the street below, wind rattled the glass. Alexa's voice trembled. "I just want to understand. What did I do wrong? Why does it feel like I'm fighting alone?"
Charles stared at the city, his features remote. For a second she saw the man she fell for, the one who grinned in the rain, who listened to her childhood stories, who held her hand at midnight when she was terrified of losing too much.
But that softness was gone.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly. "It's not about that. I'm tired. I need something…easier." He said it flat, almost blank, but Alexa felt the world tilt underneath her. Was she too much? Was the weight of loving her too difficult to carry?
Her voice broke. "So you're just giving up? Walking away from all this?"
Charles met her gaze at last. His eyes were cold, exhausted, and unflinching. "I'm not happy. And you…. you deserve more than waiting around for someone to notice you."
Alexa flinched. She thought of the nights she'd sat by the window at home thinking, and watched the city lights with prayers in her chest. She'd believed so fiercely, too fiercely, that love could fix what had gone cold.
Noise bled in from the bar: laughter, the clink of glasses, a birthday song for a stranger two tables away. Life continued, oblivious to this quiet unraveling. Alexa forced herself to breathe. She would not cry here, not in front of him.
She managed a whisper. "You could have just talked to me. You never let me in, Charles. You kept shutting me out, and I… I fought so hard for us."
He shook his head, as if it had never mattered. "That's the problem. I don't want to fight. I just want peace."
Despair settled in her bones. He would not fight for her, not even now. What hurt most was how unreasonable he seemed, how easily he dismantled years of memories and laughter and loss. Whatever was left between them wasn't love anymore…. just ritual.
Alexa stood, the legs of her chair scraping loud against the polished floor. Her hands shook as she collected her bag. Across the table, Charles watched with bored sadness, wounded that he might have to experience even a moment of discomfort. "I'll call you a car," he offered, his tone so businesslike it stung.
"No. I can do it myself." Alexa's words felt final. She left swiftly, weaving through tables of easy conversations and candlelight. In the lobby, she pressed herself small against the cool wall, steadying herself. Her heart was thundering in her chest.
Outside, the rain was falling harder now. The city felt enormous and strange. Alexa walked quickly, the world swimming through tears she dared not let fall. At the curb, she hailed a taxi with numb hands and climbed into the warmth, giving her address in a hoarse whisper: the only home she had left.
As they drove through the puddled streets, Alexa saw her own reflection in the window; eyes red, jaw tense, face paler than usual. She pressed her hand to her chest again, feeling the irregular rhythm. It had been happening for months now; the palpitations, the breathlessness, the fatigue she'd blamed on stress and heartache. She'd been meaning to see a doctor, but there was never time.
She thought about her niece, Yvonne, waiting for her. Yvonne, the bright spark that filled so many of her days with laughter and hope. Alexa summoned her niece's memory, clinging to it as her heart, literally and figuratively, crumbled.
By the time she reached her own door, she was shivering. The silence of her apartment was gentle, soft with the hum of Yvonne's cartoons in the next room. Alexa set her bag down, toes cold against the hallway tile. For a moment, she stood perfectly still, drinking in the familiarity, the safe mess, the warmth, the scent of cocoa from the kitchen.
"Aunt Alexa?" came a sleepy, questioning voice from Yvonne's bedroom. Alexa forced herself to steady, wiped at her cheeks, and stepped lightly down the hallway.
Yvonne looked small and sleepy in her bed, blankets twisted in a wild heap. But her smile, bright and earnest, never wavered. "You're home! Did you bring dessert?"
Alexa managed a small, trembling smile. "Not tonight, sunshine. But maybe we'll have pancakes for breakfast?" Yvonne nodded, content, and reached for her aunt's hand. Alexa sat by her side, stroking her niece's hair, grounding herself in this simple comfort.
She tucked Yvonne in, lingering for a while, letting the softness of childhood stories and the sound of gentle breathing wrap around her. When Alexa finally stepped into the dark of her own room, she allowed herself to breathe deeply. She closed her eyes, letting silent tears slip down her cheeks, but with each breath, she grew a little steadier, even as her heartbeat remained unsteady beneath her ribs.
She stared at the ceiling as hours passed, not quite sleeping. Her mind spun through the night, running every memory and every word. At last, she rose and walked quietly to Yvonne's room, watching her niece's peaceful slumber. Alexa smoothed Yvonne's hair, feeling its silky weight between her fingers.
But as she turned to leave, a single cough rasped from the dark, unexpected and sharp. Alexa frowned, listening. Yvonne twisted, breath hitching, then stilled. Alexa's heart seized for a moment, and with a painful skip that made her clutch the doorframe, searching her niece's face in the faint glow. Was it worry? Or nothing at all?
She pulled the door gently shut, pressing her back to the wall. Inside her chest something uneasy began to grow. Tonight, her heart was broken. But as she listened to the hush of her apartment, Alexa could not shake the feeling that something else, something deeper, was about to change.
Tomorrow would come. And with it, the first storm she might not know how to survive.