JUNE 22
Chapter 19 – The Weight of ArrivalThe morning sun stretched across the city like molten gold, spilling warmth over rooftops and washing the streets in a glow that seemed almost deliberate, as though it meant to mark the day as significant. Vendors were already shouting prices over steaming trays of food; taxis honked impatiently at corners; the low hum of radios bled from shopfronts. It was life, unfiltered and unapologetic.
Crystal adjusted the strap of his bag as he cut through the familiar bustle. He wasn't running late, but the air felt heavier than usual, as though the day itself had expectations of him. His thoughts were still tangled from the night before when, rounding the corner toward the lot, he stopped short.
There, standing near the gate to Aurora's apartment, was a figure he recognized instantly.
"Brownie?" he called, incredulous.
She turned, her lips curling into a smile that lit her entire face. "Crystal!" Her eyes danced with a teasing glint. "You live around here? What are the odds?"
He laughed, walking toward her, relief and surprise warring inside him. "Live? More like I haunt the neighborhood. What are you doing here?"
Brownie lifted her bag in mock guilt. "Aurora insisted I stay over last night—said it'd make today easier. My first proper day, remember? She thought commuting across town would drain me before I even began."
"Sounds exactly like Aurora," Crystal said, shaking his head. "Always ten steps ahead."
The words sparked laughter between them, a rhythm that felt strangely natural. For a fleeting moment, the morning bustle faded, and there was only the soft thread of shared ease, unforced and unspoken.
"Heading to work?" she asked knowingly.
"Yeah. Want to walk together?"
Her smile softened. "I'd like that."
Something about the way she said it—casual yet faintly weighted—made Crystal glance at her twice. He wasn't sure what he was noticing, only that he was.
By the time they reached the lot, Daniel was already waiting inside Crystal's car. His posture was rigid, his gaze fixed out the window, as though the world outside held answers he refused to look for within himself.
When Brownie slid into the backseat beside him, her perfume—a bright mix of citrus layered with something delicate and floral—spread through the car. Daniel froze, every muscle coiled tight, though his face remained perfectly composed.
Crystal climbed into the driver's seat, humming as though nothing about this arrangement was unusual. "Hope you don't mind, Daniel. Ran into Brownie. Figured we'd head in together."
Daniel's jaw flexed, his voice flat. "Fine."
Brownie, sensing his detachment, leaned toward him anyway. "Daniel, right? We didn't really get to talk yesterday."
His throat bobbed. "Right."
"Do you usually ride with Crystal?" Her tone was light, curious, as though testing the edges of the silence.
"Sometimes," he said curtly, eyes glued to the window.
Crystal, picking up on the stiffness but unwilling to name it, filled the air with chatter. "Brace yourself, Brownie—Akeem will crack jokes all day. And Annabel…" He smirked. "You already met Annabel."
Brownie giggled softly. "She seems… direct."
"That's one word for it," Crystal said, grinning.
Daniel sat motionless, his hands tightening around his knees. The sound of their laughter felt like tiny needles pressed against his chest. She still laughs the same way, he thought bitterly. The memory of it clawed at him, relentless.
The thirty-minute drive stretched like an eternity. For Crystal and Brownie, the minutes rolled easily, conversation weaving between jokes, questions, and small observations. For Daniel, each passing second was a battle to keep his composure from cracking.
When the car finally rolled into the company lot, he exhaled as though he'd been holding his breath the entire way.
The trio entered the sales office together. The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, and heads turned instinctively.
Annabel's eyes snapped up from her desk. Her sharp gaze darted between Crystal and Brownie before landing on their proximity. Her fingers froze above her keyboard. "You came in together?"
Crystal shrugged, his tone breezy. "Ran into her near Aurora's. Figured, why not?"
"Convenient," Annabel murmured, her words cool, but her narrowed eyes betrayed something else—a flicker of unease, maybe jealousy, maybe both.
Brownie caught the undercurrent and smiled politely. "It was nice to have company."
"Mm," Annabel replied, her voice flat. She returned to her screen, but her pen tapped an agitated rhythm against the desk.
Akeem, ever the mood-breaker, leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Family outing, eh? Maybe I should start catching a ride too."
Crystal laughed. "Sure, if you don't mind being crammed in with us."
The others chuckled, but Daniel slid into his seat silently, opening his laptop with meticulous precision. He kept his head low, as if hoping the hum of spreadsheets would drown out everything else.
Annabel's sharp eyes flicked to him. Too quiet, she thought. Always too quiet when it matters.
The morning wore on, the office alive with phones ringing, keyboards clattering, the muted chatter of sales pitches. But beneath the routine, the air pulsed with tension.
At one point, Brownie leaned closer to Crystal. "What should I focus on first?"
"The coffee machine," Crystal teased. "Survival 101."
She giggled. "Seriously."
"Okay—sales targets. But don't let Annabel intimidate you. She guards the numbers like a dragon."
Annabel shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood. "Better a dragon than a fool."
Crystal laughed, unfazed. "See what I mean?"
Brownie smirked, shoulders easing. The banter, the rhythm, the warmth—it made her feel anchored.
Daniel, however, heard every word like an echo chamber inside his skull. Every giggle between them stung, every shared glance tightened the knot in his chest.
Brownie noticed his silence. "Daniel, what about you? Any advice for surviving here?"
He looked up, startled, his eyes locking with hers for a heartbeat before darting away. His voice came low, almost bitter. "Stay invisible. Less trouble that way."
The air went still. Even Annabel paused her typing.
"Daniel," Crystal said softly, frowning. "You're not invisible. Don't talk like that."
Brownie tilted her head, studying him with quiet curiosity. Something about the way he avoided her gaze stirred unease in her chest, though she couldn't place why.
The glass door slid open again.
Aurora entered.
Her arrival was like a ripple through still water—subtle, but impossible to ignore. Dressed immaculately, folder tucked beneath her arm, her heels clicked against the polished floor with composed authority. She rarely visited this unit, and the rarity of her presence made every head lift.
"Morning," she greeted evenly.
"Boss in the house," Akeem quipped, sitting up straighter.
Aurora's gaze swept the room before resting on Brownie. "Settling in?"
"Trying to," Brownie replied warmly.
Aurora's eyes flicked toward Daniel, lingering with unreadable weight. "Good. I'll need a word with Daniel later."
Daniel's spine stiffened. His pulse spiked. "Of course."
Crystal frowned. "Everything alright?"
Aurora didn't answer directly. She placed the folder on Annabel's desk. "Targets for the week. Adjust accordingly."
And then she was gone, the faint trail of her perfume the only reminder she'd been there at all.
The room buzzed in her absence.
"What was that about?" Akeem muttered, brows raised.
Daniel forced his face neutral, but inside his mind spiraled. Aurora knows. Or at least suspects. Why else single me out?
Brownie's gaze lingered on him again, curiosity sharper now.
Crystal exhaled slowly. "Well, that was… something."
The day trudged forward, but the shadow of Aurora's words clung to Daniel like a storm cloud. He worked mechanically, fingers moving over the keys, but his mind replayed her look again and again.
Brownie, meanwhile, felt the weight of currents she didn't yet understand. Annabel's coldness. Daniel's evasiveness. Aurora's cryptic comment. It all hinted at something deeper beneath the ordinary.
Daniel, left behind, stared at the empty chair across from him. His vow thundered louder than ever, each word like chains binding his chest. But now there was another fear threading through it:
Aurora knows.
And if she tells Brownie—
everything collapses.
"Come on," Crystal said, closing his laptop with a grin. "I'm starving. Brownie, you up for some jollof and suya at the café down the street?"
Brownie hesitated, glancing around the room. Annabel's stare burned into her from across the desk, and Daniel sat hunched, deliberately avoiding her eyes. For a moment, she considered declining. But Crystal's easy smile softened her doubt.
"Sure," she said, returning it.
They left together, their laughter trailing out the glass doors.
Annabel watched them go, her jaw tight. The broken halves of her pen lay discarded in her drawer, ink smudging her fingertips. Convenient, she thought bitterly. Always convenient with Crystal.
Daniel remained at his desk, his laptop screen glowing with numbers he wasn't seeing. Each laugh from the hallway echoed in his head like mocking whispers. They look so natural together. She should be smiling at me… He clenched his fists under the table, his vow hammering in his skull: You promised Father. You will never reveal yourself to her.
Annabel's voice broke the silence. "You're quiet. Again."
Daniel glanced up, startled. "I'm working."
"Mm." Annabel leaned back, arms crossed. "No. You're hiding."
He stiffened, but before he could reply, she turned away, dismissing him. Her words, though, sank deep.
The Café
The café buzzed with chatter and clinking cutlery. Crystal carried two plates to their table, the aroma of smoky suya mingling with the spicy tang of jollof rice.
"Dig in," he said, sliding a plate toward Brownie. "Fuel for your first real day."
She laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you. You've been… unexpectedly kind."
"Unexpectedly?"
"Well, I didn't peg you as the 'look out for the new girl' type."
Crystal chuckled. "I'm not. But you're not just any new girl, are you?"
Her eyes flicked to him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged, feigning casualness. "I mean, you walked in yesterday and somehow got Anna flustered, Akeem intrigued, and Daniel… Well, Daniel's a mystery. That's not just any rookie effect."
Brownie tilted her head, considering his words. "And you? What effect did I have on you?"
The question landed between them like a spark. Crystal held her gaze longer than he should have. "Let's just say you don't blend into the background. Not for me."
Brownie's cheeks warmed, though she quickly masked it with a sip of her drink. Their conversation drifted into lighter topics—Aurora's quirks, Akeem's bad jokes—but underneath, a subtle current pulled at both of them.
Neither noticed Annabel outside the café window, half-hidden by a pillar. She hadn't planned to follow them, but something about the way Brownie laughed with Crystal tightened a knot inside her chest. She watched until her nails bit into her palms, then turned sharply back toward the office.
Back at the Office
The afternoon dragged, though the sales floor buzzed with its usual rhythm. Brownie settled into her tasks, Crystal hovering occasionally to check in, while Akeem cracked jokes to break the monotony. Annabel typed furiously, her mood unreadable, though her glances toward Crystal grew sharper.
Daniel kept to himself, silent as stone. But his pulse quickened with every tick of the clock. Aurora had said she needed to speak with him. And when Aurora said something, she meant it.
At exactly three o'clock, the glass door slid open again.
"Daniel." Aurora's voice cut through the chatter, calm but firm. "With me."
The room went still. Even Akeem raised an eyebrow, whistling low. "Ooooh. Someone's in trouble."
Daniel stood, his chair scraping back too loudly. His palms were damp, his throat tight. He followed Aurora out without a word.
Aurora's Office
The space was quieter than the sales room, but heavier, too. Large windows bathed the office in afternoon light, catching against the glass vases and sleek furniture Aurora favored. She closed the door softly, her heels clicking once before she turned to face him.
For a long moment, she said nothing. She only studied him—the set of his jaw, the way his hands fidgeted despite his stiff posture.
Finally, she spoke. "You think I wouldn't recognize you?"
Daniel froze, his heart thundering. "I—"
Aurora stepped closer, her voice softening but cutting no less. "Daniel. Or should I say… John?"
The old name—his true name—landed like a blow. He shut his eyes briefly, pain flashing across his face.
Aurora's tone cracked, a tremor of memory slipping through. "When we were kids, you'd visit with your father. Brownie was always clinging to you, chasing after you in the garden. Do you remember? You used to call her Bee."
Daniel's breath hitched. The memory hit him too—Brownie's tiny hands grabbing his, her laughter echoing like bells. He swallowed hard. "Don't," he whispered hoarsely. "Please, Aurora."
She shook her head, eyes bright with unshed emotion. "Why hide from her? She thinks you're dead, Daniel. She grieved you. And all this time, you've been here, two desks away."
His knees weakened, and he sank into the chair across from her. His voice cracked with the weight of years. "I had no choice. Father made me promise. The night… the night he spared me, I swore I'd never reveal myself to her. He said it was for her protection. That knowledge would put her in danger."
Aurora's chest rose and fell, torn between anger and sympathy. "And you believed him?"
"I had to," Daniel whispered. "I've lived with it every day. Watching her laugh, grow, live… while I pretend to be nothing more than a coworker. Do you know what that's like?" His voice broke, raw. "I want to tell her. God, I want to. But I can't—not like this. Not when everything could fall apart."
Aurora's eyes softened. She crouched slightly so she was level with him. "She deserves the truth. She deserves her brother back."
Tears burned Daniel's eyes, but he blinked them back. He clasped his hands tightly, as though holding himself together. "Please, Aurora. Don't tell her. Not yet. Give me time. Let me find a way to do it myself. She deserves to hear it from me."
Silence stretched, heavy and fragile. Aurora searched his face, the boy she once knew flickering behind the man he had become. Her chest ached with the weight of choice.
At last, she exhaled slowly. "Alright. I'll give you time. But not forever. If you wait too long, if you hurt her by keeping this—then I will tell her myself."
Daniel's head dropped, relief and fear mingling. "Thank you," he whispered, though his voice shook.
Aurora straightened, her composure returning like armor. "Don't thank me. Just don't waste the chance I'm giving you."
The door to Aurora's office stayed closed, the sales floor buzzing unknowingly on the other side. But inside, two hearts carried the unbearable weight of a secret that could shatter everything.