The sun dipped low over Victoria Island, casting long golden shadows through the glass walls of the study. Zaria was reviewing documents Darius had given her—preliminary outlines for the women's foundation. The idea had begun to excite her. Not just because it gave her purpose, but because it gave her power—the power to shape change.
Then the doorbell rang.
Darius was out handling a press meeting, and Madam Yejide was at the market. The housekeeper answered, but returned moments later looking unsettled.
"Madam Zaria," she said carefully, "There's a man asking to see you. He says his name is... Emmanuel."
Zaria's blood ran cold.
She hadn't heard that name in over two years.
Slowly, she stood up. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach as she walked toward the foyer.
And there he was.
Emmanuel.
Tall, lean, in that rugged way that had once made her heart flutter. He was dressed in worn jeans and a button-down shirt. His beard was fuller, his skin more sun-kissed. His eyes held the same storm they always had—beautiful, intense, dangerous.
"Zaria," he said, voice smooth like she remembered. "You look... different."
She folded her arms. "What are you doing here?"
"I saw the headlines," he said, stepping closer. "You. Pregnant. Living in a billionaire's mansion. I needed to see if it was true."
"It is," she replied coldly. "Now you've seen. Goodbye."
He flinched, but didn't move. "You didn't return my messages."
"You messaged me two years after ghosting me. What did you expect?"
"I made a mistake, Zaria."
"No," she said, eyes narrowing. "You made a choice. You left me stranded in that hostel when things got hard. When I needed you most. I had to finish school and survive without you."
"I was scared."
"You were selfish."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't come to fight."
"Then what do you want?"
There was a pause.
Then: "I want to be in your life again."
Zaria stared at him, stunned. "What?"
"I still love you," he said quietly. "And I don't believe this thing with the billionaire is real. You're just another story to him. I know you, Zaria. The real you."
She took a step back. "You don't know me anymore."
"I know you're not the type to give up your dreams for a man. That's not the Zaria I knew."
She stood tall, her voice calm but fierce. "You knew the Zaria who needed approval. Who craved love so badly she ignored red flags. The Zaria standing here now doesn't beg to be chosen. She chooses herself. And this child? This life? I chose it."
Emmanuel's jaw tightened. "You think he loves you? That he'll stay?"
"I know he shows up. Something you never learned how to do."
The front door opened behind them.
Darius walked in, briefcase in one hand, jacket slung over his shoulder. He froze when he saw Emmanuel.
"Who is this?" he asked, voice cool.
Zaria didn't hesitate. "My ex. He was just leaving."
Darius nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Emmanuel like a silent threat.
Emmanuel gave Zaria one last long look. "This isn't over," he said quietly. "You'll see who he really is soon enough."
"Go," Zaria said, not flinching.
When the door finally closed, silence settled like dust.
Darius came to her, voice low. "You alright?"
She nodded, but her hands trembled.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.
"Don't let ghosts talk you out of your future," he murmured.
Zaria clutched his shirt, whispering, "He thinks I'm making a mistake choosing you."
"And what do you think?"
She looked up, eyes steady. "I think I'm finally choosing myself."
That night, Darius sat beside her as she typed out the proposal for the women's foundation. She caught him staring at her belly with a softness she wasn't used to seeing in him.
"You really want this life?" she asked.
"With you?" he said. "Yes."
She reached over and laced her fingers with his.
In that quiet, in that shared space between their wounds and their wants, something real began to grow.