The invitation came wrapped in velvet.
Amara found it waiting on her table when she returned from the market: a deep blue envelope sealed with gold wax.
Inside, a card:
> "Dinner at The Pearl. 8 PM. Come as the queen you are. Let me remind you of everything we once were — and everything we still could be.
— K."
The Pearl.
The most expensive rooftop restaurant in the city. The kind of place she used to dream about, back when her feet were sore from walking Kola's errands and her heart too full of belief.
She stared at the card for minutes.
She didn't tell Dimeji.
That night, she stood in front of the mirror in a borrowed dress from her neighbor. Emerald green, hugging her in all the places that made her feel soft and strong at once. Her earrings — the ones Dimeji painted in his art — caught the light, and for a moment she wondered… What am I doing?
But curiosity is louder than guilt.
The Pearl glittered with chandeliers and soft jazz. Kola stood when she arrived, dressed in a tailored suit, holding a glass of red wine.
"You look... breathtaking," he said, his eyes devouring every inch of her.
Dinner was flawless — wine flowing, laughter easy. He spoke about his travels, his business empire, his regrets. How every relationship since her felt like "borrowed time."
"You were the only real thing, Ama."
She looked at her glass.
"And yet you left."
"I was stupid," he said, reaching across the table. "I didn't know how to hold something so rare. But now I do. Let me fix this. Let me take you away from street corners and rain-drenched benches."
Her throat tightened. "You think I want to be rescued?"
"I think you deserve more than struggling love."
He leaned closer, his voice low. "Come with me, Amara. I'll build you a life where you never have to doubt again."
She didn't reply. Her heart was too loud.
Then suddenly, the air shifted — the waiter brought dessert.
And on the tray sat something unexpected: a velvet box.
He opened it.
Inside, a gold bracelet. Simple, beautiful… and familiar.
Her bracelet. The one she pawned three years ago to pay for her mother's hospital bill.
"I bought it back," he said. "You should never have had to give it up."
Tears pricked her eyes — not from love, but from memory.
Because Kola knew how to make grand gestures.
He always did.
But what he never learned… was how to stay when the lights went out.
She stood up quietly.
"I don't need a life someone builds for me," she said. "I just need someone who will build it with me."
And with that, she left the bracelet on the table.
She didn't go home. She walked to the place that made her feel safe — the old house between the banana trees.
But the lights were off.
Dimeji wasn't home.