Chapter 5 – The Unexpected Knock
Two days after the wedding, Amara sat at her small dining table, sipping tea and scrolling half-heartedly through her emails. The routine felt comforting — deadlines, clients, endless requests. Work had always been her shield, the perfect excuse to avoid the unpredictable messiness of emotions.
But her mind betrayed her. Every time she tried to focus, fragments of that dance slipped back into her thoughts — the warmth of Chike's hand at her back, the raw honesty in his voice, the way he said "I'll be waiting."
She shook her head firmly, as if she could dislodge him from her memory. No. This is dangerous. He's charming, yes. Vulnerable, maybe. But I can't afford to lose myself again.
A sudden knock at her door jolted her out of her thoughts. She frowned. Hardly anyone visited without calling first. Setting down her mug, she stood and walked cautiously to the door.
When she opened it, her breath caught.
Chike stood there, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a sheepish smile on his face.
"Good morning, Amara."
Her first instinct was irritation. "What are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?"
He lifted the bag slightly. "Relax. I asked Kemi. And I come bearing peace offerings."
Suspicion narrowed her eyes. "What's in there?"
"Jollof rice. And fried plantain. From my mother's kitchen." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Trust me, you haven't lived until you've tasted her cooking."
Amara crossed her arms. "You show up uninvited, with food, and you think that's enough?"
Chike grinned. "Yes. Because no one says no to jollof."
Against her will, Amara felt laughter bubbling in her chest. She tried to suppress it, but his audacity was… ridiculous. And strangely, refreshing.
"Chike, you can't just—"
"Look," he interrupted, his tone softening. "I'm not here to disturb you. I just thought… maybe you could use a break. One meal without deadlines. One meal with company."
Something in his voice disarmed her again. He wasn't demanding. He wasn't pushing. He was… asking.
Amara hesitated. Every part of her screamed don't let him in. But another part — smaller, quieter, but stubborn — whispered what if?
Finally, she sighed. "Fine. But only because I don't want good food wasted."
Chike's smile spread slowly, triumphantly. "I'll take it."
He stepped inside, placing the food on her table. As the aroma filled the room, Amara caught herself watching him — the ease with which he moved, the warmth he seemed to carry with him.
And in that moment, she knew.
Chike wasn't just passing through her life. He was going to stay, one way or another.