continuation part 3
514 Words
She smirked. “Maybe. It saves me from boring conversations.”
“And how am I doing so far?”
She hesitated, then allowed herself to smile. “Better than most.”
He grinned, clearly satisfied with her answer. “Good. Because I was hoping I could make a deal with you.”
She raised a brow. “A deal?”
“Yes. You keep giving me books, and I’ll keep finding excuses to see you again.”
Her heart fluttered at the boldness of it. But instead of answering, she pulled another novel from her bag—a slim one she had been rereading for comfort. She handed it to him without a word.
Adrian took it reverently. “Another test?”
“Something like that.”
“Then I accept.”
They sat for a while longer, the silence between them no longer awkward but warm, as though words weren’t always necessary.
---
That evening, Amara returned to the bakery with a strange lightness in her step. Her aunt noticed immediately.
“You look like someone gave you free cake,” Aunt Ifeoma teased, wiping flour from her hands.
Amara flushed. “Nothing like that.”
But later, as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above her, she admitted silently to herself that it was exactly like that. Adrian’s presence was sweet and unexpected, something she hadn’t realized she was craving until it was given.
---
The following weekend, Adrian invited her to see one of his project sites. At first she refused, nervous about stepping further into his world. But curiosity won.
When she arrived, the building was only half complete, a skeleton of concrete and steel rising against the sky. Workers moved about with measured rhythm, the clang of tools echoing.
Adrian greeted her with a helmet, grinning. “Safety first.”
She laughed, slipping it on. “You’re really going to make me walk around like this?”
“Absolutely. I don’t want your aunt hunting me down because you tripped over a beam.”
They walked through the site, and for the first time, Amara saw him in his element. He spoke with the workers confidently, explained designs with quick sketches on notepads, and gestured to unfinished walls as though he already saw the final masterpiece.
“This is what I love,” Adrian said, pausing beside a wide archway. “Taking something raw, messy, incomplete—and shaping it into a place where people will live, laugh, love.”
Amara touched the rough wall, imagining it filled with color, life, and voices. “It must feel powerful. To build something that lasts.”
He looked at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Not everything we build lasts. But sometimes, the act of building is enough.”
Their eyes lingered again, and Amara felt heat rise to her cheeks. She quickly turned away, pretending to study the scaffolding.
But Adrian’s voice followed softly: “I like sharing this with you.”
And just like that, she realized she wanted to keep sharing it too.
- Writer
