continuation part 2
352 Words
“They don’t have to,” he said. “They just have to matter.”
His words lodged in her chest. She wanted to ask if he always spoke like that, if wisdom came naturally to him or if life had carved it into him.
In turn, Adrian shared pieces of his own story. His parents lived abroad, he explained, but he had stayed back in Lagos after university to pursue architecture. He liked building things people could touch, places they could live in. Yet, his eyes clouded when he spoke about work deadlines, about designs approved and rejected by clients who only saw numbers, not vision.
“It’s strange,” he said, looking out at the passing headlights. “You can build a whole structure and still feel like something inside you is unfinished.”
Amara looked at him, wanting to say she understood, even if her world was books and his was concrete. Unfinished—that word lived in her too.
By the time they reached the bakery, the shutters were half drawn. Amara’s aunt peered out, surprised to see her arrive with company.
“Good evening,” Adrian greeted politely, his charm immediate.
Her aunt raised an eyebrow but said nothing, disappearing inside after murmuring something about locking up.
Amara turned to him, suddenly aware of the way the streetlamp cast a golden glow around them, the night air thick with possibility.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For walking me. For… the conversation.”
Adrian smiled, softer this time. “Then maybe you’ll let me do it again?”
Her heart stuttered. She wanted to say yes, but the word tangled on her tongue. Instead, she nodded, and that was enough.
He stepped back slowly, like he didn’t want to break whatever fragile moment hung between them. “Goodnight, Amara Daniels.”
“Goodnight, Adrian Cole.”
As she watched him walk away, book tucked in his jacket, Amara realized the rain hadn’t just lingered that evening. Something else had. Something she wasn’t ready to name—but knew she would chase again.
- Writer
