Chapter 3: "THE COFFEE"*
334 Words
9:00am. Monday.
His office was on the top floor. All glass and steel. Just like him.
The door was already open.
Daniel was standing by the window, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up.
On his desk: two coffees.
One black. No sugar.
One with oat milk and one pump of vanilla.
Mine.
He remembered.
"Close the door," he said without turning around.
I did. The click was loud.
"Have a seat, Ms. Okoro."
Ms. Okoro. Not Amara.
Right. Professional only.
I sat. He finally turned.
He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept.
"Marketing report," he slid a folder across the desk. "I need it by Friday. And the rebrand proposal."
I opened it. Our old campaign. The one we dreamed up in his apartment 3 years ago.
My throat closed.
"You’re using my idea," I said.
"I’m using _our_ idea," he corrected. "You never got credit for it."
"I don’t want credit. I want distance."
He leaned against the desk, arms crossed.
"Then why did you stay when I offered you a transfer to London?"
Because of you.
Because I’m stupid.
Because some part of me hoped you’d explain.
"I like Kaduna," I lied.
Daniel picked up the vanilla oat milk coffee and held it out to me.
His fingers brushed mine.
Electric.
"Professional courtesy," he said. "You look like you need it."
I took it. Our eyes met over the cup.
For 3 seconds we weren’t boss and employee.
We were us.
Then his phone rang.
"Mr. Sterling, the board is waiting."
He exhaled. The moment was gone.
"Friday. My office. 5pm. We’ll go over the proposal."
He paused.
"Alone."
I stood up, coffee shaking in my hand.
"Professional only, right Mr. Sterling?"
A ghost of a smile.
"Trying to be, Ms. Okoro. You’re making it hard."
I walked out before I did something dumb.
Like ask him why he left.
Like tell him I never stopped loving him.
But the coffee was still warm.
And it was still exactly how I liked it.
- Writer
