Just for you

Chapter Five

Maya’s pov

I placed the steaming plate of jollof rice on the dining table, carefully setting down a fork beside it. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan did little to break the heavy, uneasy silence that had settled over our house over the past couple of days.

Favour sat at the head of the table, his eyes glued to his phone screen, his thumb scrolling rhythmically. He looked exhausted, the skin beneath his eyes dark and shadows of tension tightly coiling through his jaw.

"Dinner's ready," I said softly, smoothing down the front of my apron.

He didn't look up immediately, just gave a faint, absentminded nod. "Thanks."

I pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, lacing my fingers together on the polished wood. I hesitated for a second, picking my words carefully.

"I... I wanted to ask you about that call you took earlier," I began, keeping my voice gentle, trying to sound as unbothered as possible. "The one from the estate agent about the High Street shop. Did Jonathan’s sister end up taking the space? Joanna, right?"

The reaction was instantaneous.

Favour snapped his head up, his chair scraping violently against the floorboards as he slammed his palm flat onto the table.

"Are you listening to my phone conversations now?" he barked, his voice sharp and laced with a sudden, vicious defensiveness that caught me entirely off guard. "Is that what we're doing in this house? You stand outside doors and pry into my business?"

I flinched hard, pressing my back against my chair, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My hands trembled as I pulled them back toward my chest. I had never seen him snap at me like that over something so simple.

"I—I wasn't prying," I stammered, my throat tight with fear. "I was just passing by the hallway to bring down the laundry when the phone rang. I didn't mean to overhear..."

Favour didn't apologize. "She isn't getting the shop," he said flatly, the heat draining from his voice, replaced by a cold, final edge. He picked up his fork, staring down at the untouched plate of rice. "End of discussion."

I blinked, taking a slow, shaky breath. "Why?"

Before he could even open his mouth to answer, I shook my head and held up a hand. "You know what? Don't worry about answering that."

I forced myself to relax against the back of my chair, smoothing the fabric of my apron over my knees.

"I used to watch a lot of Korean dramas when I was a teenager," I said softly, my voice calm, almost conversational. "Hours and hours of them in my room. When you watch something that much, you get really familiar with certain words. You pick up on things people don't even realize they're saying."

Favour froze. The fork hovered an inch above his plate.

His mind instantly flashed back to two days ago—to the living room, to the way Joanna had looked at him, and the specific word that had slipped past her lips the second my back was turned.

Oppa.

His stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. Cold sweat broke out along the back of his neck as his heart hammered wildly against his ribs.

"I'm not going to question anything that happens, Favour," I continued, looking him dead in the eye with a quiet, unyielding stillness. "I'm not going to sit here and play detective. But I want to believe that everything in this house, in our marriage, is alright. And I think Joanna should get the shop. If she gets it, it won't bring any unnecessary problems to this family."

I stood up from the table without waiting for a response, leaving him sitting in the suffocating silence of the dining room.

Favour sat completely motionless, his untouched plate of food growing cold between his hands. His mind was spiraling in the quiet, wondering in utter panic if I actually knew something—if I knew how much history was buried underneath that simple word.

Dinner was a miserable, freezing affair. Neither of us said another word. The heavy silence between us felt thicker than a brick wall, each clink of cutlery sounding like a crack in our foundation.

Later that night, the house was dead silent.

Favour lay flat on his back in the dark master bedroom, his eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling above. He couldn't sleep. His thoughts were miles away, spinning violently back to seven years ago, back to the girl who had just crashed back into his life.

Is Joanna really back with her dilemma? Has she come back with all the destructive forces she dragged along with her seven years ago?

He was so deeply lost in his own head, so consumed by the ghost of his past, that he didn't even notice when I slipped underneath the heavy duvet beside him. He didn't register my movement until my hand slid slowly down his thigh under the covers.

Favour flinched hard, a sharp shock shooting straight through his body as if he’d been burned.

He swallowed hard, quickly forcing his racing heart to slow down. He couldn't let me see the panic. He couldn't afford to let a single crack show in the foundation of our marriage, not tonight, and certainly not over a ghost from his past.

"Maya," he whispered softly, his voice dropping into a tender, familiar register.

He turned toward me, closing the distance between us beneath the heavy covers. Pulling me gently against his chest, he captured my lips in a deep, passionate kiss—a desperate attempt to convince me, and perhaps himself, that there was no negativity between us and that everything in our marriage was completely fine.

I melted into his embrace, my hands anchoring around his shoulders.

The lingering doubts, the unspoken questions about High Street, and the name that had hung over us all evening dissolved into the dark room. Soon, the only sound left echoing in the quiet master bedroom was the soft, tangled rustle of the duvet and our heavy, passionate breaths breaking through the stillness of the night.

Joanna’s pov

I must have cried until my eyes burned dry, eventually drifting into a heavy, restless sleep wrapped in the cold silence of my bedroom. The bitter sting of Nathan's words—it was what he was turning you into—echoed in my head like an unrelenting pulse.

The sharp, shrill ring of my phone on the nightstand tore me awake.

I sat up, rubbing my swollen eyelids and blinking against the morning light streaming through the blinds. Groggy and disoriented, I reached out and answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" my voice was raspy, thick with sleep.

"Good morning, Miss Joanna," a crisp, familiar voice spoke through the speaker.

I froze, pulling the phone back for a second to check the screen before pressing it back to my ear. It was the estate agent from yesterday—the woman who had shut me down on High Street.

"I'm calling to follow up on the commercial unit near the plaza," she continued smoothly. "I'm pleased to inform you that the property has been approved for your tenancy. The space is officially yours if you'd like to proceed."

My heart did a strange, violent leap, but my mind scrambled to keep up. "Wait... what? Approved?"

"Yes," the agent said, the sound of papers rustling through the line. "We just need to confirm how you'd like to handle the initial transaction. Will you be making a full payment upfront for the lease term, or would you prefer to start with the half-payment deposit option to secure the keys today?"

I sat there on the edge of my bed, completely paralyzed.

I never formally applied. I never submitted paperwork. I never even made it past her wall on the phone yesterday.

"Who..." I stammered, my grip tightening on the phone. "Who authorized this? Who gave you my name to release the shop to me?"

"The property owners cleared it directly this morning," she replied simply.

"I'll go with the half-payment deposit," I said, cutting through the fog in my head. "Send over the payment details. I'll transfer the funds immediately."

"Wonderful. Once the transfer clears, you can pick up the keys at our High Street office anytime after noon today."

I hung up, staring blankly at the dark screen of my phone. My chest pounded with a mixture of disbelief and surging adrenaline.

The shop was officially mine.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my mind racing at top speed. Why? Why now?

If it was Nathan, it was purely out of fear—a desperate attempt to buy my silence and keep me from dismantling his home any further after yesterday's explosion.

But if it was Favour...

I stood up, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror. If Favour had gone behind his family's agency and cleared my name himself, it meant he had heard my call. It meant he knew I was back, standing right at his doorstep, demanding to be seen.

Was it a bribe to keep me quiet? Or was it an invitation—a quiet, secret sign that he was finally opening a door he had kept locked for seven years?

I pulled open my wardrobe and grabbed the first outfit I saw. I needed those keys. And the moment I had them, I was going to find out exactly whose hand had turned the lock.