Chapter Ten: No Safe Spaces
815 Words
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Chapter Ten: No Safe Spaces
Sunday came wrapped in grey clouds, the kind that made Lagos feel like it was holding its breath. Zeema stayed in bed longer than she should have, one leg tangled in the sheets, the other pressed against the cool floor tiles. Her phone buzzed beside her, the screen lighting up with two names:
Ray: Lunch? Just you and me. Let’s talk, no pressure.
Noah: I found a book that reminded me of you. Want it?
She stared at the messages like they were ticking bombs. Different men. Different kinds of want. One held her past like a wound he kept gently pressing. The other… she didn’t know yet. But she didn’t feel small around him.
And that was new.
She replied to neither.
---
Monday was all sharp edges.
Danielle was waiting in the office before the cleaning staff had even finished their rounds. She summoned Zeema the moment the hour hit nine.
“You’ve been distracted.”
Zeema stood, straight-backed. “No more than usual.”
Danielle tilted her head. “I see.”
She stood slowly, moved to the windows. “There are whispers. About your judgment. Your boundaries.”
“I’ve done my job.”
“You’ve drawn attention.”
Zeema didn’t speak. She knew this wasn’t about protocols. It was about visibility. And Danielle couldn’t stand not being the only one who turned heads.
“Keep your personal life out of this office,” Danielle said, turning back to her. “You’re not built for the fallout.”
Zeema met her gaze. “Are you?”
For one brief second, something flickered across Danielle’s face — not surprise, but recognition. The sense that her little assistant wasn’t kneeling anymore.
---
Noah found her later in the elevator, his shirt sleeves rolled and a coffee in each hand.
“You look like you’re considering murder,” he said, offering her one.
“I’m considering self-preservation,” she muttered.
He didn’t push. Just leaned back against the wall beside her.
“I meant it,” he said quietly. “About the book. It’s called ‘The Ones Who Stay Dangerous.’ You strike me as one of them.”
She smiled despite herself. “You don’t know me.”
“Not yet.”
And something in the way he said it made her feel seen without being stripped bare.
---
Ray was waiting outside her apartment that night.
No warning. No drama. Just him in jeans and a soft white shirt, holding takeout in a paper bag like he’d just popped over for a casual visit.
“I brought jollof and plantain. I’ll eat it alone if I must,” he said with that crooked half-smile.
She let him in.
They ate on the floor of her living room, knees touching, TV humming in the background.
“I miss you,” Ray said finally. “But I don’t want to pull you into a war.”
“Danielle already fired the first shot,” Zeema replied.
Ray reached for her hand. “Then let me be your armor.”
She pulled away, gently. “Maybe I don’t want armor. Maybe I want to fight.”
His eyes searched hers, confused, maybe even a little hurt. “Do you like someone else?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
“I see.” He stood. “I’ll go.”
“No.” She caught his wrist. “Stay. Just… don’t ask me to choose.”
Not yet.
---
The next morning, Danielle announced an urgent meeting.
All department heads. No exceptions.
Zeema took notes silently as Danielle swept through performance metrics and proposed restructuring. But when Danielle got to the “new oversight process,” everyone stilled.
“All internal comms involving clients will now be reviewed. This includes emails, calls, and calendar appointments,” Danielle said, tone clinical.
It was a direct shot.
Everyone in the room knew it.
But only Zeema bled.
After the meeting, Noah found her by the coffee machine.
“She’s trying to cage you.”
Zeema stared into her cup. “She’s trying to bury me.”
“Then maybe it’s time to start digging back.”
She looked up sharply.
“You think I can win against her?”
Noah didn’t blink. “I think you already started.”
---
That evening, as the office emptied out, Zeema sat at her desk and finally replied to Ray’s message.
You didn’t lose me. But I don’t know if I’m still mine.
Then she texted Noah.
What page is the quote from? The ones who stay dangerous?
His reply came fast.
Page 42. The ones who stay dangerous are never quiet for long.
Zeema leaned back in her chair, eyes on the ceiling, heart pounding.
No safe spaces.
But maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop surviving and start taking up space.
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- Writer
