THE EX WHO STILL HAD HIS KEY

The first thing that hit me about Enora City was the sound. Not the chaotic, nerve-shaking kind just a steady hum of life. Cars rolling lazily through traffic. Vendors shouting prices like it was an Olympic sport. Afrobeats leaking from open kiosks. People laughing, arguing, bargaining, living. The air buzzed with a confidence I was desperate to borrow. I stepped off the bus with my one suitcase, my backpack, and a single, stubborn plan: Start over. No drama. No heartbreak. No men. Definitely no repeating the mess I left behind. “Jess!” I looked up just in time to see my sister Vega cutting through the crowd, waving like she owned the whole park. Her smile could melt Lagos traffic. I dropped my bags and hugged her tight, inhaling her lavender-vanilla scent. It grounded me the reminder of why I'd come here, why I'd chosen her, why I needed this reset so badly. “You look tired,” she said, pulling back to inspect my face. “I’m tired of life,” I sighed dramatically. She laughed loud, unbothered, full of love. “Good. This city will beat the remaining nonsense out of you.” “That’s comforting,” I muttered. She rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s get you home.” Vega’s apartment was exactly what I needed—compact, cozy, peaceful. White walls, muted grey curtains, citrus diffusing in the air. A space to breathe again. A space to escape memories I wasn’t ready to unpack. She’d prepared jollof rice and chicken, like she did after my old breakups or disappointments. I ate gratefully while she pretended not to study me like a fragile experiment. “So… job.” I glared. “Vega. I just got here.” “And? Rent doesn’t care. I sorted something a jewelry shop down the street. Eden Sparkles. Told the manager you’re hardworking, pretty, and ready now.” I paused mid-chew. “You what?” She shrugged. “I helped. You start tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” “Yes. Wake up, dress, go.” I dropped my fork. “You’ll stress me into early death.” “That’s big sisters for you,” she said proudly. I wanted to argue, but stability sounded good. Something steady. Quiet. Far from the mistakes that still tightened my chest. After eating, I changed into a fitted top and jeans for the visit. Vega added lip gloss. “So they know you’re serious,” she insisted. I didn’t get how gloss equaled seriousness, but I let her. The walk was short, the evening balmy, the sky streaked in orange and fading gold. Enora felt calmer than my old chaos. At the glowing glass storefront EDEN SPARKLES JEWELRY I hesitated. Elegant. Organized. Intimidating. But I stepped in. Cool air enveloped me. Polished counters gleamed under golden lights—gold chains, silver bracelets, gemstones like forbidden fruit. The woman at the counter looked up: rich skin, sharp bob, keen eyes. “Good evening.” “Good evening, ma. I’m Vega’s sister Jessica.” Her smile brightened. “Ah! Yes. I’m Ada. Manager wants you tomorrow for a trial shift.” Already? I nodded. “Thank you.” Ada toured me: cleaning cloths, display keys, packaging storage, customer tips. Friendly, patient, blunt. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Smile, and don’t panic if they touch everything. Shiny things excite people.” I laughed. “Got it.” “Oh and one thing.” She leaned in. “Regular customer. Fine. Tall. Dark. Quiet. Don’t get distracted.” “Distracted?” Ada smirked. “You’ll see.” Her look said women had faltered before. Good I was on no-men detox. By the time I got home, Vega buzzed with curiosity. “So?!” I spilled, including the handsome warning. Vega squealed into a pillow. “Your life’s about to sweeten!” “Employed, not sweetened,” I corrected. “Both can happen.” I tossed the pillow back. She grinned. “Proud of you, Jess. You deserve fresh.” Her tone softened, settling heavy in my chest. She knew what I’d fled never pushed, always made space to heal. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Sleep early. Big girl day tomorrow.” I barely slept. Disaster scenarios spilled displays, rude customers plagued me. But morning arrived, filtering through curtains. I dressed: black top, beige trousers, gold hoops. Hair in a neat puff. Gloss for “seriousness.” Sweaty palms. The walk to Eden felt weightier, each step deeper into unknown territory. But I wanted this. Needed it. Ada was inside. “Good morning! Come.” She fixed my collar like a project. “Manager’s in. Be confident.” Mr. Okolie emerged: calm, neat beard, glasses, professional. Simple questions—experience, availability, pay. Firm but fair. Five minutes later: “Trial starts today.” Just like that. They pinned a name tag JESSICA and I dove in. Cleaned glass. Repacked rings. Mimicked Ada’s greetings: soft smiles, sharp eyes. Nerves eased into focus. For months, I’d felt adrift. Now? Useful. Anchored. Hopeful. Then the door opened. A balmy gust followed the tall figure inside. The room shifted—subtle, like gravity realigning. Ada noticed immediately. “That’s him,” she murmured. I looked. And… oh. He wasn’t just fine. Jaw-clenching, pulse-quickening fine. Tall, with dark skin smooth from afar, a faint scar along his jaw adding edge. Fitted black polo over broad shoulders. Low haircut. Silent poise not arrogance, intention. My breath hitched. He approached the counter slowly, steadily, like the space was his. Then his eyes lifted. Dark. Deep. Intense. Locked on mine. My heart skipped traitor. Ada smirked. “Told you.” I inhaled, steadying. I came for peace. Healing. Not shoulders and scars. But fate, ever stubborn, seemed set on testing me. And this man? He looked like a temptation worth the risk.