Chapter 3
735 Words
CHAPTER THREE — TENSION IN THE AFTERMATH
Kian’s POV
By the time the conference ended, my head was full of numbers, projections, and partnership clauses — but my heart was somewhere else entirely.
Adaeze.
Seeing her again had knocked something loose in me. She looked different… not physically. No. She had always been beautiful.
What changed was the way she carried herself — colder, sharper, untouchable.
The version of her that used to laugh quietly when she corrected my essays?
Gone.
The Ada that walked into the hall today was someone the world had polished into steel.
I lingered at the back of the crowd as people filed out. Emeka stood beside me, stretching.
“Guy, that meeting drained my soul,” he muttered.
I chuckled. “Same here.”
Emeka pushed his hands into his pockets. “But listen, there’s this woman that caught my eye today. The one that represented the other law firm. Dark green suit, heels that could end a man.”
My chest tightened. I kept my expression calm. “You mean Ada.”
His head snapped toward me. “Ada? You know her?”
I shrugged lightly. “She’s… an old friend.”
His brows lifted. “Old friend like how?”
I avoided eye contact. “School days. Long time ago.”
“Ohhh.” Emeka gave a playful grin. “Okay, okay. So that means I still have a chance.”
Something sharp twisted in my stomach. I ignored it.
“You can do whatever you want,” I said, voice steady.
It was the truth — I had no claim on her. Not after the mess I made.
Emeka clapped my shoulder. “Good. Because I’m going to make a move. That woman has presence. Confidence. I like that.”
I forced a small smile. “Focus on the partnership first.”
“Partnership, romance — it can mix,” Emeka teased.
I exhaled quietly. “Let’s just handle work.”
He didn’t push further, thankfully.
We walked toward the exit, but my mind stayed behind — stayed with her.
What would she think if she knew Emeka liked her?
Would she care?
Would she… consider him?
The thought shouldn’t bother me.
But it did.
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ADA’S POV
The ride home felt unusually long, even with the soft hum of the AC and Lagos traffic inching forward like slow punishment.
I leaned my head back, staring at the city lights blurring against the tinted glass.
I should be thinking about the partnership.
The investigation.
The timelines.
But my mind kept drifting back to him.
Kian.
He looked at me today like the past was sitting between us, loud and uninvited.
And maybe it was.
Two years hadn’t erased anything.
Not the want.
Not the guilt.
Not the betrayal I still tasted when I remembered how everything ended.
I hated thinking about it.
About him.
About us.
I reached home, kicked off my Christian Louboutins, and let the silence wrap around me. Normally it was comforting. Tonight it felt loud.
Bola and Nneka had dropped messages in the group chat — memes, jokes, gossip.
None of them knew what happened between me and Kian years ago.
No one did.
And I planned to keep it that way.
I dropped my bag on the bed, loosened my hair, and let out a long breath.
It wasn’t just seeing him again.
It was the way he looked at me… like he wanted to say something he’d kept swallowed for too long.
I didn’t want to care.
I shouldn’t care.
I reminded myself of the rule I built after university:
No unfinished men. No complicated men. No men that lie.
Kian was all three.
And yet…
That moment in the conference room — when everyone left and he said my name like it still meant something — it shook me. It annoyed me that it shook me.
I pulled on my silk robe, poured water into a glass, and walked to my balcony. The night breeze brushed against my skin.
Tomorrow, we’d have to work together. Closely.
Professionally.
I could handle that.
I had handled worse.
But as I stared down at the city, one truth settled heavy in my chest:
No matter how controlled I acted,
no matter how cold I pretended to be,
Kian still had the power to disturb my silence.
And I hated him for it.
- Writer
