forever mine

Forever mine

Chapter One – The Gallery

The gallery smelled of fresh paint, polished wood, and expensive perfume. Wealthy guests floated around in glittering gowns and tailored suits, their voices a low hum beneath the faint notes of classical music playing from hidden speakers. Waiters glided past with trays of champagne, their crisp white gloves gleaming under the lights.

Linda Martins barely noticed them. Her eyes were fixed on the painting in front of her—a lonely tree in the middle of a storm. Black clouds curled around it, lightning split the sky, and rain slashed across the canvas in silver strokes. Yet the tree stood firm, its roots clutching the soil, its branches stripped but unbroken.

She tilted her head, a crease forming between her brows. Why does it feel like me? she thought. Outwardly, she was perfect: the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Martins, one of Abuja’s most respected families. Inwardly, she was exhausted from the weight of expectations.

“Strange, isn’t it?” a voice said softly beside her.

She turned sharply. A young man stood there, hands tucked nervously into his pockets. His shirt was neatly pressed, though the collar had begun to fray, and his shoes had lost their shine. He didn’t look like he belonged here among diamonds and silk, but there was something in his eyes—steady, searching—that made him blend into the room more than any suit ever could.

“What’s strange?” she asked cautiously.

He gestured toward the canvas. “That tree. It looks broken, but it’s still standing. Like it’s daring the storm to do its worst.”

Linda blinked. Most men she met spoke about cars, business, or money. None of them ever spoke about storms.

“Maybe it’s just a tree,” she said, testing him.

“Or maybe,” he countered with a small grin, “it’s all of us.”

Her lips parted in surprise. For the first time that night, she smiled. “You sound like a philosopher.”

He chuckled. “Not really. Just a man who’s had to stand in a few storms.”

Something about the way he said it—calm, almost casual, but heavy with meaning—stirred her curiosity.

“I’m Linda,” she said at last, offering her hand.

“Zack,” he replied, shaking it firmly.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the gallery fading around them. Linda found herself wishing the music would stop, the chatter would quiet, and the whole world would leave them alone.

“Linda,” a sharp voice cut in. She turned to see her friend Adaeze waving from across the room, her diamond earrings catching the light. “Come, Daddy’s looking for you.”

Linda hesitated, glancing back at Zack. Something inside her whispered to stay, to keep talking, to keep unraveling the mystery of the man who saw storms in trees.

“I have to go,” she said softly.

Zack nodded, his smile polite, but his eyes lingered on hers just a moment longer.

As she walked away, Linda realized her heart was racing. And though she didn’t know why, she already knew she would see him again.