Damian's claim

Chapter Six

THE RETURN OF MAYA





The sky was slipping into twilight when Alexander lowered the shutters of the shop. The streets glowed with the fading orange of the sun, and the familiar hum of Lagos traffic floated in the distance. She rubbed her tired fingers, still stiff from hours of sewing. Normally, this quiet hour comforted her. It used to remind her of hard work completed and promises fulfilled. But lately, silence pressed against her like a weight, and even the hum of her sewing machine lingered in her ears like an accusation.



Her thoughts kept wandering where she did not want them to go. Damian Cole. The man who had walked into her shop as though he owned the air she breathed. His steady gaze had unsettled her in ways she could not explain. It was not cruel or arrogant, but it was too sharp, too intent. It was as if he had seen the fragile parts of her she had spent years hiding.



Alexander clenched her jaw and tried to shake him out of her head. He had no place in her world. He was a stranger, a powerful man who belonged to a life completely different from hers. Still, she could not forget the sound of his voice or the way the room had felt smaller when he stood in it.



“Alex!”



The call startled her. She spun around, blinking against the dimming light. Then she froze.



A figure was hurrying toward her from across the road, waving with an energy that tugged at old memories.



“Maya?”



Alexander’s chest tightened as her best friend broke into a run, sandals slapping against the dusty pavement. In seconds Maya’s arms were around her, squeezing tightly as though she meant to hold her together.



“Alex, I have missed you so much.”



Alexander breathed in the familiar scent clinging to her friend wood smoke, earth, palm oil. It was the smell of the village, of time spent away with her grandmother. Something inside her loosened for the first time in weeks.



“Maya, when did you come back? Why didn’t you tell me?”



Maya pulled back just enough to grin, her eyes bright. “I got back less than an hour ago. Dropped my bags and came straight here. I could not wait one more night without seeing your face.” She studied her closely and the grin faded. “Alex… you look thinner. And tired. What have you been doing to yourself?”



Alexander forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to her own ears. “You know me. Work keeps me on my feet.”



Maya tilted her head and crossed her arms. “You can lie to anyone else but not me. Something is wrong.”



The words landed heavier than Maya knew. Alexander’s throat tightened. The secret weighed against her chest like a stone. For a heartbeat she wanted to tell Maya everything, to say the words out loud and free herself of the silence. But the fear of seeing pity in her friend’s eyes was too much.



Instead she looked away. “Tell me about you. How is Grandma?”



Maya sighed, clearly recognizing the deflection but letting it go for now. “She is better. Stronger than all of us put together, really. The doctors said she has made good progress. I stayed longer than I planned, helping with the house. But I miss you every single day.” She reached into her bag with sudden excitement. “And I brought you something.”



From the bag she pulled out a folded scarf, woven in bright reds and deep blues. She spread it across her lap, the colors glowing in the fading light. “I saw this at the market in the village. It made me think of you. You always turn fabric into magic. I thought this one might inspire you.”



Alexander’s heart swelled. She traced the weave with her fingertips, blinking back tears. “It is beautiful. Thank you, Maya.”



They sat together on the workshop steps, the scarf between them, and for the first time in weeks Alexander felt almost whole. Maya filled the silence with stories of the village, the crooked paths, the noisy children, the endless yam pottage she had tried and failed to cook without burning. Alexander laughed until her stomach ached, the sound surprising even herself.



But laughter faded when Maya’s tone shifted. “Alex, I need to ask you something. Yesterday when I was coming back from the market, I saw a man leaving this shop. Tall, broad shoulders, a suit that looked like it cost more than the whole street. Who was he?”



Alexander’s heart stumbled. She gripped the scarf tightly. “You saw him?”



“Yes. Do not tell me he was just a customer. Men like that don’t come to little shops like this without a reason.”



Alexander swallowed hard. Heat rose in her cheeks. “He is no one important.”



Maya raised a brow, unconvinced. “If you say so. But I know that look on your face. Whoever he is, he has already unsettled you.”



Alexander turned away, her pulse racing. She wanted to tell her friend everything, about the way Damian’s eyes had stripped away her defenses, about the way she felt seen for the first time in years. But the words refused to come. Instead she said softly, “Please, Maya. Just leave it for now.”



Maya studied her for a long moment, then reached over and took her hand. “Alright. But remember, you do not have to carry whatever this is alone. I am here. Always.”



For the first time since the hospital, Alexander felt her chest loosen just a little. She did not speak her secret, not yet. But with Maya back, the world seemed less unbearable.



Still, as the night deepened around them, one thought would not leave her mind. If Damian Cole kept appearing in her life, Maya would find out the truth eventually. And when that day came, nothing between them or in Alexander’s world would ever be the same again.