SCRAMBLED SIGNALS
885 Words
*Chapter 5: Scrambled Signals*
Ava’s eyes opened, but peace didn’t.
She was awake. Alive. But her chest felt like two people were fighting inside it. One wanted to smile. The other wanted to scream.
Her body remembered Damien’s warmth. Her spirit remembered God’s warning. And both were screaming for attention.
“My body betrays me,” she whispered into the quiet room. The words cracked. “Every time I’m with him, my body betrays me. But something inside me... something deep... is not settled.”
It felt like a knot. Tight. Unforgiving.
The alarm on her phone cut through the dawn like a knife. 6:00 AM. Reality returned, loud and rude.
Ava slid off the bed. The floor was cold. Her legs shook like they belonged to someone else. Without thinking, she dropped to her knees. No bedside, no perfume, no plan. Just her. And God.
“Father,” she whispered. Voice broken. “I don’t understand me anymore. But You do. Take today. Control me. Because I can’t.”
She begged for forgiveness. She begged for control. She begged until her voice went hoarse. Then she stood. Washed her face. Let the water hide her tears.
She dressed like a ghost of herself. Jeans. Plain blouse. No lip gloss. No rehearsed smile. Nothing casual could cover how scrambled she felt inside.
The ride to the office was silent. She watched Lagos blur past the window, but she didn’t see it. Her mind was still in Damien’s house. Still replaying pieces of last night she couldn’t name.
Usually, she practiced “Good morning, sir” in her head five times before getting to the elevator. Today, she forgot.
She got to her desk. Sat down. Stared at nothing.
Then the door opened.
Damien walked in like thunder in a tailored suit. Sharp. Tall. Unbothered. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t nod. Just walked straight to his office and shut the door.
Ava exhaled. She didn’t know she was holding her breath.
Two minutes later, his voice cracked through the glass: “Ava Williams. My office. Now.”
Her name. Her full name. It sounded like a sentence.
She shot up. Grabbed her tab. Rushed to the pantry. Poured coffee. Hands shaking so bad the spoon clattered against the mug. No sugar. She forgot. She always forgot when he was near.
She ran back. Knocked once. Entered.
He was behind his desk, eyes like fire studying her. Not her face. Her. Like he was trying to read every secret she was hiding under her skin.
“Schedule,” he said. One word. Cold. “Coffee.”
She placed the mug in front of him. He didn’t drink. He just watched her.
He was waiting for her to speak. To list his meetings. To be the perfect secretary. But the girl standing before him was mute. Tongue tied by guilt and longing.
He stood. Slow. Deliberate. Walked around the desk until he was in front of her. Then he caught her wrist and pulled her close.
“Sir, anyone could walk in,” she whispered fast. Panic in her throat. “And besides... I don’t want to do anything.”
He lifted both hands. A mock surrender. But his eyes didn’t surrender.
“I’m not touching you,” he said, voice dropping low. Intimate. Dangerous. “I just need to know what’s making my princess restless, Ava.”
She pulled away from his gaze. “I’m fine, sir.”
He picked up the coffee. Sipped. Grimaced.
“You’re fine, but this coffee has no sugar.” He set it down. Hard. Then pulled her in again. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. Close enough that her heart forgot how to beat right.
“Tell me, baby. What’s wrong?”
The word “baby” broke her.
“I’m scared,” she said. And the dam burst. “Another woman is carrying your child. How do I know you love me, Damien? How do I know it’s not just my body you want? How do I know it’s love and not lust?”
Tears fell hot and fast.
“My body... it disappoints me every time I’m with you. It makes me the villain in my own story. But something in me is screaming that this isn’t right.”
She was crying now. Real, messy, ugly crying. The kind that comes from years of silence.
Something shattered in Damien’s chest.
Five years. For five years this girl had loved him in secret. Prayed for him in secret. Watched him from a distance while he never learned her last name.
Ava Williams. Not “the secretary”. Not “the girl from reception”. Ava.
He pulled her into his arms. Not to seduce. To hold. For one second, he just held her.
“I don’t know what this is,” he said against her hair. Voice rough, unsure. “I can’t define it. I can’t explain it. But I know I can’t stand seeing you like this. Broken because of me.”
He tilted her chin up. His eyes searched hers. Dark. Hungry. Conflicted.
“And what I do know... is that I want to taste you. Just once.”
His mouth came down on hers.
Lips locked.
And Ava’s world tilted again.
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- Writer
