Chapter3
660 Words
London Shadows
Three weeks later, Zara stepped off a private jet and was hit by the chilly London air. The sky was gray, a brisk wind nipped at her skin, and the unmistakable scent of rain-soaked concrete surrounded her. She hadn’t been here in ages, but once again, London felt the same – a city that kept its secrets close to the heart.
She wore a camel trench coat over a snug black turtleneck and slacks. Sharp. Calm. Professional. This was the look she went for when she felt anything but composed. It was like armor, helping her push aside all the chaos swirling in her head.
Damian was already leaning against a sleek black car, his hands tucked into his pockets, looking as if he could step out of a magazine cover about power and regrets. His charcoal overcoat hugged his frame, but he was alert enough to notice her as soon as she appeared.
“You’re late,” he remarked, but his voice was more teasing than annoyed.
“I’m Nigerian,” she shot back while walking past him. “We measure time by presence, remember?”
He smirked slightly. “Then I’m glad you showed up.”
Zara held her tongue, feeling that familiar irritation flare up. She hated how easily he could invade her space and how his words still held power in places she thought she had closed off.
They were in London to secure funding for their project—busy days filled with meetings with venture capitalists, pitching their ideas, and making appearances for the press. In these scenarios, Damian embraced the role of a polished businessman while Zara brought the vision, the grit, and the passion. Together, they made people listen, even if it felt like a tightrope walk at times.
But behind those closed doors, it was a whole different ballgame. Tension simmered constantly. They were always challenging each other during meetings—subtle digs, arguments about strategy, and those moments that felt a bit too personal. It was taxing, to say the least.
By the end of the third day, Zara couldn’t shake the feeling of restlessness. The hotel room was too quiet, like the calm before a storm. She grabbed her coat and decided to hit the rooftop lounge for some air.
Damian was already there, drink in hand, staring out at the twinkling lights of the London skyline. It was a beautiful sight, but it didn’t do much to ease the turmoil in her mind.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, eyeing him from a few feet away.
He turned slightly, lifting a second glass. “Figured you’d come.”
“I don’t drink with liars,” Zara shot back, not ready to fold just yet.
Damian’s expression turned serious. “Zara—”
“No, let me get this out.” She stepped closer, crossing her arms defensively. “Why did you leave back then? Why didn’t you say a word?”
He looked away, gripping his glass tighter. “I panicked. My dad was dying, and I was feeling the heat from the board to take over. I didn’t know how to juggle everything…”
“Or how to stay with me,” she interrupted, feeling the sting.
He sighed, frustration washing over his face. “I regretted it the moment I drove away.”
Zara felt the weight of his words, but she was tired of carrying the burden of an unfinished goodbye. “Then why wait six years to come back?”
His voice lowered. “Because I was terrified that if I saw you again, I’d want everything back. But I didn’t think I deserved it.”
She processed his words, standing there unsure if she wanted to believe him or just walk away again.
Damian stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “I never stopped loving you.”
Zara me
t his gaze, holding it steady. “Then prove it.”
- Writer
