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Luca didn’t ask questions when Maya called him late that night, her voice tight and quiet. He just said, “I’ll come get you.”
She stood outside her compound by the gate, arms crossed, scarf tight around her head like it could hold her together. When his headlights swept over her, she squinted, blinking back sudden tears.
He didn’t say anything as she climbed into the car. He just started driving. Port Harcourt slept lightly at that hour — few cars, a couple of roadside suya spots still glowing, people huddled around them like moths to fire. The night was thick with heat and stories unspoken.
“Where are we going?” she asked after a while.
“Somewhere quiet,” he said. “You don’t have to talk. We’ll just breathe.”
They drove until the city began to blur. Past Elelenwo, past where the neon lights of fast food joints gave way to low fences and unpaved shoulders. He pulled into a clearing beside a half-finished building overlooking a slow, dark river.
“I come here sometimes,” he said, turning off the engine. “When I can’t sleep.”
Maya didn’t respond. She stared ahead, hands gripping her thighs like they were anchors.
After a long silence, she spoke.
“He took a photo of me.”
Luca turned to her slowly.
“In the market. Today. I didn’t even feel him.”
His jaw tightened. “Are you sure it’s him?”
She handed him the envelope. He didn’t need to open it. The look in her eyes told him everything.
“I feel like a mouse again,” she said, voice cracking. “Like any second I’ll be crushed.”
“You’re not a mouse.”
She looked at him. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
Luca leaned back in his seat, fingers locked together. “You’re right. I don’t know exactly what it’s like. But fear? I know that. It used to sleep beside me.”
She was quiet for a moment, unsure what to say.
He continued, “My brother, Tochi, died four years ago. Suicide. I was the one who found him. It broke me in a way I didn’t know was possible.”
Maya turned to face him fully.
“He was always the bright one. The one who cracked jokes, who always texted me ‘Oga Luca’ with ten emojis. I didn’t see it coming. And after he left... I couldn’t breathe in our house anymore. The walls spoke louder than people.”
He paused, the memories thick in his voice.
“So I left school. Came here. Took up random jobs. Painting helped me stay sane.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked softly.
“Because I want you to know—I don’t see you as broken. I see someone who's still choosing to show up.”
Maya swallowed. “I feel like I’m always one breath away from falling apart.”
“Then breathe,” he said. “And if you fall, I’ll be here.”
---
They sat like that, in the dark, the river slow and quiet beside them.
At some point, Maya looked up at the stars. The sky didn’t care about her fear. It just existed — endless, dark, eternal.
“I used to believe I’d never be normal again,” she said. “That I’d always flinch when someone raised their voice. That I’d always check for shadows.”
“Maybe normal’s overrated,” Luca said.
She laughed a little. “You think everything’s poetry.”
“No. I just think some things hurt less when you frame them differently.”
She looked at him then, really looked. And for a heartbeat, she wasn’t afraid.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If this was someone else… someone you cared about… being stalked, threatened, toyed with—what would you do?”
“I’d protect them.”
“How?”
“By reminding them they’re not alone.”
---
As he drove her back, she stared out the window, the city beginning to stir again — early traders setting up, traffic starting to murmur.
She wasn’t fixed.
She was still terrified.
But somewhere between the river and Luca’s quiet, steady presence, she felt the smallest flicker of something she hadn’t known in a while:
Resolve.
---
When Maya walked into the studio the next morning, she did it with her shoulders a little straighter. Chika was already there, sweeping the floor and humming something from last Sunday’s service.
“You didn’t tell me you left last night,” Chika said, not looking up.
“I didn’t plan to. I just… couldn’t stay in the apartment.”
Chika leaned on the broom. “You okay now?”
“No. But I’m going to be.”
Chika raised an eyebrow.
Maya took a deep breath. “I’m not running. Not again.”
And then she pulled a crumpled note from her bag and held it out to Chika.
“I think it’s time we told the police.”
- Writer
