The manager spoke with careful excitement, explaining restructuring, new expectations, new opportunities. Imani barely heard half of it.
Then came the part that mattered. Mr. Bello has personally requested that you work directly under him as his personal assistant.
Imani looked at Chidi in disbelief. His face did not change. By afternoon, her new role had begun.
It was not the role itself that hurt. It was the way he used it.
He gave her work far below what someone in her position should have handled. Errands, unnecessary scheduling tasks, repeated changes, tiny humiliations wrapped in professional language.
Nothing so obvious that others could challenge it. >> [music] >> Just enough to make her feel it.
Imani said little. She did the work because she needed the salary. Every meeting between them was tense.
Every silence carried years inside it. Every glance felt like old history pressing against the present.
Then Chidi began noticing things. He noticed how tired she [music] looked in the mornings.
He noticed how often she rubbed her wrists when she thought nobody was looking. >> [music] >> He noticed that she sometimes left the office only to return hours later with that same strained face, as if one job was flowing straight into another.
It did not take long for him to understand the truth. She was working multiple jobs.
One night after leaving his office later than usual, he saw her outside by chance.
She was hurrying through the wet street, exhausted, clearly trying to get somewhere else. Then her foot slipped.
[music] She fell hard. By the time he reached her, she was trying to stand as if [music] nothing had happened.
Leave it. She said quickly, embarrassed. But Chidi had already seen the bruise forming and the skin scraped at her palm.
He looked at her for a moment, fighting himself. Then he said, Get in. She wanted to refuse, but she was too tired and too hurt.
He took her to his house. That night was quiet in a way that made both of them uncomfortable.
He brought out a small first aid box and cleaned her bruises with careful hands.
His face stayed stern, but his touch was gentle. Imani watched him without understanding what she was feeling.
Then she noticed small things. He still had the same hand cream brand she used years ago.
When he handed her a drink, it was the same one he used to buy when he wanted to calm her down.
And even through all the anger in him, he still watched her [music] with that same deep, unreadable look.
For one dangerous moment, Imani wondered if his coldness was not the whole truth, but she pushed the thought away.
Too much time had passed. He had moved on. She had seen Nora with him.
As far as she knew, Nora was the woman in his [music] life now. What Imani did not know was that the truth was far less simple.
Nora and Chidi were not truly together. Their closeness was only a public arrangement. It protected his image, kept curious women away, and gave him a clean answer whenever people asked about his personal life.
Nora agreed because she wanted more. She had always wanted more. But even she was beginning to see something she did not like.
Imani still lived somewhere in Chidi’s heart. And Chidi, for reasons he did not fully admit even to himself, was not ready to tell Imani the truth.
Part of him wanted her jealous. Part of him wanted her confused. Part of him wanted her to feel, even for a little while, the same insecurity he had carried years ago.
That was where the revenge began to show clearly. But even [music] now, it was not clean.
Because every time Chidi tried to punish her, his heart kept getting in the way.
And every time Imani told herself Chidi had moved on, something happened [music] to shake that belief.
It was in the way he cleaned her bruised hand without carelessness. It was in the silence between them, which felt less like indifference and more like pain that had learned how to dress itself in control.
That was what made her afraid. If Chidi ever saw how much she still loved him, he would have too much power over her, and Imani no longer trusted her own heart enough to place it in his hands again.
So she lied. It happened 2 days after the night he took her home. She had just finished arranging some files in his office when Chidi asked without looking up, Do you always go from here straight to the club?
Most nights. That kind of life will break you. She forced a small smile. Not everyone has a choice.
His jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing more. The silence between them stretched. Imani did not know why she said it then.
Maybe she wanted distance. Maybe she wanted protection. Maybe she was trying to remind both of them that whatever this strange closeness was, it could not become dangerous again.
There is someone in my life. That got his attention. Chidi looked up slowly. What?
Imani kept her face calm. I said there is someone in my life. His eyes stayed on her.
Who? She hesitated for just a second, then said the first name that made sense.
Collins Maduka. Chidi knew the name. Collins was older, polished and smooth in the kind of way that made people trust him too quickly.
He had come around the office once or twice on business and had shown clear interest in Imani.
Imani added, We’re serious. We may even get married. She made it sound light, but she saw the flicker in Chidi’s face before he hid it.
He leaned back in his chair. That is fast. Imani shrugged. Life moves. Does it?
She picked up a file, pretending to focus on work. Not everybody has time to wait forever.
Chidi said nothing after that, but he did not believe her. Not fully. Later that evening, as she bent to pick up a folder she had dropped, something slipped from her bag and landed softly on the floor.
A bracelet. Simple. Old. Faded a little with time. Chidi saw it before she could hide it.
He knew it immediately. It was the bracelet he had bought for her years ago with money he could barely spare.
He still remembered how long he had saved for it and how foolishly happy he had been when she smiled and wore it that same day.
Now it lay on the floor between them like a truth she had forgotten to bury.
Imani picked it up quickly, but it was too late. Chidi’s face changed in a way she could not read.
He looked away first. That tiny detail broke through something in him. If Collins was truly her future, why was she still carrying that [music] bracelet?
If the past meant nothing, why had she kept it all these years? For the rest of that day, Chidi spoke very little.
But his anger was no longer clean. It had cracks in it now. He remembered too much.
He remembered how hard he had worked to buy that gift. He remembered how happy she had been when he gave it to her.
He remembered that whatever had happened later, some parts of their love had been real, very real.
That was why his actions began betraying him more and more. He still acted hard, still gave instructions in that calm, cold tone, still made her work close enough to keep her unsettled.
But quietly, he started helping her. He shifted a difficult client meeting away from her when he noticed she had not eaten all day.
He stepped in once when another senior staff member spoke to her with too much disrespect.
He reduced some of the pointless errands he had first assigned her, though he never admitted why.
And when she nearly embarrassed herself in front of visiting executives because exhaustion made her mix up two files, Chidi took the blame before anyone could question her too harshly.
Imani noticed. She noticed more than he wanted. She noticed that if lunch passed and she had not moved from her desk, food would somehow appear near her.
She noticed that his face darkened anytime someone spoke to her carelessly. She noticed that sometimes when he thought she was not looking, his eyes softened in a way that felt painfully familiar.
Little by little, their old closeness began returning in small, dangerous moments. A brief silence that did not feel hostile.
A shared look over something only they understood. A tired smile she could not stop and he pretended not to notice.
They were not together. They were not healed. But love, stubborn and unwelcome, was rising again through the pain.
Then her birthday came. Imani did not tell anyone at work. There was no reason to.
Birthdays no longer meant much in her life. They had become quiet dates that passed with little attention and less celebration.
So she was shocked when a small package appeared on her desk that afternoon. There was no note.
Just her name. She opened it slowly. Inside was a simple leather-bound planner, neat and elegant, exactly the kind she used to love years ago because she preferred writing things down by hand.
Tucked inside it was a slim pen and a packet of the same calming tea she used to drink when she was anxious before exams.
For a moment she could not breathe. He remembered. Not just the date. Her. Who she had been.
What she liked. The details nobody else would have noticed. Imani closed the planner slowly and sat still for a long time, her throat tight.
Later, when she entered his office with some documents, Chidi did not mention the gift.
He only took the file from her and asked one dry question about the report.
But the silence between them felt different. Softer. As she turned to leave, he said her name.
Imani stopped. When she faced him, his expression had changed. The coldness was still there, but it was thinner now, worn down by something heavier.
For a second she thought he might finally ask the question both of them had been circling for years.
Did you ever really love me? Was I real to you? Was I just a phase in your rich girl life?
The words seemed to rise to his mouth. But before anything could happen, the office door opened.
Collins Maduka walked in with the ease of a man who liked entering rooms as if he already belonged there.
He was dressed well, smiling too smoothly. Imani, he said warmly, as though he had every right to be there for her.
She stiffened at once. Collins moved closer than necessary and handed her a small bag.
You left this in my car yesterday. That was not true. She had never been in his car.
But the lie was smooth and easy, meant to create an impression. Then he added, “I called last night.
You must have slept off.” The tone was familiar, too familiar. Chidi’s face hardened almost instantly.
Imani saw it and felt her confusion deepen. Collins turned to him with a polite smile.
“Mr. Bello.” Chidi barely nodded. There was a long, tense second when nobody moved. Then Chidi said in a voice too controlled to be safe, “If this is a personal visit, make it brief.
She is working.” Collins smiled as if he did not hear the warning. “Of course.
I just came to see her for a moment.” He looked at Imani again, acting like they shared something private.
Imani wanted to correct it, but the room had already changed. Chidi’s jealousy was there now, quiet but obvious to anyone paying attention.
And that shook her more than Collins’s performance. Because if Chidi felt nothing, he would not care.
But he did care. That much was clear. By the time Collins left, the soft opening between them had closed again.
Chidi said nothing further. Imani left the office with the planner held tightly in her hand and her thoughts in complete disorder.
She had lied to create distance. Instead, everything between them felt more dangerous than before.
Imani left his office that day with her heart in confusion. The birthday gift was still in her bag.
