(Chapter 2)
Monica stepped out of the elevator that night with her heart pounding, her mind replaying Alexander’s words. You remind me of someone I lost a long time ago. What did that mean? Was he comparing her to his late wife? Was she just a memory to him—something familiar but untouchable?
Days passed, and though she kept busy with work, she couldn’t shake the thought of him. She told herself she was being foolish. He was a powerful businessman, a widower, a man who had lived through decades of experiences she couldn’t begin to understand. And yet, every time they spoke, every glance they shared, she felt something undeniable.
Then, one evening, her phone buzzed with an unexpected message.
Alexander Dike: Dinner. Tomorrow. 7 PM. My driver will pick you up.
Monica stared at the screen, her breath catching. It wasn’t a request—it was a statement, firm and decisive. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she typed a simple response.
Monica Okafor: Looking forward to it.
The next evening, she chose a simple but elegant wine-colored dress that hugged her figure just enough to hint at confidence without being provocative. As promised, Alexander’s driver arrived promptly, and within minutes, she found herself being driven to an exclusive restaurant in Victoria Island.
When she arrived, Alexander was already there, seated at a private table by the window overlooking the city lights. He stood as she approached, his eyes scanning her in silent appreciation.
“You look stunning,” he said, pulling out her chair.
Monica smiled. “And you look… different tonight.”
His lips quirked slightly. “How so?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Relaxed. Less like the serious businessman and more like a man enjoying a quiet evening.”
He chuckled, unfolding his napkin. “Maybe that’s because I am.”
As the evening progressed, their conversation flowed effortlessly. Monica spoke about her journey into real estate, the struggles of being taken seriously at a young age, her ambitions beyond sales. Alexander listened intently, occasionally offering bits of wisdom drawn from his own experience.
And then, he surprised her.
“I never thought I’d enjoy someone’s company like this again,” he admitted, swirling his glass of red wine. “For a long time, I buried myself in work because it was easier than facing what I lost.”
Monica’s fingers tightened around her glass. “Your wife?”
He nodded, his gaze distant. “Amara was my heart. Losing her… it changed me.” He exhaled, then turned his full attention back to Monica. “But you… you remind me that life doesn’t have to be just about memories.”
Her breath hitched.
“Alexander…” she started, but he reached across the table, taking her hand in his.
“Monica, I don’t know where this is going. And I won’t lie—I didn’t expect to feel this way. But I do. And that scares me.”
Monica’s pulse raced. She could feel the warmth of his palm against hers, the weight of his confession hanging between them.
“Then let’s not rush,” she said softly. “Let’s just… see where this takes us.”
A slow smile touched his lips. “That sounds like something I can handle.”
As the night stretched on, neither of them noticed how time slipped away. Outside, the city lights flickered like stars, but inside that quiet, intimate space, a new flame had been lit—one neither of them was quite ready to name, but neither could deny.
To Be Continued…