Amira closed the file and pushed it aside. She stood by her office window, arms folded, watching the world move. The Lagos skyline stretched before her like a painting — but her mind wasn't there.
It was stuck in the past.
That handwritten note from David had opened a door she had kept locked for five years. She hadn't cried in a long time. She wouldn't now.
But inside, something was stirring.
Not love.
Not yet.
Just memory.
Flashback — One Year After He Left
It was 3 AM. Amira sat on her bedroom floor, surrounded by torn photos, old letters, and half-written journal entries.
She had tried therapy.
She had tried distraction.
She had tried pretending.
Nothing worked.
That night, she wrote a letter.
"David,
You left me with questions that don't sleep. I don't know where you went, or why you thought I didn't deserve the truth.
I gave you everything. I chose you — every day. But you couldn't choose me.
I'm not writing this to curse you. I'm writing this because if I don't let it out, I'll break.
I loved you. God knows I did.
Goodbye."
– Amira
She never sent it.
She folded it and tucked it into a shoebox labeled "The Love I Let Go."
Present Day — That Same Shoebox
After work, Amira drove to her mother's old house — now her storage space. She hadn't been there in a while, but something pulled her back.
Inside, the room was dusty but untouched.
She found the shoebox.
She sat on the floor, like before, opened it, and read the letter.
This time, she didn't cry.
She just sighed.
Then she added something new to the letter:
"And now you're back.
But I'm not the same girl.
Let's see if you can love the woman I've become."
She closed the box again.
She had no idea what tomorrow would bring.
But something had already begun to change.
David — A Man Chasing Time
David sat in his office, late into the night.
He was supposed to be reviewing financial reports, but his eyes were fixed on a blank email draft.
He had written and deleted several messages to Amira since the meeting.
Nothing seemed right.
How do you say sorry for five years of silence?
He picked up his phone and typed again.
"Amira,
I know I have no right to ask for your time, or even your attention.
But I'd be a fool not to try.
Can we talk? Not as business partners. Not as strangers. Just… us.
I'll wait for your answer, no matter what it is.
– David."
He hit send.
His heart raced.
He knew she might ignore it.
But maybe — just maybe — she wouldn't.
Zainab's Advice
The next morning, Amira sat with Zainab at a quiet café. She handed her the phone, showing David's message.
Zainab read it carefully, then sipped her cappuccino.
"Do you want to reply?" she asked.
Amira hesitated. "I don't know. Part of me wants to scream at him. Another part wants to hear him out."
"That's normal," Zainab said gently. "He hurt you. But you never stopped loving him, not really."
Amira looked down. "What if I open my heart and he disappears again?"
Zainab reached across the table and took her hand. "Then let it be your closure. But don't live your whole life wondering what could've happened if you just listened once."
The Decision
Later that night, Amira sat alone in her apartment. The city lights blinked in the distance.
She opened her phone.
David's message stared back at her, quiet and patient.
She typed.
"One hour. One conversation.
Saturday. 5 PM.
Don't be late."
She hit send.
Then she whispered to herself, "No promises, David. Just answers."