The tenses

The guy went back to deliver to his boss, he stood before Chief Williams, his face calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something the Chief caught immediately.

"So?" Chief Williams leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping slowly against the wooden desk. "Where is she?"

The man exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "She was smart. Too smart. She escaped

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Chief Williams' lips. "I expected as much."

The man frowned slightly. "You expected her to outsmart me?"

Chief Williams chuckled, shaking his head. "No. He reached for his glass of whiskey, swirling the dark liquid. "That woman is not just a stranger to Damilare, she is part of him. Whatever he's hiding, she's a key to it."

The man hesitated. "So what now? She got away."

Chief Williams took a slow sip, then placed the glass down gently. "No, she didn't."

The man stiffened.

Chief Williams leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharp. "I knew you wouldn't tell me about her. I also knew you would try to protect her."

The man's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"That's why," Chief continued, "I had someone else watching

The man's face remained unreadable, but inside, something twisted.

Chief smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You see, I trust you, but I also know you." He tilted his head slightly. "And I know you have a habit of protecting people you shouldn't."

The man clenched his fists at his sides but didn't speak.

Chief Williams took another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving the man.

"So now," he said slowly, "you will tell me exactly "where she is"

The room was silent except for the soft clink of ice against glass. The weight of Chief's words hung in the air, thick and heavy.

The man exhaled slowly. He had to choose his words carefully.

Because one wrong move…

And Gift wouldn't be the only one in danger.

His heart pounded, but he forced his expression to stay neutral.

Chief smirked. "Andrew and the girl weren't alone including him. They were being watched. Every move, every word, carefully noted."

The man clenched his fists.

Chief's voice softened, but it carried a dangerous weight. "Tell me, should I be worried about your loyalty?"

The man met his gaze, his voice steady. "I serve you, Chief."

For a moment, neither spoke. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Chief Williams let out a small, amused sigh.

"Good," he said, standing up. "Because things are just getting interesting."

The man exhaled silently, but he knew—Chief Williams was far from done.

And Gift was still in danger.

The room was quiet except for the sound of the ticking clock. Andrew sat on the edge of his chair, tapping his fingers on his knee. His heart was heavy.

The man standing before him—the same one Chief Williams had sent after Gift—had just finished speaking. His face was calm, but his words carried weight.

"She is smart," the man said. "She knew why I was there, yet she didn't run. Instead, she made me listen."

Andrew took a deep breath, his mind racing.

"So she didn't try to escape?" he asked.

"No," the man replied. "She asked me to listen, and I did."

Andrew rubbed his chin. He had tried so hard to keep his past buried, but now, everything was coming out too fast.

"She is in danger," the man continued. "She may not say it, but I could see it. If you truly care about her, you have to get her out."

Andrew's chest tightened. "I was already thinking about that."

But then, a cold fear crept into his mind. Chief Williams was too smart to send just one person.

Andrew stood up, his voice low but firm. "If he sent you, he must have sent someone else to watch you. Which means…"

The man's face changed. He understood.

"We are being watched," he said.

Andrew's eyes moved toward the window. He knew what was happening. Chief Williams was not just asking questions anymore. He was setting a trap.

"Then we have to move fast," Andrew said, reaching for his jacket. "Before Chief Williams makes his next move."

The man nodded. "I know a way to get to Gift without being noticed. But we have to be very careful."

Andrew took a deep breath. His past was catching up with him. And this time, he could not run.

The night was quiet, but Andrew's heart was loud. It was beating so fast, he could hear it in his ears.

He followed the spy through the narrow streets, his hands clenched into fists. His mind raced with thoughts.

He was about to see her.

Gift.

The girl he had left behind. The girl he had hurt the most.

Would she ever forgive him?

The spy led him through a small gate and into the house. The moment Andrew stepped inside, the air changed. It was heavy. Full of unsaid words. Full of pain.

And then he saw her.

Gift.

She was sitting on a small chair, arms crossed, her back straight. Her eyes—those same eyes he had loved so much—were dark with questions.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Andrew felt like his chest would burst. He had pictured this moment a thousand times, but nothing could have prepared him for it.

"Gift…" his voice was barely a whisper.

Her lips parted slightly. Her breath hitched.

Then she stood up, slowly.

Her body was stiff. Her hands were trembling.

Andrew took a step closer, but she took a step back.

His heart sank.

"You're alive." Her voice was soft, but there was no joy in it. Only shock. Only pain.

Andrew swallowed hard. "Gift, I—"

"You lied to me." Her voice broke. "You let me think you were dead, Andrew."

Her hands balled into fists. Her chest was rising and falling too fast.

"Do you know what that did to me?" she whispered. Her eyes glistened, her lips quivered.

Andrew felt something sharp twist inside him.

"I thought I was protecting you," he said, his voice thick with regret.

Gift let out a shaky breath. A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away.

"Protecting me?" she whispered. "By making me mourn you? By leaving me to cry myself to sleep every night?"

Andrew's throat tightened. His hands shook. He wanted to hold her, to wipe her tears, to take away the pain he had caused.

But he knew he didn't deserve that.

"I was wrong," he said, his voice barely steady. "I should have never left you like that."

Gift looked at him for a long time, her chest rising and falling with deep, painful breaths.

Then she let out a short, bitter laugh. "You think sorry will fix this?"

Andrew closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he let her see everything—the regret, the guilt, the love that never left.

"No," he said softly. "I know it won't."

Gift stared at him. Something flickered in her eyes. Hurt. Anger. Love.

And something else.