The Wrong kind of Right

CHAPTER ONE

The Lagos heat wrapped around Kaelani like a desperate ex-lover—clingy, stifling, and completely inconsiderate of her personal space. The air smelled of jet fuel, damp tarmac, and a nostalgia she had no desire to unpack.

Six years.

She had spent six years far from this chaotic city—four at Cambridge, two at Stanford—crafting an impeccable résumé and an even better excuse to never return. But here she was, back in Nigeria, summoned like a reluctant heiress in one of those outdated Nollywood films.

She adjusted her oversized sunglasses, exhaled slowly, and descended the jet stairs. Her phone vibrated with a flood of notifications—messages from friends, old flames, and people who only remembered her existence when she was in the country. She ignored them all.

A figure stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting.

"Miss Kaelani."

Mr. Bello. Her father's right-hand man. The human equivalent of a Swiss watch—impeccable, precise, and never, ever rattled. His kaftan was crisp, the kind of white that suggested he either floated above Lagos dust or had an army of dry cleaners on speed dial.

She sighed. "Let me guess—my dad is waiting?"

"As always."

Of course, he was.

Bakarim Okoye never wasted time. He built an empire from nothing, fueled by ruthless ambition and an instinct for control. Right now, the thing he wanted to control was her.

Kaelani barely had time to kick off her heels before she was escorted into her father's study—his throne room, really. It smelled of old leather, expensive whiskey, and power wielded with quiet menace.

Bakarim Okoye sat behind his massive mahogany desk, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. His salt-and-pepper beard was trimmed to perfection, his agbada effortlessly regal. The only thing that betrayed his age was the gold wristwatch on his wrist, glinting under the chandelier light—one of the few luxuries he allowed himself.

"You look well," he said, assessing her like a man appraising an investment.

"Six years of stress and overpriced education will do that to a person." She collapsed onto the couch with dramatic flair. "What's the emergency?"

He ignored the sarcasm. "I have someone I want you to meet."

Kaelani groaned. "If you say 'husband,' I'm leaving."

Bakarim exhaled sharply, his patience measured. "Not a husband. A business opportunity. A connection."

"A glorified matchmaking attempt."

"You are a brilliant woman, but you can be shortsighted," he said, voice smooth, practiced. "I don't expect you to marry the man. I expect you to see the bigger picture."

She folded her arms. "Which is?"

"Ahanze Odeleye."

She frowned. The name tickled something at the back of her mind.

"He's one of the youngest and most successful businessmen in Nigeria. Runs a conglomerate. He's sharp, ambitious, and has a vision."

"And he's your friend," she deduced.

Bakarim leaned forward. "You don't even know him yet."

"And I don't want to."

"At least have dinner with him."

"Pass."

His voice turned dangerously calm, the tone that made men tremble in boardrooms. "Kaelani."

She sighed, knowing she had lost before she even started. "Fine. But don't expect me to behave."

She was raiding the fridge for something cold when the warmest, most familiar voice in the world interrupted her.

"Baby mi, you're back!"

Kaelani turned just in time to be swept into the arms of Mama Titi, the housekeeper who had practically raised her. The older woman smelled of vanilla, home-cooked meals, and unconditional love.

"See as you're glowing!" Mama Titi beamed, squeezing Kaelani's cheeks. "Ah, fine girl! America treated you well, oh!"

Kaelani laughed. "It tried."

"Me, I missed you," Mama Titi declared, patting her cheek. Then, with a suspicious sparkle in her eyes, she added, "Come, come, there's someone you must meet."

Kaelani groaned. "Not you too."

But Mama Titi had already taken her hand, leading her toward the sitting room.

And that was when she saw him.

Ahanze Odeleye.

He was taller than she expected. Broad-shouldered, with the kind of effortless confidence that either irritated you or pulled you in. His skin was a deep, rich brown, smooth like polished mahogany. His jaw was strong, his features sharp, but it was his eyes that held her attention—dark, intense, unreadable. They met hers like a quiet challenge, cool and unwavering.

Something flickered between them. Recognition. Defiance. Something she didn't want to name.

Kaelani folded her arms. "So you're the one my father thinks is good for me?"

Ahanze raised a brow, unimpressed. "And you're the one who thinks this is a bad idea?"

She tilted her head. "Glad we understand each other."

Mama Titi clapped her hands together in delight. "Ah! This one will be interesting!"

CHAPTER TWO

Kaelani wasn't sure what annoyed her more—the smug look in Ahanze's eyes or the fact that he had the audacity to look this good.

He was the kind of man who carried himself like he owned every room he stepped into, but not in the loud, obnoxious way she had seen with so many Lagos businessmen. No, his confidence was effortless, dangerous even. Like he had nothing to prove because he already knew he had won.

Which made her want to prove him wrong.

"So," Ahanze said, settling into one of the leather armchairs like he belonged there, "do we get straight to the part where we pretend to like each other for your father's sake, or should we skip the formalities?"

Kaelani narrowed her eyes. "Oh, we're skipping everything. I'm not here to entertain whatever scheme my father is cooking up."

His lips quirked up at the corner. "And yet, you're here."

She huffed. "Unfortunately, my fridge isn't stocked, and I was ambushed by Mama Titi."

Mama Titi, who was still watching them like they were her favorite new drama series, cackled. "Ah, you two are a perfect match! Fuel and fire!"

Ahanze turned his attention back to Kaelani, studying her with a gaze that felt too perceptive for her liking. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I can't say the same," she shot back. "I tend to avoid unnecessary gossip."

His smirk deepened, but he said nothing. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had just been insulted.

Kaelani hated how composed he was. She had expected some sort of reaction—irritation, maybe even defensiveness—but he gave her nothing.

"You're not used to being challenged, are you?" she asked, tilting her head.

Ahanze chuckled, a deep, rich sound. "Oh, I love a challenge. But I prefer the kind that comes with results, not empty bravado."

Kaelani clenched her jaw. This man. This man.

Bakarim chose that moment to walk in, his presence commanding the room instantly. "I see you two have met."

Kaelani plastered on a fake smile. "Oh, yes. Ahanze was just explaining how he enjoys pointless challenges."

Ahanze, unfazed, simply smiled at Bakarim. "Sir Your daughter is very… direct."

"That's one way to put it," Bakarim said, eyeing her. "Kaelani, sit."

She folded her arms but obeyed, plopping onto the couch with more force than necessary.

Bakarim exhaled, clearly trying to keep his patience in check. "Ahanze is more than just a businessman. He's someone who understands responsibility, legacy, and vision."

Kaelani rolled her eyes. "And you think I don't?"

"I think you're still trying to prove something," her father said.

She stiffened. "And what exactly am I trying to prove?"

"That you can do it all alone."

The words hit harder than she wanted them to, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she turned to Ahanze with an exaggerated smile. "Well, now that we've established my many flaws, tell me, Mr. Odeleye, what exactly do you gain from this little setup?"

Ahanze's expression remained unreadable. "I enjoy Bakarim's company. And I don't mind making new… acquaintances."

"Acquaintances?" she repeated. "That's an awfully diplomatic way to put it."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Would you prefer something more dramatic? Like destiny?"

Kaelani scoffed. "Oh, please."

Bakarim rubbed his temples. "Enough." He turned to Ahanze. "We'll discuss business tomorrow. Kaelani, be civil."

She sighed. "Fine."

Ahanze stood, buttoning his jacket. "It was a pleasure, Kaelani."

She gave him her most saccharine smile. "I wish I could say the same."

He chuckled. "See you soon."

And with that, he walked out, leaving behind a lingering tension she really didn't want to analyze.

Mama Titi patted Kaelani's shoulder. "Ah, my dear, you're in trouble."

Kaelani scowled. "I don't even like him."

Mama Titi grinned. "That's what makes it worse."

CHAPTER THREE

Later that night, Kaelani sat across from her father in his study, the tension thick between them.

"I don't understand why you're doing this," she said.

Bakarim swirled his whiskey. "Doing what?"

"Trying to set me up like we're still in the 90s."

He sighed. "You're twisting this into something it's not. I'm not forcing you to marry anyone, Kaelani. I'm opening your eyes to opportunities."

She groaned. "I can find my own opportunities."

"Can you?" He gave her a knowing look. "You've been back for less than twenty-four hours, and you haven't mentioned your startup once. That tells me you're struggling."

Kaelani stiffened. He always saw through her, and she hated it.

"I'm handling it," she said.

"You could handle it better."

"With Ahanze?" she scoffed. "Oh yes, let me just hand over my life to some businessman I barely know because daddy said so."

Bakarim's patience was wearing thin. "For someone so intelligent, you can be painfully stubborn."

"And for someone so powerful, you can be painfully controlling," she shot back.

Silence.

Her father studied her, then finally said, "Tell me something, Kaelani. What kind of man do you actually want?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it.

" And please don't say 'tall, dark, and handsome,'" he warned. "Because that's not an answer. That's a shallow fantasy."

Kaelani frowned. "I don't know. Someone who respects me. Someone who doesn't expect me to fit into a neat little box. Someone who—"

"Understands you?"

She hesitated. "Yes."

Bakarim leaned back. "Then maybe you should get to know Ahanze before dismissing him."

Kaelani scoffed. "Why are you so determined to make this happen?"

"Because I see potential where you see conflict."

She let out a slow breath. "This is ridiculous."

"Just think about it," he said, standing up. "That's all I ask."

Kaelani watched him leave, frustration bubbling in her chest.

Think about it?

She didn't need to think. She already knew Ahanze Odeleye was not the man for her.

…Right?

"We women always know this thing" She whispered to herself.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kaelani had every intention of erasing Ahanze from her mind.

Truly, she did.

But Lagos had a way of making the world feel smaller than it actually was.

The first unfortunate encounter had been at her father's house. The second? A high-profile networking event she had no interest in attending—but had been strong-armed into by her best friend, Remi.

"You need to put yourself out there," Remi had said, dragging her through the grand entrance of the Eko Hotel ballroom. "These are the people who can fund your startup."

"I don't need handouts," Kaelani muttered, adjusting her silk dress.

"No, but you do need money," Remi pointed out. "And if we're being honest, a distraction from whatever mess your father is planning."

Fair point.

The evening was a blur of polite conversations, forced laughter, and expertly dodging questions about why she was still single. She had just made her way to the bar for a well-earned drink when she heard a voice behind her.

"I see you survived the matchmaking attempt."

Oh, for the love of—

She turned, already rolling her eyes. "Do you make it a habit to pop up where you're not wanted, Ahanze?"

He smirked, dressed in a sleek navy suit that was doing entirely too much for his sharp features. "I could ask you the same thing."

Kaelani scoffed. "I was invited."

"So was I." He leaned against the bar. "But I didn't realize you were in the market for investors."

She stiffened. "I'm not."

"Good," he said smoothly, signaling the bartender. "Because I don't invest in businesses run by people who let their emotions cloud their judgment."

Her fingers tightened around her glass. "Excuse me?"

Ahanze turned slightly, studying her with that infuriatingly calm gaze. "You're brilliant, Kaelani. Everyone knows that. But you let your pride drive your decisions instead of logic. It's a dangerous flaw."

She inhaled sharply. "You don't know anything about me."

He took a sip of his drink, his voice infuriatingly steady. "I know you'd rather let your startup fail than accept help. I know you hate the idea of being told what to do—even if it's good advice. And I know that, right now, you're more angry at the fact that I might be right than at anything I actually said."

Kaelani's pulse pounded. She wanted to argue, to throw something, to wipe that smug look off his face. But the worst part?

He was right.

And she hated that most of all.

Instead of responding, she downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the counter. "Enjoy your night, Odeleye."

Then she turned and walked away, refusing to let him see the way her hands were trembling.

CHAPTER FIVE

By the next week, Kaelani had bigger problems than Ahanze.

Her startup—her baby—was crumbling. Investors weren't biting, the market was moving faster than she could adapt, and every attempt at securing funding seemed to hit a dead end.

She couldn't tell her father. Wouldn't tell him.

She needed to figure this out on her own.

Which was why, when a well-connected friend arranged a last-minute meeting with a "potential buyer," she forced herself to swallow her pride and show up.

She walked into the private lounge, her game face on, ready to negotiate.

And then she saw him.

Ahanze.

Sitting at the head of the table, fingers steepled, watching her like he had been expecting this moment all along.

Kaelani stopped dead in her tracks. "You've got to be kidding me."

Ahanze tilted his head. "I told you we'd see each other again."

She turned to leave.

"Kaelani," he called, his voice even. "You should at least hear me out before you storm off."

She whirled back around. "Oh? Should I? Because the last time I checked, I was the one looking for funding—not some arrogant CEO looking to collect struggling businesses like trophies."

Ahanze sighed, standing up. "I'm not here to insult you, Kaelani. I'm here because your company has potential. And you're letting it go to waste."

She crossed her arms. "Let me guess. You want to save me?"

He exhaled, looking almost… tired. "No. I want to buy your company because I believe in what it can become. I want to restructure it, give it the resources it needs to actually thrive."

She scoffed. "And what do I get? A pat on the back and a 'better luck next time'?"

Ahanze's jaw tightened. "You'd get a solid exit deal. You could move on and start fresh."

Kaelani felt something sharp twist in her chest. "So you want me to just give up?"

He frowned. "That's not—"

"Forget it," she snapped. "I'd rather fail on my own terms than succeed under your name."

She stormed out, heart pounding.

But as soon as she stepped outside, the fear crept in.

What if he was right? What if she was making the biggest mistake of her life?

And why, out of everyone in this city, did it have to be him that saw through her so clearly?

CHAPTER SIX

The fallout with Ahanze would have been easier to ignore if her startup wasn't falling apart at the seams.

Investors were backing out. Her best developer had just quit. The latest product demo had crashed mid-presentation—a humiliation she was still trying to recover from.

And to make matters worse, her father had finally lost patience.

"You want to prove yourself?" Bakarim said, voice calm but cutting. "Then do it without my money."

Kaelani had stared at him, stunned. "You're cutting me off?"

Her father leaned back in his chair, unmoved by her outrage. "You want to be independent, Kaelani? Then be independent."

The words echoed in her head long after she left his study.

And just when she thought her week couldn't get any worse—

Her ex showed up.

Bale Jordan, also known as BJ, also known as the mistake she should have left on American soil.

"Baby girl!" he grinned, standing in her doorway with a bouquet of overpriced roses and the same reckless energy that had once made her heart race. "Miss me?"

His black American accent is what really tripped her about BJ the first time they met in America. She didn't really know if it's the way he pronounces each word or it was his crack deep voice that hooked her.

Kaelani stared at him, exhausted. "Why are you here, BJ?"

He smirked, stepping inside like he owned the place. "Damn, you're not even gonna lie? You know you missed me."

She sighed, closing the door. "What do you want?"

He shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd check on my favorite girl." -he hums that song she likes "She is my favorite girl… Pom Pom Pom"

"And by 'neighborhood,' you mean Nigeria?" She cuts his little performance.

BJ grinned. "Okay, fine. Your dad might have mentioned you were stressed, and I figured—who better to cheer you up than me?"

Kaelani groaned. "My father invited you? You and my dad still talk?"

BJ draped an arm around her shoulders. "I mean… kinda. Not in those exact words. But I figured, why not?"

She sighed, resisting the urge to shove him.

BJ was a beautiful disaster—charming, reckless, and just self-absorbed enough to make everything feel like an adventure. The problem? He was also a walking red flag.

Still, she couldn't deny that part of her wanted the distraction.

"Fine," she muttered. "You can stay for dinner."

BJ grinned. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" As he reaches out to draw her into his arms and to be honest she liked it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

For a brief, shining moment, Kaelani thought she was finally catching a break.

BJ had thrown money into her startup like it was pocket change, barely glancing at the numbers before wiring funds. No questions, no contracts, just blind confidence in her.

"I believe in you, baby," he had said, lounging in his hotel suite with the arrogance of a man who had never known struggle. "You're a star."

Kaelani had wanted to believe it. Wanted to hold on to the illusion that, for once, something in her life was working the way it should.

But the universe had other plans.

She hadn't planned to stop by BJ's hotel that night. She had been working late, chasing one more investor meeting, one more email, one more shot at proving she could stand on her own. But exhaustion had set in, and he had been sweet—all through the week he was his support system so a little surprise won't hurt.

For once, she should let herself give in.

She took the elevator up to his penthouse, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The doors slid open with a chime, and she stepped out, smoothing down her blouse, mentally preparing herself for whatever brand of ridiculousness BJ had planned for the night.

And then she opened the door.

The laughter hit her first—light, airy, feminine. The kind that only came when people were completely at ease.

Her brain struggled to process what she was seeing.

BJ was sprawled across the couch, a glass of whiskey in hand, grinning lazily at the two exotic and very naked women draped over him like expensive silk. The room smelled of perfume, alcohol, and a betrayal so sharp it made her dizzy.

She must have made a sound because BJ turned, blinking at her as if she was the one who had just crashed his evening.

"Oh, damn," he muttered, adjusting slightly but making no real attempt to move.

One of the women giggled, swirling the ice in her drink. "Is this the girlfriend you were talking about?"

Kaelani's stomach turned. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Girlfriend?" she echoed, her voice eerily calm, like the silence before a hurricane.

BJ sat up, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, Kae, before you get all dramatic—"

She threw his wallet at his head.

"You absolute idiot!"

BJ barely ducked in time. "Jesus, woman!"

"Before I get dramatic?" Kaelani's voice was rising now, trembling with pure, unfiltered rage. "You think this—" she gestured wildly at the mess in front of her "—is something I shouldn't be dramatic about?"

BJ sighed, rubbing his temple. "Technically, it is what it looks like, but—"

She was already gone.

Heart pounding.

Face burning.

Ears ringing with the sound of her own humiliation.

The next day, Kaelani woke up to chaos.

BJ, in the pettiest move known to mankind, had gone public—turning himself into the victim of their breakup.

He posted a series of Instagram stories, each one more ridiculous than the last:

A black-and-white photo of himself, looking devastated, with the caption: Never invest in a woman who doesn't invest in you back.

A cryptic tweet: Some people only love you for what you can give them. #LessonLearned

And the worst of them all—a full-length video where he practically gave a TED Talk on "gold diggers" and "modern relationships," heavily implying that Kaelani had used him for funding and then walked away.

The internet went wild.

Blog headlines screamed: "BJ's Nigerian Lover Runs Off With His Money—Was It Love or a Scam?"

Twitter was a battlefield. Some people dragged him for being messy, others attacked her, and some just sat back with popcorn, enjoying the show.

Kaelani had never felt more exposed in her life.

Her phone was blowing up—friends checking in, enemies gloating, strangers demanding an explanation. The pressure was suffocating, like a hundred hands closing around her throat.

And then—just when she thought it couldn't get worse—

Her father called.

His voice was sharp. Unforgiving.

"Come home. Now."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bakarim paced the length of his study like a caged lion, his footsteps slow but heavy, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on every syllable of his words.

"You let him play you?" His voice was dangerously low, but the sharp edge of his anger cut through the air like a blade. "Kaelani, I taught you better than this!"

Kaelani sat stiffly in the chair across from him, her hands gripping the arms so tightly her knuckles turned white. The familiar scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the rich leather and mahogany of his study, a place she had spent countless hours as a child, listening to her father's lectures on business, power, and survival.

Now, she was the one being lectured.

And she hated it.

"I don't need a lecture," she said, her voice steady, but just barely.

Bakarim exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as if she was the source of a migraine he was too exhausted to fight. "You need to fix this."

Kaelani swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. "I don't know how."

A silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, with the kind of finality that made her stomach churn, Bakarim folded his arms across his chest and said, "Sell the startup."

Her heart stopped.

"What?"

"You heard me." His eyes were unreadable, but his tone was resolute. "Cut your losses and move on."

Kaelani's pulse pounded in her ears. Her father—the man who had always demanded excellence, who had always pushed her to fight for her place in the world—was telling her to quit?

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had already lost too much pride in the past forty-eight hours. She wasn't about to break now.

"This is all I have," she whispered.

"And that's exactly the problem," he shot back. "You're holding onto a sinking ship."

She clenched her jaw. "I can't just—"

"Then find someone who can save it," Bakarim interrupted, his voice a controlled command. "Before there's nothing left to save."

Kaelani's fingers curled into fists on her lap.

She knew exactly who could save it.

And she hated that she had to go back to him.

CHAPTER NINE

Kaelani walked into Ahanze's office like a soldier marching onto a battlefield—determined, unyielding, and fully prepared for war.

The air inside was crisp, scented with polished wood and fresh coffee, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her.

Ahanze glanced up from his desk, brows lifting at her sudden, unscheduled arrival.

"Kaelani."

She inhaled sharply, grounding herself before the weight of his presence could shake her resolve. "I want to sell."

Ahanze didn't flinch. Didn't even look surprised.

Slowly, he set his pen down on the sleek glass surface of his desk. "I see."

Kaelani crossed her arms, every muscle in her body locked in place, holding herself together with sheer force of will. "But I have conditions."

His lips twitched, a flicker of amusement ghosting across his face as he leaned back in his chair, studying her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve. "Of course you do."

She lifted her chin. "I stay on as CEO. I run the company. You're just an investor."

Ahanze tilted his head, considering. "And what do I get out of that?"

Kaelani held his gaze, her heartbeat steady, controlled. "A company that will make you money."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Then, to her utter shock—

Ahanze smiled.

Not a smirk. Not that maddening, condescending little twitch of his lips that always made her want to throw something at him.

A real, genuine smile.

"Now this," he said, his voice carrying something dangerously close to admiration, "is the kind of fire I was waiting for."

Kaelani swallowed, her pulse suddenly uneven.

Something in her chest shifted.

And just like that—

They were in business.

CHAPTER TEN

Kaelani sat across from Ahanze in the dimly lit conference room, arms crossed, her jaw tight with frustration. The air between them was thick with tension, the kind that had become their signature since they started working together.

"Explain to me," she said slowly, voice edged with irritation, "why you think we should delay the launch when we both know momentum is everything right now?"

Ahanze exhaled, leaning back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood table. He was composed as always, unreadable. It made her want to throw something. Preferably at his face.

"Because," he said evenly, "you're rushing. And rushing leads to sloppiness. We can't afford to make mistakes this early."

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Sloppiness? We've been refining this for months. We're ready."

He tilted his head, studying her. "You think we're ready. But have you considered what happens if we launch prematurely and crash under the pressure?"

Her pulse thrummed with frustration. "We won't crash. You're just scared to take the risk."

Ahanze's expression flickered, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. He sat forward slowly, resting his forearms on the table, closing the space between them just enough to make her breath hitch.

"Let me make something clear, Kaelani," he said, voice dropping to a quiet intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "I don't make business decisions based on fear. I make them based on strategy."

Something about the way he said her name made her stomach tighten.

She refused to back down. "Strategy means knowing when to strike. We're not waiting."

His gaze held hers, a silent battle neither of them wanted to lose.

Seconds stretched.

Then, to her utter frustration—

Ahanze smirked.

It was infuriating. It was devastating.

It was dangerously attractive.

"You like the fight, don't you?" he mused, eyes glinting with amusement. "You'd rather argue with me than admit I have a point."

Kaelani's breath caught, but she recovered quickly, rolling her eyes. "I'd rather win."

His smirk deepened. "Then we have something in common."

She hated that his voice did that thing—the low, teasing lilt that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

Kaelani stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. "We're launching. End of discussion."

Ahanze watched her, expression unreadable. Then, after a pause—

"Fine."

She blinked. "Wait. What?"

"I said fine," he repeated, standing up too. "We launch. If you're so sure, then prove me wrong."

Kaelani should have felt victorious. Instead, as he brushed past her on his way out, his arm grazing hers just enough to make her skin tingle—

She felt something else entirely.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The office was drowning in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but the type that settled over two people too lost in their work to realize the world outside still existed.

Kaelani sat hunched over her laptop, her fingers gliding over the keyboard with precision, her mind running numbers like a machine. The glow of the screen cast shadows under her eyes, proof of another long, exhausting night.

She should have gone home hours ago.

But the final launch projections were stubborn, and so was she.

She barely noticed the fatigue creeping up her spine, the dull ache in her temples from staring at numbers for too long. Her stomach had long stopped protesting its hunger, as if it, too, had accepted that sleep and food were luxuries she couldn't afford.

Then, the scent hit her—warm, rich, and so unexpected she almost thought she imagined it.

Coffee.

Kaelani looked up, startled, just in time to see Ahanze placing a fresh cup beside her laptop, his movements calm, casual—like this was something he did every day.

She blinked, momentarily thrown. "You're bringing me coffee now?"

He slid into the chair across from her, completely unbothered. "I figured you'd be running on fumes."

Her eyes flickered between him and the cup. "And you suddenly care about my caffeine levels?"

Ahanze didn't even blink. "No, I just don't want you passing out before the launch."

Kaelani narrowed her eyes but reached for the cup anyway. The warmth seeped into her fingers, grounding her for the first time in hours. She took a tentative sip—just enough sugar, a splash of cream.

Exactly how she liked it.

Her gaze snapped up to his, suspicion creeping in. "How did you know my order?"

Ahanze leaned back, his face neutral, but there was the faintest hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I pay attention."

A slow warmth curled in her chest, catching her off guard.

She quickly cleared her throat, looking away. "Well, thanks," she muttered, taking another sip.

"Don't mention it," he said, flipping open his tablet. "Seriously. If word gets out that I'm nice, it'll ruin my reputation."

Kaelani smirked despite herself. "Wouldn't want that, would we?"

They lapsed into silence, but it wasn't like before. It wasn't the kind that screamed of tension or rivalry. It wasn't sharp or laced with unspoken challenges.

It was…easy.

She stole a glance at him as he scrolled through his screen, brow furrowed in concentration. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped against the desk absentmindedly—it all felt strangely familiar now, like a rhythm she had grown used to without realizing it.

And that's when it hit her.

She liked sitting across from him like this.

Not just as business partners. Not just as rivals.

But as something else.

Something unspoken.

Something dangerous.

And she wasn't sure she was ready for what that meant.

Her stomach clenched, and she quickly dropped her gaze back to her laptop, fingers tightening around the coffee cup.

CHAPTER TWELVE

For weeks, Kaelani had been teetering on the edge of something she wasn't ready to name—something thrilling and dangerous. A quiet shift in the way she looked at Ahanze, the way she noticed things about him that had nothing to do with business.

The way he had started lingering after meetings.

The way his eyes softened sometimes when she wasn't looking.

The way she could still taste that damn coffee he had memorized perfectly.

And just when she had begun to accept it—

Just when she had started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he felt it too—

He shattered everything with a single sentence.

"I should probably tell you," he said one morning, sipping his espresso like he wasn't about to detonate a nuclear bomb in the middle of her day. "My fiancée is coming back next week."

Kaelani barely registered the words at first. It was like hearing static, distant and meaningless.

Until it hit.

The cup in her hand froze midway to her lips.

"Your what?"

Ahanze, ever composed, set his cup down, his fingers resting easily against the ceramic. "My fiancée. She's been abroad for a year. We're getting married soon."

The world tilted.

For a brief, horrifying moment, all she could hear was the dull rush of blood in her ears, the steady, pounding reminder that she had just made the biggest miscalculation of her life.

Fiancée.

Not a girlfriend. Not someone he was casually seeing.

A whole damn fiancée.

She forced a laugh, hoping it would disguise the way her heart had just plummeted straight into the abyss. "Since when do you have a fiancée?"

"I told you before," he said smoothly. "It just never came up again."

Never came up again?

Like it was a forgotten grocery item. Like it was just another unimportant detail.

Like it meant nothing.

Like she hadn't been falling for him.

Kaelani gripped her cup tightly, the ceramic biting into her palm as she willed herself to stay calm, to bury the feeling deep down where it couldn't claw its way to the surface.

"Right," she said, pasting on a tight, plastic smile. "Congratulations."

Ahanze studied her, his dark eyes unreadable, as if he could see through every single layer she had just frantically put up to protect herself.

She held his gaze, daring him to say something, to acknowledge even for a second that he had felt it too.

That she hadn't imagined all of it.

But he only nodded. "Thank you."

And just like that, every unspoken moment—every late-night conversation, every glance that lingered too long—

Meant nothing.

She swallowed hard, a bitter taste coating her tongue.

So this was how the story ended.

The realization settled over her, cold and suffocating.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kaelani told herself she wasn't affected.

She repeated it like a mantra, forcing it into every crevice of her mind.

She didn't care.

Ahanze's fiancée—this mystery woman she had yet to meet—was just another name in a long list of things that didn't concern her.

She could do this.

She could keep things professional. She could move forward. She could pretend the last few months hadn't shifted something tectonic between them.

And yet—

She found herself watching him too closely.

It wasn't intentional. It just… happened.

She noticed the way his jaw tensed when he was deep in thought, the subtle shift of muscle as if he was biting back something he'd never say aloud.

She saw the way his fingers tapped lightly against the table when he was irritated but trying to mask it. The rhythm was always the same—three steady beats, a pause, then another two, as if the movement helped him keep his control.

She started catching the small things. The way he exhaled sharply when a meeting ran too long. The way he straightened his cuffs before saying something decisive.

The way his eyes flicked toward her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

The way his gaze lingered a fraction too long.

It wasn't in her head.

She wasn't imagining it.

There was something there.

Something that existed in the unspoken spaces between them, in the moments neither of them had dared to acknowledge.

And maybe—just maybe—she still had time to make him see it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The annual investors' gala was a sea of champagne glasses, overpriced dresses, and people who smelled like old money and newer scandals.

Kaelani had reluctantly agreed to attend, mostly because Ahanze insisted it would be "good optics" for the company. And maybe, just maybe, because she was getting better at playing the game.

What she hadn't expected—what she should have expected—was him.

Of course, he was here.

Ahanze always looked sharp, but tonight—tonight was unfair.

The crisp black tux. The tailored perfection of it. The quiet, effortless way he moved through the room, exchanging firm handshakes and knowing smirks, like he owned not just the company but the entire event.

Kaelani had a plan: Stay out of his way. Work the room. Get a few promising investors on board.

But then—

"You clean up well."

His voice was smooth, his gaze drifting over her gown—deep emerald silk that hugged her in all the right places.

She lifted a brow, pretending her stomach didn't just flip. "That almost sounded like a compliment."

His lips quirked. "I must be slipping."

It was a game they had played before, but tonight, the stakes felt higher.

They moved through the crowd together, not intentionally, but as if some unseen force kept pulling them into each other's orbit. And for once—just for tonight—Kaelani let herself enjoy it.

The warmth of his presence beside her.

The way his hand brushed against her lower back—so light it could have been an accident, but she knew better.

The way she caught him looking at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

They weren't touching.

Not really.

But it felt like they were.

Like something between them was stretching too tight, a thread fraying at the edges, seconds away from snapping.

And for one reckless second— Maybe.

Maybe she could close the distance.

Maybe she could—

"Kaelani."

His voice had shifted. Quieter. Uneasy.

She blinked up at him, heart hammering. "What?"

Ahanze's gaze flicked past her, toward something—someone—just entering the ballroom.

Kaelani turned.

And there she was.

The fiancée.

Tall. Graceful. Beautiful in a way that required no effort. The kind of beauty that made the world assume she had never known struggle, never had to fight for anything—least of all the man she was walking toward.

The moment shattered.

Kaelani felt it crack inside her, sharp and undeniable.

She squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up, pasting on a perfect, unreadable smile.

"I should go."

Ahanze didn't stop her.

He just watched her leave.

And Kaelani told herself—told herself—that was the last time she would let herself hope.

(Lie.)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kaelani had always been good at keeping her cool.

She had spent years perfecting it—masking her emotions, swallowing pride, forcing smiles when the weight of the world pressed down on her chest. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared her for this moment.

The moment she met her.

Selene.

The name alone felt like it belonged to someone out of reach. A woman meant for grand love stories, the kind that ended in candlelit vows and happily-ever-afters.

And now, standing before her, Kaelani understood why.

Selene was beautiful—not just in the superficial, magazine-cover way, but in a way that made people stop and admire her without quite knowing why. She carried herself with the kind of confidence that came from never questioning where she stood in someone's heart. She didn't just carry herself in a way that made people look twice, but in a way that made them remember. She carried herself with the kind of poise that came naturally, the effortless grace of someone who had always belonged in the finest rooms. The kind of woman who knew she was loved and had never questioned it

And worst of all—

She adored Ahanze.

Kaelani saw it in the way Selene curled a hand around his arm, in the way her eyes softened when she looked up at him. The ease in her posture, like she had been made to fit against him.

"We've been through so much together," Selene said, her voice gentle, warm. She glanced at Ahanze, squeezing his arm affectionately. "It's crazy to think we're finally here."

Kaelani's throat felt tight.

Finally here.

Like it was destiny. Like this was the moment they had been building toward for years, something inevitable and unchangeable.

She forced a smile, her lips curving with practiced precision. "Yeah. Crazy."

Ahanze said nothing.

But she could feel him watching her.

That silent, steady gaze. The weight of it pressing against her skin.

She should've been used to it by now—the way he always seemed to be reading her, searching for something beneath the surface. But today, it burned.

Kaelani refused to meet his eyes.

Because if she did—

If she looked at him, if she let herself see whatever was in his expression—

She didn't know what she'd do.

Didn't know if she'd be able to keep standing here, playing along, pretending this was just another introduction.

So instead, she turned to Selene.

She studied the woman who would soon become his wife.

And for the first time, Kaelani realized something that sent a slow, sinking feeling into her chest.

Selene wasn't the kind of woman Ahanze had settled for.

She was the kind of woman he had chosen.

And that? That was the most unbearable part of all.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kaelani told herself it was just a phase.

A passing attraction.

Nothing more.

It was basic psychology. Human beings formed attachments to people they spent excessive amounts of time with. It was science. Ahanze was just—unfortunately—someone she had to see every day.

That was all.

She had no business being affected by him.

Except—

There were moments.

Moments that made her doubt her perfectly crafted logic, moments that chipped at her rationalizations until they crumbled into dust.

Moments like—

Ahanze laughing at something she said.

Not his usual low chuckle, not the polite smirk he gave when he was amused but didn't want to admit it.

A real laugh. Loud, unguarded, the kind that made his shoulders shake and his eyes crease at the corners.

The kind of laugh that made her stomach flip—before her brain immediately threw a bucket of cold water on the feeling.

You do not like him.

And then—

The way he reached for her without thinking.

Like when she stumbled at an event, and his hand shot out, steadying her before she could even register what was happening.

Or that time in the boardroom when her bracelet clasp broke, and without a word, he took her wrist and fixed it himself—so easily, so casually, like he'd done it a million times before.

Or the time he brushed a stray curl from her cheek absentmindedly, his fingers barely grazing her skin before he turned back to his laptop like he hadn't just reset her entire nervous system.

She had almost choked on air.

And then there was that night in the car.

They were on their way back from a meeting, exhaustion thick in the air, the hum of the city around them.

She had been staring out the window when a song she loved came on the radio.

Without thinking, she hummed along, drumming her fingers lightly against her thigh.

Then she felt it.

That weight.

That slow, deliberate gaze.

She turned her head slightly and caught his reflection in the glass.

He was watching her.

Not in a way that was casual, or even curious.

It was something else.

Something unreadable.

Her brain immediately did what it did best—overreact.

Oh God, what if he thinks I'm bad at humming?

What if he's judging my music taste?

Wait, what if he's looking at me like that because—

No.

Nope.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she snapped her gaze forward, willing herself to focus on anything else—counting streetlights, mentally calculating stock projections, planning an escape route in case she spontaneously combusted.

The rest of the drive was silent.

That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment over and over until she had driven herself to the edge of insanity.

It wasn't just proximity.

It wasn't just a phase.

It was something else entirely.

And the truth was starting to terrify her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kaelani caught herself staring.

Again.

This was getting bad.

She wasn't even trying to be subtle anymore. She was just… sitting there, eyes blatantly locked on Ahanze like he was a particularly fascinating science experiment.

Or like she was some lovesick teenager doodling his name in the margins of her notebook.

She needed to get a grip.

But how was she supposed to focus when he looked like that?

They had been at the office late, drowning in the latest proposal, when her brain decided to betray her completely.

She had stopped reading.

Stopped processing anything remotely work-related.

Instead, she was watching—

The way his sleeves were rolled up, forearms exposed, veins visible. Why were veins attractive? Was this a thing? Was she losing her mind?

The way his fingers tapped against the desk as he worked through a thought, strong and precise.

The way his lips parted slightly before he spoke, just enough to make her brain short-circuit.

Oh, for God's sake.

She needed help.

Or holy water.

Or therapy.

Preferably all three.

And then— Ahanze looked up.

Their eyes met. She panicked.

Her body went rigid, like a child caught sneaking extra cookies from the jar.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, one brow lifting.

Crap.

She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat like that would somehow erase the last thirty seconds of her embarrassing existence.

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly.

He didn't look convinced.

In fact, his expression was doing that annoying thing where it looked like he was in on a joke she didn't know about.

She scowled, grabbing her pen like it was a weapon and jabbing it at the document in front of her. "Just focus."

Ahanze smirked, but he let it go.

Kaelani, on the other hand?

She wasn't sure she could let it go.

Because the truth—the awful, undeniable truth—was becoming clearer by the second.

She was in deep.

And she had no idea how to get out.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kaelani should have gone home.

Should have taken the damn car waiting for her after the conference and disappeared into the night like a responsible, emotionally stable adult.

But no. Instead, she was here.

At the airport.

Aimlessly wandering through a bookstore like some lost soul in a rom-com, staring at books she had no intention of buying.

She wasn't even sure why.

Restlessness, maybe. Exhaustion. The feeling of something unresolved pressing at the edges of her mind.

And then—

There he was.

Ahanze.

Standing at the magazine rack, flipping through a business journal like he had all the time in the world.

She froze.

Of course, the universe wasn't done messing with her yet.

She considered running.

Just… bolting like a cartoon character, disappearing behind a stack of travel guides until the threat passed.

But before she could make a decision—

He looked up.

And their eyes locked.

For a second, neither of them moved.

There was a flicker of something—something unsaid, something heavy—stretching between them like an invisible thread.

Then— Ahanze smirked. "You stalking me now?"

Kaelani rolled her eyes, shoving her hands into her pockets and forcing nonchalance. "Please. The universe clearly has a sick sense of humor."

He chuckled, setting the magazine down. "Flight delayed?"

She nodded. "Yours?"

"Cancelled."

A beat of silence.

Then— "Want to grab a coffee?" he asked.

This was her moment. Her escape route.

All she had to do was say no, shake her head, walk away.

Instead— She nodded.

And that was how she ended up sitting across from him at a quiet airport café, sipping coffee and pretending this wasn't the closest thing to a date they'd ever had.

They talked about business.

Then about nothing at all.

And for a little while, she let herself enjoy it.

She let herself forget.

Even if she knew—

She was only making things worse.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ahanze wasn't sure when it began.

Maybe it had been slow, creeping in like a song you don't realize you've been humming for days. A quiet undercurrent that had been there all along, unnoticed—until now, when it refused to be ignored.

Or maybe it had been sudden, like stepping off a curb thinking there's solid ground, only to find yourself free-falling, heart lurching, hands grasping at nothing.

Either way, he felt it now.

Felt it in the way his chest tightened when she entered a room.

In the way his pulse slowed—then quickened—whenever she laughed.

In the way his mind replayed moments with her when he was supposed to be focusing on something—someone—else.

And the worst part?

He noticed himself noticing.

Like today.

Kaelani had been in the office for hours, lost in work, her hair pinned up in one of those lazy, half-hearted knots that never really held. A few tendrils had slipped free, brushing against the nape of her neck, teasing his already fraying composure.

She was wearing what he had come to recognize as her signature chaos—an oversized button-down, casually half-tucked into a pair of ripped jeans that probably cost more than his suit. Gold rings caught the light as she flipped through papers, her fingers drumming absently against the table.

And Ahanze—he should have been reading the same document.

But his eyes?

His eyes were on her.

On the way her bottom lip caught between her teeth when she was deep in thought.

On the slow, steady rise and fall of her breath as she exhaled, frustrated, flipping a page.

On the way she would stretch absentmindedly, tilting her head from side to side, the curve of her neck catching his attention like it had any right to.

This was bad.

Very, very bad.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away, pretending—lying to himself—that he was completely focused on the words in front of him.

He wasn't.

And when she let out a frustrated groan, stretching her arms overhead, her shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth skin—

Yeah. He was officially doomed.

Ahanze exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

He needed to get a grip.

He was a man of logic. A man of control. A man who did not get distracted by things like—

"Are you okay?"

Kaelani's voice broke through his thoughts, and Ahanze nearly flinched.

He blinked, realizing too late that he had been staring at nothing for the past ten seconds. Or worse—at her.

She was watching him now, brows raised in curiosity, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips.

Damn it.

He straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. "I'm fine."

Her smirk deepened. "You sure? Because you looked like you were having a very intense inner monologue."

He let out a short, dry laugh. "You're imagining things."

"Right," she said, unconvinced. "And the fact that you've barely looked at your screen in the past five minutes?"

Ahanze grabbed a pen just to look occupied. "Maybe I've already memorized it."

Kaelani snorted. "Or maybe you need coffee. Or a nap. Maybe both."

She was teasing. Playful. Unbothered.

Meanwhile, Ahanze was internally screaming.

Because the truth?

The truth was this wasn't just a moment.

This wasn't fleeting.

And if he wasn't careful—

It would ruin him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Selene was the kind of woman men wrote poetry about.

Not the wild, stormy kind that burned bright and left you in ruins, but the steady, life-affirming kind. The kind that made you want to be a better man.

She was grace without arrogance. Beauty without vanity.

She was the woman mothers prayed their sons would find—the kind you married, built a home with, raised children beside.

And Ahanze had always believed that.

Always.

From the first moment they met at a conference in Cape Town—when she had looked at him across the room with those soft, knowing eyes, like she had already figured him out.

From their first conversation—when he had expected surface-level small talk, but instead she had looked him dead in the eye and asked, "What drives you? And don't tell me success, because I don't buy that."

She was different. Not impressed by power, not intimidated by ambition.

She was the kind of woman who saw beyond titles and bank accounts, who wanted to know who you were in the quiet moments, when no one else was watching.

And she had loved him anyway.

Through the years of tunnel-visioned focus. Through the sleepless nights when he was building something from nothing. Through the moments when grief swallowed him whole and he couldn't find his way out.

She had been there.

Holding space. Understanding. Never making him feel like he had to earn her love, but giving it freely, as though loving him was the easiest thing in the world.

She was every man's dream.

And she was his.

So why—

Why did Kaelani's voice stay in his head long after she left the room?

Why did her sharp wit, her maddening fire, ignite something inside him that Selene's patience never had?

Why did he find himself fixating on the little things—the way Kaelani's lips quirked when she was holding back a sarcastic remark, the way she paced when she was thinking, the way she had no filter, no hesitation, no fear of calling him out?

Selene was grace.

Kaelani was chaos.

Selene was the calm before the storm.

Kaelani was the storm.

This was a problem.

A very, very big problem.

Ahanze clenched his jaw, dragging a hand down his face. His exotic bedroom was now looking big and empty.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It was too late to still be working.

And yet, here they were.

The office had long since emptied, leaving only the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sounds of the city below. The once-bustling space had settled into a comfortable quiet—desks abandoned, coffee cups forgotten, the dim glow of their laptop screens the only illumination.

Kaelani sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop propped on her knees, one leg stretched out lazily, the other bent. Her oversized sweater hung off one shoulder, and her hair—once neatly pinned—was now a disheveled mess of loose curls.

She had kicked off her heels hours ago, and now her bare foot tapped absently against the wooden floor as she scrolled through a spreadsheet, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Ahanze, on the other hand, stood by the window, hands in his pockets, his gaze unfocused as he looked out at the cityscape beyond the glass. Lagos at night was a blur of golden lights, moving traffic, and distant laughter from street vendors who clearly had more energy than he did.

The silence between them was easy.

Comfortable. Until—

"I never thanked you."

Her voice was quiet, breaking through the stillness.

Ahanze turned his head slightly, glancing at her. "For what?"

She made a vague gesture with one hand. "For helping me. With everything. Even when I made it really hard for you."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "That's an understatement."

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

Another pause.

Then—quieter this time—

"You know this would be easier if I didn't—"

She stopped herself.

His chest tightened.

His fingers curled slightly where they rested against the window frame.

"Didn't what?" His voice came out lower than he intended.

Kaelani hesitated, her lips pressing together.

Then, just as quickly, she shook her head and looked away. "Forget it."

Ahanze should have let it go.

Should have nodded, should have changed the subject, should have done anything but what he did next.

Instead, he moved.

Stepped away from the window, slow and deliberate, until he was standing directly in front of her.

Kaelani tilted her head back, her gaze locking onto his.

The air felt thick, heavy with something unsaid.

Her lips parted slightly—like she wanted to say something, like she almost would—

But she didn't.

Neither of them did.

The moment stretched, tense and fragile, as if the wrong move would shatter it completely.

Ahanze dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "You should go home."

She blinked, as if shaking herself out of something. "Yeah," she muttered, closing her laptop and pushing herself to her feet.

She didn't meet his gaze as she brushed past him, heading for the door.

His jaw clenched.

Because if she had finished that sentence—

If she had said what he knew she was going to say—

Then he would have had to admit that he felt it too.

And he wasn't sure he was ready for that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Selene traced the rim of her coffee cup, watching Ahanze as he scrolled through his phone.

They were at her favorite café—small, warm, and perfect. The kind of place that felt like a well-kept secret, tucked away from the chaos of Lagos traffic. The walls were lined with shelves of books, handwritten notes from customers pinned between the spines. The scent of cinnamon and espresso lingered in the air, wrapping around her like an old, familiar song.

This was where she felt most at peace.

Where she had always imagined she and Ahanze would spend slow mornings and lazy afternoons, sipping coffee, talking about life, and planning their future together.

Their future.

She smiled, stirring a little honey into her drink. Finally.

"Anything interesting?" she asked, tilting her head as he continued scrolling through his phone.

Ahanze barely glanced up. "Hm?"

Selene exhaled dramatically before reaching across the table and plucking the phone right out of his hand.

"Okay. Enough. You've been staring at this thing for the last fifteen minutes while I've been pouring my soul out about the nightmare of wedding planning. At least pretend to be engaged—no pun intended."

She flipped the phone screen-down on the table and arched a brow at him.

Ahanze sighed, rubbing his temple. "I'm sorry. It's just work."

Selene leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied him.

He was dressed casually today—black t-shirt, gray joggers, a wristwatch that she had gifted him on his last birthday. He looked effortlessly put together, like he always did, but there was something different about him.

Something off.

He wasn't just tired—he was somewhere else.

Mentally, emotionally, somewhere else.

And she hated it.

"You know, you have this habit of thinking you have to do everything on your own," she said, softer this time.

He glanced up at her, the tension in his jaw tightening just slightly. "It's not that—"

"It is that." She reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. "Talk to me."

Ahanze hesitated.

For a second, he just looked at her.

Like he was weighing something in his mind. Like he wanted to tell her something but wasn't sure if he should.

Then—

He exhaled, intertwining their fingers. "It's just a lot. Business, the wedding, trying to balance everything. Trying to be—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "I don't know."

Selene squeezed his hand. "You don't have to have all the answers, you know. You don't always have to be 'handling' things."

A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. "You sound like my mother."

"Your mother is a wise woman," she shot back, lifting her cup to her lips.

Ahanze let out a quiet chuckle, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Selene noticed.

She noticed everything about him.

She could see the weight pressing on him, the exhaustion pulling at the edges of his expression. And she wanted to believe it was just stress—work stress, wedding stress, life stress.

But something told her it was more than that.

Something was shifting between them, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

But love—the real kind, the kind that stayed—wasn't about pushing.

It was about knowing when to wait.

So she waited.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Selene wasn't insecure.

She never had been.

She had always been the kind of woman who knew her worth. The kind who could walk into a room and command attention—not with theatrics, but with the quiet certainty of someone who was comfortable in her own skin.

She wasn't the type to read too much into things, to create problems where there were none, to chase after a man's affection like a desperate echo in an empty room.

She and Ahanze had history.

The kind built on years of shared laughter, whispered promises, and deep, unshakable trust.

She had been with him through the worst of it—through sleepless nights spent trying to get his business off the ground, through the storm of grief when he lost his mother, through every moment he had doubted himself, and she had been there, steady as the tide, reminding him that he was enough.

And he had loved her for it.

He had chosen her.

But lately…

Lately, something was off.

It wasn't a single thing she could name.

It was in the details.

Tiny, almost imperceptible changes that, on their own, meant nothing.

Like how he seemed a little more elsewhere when they talked. Not just distracted, but absent, like his mind was somewhere she couldn't reach.

Like how his texts, once immediate, had started coming hours late.

Like how, when she spoke about wedding details—details he had once been eager to hear—he would nod, smile, and respond in a way that felt too… practiced.

Like how, last week, she had wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek to his back the way she always did, and for the first time ever—

He had stiffened.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for her to notice.

And then, as if catching himself, he had forced his body to relax, reaching back to squeeze her hand like nothing had happened.

She had laughed it off.

Made a joke about how she must've startled him.

And he had played along, pressing a kiss to her forehead and telling her she was imagining things.

But she wasn't. She could feel it, this distance.

A subtle thing, a creeping thing.

Like watching a shoreline erode wave by wave, so slowly at first that you tell yourself it's nothing—until one day you wake up, and the ground you were standing on is gone.

Selene wasn't insecure.

But she wasn't blind either.

And for the first time in her life, she wondered—

If she let herself pull at this thread… would the whole thing unravel?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ahanze stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his cufflinks.

The deep navy suit fit him perfectly—custom-tailored, expensive, the kind of thing that said success before he even opened his mouth.

The man in the reflection looked exactly like someone who had his life together.

He should feel like that man.

But lately, it felt like he was wearing a suit that didn't quite fit anymore.

Like he was playing a part instead of living his own life.

Selene appeared behind him, warm and familiar, slipping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his back.

She smelled like vanilla and fresh roses, like home.

"You look good," she murmured.

There was something tender in the way she said it, something soft and full of hope.

Ahanze turned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So do you."

She smiled, tilting her face up, waiting.

Expecting him to kiss her.

To want to kiss her.

This was a moment he should have leaned into, like he always had.

Like he always did.

But for the briefest second, he hesitated.

It wasn't much.

Just a flicker of a pause, something so subtle that anyone else might not have noticed.

But Selene did. And so did he.

Then, realizing, he closed the space between them, pressing his lips to hers.

Soft. Slow. Perfect, in theory.

When he pulled away, Selene smiled.

But something in her chest felt hollow.

Like a glass that had been emptied just a little too soon.

Like something was missing.

Like he was missing.

But he was here.

Standing in front of her, looking at her with that same steady tenderness.

That's what mattered.

That's what had to matter.

So she smiled a little wider, looping her arm through his, pressing herself closer.

Because sometimes, love wasn't about certainty.

It was about holding on—a little tighter, a little longer—when things started slipping through your fingers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Kaelani was losing it.

And she didn't lose it. Ever.

She was the queen of control. The master of keeping things in check. She had survived Lagos traffic, client meetings from hell, and the absolute tragedy of buying suya only to realize they'd forgotten the pepper sauce.

She could handle anything.

So why—why—was she sitting at her desk, gripping her pen like she wanted to snap it in half, because Ahanze had suddenly decided she didn't exist?

It had been weeks. Weeks.

Weeks since his eyes had lingered a second too long.

Weeks since those moments—that electric, charged something—had hung in the air between them.

Weeks since his gaze would flick to her mouth in the middle of a conversation, like he was thinking things he had no business thinking.

And now?

Nothing. No sarcastic jabs.

No accidental brushes of hands.

No catching him watching her when he thought she wasn't looking.

It was like someone had flipped a switch, and Ahanze had—poof—cut her off, just like that.

And it was driving her absolutely insane.

She told herself this was good.

This was exactly what she wanted.

No more distractions. No more second-guessing herself. She could finally focus on her work, her life, everything.

Except…

Except then he walked into the conference room.

All broad shoulders and sharp jawlines, crisp shirts rolled up just enough to show strong forearms because the universe was clearly out to ruin her day.

And he was laughing.

At something Selene had said.

Kaelani didn't even hear the joke, but it had to have been something ridiculously funny, because Selene was grinning up at him like he was the best thing in the world, and he—he was smiling back.

Like she was the only person in the room.

Kaelani's stomach twisted.

This was stupid.

She shouldn't care.

She didn't care.

Except she did.

And she had no idea what the hell to do about it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Selene had been ignoring it.

That feeling.

The quiet, creeping thing that had settled in her chest, growing heavier with every passing day.

She had pushed it aside, reasoned with it, told herself stories.

That he was just stressed.

That work had been demanding lately.

That wedding planning was overwhelming, and that's why he seemed a little… off.

Because Ahanze loved her.

Of course he did. She had no reason to doubt that.

Until she did.

Until tonight.

They were at a gala, the kind of event that glittered with money and power. Ahanze stood beside her, perfectly polished, nodding through conversations with executives and business moguls.

From the outside, they were perfect.

Selene, in a sleek emerald-green dress that hugged her body in all the right places.

Ahanze, in his classic black suit, hand resting at the small of her back, as if he belonged there.

Everything looked the way it was supposed to.

Until she saw it.

Kaelani.

Across the room.

Laughing at something, head thrown back, completely effortless.

And Ahanze—

Ahanze looked at her.

Not just a glance.

Not polite acknowledgment.

But a look.

The kind of look a man gives a woman when he's trying not to want her.

Selene's breath hitched.

The room faded. The conversations around her became nothing but a distant hum.

She turned her head, just slightly, and saw it—really saw it.

The way his fingers flexed just a little at his side, like he had to physically stop himself from moving toward Kaelani.

The way his jaw tensed before he forced a neutral expression.

The way his entire body, his entire being, had suddenly become hyper-aware of someone who wasn't her.

And in that moment, it clicked.

She wasn't imagining it.

She hadn't been imagining it.

Something had changed.

And the man who had always been hers was slipping away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Selene wasn't the type to create problems where there were none.

She had always been secure—graceful, composed, unshaken. She wasn't the kind of woman who let paranoia gnaw at her peace or who spiraled over vague, half-formed fears.

And she had never—never—been the type to doubt Ahanze.

He was hers.

She knew this the way she knew the feel of silk against her skin, the way she knew the scent of rain before a storm. It was certainty, stitched into the fabric of her life.

But lately…

Lately, that certainty was starting to unravel.

She felt it in the small, nearly imperceptible things.

In the way his embrace, once firm and instinctive, now carried a fraction of hesitation before his arms finally wrapped around her.

In the way his laughter, once deep and warm, now held an edge—like his mind was somewhere else even when he was standing right beside her.

In the way his eyes—the same ones that had once held unwavering devotion—now seemed clouded, unfocused, like he was searching for something he wasn't sure he wanted to find.

And Selene wasn't naive.

She had seen enough in life to recognize a shift when it happened.

She was losing him.

No.

She refused to lose him.

So she started acting.

Not in desperation—Selene was far too refined for that.

No, her approach was quiet, measured, intentional.

She inserted herself into his world with the same elegance she carried in everything she did.

Ahanze didn't even realize what was happening.

"Oh, you're meeting with Kaelani? I'll come too. I'd love to see the progress," she would say, voice light, smile effortless, as though the idea had just occurred to her.

And if Ahanze hesitated for even a second, if she caught that briefest flicker of reluctance in his eyes, she would tilt her head, give him that playful, knowing look.

"You always say I should take an interest in your business," she would remind him sweetly. "What better way?"

And what could he say to that?

He never objected. Never told her no.

Yet every time she settled into a seat beside him, crossing one leg over the other, flipping open a notepad as if she truly intended to take notes—or idly twirling the stem of a wine glass at a business dinner—she felt it.

The tension.

That invisible thread, stretched tight between Ahanze and Kaelani.

Kaelani.

Selene didn't let herself react—not outwardly, at least. She was too poised for that.

But she watched.

She observed the way that woman sat across from them, posture relaxed yet alert, her expression carefully neutral, but her eyes—those damn eyes—flickering with something beneath the surface whenever Ahanze spoke.

More than that, Selene saw his reaction.

The way his fingers curled, just barely, against the armrest.

The way his entire posture stiffened when Kaelani challenged him on a business idea.

The way his gaze followed her, even when he wasn't looking.

Selene tightened her grip on her glass, pressing her nails into her palm.

This was just a phase. 

A storm to ride out.

Ahanze wasn't a man who made reckless decisions.

He was the kind of man who built things carefully, who chose stability, who knew the weight of commitment.

And she was the woman in his life.

The one he had chosen.

The one who would always be by his side.

And once the wedding happened—once he said 'I do' before God and family and every single witness that mattered—Kaelani wouldn't even be a factor anymore.

Selene would make sure of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The apartment was silent except for the soft flipping of pages as Selene turned through the thick wedding binder spread across the glass coffee table. Every detail had been finalized—the flowers, the seating arrangements, the menu.

The dress.

God, the dress was perfect. A masterpiece of delicate lace and silk, with hand-sewn pearls that caught the light just right. She had envisioned herself in it, walking down the aisle, seeing Ahanze waiting for her at the altar, his eyes warm, full of love.

But now…

She glanced up from the binder, watching him from across the room. He was on the phone, pacing. His brows were drawn together, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in that way he did when something unsettled him.

Selene knew that look.

It wasn't a business call.

She already knew who he was speaking to.

Her fingers tightened against the smooth paper of the binder, her nails pressing into the pages.

Kaelani.

That name had become a shadow in their relationship, always there, lingering just beyond reach. It was starting to make her feel like a stranger in her own love story.

But she wouldn't allow that.

Selene inhaled deeply, smoothing her expression before rising from the couch. She walked toward him, her bare feet silent against the polished floors.

"Ahanze," she murmured, brushing a hand lightly across his arm as she passed, as though she didn't notice how he tensed. "Don't forget, we have the cake tasting tomorrow."

He nodded absently, still listening to the person on the other end of the line.

Kaelani's voice, no doubt.

Selene pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, lingering just long enough to make a point, then pulled away with a smile. "I'll let you finish your call. Just don't stay up too late. We've got our future to plan."

And with that, she walked away, her back straight, her head high.

She wouldn't let Kaelani take him.

Selene was the one he was marrying.

Kaelani was just a temporary distraction.

And the wedding? It was happening.

She would make sure of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The sun streamed through the curtains, golden and warm. It felt wrong. The light was too gentle, too kind for a day that was ripping her apart from the inside.

Kaelani sat on the edge of her bed, staring at nothing. She hadn't slept. Her mind had been a battlefield all night, torn between fury and heartbreak, between wanting to disappear and needing to prove—to herself, to him, to everyone—that she was fine.

She wasn't.

Her hands balled into fists against the silk of her robe. She had spent weeks pretending, swallowing down every emotion, pushing forward as if none of it mattered. But today was different. Today, he would stand at the altar. And she—

She would sit in the crowd.

A soft knock broke through the war in her head.

"Come in," she said, voice hoarse.

Madam Titi stepped inside, her presence as steady as it had always been. The older woman took one look at her and sighed. "Oh, my girl."

Kaelani swallowed, forcing herself to hold it together.

"I'm fine," she said.

Madam Titi walked closer, shaking her head. "No, you're not."

Kaelani clenched her jaw. "I will be."

Madam Titi sat beside her, warmth radiating from her presence. She didn't say anything for a long time. She didn't need to.

Then, softly, "You love him."

The words cracked something in Kaelani's chest.

She turned away. "He's marrying someone else today."

"Yes," Madam Titi said gently. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

Kaelani's throat tightened. "I don't want to go."

Madam Titi took her hand, squeezing. "Then don't."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "That would just prove them right, wouldn't it? That I can't handle this. That I'm weak."

Madam Titi tilted her head, studying her. "And are you?"

Kaelani exhaled shakily. "No."

Madam Titi smiled, patting her cheek. "Then get up, my girl. Get dressed. Hold your head high. If you must bleed, bleed with pride."

Kaelani swallowed hard, nodding.

She would go.

She would sit in that crowd.

And she would survive this.

Her father found her later, standing by the mirror in her deep emerald dress, a color chosen on purpose—bold, unshaken, powerful. He watched her for a long moment before stepping inside.

"You look beautiful," he said.

Kaelani met his eyes through the mirror. "You're here to remind me that I lost a good man, aren't you?"

He sighed, walking over. "I was."

She turned to face him, arms crossed. "Go ahead, then. Say it."

He studied her, something softening in his expression. Then, to her surprise, he stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace.

Kaelani stiffened. "What—"

"You're hurting," he murmured against her hair. "And I hate seeing you like this."

Her throat burned. She wasn't prepared for this—for kindness, for comfort.

"I thought you were just going to lecture me," she whispered.

He pulled back, looking at her. "If I thought a lecture would fix this, I would." A pause. "But I can see it now, Kaelani. This isn't just about stubbornness or pride. This is real for you."

She blinked rapidly.

"So, no lectures. No 'I told you so.'" He touched her shoulder. "But you will go to that wedding. Not for them. Not for me. For yourself."

Kaelani inhaled sharply, nodding.

For herself.

CHAPTER THIRTY

In another part of the grand estate, Selene sat before an ornate mirror, her mother fastening the final touches of her veil.

"You're shaking," her mother murmured.

Selene forced a smile. "Excitement."

Her mother hummed knowingly. "Or fear?"

Selene's breath caught. "I—"

Her mother placed gentle hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, my love. Marriage is not just a ceremony. It is a lifetime. And once you step forward today, you must be sure."

Selene swallowed. "I am sure."

Her mother's gaze didn't waver. "Then let today be the happiest day of your life."

Selene nodded, steeling herself. This was her dream. This was her moment.

She would not let doubt steal it from her.

Outside, the wedding was already a spectacle.

The estate glittered, a breathtaking masterpiece of wealth and status. The guests were seated, the cameras positioned, the world watching.

Ahanze stood at the altar, his heart a slow, heavy drum in his chest.

This was it.

This was the future he had chosen.

Then he looked up.

And there she was.

Kaelani.

She was a vision in emerald, her face composed, her chin lifted in defiance against whatever she was feeling inside.

And God, it hit him. The weight of it. The reality of what he was doing.

His hands curled into fists at his side.

This was right.

This was right.

He forced his gaze away, fixing it on the path ahead.

Then the music changed.

And Selene appeared.

She was radiant, her smile luminous, her joy undeniable. And for a moment, Ahanze let himself breathe.

She was the woman he had chosen.

And he would love her. He had to.

The ceremony unfolded like a dream.

Then came the vows and Selene spoke first.

Selene smiled at Ahanze, her voice steady as she began.

"Ahanze… I have loved you in every season of my life. In the quiet moments when no one was watching, in the loud, messy ones when the world felt too much.

I have loved you in my waiting, in my hoping, in my believing that one day, we would stand right here, before all these people, before God, and make this promise.

You are my home, my safest place. The man I prayed for long before I knew your name.

I vow to be the woman who believes in you when you doubt yourself, to remind you of who you are when the world tries to make you forget. To hold your hand through every season, every triumph, every loss.

And when we are old and gray, when the years have changed us, I vow to still look at you the way I look at you now—with my whole heart.

You are my love story, Ahanze. And today, I say yes to forever."

By the time she finished, there was not a dry eye in the audience.

Even Kaelani had to look away.

Then it was Ahanze's turn.

He took a deep breath, forcing every emotion into control.

"I promise to honor you," he said steadily. "To cherish you, to stand beside you in all seasons of life. You are my best friend, my partner, my future.

The audience fill the air with different emotional responses to the sweet moment as the Pastor continue with the wedding rituals.

He leads Selene as she vows to love her man in good times and bad times , in rich and in poor… but everyone laughed when the pastor mentioned "poor" because that was an unnecessary formality, Ahanze could never be poor.

It was his turn and he had all his focus on the beautiful gift before him

He swallowed, heart hammering.

"I, Ahanze Odeleye, take you, Kaelani—"

Silence.

"Selene" he quickly corrected himself like that was going take everything back

Dead, deafening silence.

Then gasps.

Selene's breath hitched as if someone had punched the air from her lungs.

Ahanze's entire body locked.

And Kaelani—Kaelani felt like the earth had just cracked open beneath her.

The moment stretched, unbearable.

Then Selene stumbled back, hands covering her mouth. A sound broke from her—a shattered, wounded sob.

Ahanze reached for her, desperate. "Selene, I—"

But she turned and ran.

Ran from the altar.

Ran from him.

And the wedding—the perfect, grand wedding—erupted into chaos.

Guests rose in shock.

Phones were lifted, videos already recording.

And just like that, the moment exploded onto every screen, every headline.

The wedding that wasn't.

The name that ruined everything.

And in the middle of it all, Ahanze stood frozen.

Because no matter how much he had tried to fight it, to force himself into the perfect choice—

His heart had spoken.

And it had spoken her name.

The silence in the empty wedding hall was the kind that didn't just settle in the air—it sank into the bones, thick and suffocating. The guests were long gone, the murmurs of scandal still lingering like ghosts. The flowers, once symbols of joy, now lay trampled on the floor, petals torn apart under hurried feet.

Selene stood at the altar where her future had been shattered, her fingers curled into trembling fists. Ahanze was there too, shoulders slumped, his tie undone as if loosening it could free him from the noose of his own mistake.

She stared at him, her chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths. Then she laughed. A hollow, broken sound.

"You said her name." Her voice was eerily calm, but her eyes burned. "On our wedding day, Ahanze."

He shut his eyes for a second, the weight of it crashing over him again. "Selene, I—"

"No." She held up a hand. "No explanations. No excuses." She took a step closer, and Ahanze felt the full force of her heartbreak like a storm rolling in. "I loved you."

His breath hitched. "I love you, Selene."

She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No, you don't."

Ahanze flinched.

"If you did, you wouldn't have done this to me. To us." She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from falling, but they betrayed her, slipping down her cheeks. "I fought for you, Ahanze. I saw the way you looked at her, I saw the shift, and I still fought. I was willing to fight until the end." She swallowed hard. "But you were never fighting for me, were you?"

His silence was an answer in itself.

Selene nodded, her lips pressing into a trembling line. "I was a fool," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Ahanze stepped forward. "No you're not. Selene, I swear, I never wanted to hurt you."

She held his gaze, her heart breaking all over again. "Then you shouldn't have loved me halfway."

Ahanze's throat tightened.

Selene wiped her face, gathering what little dignity she had left. "You know what the worst part is?" Her voice wavered, but she kept her head high. "I don't even know if I hate you or if I still love you."

His breath caught, but she didn't give him a chance to respond.

She turned on her heels and walked away.

And Ahanze let her go.

CHAPTER THRITY-ONE

Kaelani wasn't sure how long she had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, her phone screen lighting up with notifications she refused to check.

She already knew what they would say.

Her name was everywhere. The woman who ruined the perfect love story. The homewrecker. The reason Selene ran out of her own wedding in tears.

The hate flooded in with a force she wasn't prepared for. People who didn't know her, who didn't know Ahanze, who had never seen the silent war she had fought in her heart, were all convinced they had her figured out.

She had stolen another woman's future. And for what?

Her stomach twisted as she thought about Selene's face at the altar, the devastation in her eyes, the raw betrayal in her voice.

She had done the right thing by stepping back. She had tried to bury her feelings, let Ahanze go. But in the end, it didn't matter. Because his heart had betrayed him before she even had the chance to.

And now, she was left wondering—had it all been for good?

Or had she just made everything worse?

Her father had tried to convince her to stay, to weather the storm, but Kaelani knew she couldn't.

She needed to leave.

Not just to escape the headlines, but to escape herself.

To forget the way Ahanze looked at her.

To forget that she had wanted him to say her name.

She booked the soonest flight she could find—somewhere far, somewhere she could disappear. A place where no one would know her name, where she wouldn't have to see Ahanze's face on every screen, wouldn't have to be reminded of what she had taken.

Maybe she would heal.

Maybe she wouldn't.

But she had to try.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The airport was colder than Kaelani expected. Or maybe it was just her body trying to adjust to the weight of everything. She pulled her hoodie closer, keeping her head down as she moved through the terminal. She had chosen this flight for a reason—far enough, late enough, quiet enough. No eyes. No whispers. No stories.

She was exhausted. Not just physically, but in a way that made her soul ache.

The past few days had been a storm she couldn't escape. The headlines. The messages. The endless speculation about whether she had planned it all, seduced him, stolen him, ruined a perfect love story.

She had stopped reading the comments after the first night.

But the weight of them pressed down on her anyway.

She sighed, checking her ticket again even though she already knew the gate. The flight was boarding soon. Good. She just wanted to disappear, to sink into the nothingness of the sky and forget.

The plane was half-full by the time she stepped inside, maneuvering through the narrow aisle. She found her seat—a window seat, mercifully near the back—and dropped into it, pressing her forehead against the cool glass.

For the first time in days, she exhaled.

The engines hummed beneath her feet. The soft chatter of passengers blurred into background noise. A baby cried somewhere near the front, a flight attendant laughed at something a passenger said, and the overhead bins clicked shut one after the other.

The final call for boarding came.

And then, just as the last of the stragglers hurried in, someone slid into the seat beside her.

Kaelani didn't look up at first. She barely noticed. She was too lost in her own storm, staring blankly at the twinkling airport lights outside.

It wasn't until the flight attendant came by, confirming their seat numbers, that she heard it—

That voice.

Deep. Familiar. Fractured.

She turned her head, slowly, her heart already stuttering in her chest.

And there he was.

Ahanze.

Her breath caught in her throat.

For a second, they just stared at each other, the air between them crackling like an exposed wire.

Of all the flights. Of all the seats.

Of all the places to run.

His tie was gone, his shirt slightly rumpled, the shadows under his eyes deeper than before. He looked like a man unraveling, like someone who had tried to escape something—only to be caught by it instead.

Just like her.

The seatbelt sign dinged overhead, and the flight attendant gave them a polite nod before moving along.

Neither of them spoke.

Ahanze swallowed, as if trying to find his words. But there were none. Not yet.

Not when the plane was beginning to taxi down the runway, pulling them away from everything they knew.

Not when the weight of their choices sat between them, heavier than the sky.

Not when the universe had just given them the most impossible, undeniable answer.

Kaelani let out a breath, a sound almost like a laugh. Ahanze ran a hand down his face, shaking his head slightly, a look of something close to disbelief flashing in his eyes.

And then, somewhere in the silence, in the chaos, in the sheer madness of it all—

They both just knew.

Neither of them were getting away.

Neither of them wanted to.

And as the plane lifted into the darkened sky, Ahanze reached for her hand.

She let him.

The wrong kind of right.

The only kind of right.

The End.