Chapter Four: A Name That Doesn’t Belong to Her

Zeema woke to the sound of silence. Real silence — the kind you only found in expensive hotels with thick walls and soft carpeting. For a moment, she didn’t move. She lay still in the wide bed, staring up at the ceiling, her brain slowly stitching together the night before.

She hadn’t gone home.

She hadn’t gotten caught.

But she also hadn’t left.

The robe she’d wrapped herself in last night was twisted around her legs. Her hair was still damp at the ends from the bath. And across the suite, through the slightly ajar door of the living room, she could hear Ray’s soft breathing.

He’d taken the couch like he said he would. No pressure. No expectation. Just dinner. Talk. And a kindness she hadn’t anticipated.

But now it was morning, and everything felt… different.

She sat up slowly, pushing the comforter aside. The clock on the nightstand read 8:12 a.m. She hadn’t slept this well in months.

Slipping out of bed, she moved quietly into the bathroom. The hotel had provided everything — plush towels, designer soap, even a satin bonnet. She splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection.

What are you doing?

She brushed her teeth with one of the complimentary kits and avoided her own eyes in the mirror. There was no way to explain this without sounding unhinged. She’d taken a stranger’s gift, shown up uninvited, and fallen asleep like she belonged there.

And worse — she wasn’t ready to leave.

She found Ray already awake, scrolling through his phone on the couch, wearing a soft black T-shirt and grey lounge pants. He looked up when she entered.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied.

He gave her a once-over, eyes lingering briefly before returning to his phone. “There’s breakfast coming. I figured you’d want coffee.”

“You guessed right.”

They sat in easy silence for a while. When the room service tray arrived, wheeled in by a smiling hotel staffer, Zeema stood awkwardly to the side, not wanting to be seen too clearly. But the staffer hardly looked at her. She addressed Ray directly.

“Good morning, Mr. Raymond. Your usual, and an extra plate, as requested.”

Ray smiled. “Thanks, Zainab.”

It wasn’t until the woman left that Zeema exhaled.

“She didn’t seem surprised to see someone else here,” she said.

“She probably thinks you’re someone new.” Ray shrugged. “Danielle never exactly left anyone with a lasting impression here.”

Zeema frowned. “She’s been here before?”

“A few times. With me. With others, maybe. Who knows. She never cared for the place.”

“Then why keep booking it?”

Ray looked at her, something shadowed in his expression. “Because I kept hoping she’d change her mind.”

Zeema took her seat at the small dining table, trying not to think too hard about that.

Over breakfast, their conversation stayed neutral — weekend plans, his business (consulting, something in finance, she gathered), her vague mentions of the office. She didn’t use names. He didn’t ask many questions.

Still, the ease between them unnerved her. It felt like skipping chapters in a story she had no right to read.

By midday, she was dressed in her plain jeans and blouse again, bag packed, unsure what to do next.

“I should probably go,” she said quietly, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window.

Ray looked up from the couch. “You can stay the second night. It’s paid for.”

“I already took too much.”

“You didn’t take anything,” he said. “Danielle didn’t want it. You didn’t steal it. You just… showed up.”

She gave a small, uncertain laugh. “That sounds a lot like stealing to me.”

He stood, stretching. “Do you want to leave because you feel guilty, or because you’re afraid of what happens if you stay?”

Zeema turned toward him slowly. “Both.”

There was a knock at the door.

They both froze.

It wasn’t room service.

Ray moved toward the door, glanced through the peephole, then opened it a fraction.

“Jide?”

A tall man stood outside, sunglasses on, dressed in designer casual. “Man, I was just passing through. Heard you were back at Wheje. Thought I’d check in.”

Ray stepped out into the hall, closing the door halfway behind him.

Zeema stayed frozen in place.

She could hear muffled conversation. A laugh. Then Jide’s voice — louder now. “Wait, Danielle’s not here?”

Ray didn’t respond immediately.

After a few moments, the door closed again.