Chapter Fourteen

Alison lay on the couch, head resting on a pillow, staring blankly at the muted TV screen. She hadn't touched a thing since she got back. The resignation. The walk out. Jason's offer. Her chest still ached like something had ripped clean through it. She heard a knock and sat up slowly, dragging herself to the door.

When she opened it, Jason stood there with a brown paper bag, still in his office shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"You didn't eat, did you?"

His voice was gentle.

She shook her head, stepping aside to let him in. "You really didn't have to…"

"I wanted to," he replied, placing the bag on the small dining table. The smell of jollof rice and spicy chicken floated up.

He turned to her again, about to say something, when a door creaked open from the hallway. Michelle's voice came muffled, echoing softly.

"Ali, did you take my—"

She froze the moment she stepped into the living room, barefoot, a towel knotted around her chest, another over her wet hair. Her bare shoulders glistened faintly from steam. And then her eyes landed on Jason.

Their gazes locked.

Jason's throat dried instantly. He blinked. Once. Twice. And then forgot how to do it again. He tried to speak but all that left his mouth was a breath.

Michelle tilted her head slightly. "Uhm… who's that?"

Her tone wasn't flirty — more curious. Unbothered. She shifted the towel up a little higher on her chest as she stepped into the room.

Alison sat up straighter on the couch, instantly alert to the energy. "Jason… this is Michelle, my roommate."

Jason finally found his voice, albeit faint. "Hi…"

Michelle gave a light smile, then turned to Alison. "You didn't tell me we were having guests. I would've worn something… less dripping." She giggled softly, already turning to leave. Her steps were casual, confident — but not trying.

Jason couldn't stop staring. Something about the way her skin shimmered under the hallway light. The way she hadn't tried to flirt. She'd just existed — and now she wouldn't leave his mind.

Michelle paused at her door. Tossed her head lightly over her shoulder. "Nice meeting you… Jason, right?"

He nodded, still stunned. "Yeah."

"Cool. Enjoy your dinner."

Then she disappeared, door clicking shut.

Alison raised a brow at him. "You okay?"

Jason coughed. Rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Just… wasn't expecting that."

She smirked. "She has that effect on people."

Jason smiled faintly, but his mind was still stuck on the way her towel slipped slightly down her shoulder… and how his heart skipped without permission.

Jason leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded, his dark brown eyes fixed on Alison with genuine concern.

"So… what's next? Are you really quitting for good?"

She gave a soft sigh, the kind that carried sleepless nights and unanswered questions. "I don't know yet. Maybe something simple. Quiet. Somewhere I can breathe."

He tilted his head, searching her face. "You deserve peace, Alison. But I hope wherever you go… you remember your worth."

She smiled faintly, grateful. "Thank you."

He nodded and picked up his car keys. "Well, if you need help sorting through options, call me. Even if it's just to rant about life and annoying CEOs."

She laughed under her breath. "Noted."

As he turned toward the door, footsteps approached from the hallway. Michelle walked in, still towel-wrapped from her shower, her wet curls clinging to her skin as she rummaged through a drawer for her body lotion.

Jason stopped. Blinked. Then blinked again.

Michelle glanced up, confused, then tilted her head. "You good?"

He nodded too quickly. "Yeah—yeah, sorry, I just—uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't catch your name the last time."

"Michelle," she said, eyeing him, amused.

"I'm Jason." He hesitated, then added with a crooked smile, "Would it be weird if I asked for your number?"

Michelle didn't smile—but she didn't frown either. She looked at him like he was a puzzle she didn't mind solving.

"You always ask girls out while they're half-naked?"

Jason laughed nervously. "Only when they look like you."

That made her smirk. She walked past him, grabbed Alison's phone, typed her number into it without a word, then handed it back to him.

"Text me. But don't be boring."

He stood there a second longer after she disappeared into the room. Then looked at Alison, who was just grinning quietly.

"I think I'm in trouble," he whispered.

Alison chuckled. "You are."

Jason finally stepped out, glancing back once with a grin that lingered too long on Michelle's door. The apartment fell into a quiet hum, the kind that came after a gentle storm.

Michelle padded back in, this time in an oversized tee and shorts, a towel still wrapped around her head. She stood by the kitchen counter, arms folded, her eyes narrowing with that familiar glint of trouble.

"So…" she started slowly. "Who's the tall snack with the dinner bag and boyish crush?"

Alison rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "That's Jason. Old friend from college. We ran into each other at the company."

Michelle gave a teasing hum, twirling a spoon between her fingers. "He looked like he wanted to eat you or marry you. Or maybe both."

Alison chuckled softly, flopping onto the couch, her shoulders finally relaxing. "He's just… nice. Real. But don't get any ideas, okay?"

Michelle's smirk deepened. "I saw the way he looked at me."

Alison turned her head slowly, eyes wide. "Michelle."

"What?" Michelle shrugged, grinning now. "Man came bearing food. Respectfully admired my towel. Has nice hands. I'm intrigued."

Alison shook her head, laughing under her breath. For the first time in days, something in her chest didn't feel so heavy. Maybe everything wasn't completely broken.

Jason stepped out of the apartment, the empty food containers folded neatly in the paper bag he held. The evening air was soft, the kind that carried conversations and secrets if you stood still enough. He tossed the bag into a nearby bin and paused by his car, keys dangling from his fingers.

He didn't start the engine right away.

Something made him pause. A prickle at the back of his neck. He turned, eyes scanning the quiet street, settling on a black SUV parked just across. The windows were tinted too dark for a casual visitor, and it hadn't moved since he got there. He hadn't seen anyone step out or in. It just sat there.

Watching?

Jason frowned. "Weird."

He hesitated—debating if he should go back up and warn Alison. But he shook his head lightly. Probably a neighbor. Or someone waiting for a ride.

Still, he made a mental note to call her later. Just in case.

He climbed into his car, shot one last glance at the SUV, then drove off.

The moment his taillights disappeared—

The SUV door clicked open. Ralph stepped out.

He didn't move for a moment. He just stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark slacks, shirt half-buttoned, jaw set in iron. His eyes scanned the building, settling on the small balcony with its potted plant. The light in the living room was still on. He stared at it.

He hadn't planned to come. Hell, he told himself the resignation letter was enough closure—that she was just an employee and her decision to leave was hers to make.

But his chest had been tight all day. Tighter when Miriam whispered about her resignation with a smirk, like she'd known it was coming.

He clenched his fists.

She has a boyfriend. You saw him, remember?

And now Jason too? What on earth is he doing in her house?? 

He scoffed to himself bitterly, dragging a palm over his jaw.

How many men are in your life, Alison?

His stomach twisted with something ugly, something that burned hot and sharp under his skin.

He was never the jealous type. Not in college. Not in business. Not even with Jane. But this—this felt like betrayal and heartbreak wrapped in barbed wire. And he hadn't even told her how he felt yet. That he was starting to see more. That he didn't want her to leave.

Now? Now he wasn't sure what was real. Is Jason just another fuckmate to her?

He exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temple as a pulsing ache began to crawl into his skull.

The kind that came with confusion. With humiliation.

He turned away from the apartment and stormed back to his car, slamming the door harder than necessary. His hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

Then, without a second glance—

He drove off. Fast and broken.