CHAPTER FOUR: Still unused, but not untouched.

"You okay?"

"I—" Maya blinked. Still shocked as she stepped out of her car "Yes. No. I mean— I didn't see you. I was just reversing and— I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to—"

"It's fine." His tone was calm. Not dismissive—just oddly soothing. "No one's hurt, right?"

"No. Just... pride. And possibly my insurance premium."

That made him smile.

She walked toward the damage—thankfully minor. A scrape. A dent. Not catastrophic.

Ethan glanced at it, then back at her. "You go here, right?"

She nodded quickly. "Law. Second year."

"I figured." He paused. "You sit near the middle."

Her breath caught slightly. He noticed.

"Yeah," she said, a little quieter. "That's me."

For a second, neither of them spoke. The distant sounds of the campus—car engines, birds, laughter—faded into the background.

"I can pay for it," she said quickly. "I mean—I'll sort it. I have insurance. I mean—" She exhaled. "This is not how I normally drive, I promise."

"I believe you," he said, lips quirking slightly. "You seem very... precise."

She winced. "Usually."

Then Ethan nodded toward the dent with a half-smile. "It's not a big deal. We can sort it out without wrecking your insurance premium." He said, smiling.

"You don't have to be nice about this," she said. "It's entirely my fault."

"I know," he said simply, but without cruelty. "Still. No point making it a thing."

She stared at him, flustered and intrigued all at once. "Do you always handle car accidents this calmly?"

He gave a soft laugh. "Only when the other driver looks like they might implode from guilt."

Maya blinked. Then laughed, despite herself.

Ethan pulled his phone from his pocket and held it up slightly. "Want to give me your number?"

She hesitated, then handed over her phone. Their fingers brushed.

"Thanks," he said, typing swiftly. "I'll text you. We'll figure it out."

"Okay."

He nodded, then moved back toward his car. But just before opening the door, he paused and turned back.

"By the way... You didn't mention your name?"

Her eyes widened softly. "Maya," she said. Then added, "And you?"

"Ethan," he said.

Then he was gone—engine purring to life, BMW gliding smoothly out of the lot.

Maya stood there, her own car idling behind her, heart still fluttering like the aftermath of a near miss. Only now, she wasn't sure if it was from the accident... or from him.

Then she got back into her car and finally—finally—drove home.

MAYA'S HOME – 5:02 PM

Maya pulled into the driveway, her grip still a little too tight on the steering wheel. The engine purred beneath her, but she didn't cut it just yet. She sat there for a few seconds, staring blankly at the key in the ignition like it might offer her a do-over.

Her mum's car wasn't outside—but the living room light was on.

She finally turned off the engine, climbed out, and made her way inside.

The moment she opened the front door, the scent of tomato stew enveloped her like a memory. Warm. Spiced. A little too much scotch bonnet, the way her mum liked it. Familiarity always hit first. Then the quiet.

Helen was already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with the same rhythmic, deliberate motion she used for everything in life—focused, efficient, slightly impatient.

"You're back late," Helen said, eyes still on the cutting board.

"Yeah," Maya replied, dropping her bag by the stairs. And walked into the kitchen "Class ran over."

Helen nodded faintly - the kind of nod that ended conversations instead of starting them.

The air between them was fragile. Brittle from the morning

Maya stood there for a while, long enough that Helen finally looked up and glanced at her. "You alright? You look tense."

Maya hesitated. "I... might have bumped someone's car."

Helen stopped chopping. "Might have?"

"Okay. I did."

The knife clinked gently against the board as Helen set it down. She turned, brow raised.

"Whose car?"

"Some guy from school. Ethan. I gave him my number. We're sorting it out."

Helen studied her for a second longer, then turned back to the chopping board. "Well. Just be careful. People like to overcharge girls who look unsure."

"I wasn't unsure," Maya said.

Helen made a small sound—half approval, half skepticism.

"You left angry this morning"

Maya gave a half-shrug. "You were pushing."

"I was concerned."

"Felt like judgment."

Helen turned slightly. "It wasn't."

"Anyway. It's fine."

The stood there - mother and daughter in a kitchen that held too much unsaid.

"Do you need help with the settlement of the damage?" Helen asked, her voice carefully even, though something flickered beneath her tone. "I can give you some money"

"No. I can handle it. And.... he seemed nice. I don't think he'll demand a hefty sum."

Now Helen turned, one hand on her hip. "Hmmmmm... nice? how?"

Maya looked away, pulling her sleeves down over her wrists. "Forget it."

Helen returned to her task, her movements sharp again.

"You didn't go to Cambradge to collect nice boys," she said, slicing through another carrot. "You went there to get a law degree. To build a future. So that no one—no man, no system—can tell you who you are or what you're worth. That's the assignment, Maya. Don't forget it."

Maya didn't respond. She just nodded faintly, left the kitchen and walked upstairs.

"There's stew. You can eat when -

"I am not hungry." Maya said, cutting her in.

MAYA'S ROOM – 5:10 PM

The door clicked shut behind her. She didn't bother turning on the light. Afternoon shadows stretched lazily across her walls. She let herself fall onto the bed, arms wide, eyes staring at the ceiling.

She didn't have a good relationship with her mum. She didn't have any siblings either. It had always been her in this world.

Helen was a great mum – once. But then something changed and then everything else shifted with it.

Her daily live has always being short, quiet, and predictable – except for days when her mum decided to be a drama queen. like today. It should've been a normal day. Lecture, class banter, go home. But now, she'd gotten herself into a huge debt.

But that wasn't what bothered her most.

What lingered was him — Ethan. His calm voice. His thick hair. His Soft lips and that slight smirk, the way he said her name like he'd already said it before.

And the way it felt when their fingers brushed. Just for a second.

Maya sighed and sat up slowly, glancing across the room.

A Silver Olympus Camera sat on the shelf.

Her Grandmother had given it to her at six. It had been her closest companion in Nigeria. She'd bought other cameras over the years, but that one... that one was special.

After her grandmother passed, she stopped using it. Told herself it was just temporary. But time stretched, and silence grew between her and the lens.

Today, though... something was different.

Maya stood, walked to it, and picked it up. Not to use. Just to hold.

The weight in her hands was familiar, but it didn't feel as heavy anymore.

For the first time in a long time, something had shifted.

Not much.

But enough.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, camera resting in her lap.

Still silent.

Still unused.

But not untouched.

Like her heart, maybe. Not entirely untouched.