elf thinking about him at odd hours. His words, the way he looked at her-like he already knew parts of her she hadn't revealed. She sat in her temporary apartment, phone in hand, rea

ed sharply. Korede stood there, umbrella in hand, his suit only slightly damp. "What are you doing here?" "Following fate," he said, grinning. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "You read poetry?" "I try." They ended up at a nearby café, drinking tea and sharing laughs between lightning strikes outside. This was different. This was real. --- "I used to dance," Zara confessed, stirring her tea slowly. Korede looked up. "Professionally?" "No. Nightclubs. For money. Not the classy kind." He didn't react immediately. Just nodded. "I did it because I had nothing. It was fast cash." "Are you still doing it?" "No." "Then it's the past." She blinked at him. "That easy?" "You survived something. That doesn't make you dirty-it makes you strong." For a moment, she forgot to breathe. No one had ever said that to her. Not without judgment. --- But that night, Korede's peace shattered. A car tailed him for three blocks. When he pulled into his compound, a masked man stepped out of the shadows and slammed a note onto his windshield before disappearing. It read: *"Keep diggin