After Damilola walked out of her life, everything felt like a blur to Adanna. Days bled into nights, and nights into days, with little distinction between them. She threw herself into work, trying to fill the void Damilola had left behind. But even the distractions of her career couldn't numb the pain that gnawed at her constantly.
Her phone remained silent for days. No calls, no messages from Damilola. Each day that passed without hearing from him was like another nail in the coffin of their relationship. Adanna tried reaching out, but every message she sent went unanswered.
Meanwhile, things with Ebuka were no less complicated. After that night at his apartment, they had fallen into an unspoken routine—stolen moments between work, late-night conversations that blurred the lines between professional and personal. But even though Ebuka had said he loved her, Adanna couldn't shake the feeling that what they had was built on shaky ground. And after losing Damilola, she wasn't sure if she was ready to commit to something new.
It wasn't long before the rumors at the office intensified. Whispers followed her wherever she went, and the stares from her colleagues felt heavier with each passing day. The once-solid reputation she had worked so hard to build was crumbling, just like everything else in her life.
One afternoon, as she was walking to her office, Chinwe pulled her aside. "Adanna, we need to talk."
The stern look on Chinwe's face made Adanna's stomach drop. She followed her into a conference room, where Chinwe shut the door behind them.
"What's going on?" Adanna asked, her voice uneasy.
Chinwe didn't waste any time. "There's been a formal complaint."
Adanna's heart skipped a beat. "A complaint? About what?"
Chinwe sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "About you and Ebuka. Apparently, someone's reported your relationship to HR."
Adanna felt the floor shift beneath her. She had known the rumors were spreading, but she hadn't expected it to escalate this quickly. "But nothing inappropriate has happened—"
"It doesn't matter," Chinwe interrupted. "Perception is everything, Adanna. You know that."
Adanna's mind raced. How had things spiraled so far out of control? She had always prided herself on her professionalism, but now, it seemed like her personal life was bleeding into every corner of her career.
"You need to be careful," Chinwe warned. "This could get messy. HR will be conducting an investigation, and if they find any misconduct—"
"There wasn't any misconduct," Adanna said firmly, though even as she said the words, doubt gnawed at her. What had started as harmless flirtation with Ebuka had grown into something much more complicated. And now, it was threatening to ruin everything.
Chinwe gave her a sympathetic look. "I know you didn't mean for things to get this far. But you need to tread carefully. This could damage more than just your reputation—it could affect your entire career."
Adanna nodded, though inside, panic was setting in. She had already lost Damilola. She couldn't afford to lose her career, too.
The days that followed were some of the hardest of Adanna's life. The HR investigation loomed over her like a dark cloud, and the tension between her and Ebuka grew more palpable with each passing day. What had once been thrilling and exciting now felt like a burden she couldn't shake.
One evening, after yet another grueling day at the office, Adanna found herself standing in front of Damilola's apartment. She hadn't spoken to him since their breakup, but she needed closure—needed to know if there was any chance of rebuilding what they had lost.
She knocked on the door, her heart pounding in her chest. When Damilola opened it, the look on his face told her everything she needed to know.
"Adanna," he said, his voice soft but distant. "What are you doing here?"
"I just… I just wanted to talk," Adanna stammered, feeling suddenly foolish. What had she expected? That he would welcome her back with open arms after everything that had happened?
Damilola sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "There's nothing left to talk about."
Tears welled up in Adanna's eyes. "I miss you, Dami. I made a mistake, and I know I hurt you, but I love you. Please, don't shut me out."
Damilola's expression softened for a moment, but then he shook his head. "I can't, Adanna. I can't go back to the way things were."
"But we could try—"
"No," he said firmly, cutting her off. "You chose him, Adanna. And I can't be the second choice. I won't be."
The finality in his words hit her like a punch to the gut. She had lost him. Truly, finally lost him. And there was no going back.
As she stood there, watching Damilola close the door, the full weight of her choices came crashing down on her. She had made her bed, and now she had to lie in it—alone.
Adanna's world continued to unravel. The HR investigation was still underway, and the pressure from work was becoming unbearable. Ebuka was growing increasingly distant, and the passion that had once drawn them together was fading under the weight of the consequences they both faced.
One evening, as she sat alone in her apartment, her phone buzzed with a message from Ebuka.
We need to talk.
Her heart sank. She knew what was coming, but that didn't make it any easier.
They met at a small café, far away from the office, where no one would recognize them. When Ebuka walked in, Adanna could see the tension in his posture, the guilt in his eyes.
"This isn't working," he said, sitting down across from her. "We both know it."
Adanna stared at Ebuka, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She had seen this coming—he had been pulling away for weeks—but hearing him say it aloud felt like a final nail in the coffin of the chaos she had let consume her life.
"We both knew this was complicated from the start," Ebuka said softly, his gaze avoiding hers. "I didn't mean to make things harder for you. I care about you, Adanna, but we can't keep pretending that this… that we… are sustainable."
Adanna swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to hold herself together. "So, that's it then? You're walking away?"
Ebuka sighed, biting his lips . "I'm not walking away, but look at where we are, Adanna. Everything's falling apart. The investigation, the whispers… this whole thing has caused more damage than either of us anticipated."
His words stung, not just because of the truth behind them, but because Adanna had hoped that somehow, amidst the wreckage, she could at least salvage something with Ebuka. Now, it felt like she was losing everything all at once—Damilola, her career, and now, even Ebuka.
"You say you care, but you're leaving me too," Adanna whispered, her voice trembling. "Everyone's leaving."
Ebuka reached out for her hand, but she pulled it back before he could touch her. "I'm not trying to hurt you," he said softly. "But sometimes caring about someone means knowing when to let them go."
Adanna shook her head, blinking back tears. "So, that's it? We're just… done?"
Ebuka didn't answer, but the silence between them was enough.
Adanna walked out of the café with her heart heavy and her mind clouded. She had lost Damilola to her own mistakes, and now she had lost Ebuka to the mess she had created. The walls of her life were closing in, and for the first time, she didn't know how to stop the inevitable collapse.
As she drove back to her apartment, her phone buzzed with a call. It was Chinwe.
"I need you in the office tomorrow," Chinwe said, her tone clipped. "HR wants to meet with you. It's serious, Adanna."
Adanna's stomach dropped. "What do you mean 'serious'?"
"I think they're going to take action. Formal action," Chinwe said. "This isn't just rumors anymore. They're talking about suspension, maybe even worse. You need to be prepared."
Adanna felt like the ground had been pulled out from beneath her. Suspension? She had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to let everything fall apart now.
"I'll be there," Adanna said, her voice hollow. She hung up, staring at her reflection in the rearview mirror. The woman looking back at her was unrecognizable—tired, broken, lost.
The meeting with HR the next day was everything Adanna had feared. They were no longer just investigating her conduct; they were preparing to take action. Her relationship with Ebuka had violated several company policies, and despite her protests that no misconduct had occurred in the workplace, the damage had already been done.
After what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth questioning and uncomfortable silences, the HR director finally spoke the words she had been dreading.
"You're being placed on unpaid suspension, effective immediately."
Adanna sat frozen, unable to process the words. She had expected something bad, but this… this was worse than she could have imagined. Her career, everything she had worked for, was crumbling right in front of her.
"We'll conduct a further review, but until then, we recommend that you take this time to… reflect on the situation," the HR director added, her tone formal and detached.
Reflect? Adanna had been doing nothing but reflecting, and all she had found were the shattered pieces of the life she used to have.
As she left the office, carrying the weight of the suspension like a chain around her neck, Adanna felt utterly defeated. She had nothing left—not Damilola, not Ebuka, not her job. And for the first time in a long while, she didn't know who she was anymore.