Monday evening arrived, and Amara sat in her car outside the small, cozy café Femi had chosen for their meeting. She took a deep breath before stepping out. Whatever Femi wanted to share, she could sense it was personal, and she wasn't sure she was ready for this level of involvement.
Femi was already inside, sitting at a corner table with a coffee in front of him. When he saw her, he stood, gesturing toward the seat opposite him.
"Thanks for coming," he said, his voice unusually subdued.
Amara nodded, sliding into the chair. "What's going on, Femi? You sounded... different on the phone."
He hesitated, running a hand through his neatly trimmed hair. For a man who usually exuded confidence, he looked uncharacteristically unsure.
"I wanted to tell you something about my past," he began. "Something that might explain why I am the way I am."
Amara leaned back, folding her arms. "I'm listening."
Femi took a sip of his coffee, his gaze fixed on the table. "I grew up in Surulere. My family wasn't wealthy, but we were happy—until my dad's business collapsed. We lost everything. My parents' marriage fell apart, and my siblings and I had to fend for ourselves."
Amara's expression softened, but she said nothing, letting him continue.
"I learned to be strong, to act like I had it all together, even when I didn't. I had to fight for every opportunity, and that made me... cautious, maybe even calculating. People assume I'm arrogant, but it's just me trying to stay ahead."
He finally looked up at her. "That's why I push so hard, Amara. I don't want to go back to where I came from."
Amara's heart ached at his words. She had always seen Femi as polished and self-assured, but now she understood the drive—and pain—that fueled him.
"I get it," she said softly. "But why tell me this?"
"Because," he said, his voice steady now, "I don't want you to think I'm just another smooth-talking guy who doesn't care. I respect you, Amara. And I... I want to know if there's a chance for us outside of work."
A Crossroads
The air between them grew heavy with unspoken emotions. Amara's instinct was to retreat, to protect herself, but something about Femi's vulnerability held her in place.
"I don't know," she admitted. "You're not an easy person to read, Femi. And I've been burned before."
"I'm not asking for anything now," he said quickly. "Just... think about it."
She nodded, standing up. "I will. But for now, let's keep things professional, okay?"
"Of course," he said, though there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
As Amara walked out of the café, her thoughts were a whirlwind. Femi had shown her a side of himself she hadn't expected, and it left her questioning everything she thought she knew about him—and herself.
One thing was certain: their story was far from over.