I didn’t plan to see Daniel again. For almost two years, I trained myself to stop thinking about him; his voice, his laughter, the way he used to look at me like he could read every corner of my mind. I convinced myself I had healed. I told my friends I was over it. I even started believing it.

But one Friday evening, everything shifted.

I had gone to meet my friend Kemi at a lounge in Lekki. We were sitting outside, enjoying the music and the light breeze, when she suddenly froze and whispered, “Cassy… don’t look now.”

Of course, I looked.

And there he was.

Daniel.

He hadn’t changed much. Maybe his beard was slightly fuller. Maybe his shoulders had gotten broader. But it was still him, the same man who once called me “sunshine” with a seriousness that made my chest ache.

Our eyes met, and for a second, it felt like my entire body forgot how to breathe.

He looked surprised as he walked toward us.

I felt my heart thudding, as if it wanted to escape my chest. I pretended to check my phone, to look unfazed, but my hands were shaking.

“Hi, Cassy,” he said, settling into that deep voice I once heard every night before sleep. “You look… different.

We talked for a few minutes; awkward small talk, jokes that felt too soft for strangers, the kind of silence that didn’t feel uncomfortable. Kemi, of course, disappeared immediately, pretending she needed to “take a call.”

Then he asked, “Are you free to take a walk?”

I said yes without thinking.

We walked down the quiet street beside the lounge. The night felt unusually still. The kind of stillness that makes secrets spill easily.

“You disappeared,” I muttered.

He sighed. “I felt like I was messing up your life.”

“You were,” I answered. “But I still wanted you.”

He stopped walking. “Do you still?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. My silence told him everything.

He reached for my hand. Just a simple touch, but my whole body reacted like it remembered him instantly. My fingers curled into his without thinking.

We ended up at his car. We stood beside it, too close, the streetlight hitting his face in a soft glow. He brushed a strand of hair away from my face, and the way his fingers lingered on my skin sent a kind of trembling through me that I couldn’t hide.

“Cassy,” he whispered, “I’ve missed you in ways I can’t explain.”

I swallowed. “Then explain it with actions.”

I don’t know who leaned in first. It just happened. One second, I was standing, breathing, trying to look calm, and the next, his lips were on mine, like he had been waiting for permission for years.

The kiss deepened fast. My back pressed against the car. His hands held my waist like he had been starving for the feel of me. The world around us disappeared. There was only breath, heat, and the taste of him.

“Come with me,” he murmured against my neck.

I knew what he meant. I knew where it would lead. And for once, I didn’t want to overthink it.

I wanted him.

So, I nodded.

We drove to his apartment in silence, but it wasn’t an empty silence. It was charged. Heavy. Every time his hand brushed mine on the gear, my breath hitched.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this.

If anyone had told me that I wouldn’t hesitate to go to his house to have sex after everything he made me go through, I wouldn’t believe it.

Seeing Daniel again unlocked something I wasn’t ready for.

I hadn’t healed. I had only been pretending.

I wasn’t sure what hurt more, seeing him again… or realising I was still his fool.

Regardless, I still had him that night.

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