GHOSTS OF LAGOS NIGHTS

**CHAPTER TWO

GHOSTS OF LAGOS NIGHTS**

For a moment, Jamal simply looked at her.

He didn’t hide it.

He didn’t pretend.

He let himself take her in — the soft lavender blouse, the calm posture, the carefully neutral expression that didn’t hide the tension in her eyes.

Eliana.

The woman he never forgot.

“Please, sit,” Jamal said, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk.

She sat quietly, smoothing her trousers. He took his seat opposite her, but his eyes remained on her longer than necessary. She felt it — that searching, that familiar intensity — and forced herself to keep her breathing steady.

Focus, Eliana. You’re here for work.

Jamal finally broke the silence.

“Thank you for agreeing to work with us.”

His voice was deeper now than she remembered, more controlled. It made her heart twist in a way she didn’t appreciate.

“I’m here because it’s my job,” she replied lightly. “Let’s keep it professional.”

A subtle smile tugged at his lips.

The same smile that used to make her shy.

He leaned back, clasping his hands on the table.

“Of course. Professional.”

The air between them tightened.

He cleared his throat. “I reviewed your proposal before you arrived. Your concept for rebranding our delivery interface is… brilliant, actually.”

She blinked, surprised.

“Thank you.”

“Your work has improved,” he continued. “But that doesn’t surprise me. You always had potential.”

Her stomach tightened.

Praise.

From him.

She kept her eyes on the folder in front of her.

“Let’s… focus on the project,” she managed.

“Right.”

He sat straighter. “We need a new visual identity for the launch of Evercrest X. Clean, modern, and more user-friendly. The board wants a full rebrand.”

She nodded. “I can handle that.”

“I know you can.”

His voice softened again.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked for you.”

Her head snapped up.

Their eyes locked again.

“Asked for me?” she echoed.

Jamal didn’t look away.

“Yes.”

The room seemed to shrink around them.

Eliana’s pulse hammered.

So it wasn’t coincidence.

Not some random assignment sent by her agency.

He had requested her.

Why?

She found her voice.

“Is there a reason you specifically wanted me on this contract?”

Jamal hesitated — just a second, but she saw it.

He looked out the window, gathering himself, before turning back.

“You’re one of the best,” he said carefully. “And this project is very important.”

It was the kind of answer a CEO would give.

Clean. Polished. Non-emotional.

But Eliana wasn’t naïve.

She knew him.

She could see the half-truth hovering behind his composed eyes.

She didn’t push.

She wasn’t ready to.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “Let’s begin.”

They spent the next hour reviewing design strategies — colour palettes, interface flows, new user experience concepts. The work drew them into a rhythm that once felt natural: Jamal asking thoughtful questions, Eliana explaining with passion, both of them leaning slightly forward, caught in the synergy of ideas.

It almost felt like old times.

Almost.

But beneath the smooth conversation, the tension remained thick, fragile, and unspoken.

When the meeting ended, Eliana gathered her things.

“I’ll start drafting the visual frames,” she said.

“Good.” Jamal stood as she stood. “My assistant will arrange access to our internal systems.”

She nodded.

Just as she reached the door, he spoke again — softly.

“Eliana.”

She paused.

Jamal stepped closer — not too close, but close enough that she felt the shift in the air.

His voice dropped.

“Thank you… for coming.”

The sincerity in his tone startled her.

She swallowed.

“It’s just work, Jamal.”

He held her gaze.

“Is it?”

Her breath caught.

She broke eye contact quickly.

“I’ll send the first drafts tomorrow.”

And she walked out.

Not fast.

Not slow.

Just carefully steady.

As the door closed behind her, she leaned against the wall for a moment and exhaled shakily.

What was happening to her?

Why did seeing him feel like reopening a wound she had stitched shut with trembling hands?

She pushed herself off the wall and headed to the elevator.

She needed air.

She needed space.

She needed to remember who she had become without him.

Inside the office, Jamal remained still long after she left.

Her presence lingered like a storm after rainfall — soft yet impossible to ignore.

He sat down slowly, rubbing his jaw.

He hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard.

He thought five years would have numbed something.

But the moment she walked in, it was like time had looped, like the years apart had merely been seconds.

He opened his laptop, intending to return to work, but instead he found himself staring at her name in the project files.

Eliana Adeyemi — Lead Creative Consultant

He exhaled slowly.

“Five years,” he murmured to the empty room. “And I still feel this.”

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” he said.

Tola, his assistant, stepped in.

“Sir, the board meeting has been moved to Thursday.”

“Fine.”

“And…” she hesitated, then smiled faintly, “you look distracted today.”

Jamal raised a brow.

“I’m not distracted.”

Tola folded her arms.

“Sir, I’ve worked for you for three years. You’re definitely distracted.”

He gave her a flat look, but she only grinned.

“Is it the consultant?” she asked.

Jamal’s expression didn’t change.

But his silence was loud.

Tola chuckled.

“Ah. I understand.”

“You don’t understand anything,” Jamal said, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“I understand that history is standing in your office again,” she said lightly. “And you’re pretending you’re not shaken.”

Jamal leaned back, thoughtful.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally.

“Love usually is,” she replied.

He didn’t respond.

Tola stepped out, leaving him alone with thoughts he had avoided for years.

He whispered her name again, softer this time.

“Eliana.”

The past had returned.

And he wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing…

or a warning.

That evening, Eliana sat on the balcony of her hotel suite, watching the city lights flicker.

She should have been working on her drafts.

She should have been reviewing colours and layouts.

But instead, she was replaying one moment:

“Is it?”

The way Jamal had said it — calm, deep, intentional — unsettled her. It made her chest ache in ways she didn’t want to admit.

Her phone buzzed.

A message.

From an unsaved number.

I hope you got home safely. — J

Eliana froze.

Her heart knocked against her ribs.

She typed back slowly.

I did. Thank you.

A few seconds passed.

Then:

Good. Rest well. Tomorrow will be a long day.

She stared at the screen.

Five years of silence.

Now this — gentle, familiar, disarming.

She placed her phone face-down and whispered to herself:

“Don’t fall. Don’t start again.”

But deep inside, she knew something had already shifted.

Jamal was back.

And no matter how hard she tried, her heart wasn’t as guarded as she wanted it to be.