LOGINTheo's birthday fell on a Wednesday. Elena had taken the day off work. No meetings. No emails. Just a small cake from the bakery down the street, blue icing with little white stars. She blew up balloons in the living room while Theo napped. The apartment smelled like vanilla and rubber. She kept glancing at her phone. No messages from Alexander. No calls. Part of her was relieved. The other part kept waiting for the knock.
Mrs. Alvarez came over early. Brought a bag of party hats and a wrapped gift. A puzzle with dinosaurs. "For my favorite boy," she said. Theo woke up rubbing his eyes. Saw the balloons. Grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. They ate cake at the tiny kitchen table. Theo blew out the four candles in one breath. Elena clapped. Mrs. Alvarez sang off-key. It was simple. Perfect. After cake Theo tore into the gifts. A new book from Elena. The puzzle from Mrs. Alvarez. A toy truck from one of his preschool friends. He lined them up on the floor like treasures. Elena watched him play. Felt the quiet ache that came every birthday. Another year without a father in the picture. Another year telling herself it was enough. The doorbell rang. Mrs. Alvarez looked at Elena. "You expecting someone?" Elena shook her head. Heart already picking up speed. She opened the door. Alexander stood there. Jeans. Dark sweater. No cap this time. Holding a gift bag. Small. Wrapped in plain brown paper. "Hi," he said. Voice low. Careful. Theo heard the voice. Ran to the door. "Alex!" Alexander crouched. Smiled. "Happy birthday, buddy." Theo hugged him hard. Alexander hugged back. Looked up at Elena over Theo's shoulder. She stepped aside. "Come in." He walked in slow. Like he was stepping on glass. Mrs. Alvarez raised an eyebrow but smiled. "I'll take Theo to the living room. Give you two a minute." She led Theo away. Left them in the hallway. Elena crossed her arms. "You didn't have to come." "I wanted to." He held out the gift bag. "For Theo." She took it. Peered inside. A stuffed wolf. Soft gray fur. Big eyes. The kind of toy that costs more than her weekly grocery budget. "He loves wolves," she said quietly. "I remembered." Silence stretched. Elena looked at the floor. Then at him. "Why didn't you tell me about her?" she asked. Alexander frowned. "Who?" "The fiancée. Last year. The charity event. I saw the photo." He exhaled. Ran a hand through his hair. "She wasn't my fiancée. Not really. We dated for a few months. It ended before anything serious. The press got it wrong. They always do." Elena nodded slow. Not sure if she believed him. Not sure if it mattered. "I didn't want to hide anything," he said. "I just... I didn't think it was relevant." "It is to me." He met her eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have told you." She looked away. Toward the living room where Theo was showing Mrs. Alvarez the wolf. Alexander followed her gaze. "Can I give him the gift?" She hesitated. Then nodded. They walked in. Theo looked up. Saw the bag. "Is that for me?" Alexander knelt. "Yeah. Open it." Theo pulled out the wolf. Squeezed it. "He's soft!" "His name is Shadow," Alexander said. "Thought he could keep you company at night." Theo hugged the wolf tight. "Thank you, Alex." Alexander's throat moved. "You're welcome." Mrs. Alvarez cleared her throat. "I'll head out. Let you all celebrate." She hugged Theo. Kissed Elena's cheek. Whispered, "Call me if you need me." Then left. Theo dragged Alexander to the floor. Showed him every toy. Alexander listened. Asked questions. Laughed when Theo made the truck crash into the wolf. Elena watched from the couch. Arms around her knees. Something warm and dangerous growing in her chest. After an hour Theo yawned. Rubbed his eyes. "Story time?" Elena smiled. "Yeah. Pick a book." Theo chose the new one. Climbed onto the couch. Alexander sat on the other end. Elena in the middle. She read aloud. Voice soft. Theo leaned against her. Then slowly slid over until his head was on Alexander's lap. Alexander froze. Looked at Elena. She didn't move him. Theo fell asleep halfway through the story. Breathing even. Wolf tucked under his arm. Elena closed the book. Quiet. Alexander looked down at Theo. Then at her. "This is more than I deserve." She didn't argue. He reached over. Slow. Touched her hand. Just fingers brushing hers. She didn't pull away. They sat like that for a long time. Theo sleeping between them. Rain still tapping the window. Elena felt the warmth spread. The fear didn't go away. But it got smaller. Alexander spoke first. Barely a whisper. "I don't want to mess this up." "Then don't," she said. He nodded. She looked at him. Really looked. Saw the lines around his eyes. The way his hand shook just a little when he touched Theo's hair. "I need time," she said. "You have it." She nodded. He stayed until Theo woke up cranky from the nap. Elena walked him to the door. "Thank you for coming," she said. "Thank you for letting me." He leaned in. Kissed her forehead. Soft. Quick. Then left. Elena closed the door. Leaned against it. Theo came running. Wolf in one hand. Truck in the other. "Mommy, Alex said he'll come next weekend too." She smiled. "Did he?" "Yeah." Elena picked him up. Held him close. She didn't know what next weekend would bring. But for tonight the apartment felt a little less empty. And the card on the counter didn't feel heavy anymore. It felt like a promise. Across the city Alexander sat in his car outside the building. Watched the lights in Elena's window go out. He started the engine. Smiled to himself. One step. He was learning to take them slower.The rain returned on the third night after the funeral, heavier than before, like the sky itself was grieving. Elena sat alone in the living room, the lights off, only the blue glow from the television lighting her face. She hadn’t turned the sound on. She didn’t need to hear anything. She just needed to see something move.Theo had left that morning. He hugged her too long at the door, whispered “Call me if anything feels wrong,” and drove back to Lagos with his wife and the twins. Amara had flown out the day before, promising to bring her daughters for the weekend. Kai had called from New York at noon, voice thick, saying he’d be home next month. Nia had stayed until yesterday evening, then hugged her mother and said, “I’m only two hours away. I’ll come whenever you need me.”Now the house was empty.Elena didn’t cry.She hadn’t cried since the hospital. Not at the funeral. Not when they lowered the coffin. Not when the grandchildren asked why Grandpa wasn’t waking up. She had smile
The rain came back on the first anniversary of Alexander’s death, not gently this time, but with a low, angry growl that rolled in from the Atlantic and refused to leave. It hammered the Lekki compound roof like fists, rattled the windows, flooded the garden paths into muddy streams. Elena woke to it at 3:47 a.m., heart already pounding before her eyes opened. She lay still for a long moment, listening to the storm tear at the palms outside, feeling the old fear crawl up her spine—the fear she thought she had buried with him.She reached for the bedside lamp. The light came on weak and yellow. Alexander’s side of the bed was cold, the pillow untouched. She sat up slowly, eighty-one years of living pressing against her bones. Her hand found the small wooden box on the nightstand—the one he had kept locked for decades. She opened it without thinking, the way she had opened it every year on this date since he left.Inside, the letters were still there. The USB drive (copies made long ago
The rain had become a language Elena spoke fluently by her eighty-third year. She could tell the difference between the sharp, angry downpour that came with arguments and the soft, forgiving mist that followed forgiveness. Tonight it was the latter—gentle, almost hesitant, as if the sky itself was unsure whether to speak or stay silent. She sat on the veranda in the rocking chair, the same one that had rocked her through every storm and sunrise since the old penthouse days. The blanket across her lap was threadbare now, but it still smelled faintly of jasmine and Alexander’s aftershave, even though he had been gone seven years.The compound was quiet. The children and grandchildren had left after the weekend celebration of her birthday. Theo had flown back to Lagos with promises to return next month. Amara had hugged her tightly and whispered, “I’ll bring the girls for Christmas.” Kai had played one last song on the veranda—something new, something sad and hopeful—and kissed her foreh
The rain returned on the first anniversary of Alexander’s death, not as a storm but as a quiet, persistent visitor. It tapped against the veranda roof of the Lekki compound like someone too polite to knock loudly, soft enough to be background music, steady enough to remind Elena of every rainy day that had shaped her life. She sat in the rocking chair—the one that had traveled from the old penthouse balcony—wrapped in the same wool blanket she had used on the night he slipped away. At eighty-two, the chair still fit her perfectly, as if it had grown old with her.The house was full again. Theo and his wife had arrived the day before with their grown children and the twins’ toddlers. Amara had flown in from London with her daughters. Kai had come from New York, guitar case in hand. Nia had brought her family from Abuja, including the newest great-grandchild, a six-month-old girl named after Elena. The courtyard had echoed with laughter, the smell of jollof rice and pepper soup, the cla
The rain had returned by the time Elena opened the second envelope. It wasn’t the violent downpour of her youth, nor the steady drumming that had accompanied so many turning points in her life. This was a soft, almost apologetic rain—drops tapping lightly against the veranda roof like someone too polite to knock loudly. She sat in the rocking chair, the same one that had rocked her through pregnancies, grief, joy, and now this. The envelope in her lap was heavier than it looked. Cream paper, slightly yellowed, sealed with old wax that had cracked in places but still held. Alexander’s handwriting on the front:For Elena – Open when the rain remembers.She had found it that morning, tucked inside the back cover of the final bound volume of her manuscript—the one she had finished writing after his death. She hadn’t noticed it before. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted to. The book had been her way of keeping him close; maybe she had saved this letter for when she needed him most.Her fingers s
The rain had started again by the time Elena opened the second envelope. It wasn’t the violent downpour of her youth, nor the steady drumming that had accompanied so many turning points in her life. This was a soft, almost apologetic rain—drops tapping lightly against the veranda roof like someone too polite to knock loudly. She sat in the rocking chair, the same one that had rocked her through pregnancies, grief, joy, and now this. The envelope in her lap was heavier than it looked. Cream paper, slightly yellowed, sealed with old wax that had cracked in places but still held. Alexander’s handwriting on the front:For Elena – Open when the rain remembers.She had found it that morning, tucked inside the back cover of the final bound volume of her manuscript—the one she had finished writing after his death. She hadn’t noticed it before. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted to. The book had been her way of keeping him close; maybe she had saved this letter for when she needed him most.Her fing







