Her Love, His Scars
Chapter One – The Girl with the Confident Walk
Ziora's slippers tapped steadily against the concrete, her tote bag bouncing softly against her hip. The sun had dipped low behind the buildings, casting long shadows over the street, and the Lagos evening air was beginning to cool.
She had just left choir practice — her sanctuary, her safe space — and was walking home alone, her head full of worship lyrics and tomorrow's fashion sketches. She had a deadline to meet and a client who wouldn't stop stressing her over a lace corset dress for a wedding that wasn't even hers.
But tonight, her mind was quiet. Peaceful. Until a black Toyota Corolla pulled up beside her.
She didn't stop walking. Lagos girls knew better.
"Hi," a voice called out. Deep, calm, laced with confidence.
She turned slightly. "Yes?"
The guy behind the wheel leaned toward the passenger side. His face was partially in shadow, but she saw enough: dark skin, well-groomed beard, a silver chain around his neck, and the kind of jawline that got girls acting out of character.
"I'm not trying to stress you," he said. "I just saw you walking, and—well, you caught my eye."
Ziora raised one brow. "Okay. You've said it."
He chuckled. "I'm Damian."
She nodded, unimpressed. "And?"
"Can I know your name?"
She tilted her head slightly, weighing her options. Finally, she gave him her backup name — the one she used when she wasn't sure.
"Zee."
He repeated it like it tasted sweet. "Zee… I like that."
Of course you do, she thought.
"Can I have your number?" he added.
"Why?"
"Because you're the first girl I've seen today that didn't slow down to hear me talk," he said. "You look like someone that doesn't have time for nonsense. That makes me curious."
She folded her arms. "You always stop girls on the road?"
"Nope. I usually mind my business. But something about you…"
Ziora sighed. She should walk away. She really should. But there was something in his voice — smooth but not arrogant, bold but not too pushy.
"You'll delete it later anyway," she muttered and began calling out the digits.
He typed quickly and called the number.
Her phone buzzed in her bag.
"Had to confirm," he said. "Just in case you're one of those girls that gives fake numbers."
"You don't even know if I'll save yours."
"Fair. But at least I've planted the seed."
Ziora let out a quiet laugh. "Good night, Damian."
He smiled, watching her walk away.
That night, as she rinsed out her makeup and folded fabric in her small studio, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
Let me know when you get home safe, Zee.
She didn't reply.
But she stared at the message a little longer than she should have.
She didn't know his real story.
She didn't know where he was coming from, what he had survived, or what loving him would cost.
All she knew was that he smiled like a gentleman... and hid damage like a storm.
And giving him her number?
That was the beginning of her downfall.