Two Glasses of Wine
Daniel sat in his office, staring at the untouched plate of jollof rice on his desk.
His mother had sent it he could taste the exact same seasoning from childhood, he couldn't stop comparing it to the ogbono Favour once claimed as hers.
His mind was a tangled string of memories: her laughter, her wide eyes, the nervous energy she had when he entered the kitchen. Was it all a performance?
That evening, he met Ijeoma for coffee innocently, at first.
It was supposed to be closure.
"Your wife is trying, Daniel," she said softly. "But you… you still look lonely."
Daniel stared at her. "She lied, yes. But I'm not ready to write her off."
Ijeoma's lips twitched. "Even after everything?"
He didn't respond.
They ended up sharing a glass of wine. One became two. He didn't cheat but he came close. Too close. Her hand brushed his once, too long. She leaned in once, too far.
He pulled back just in time.
But in his heart, guilt already bloomed.