The week after the PTA meeting, I thought perhaps I'd imagined it all-the brush of his fingers, the weight of his stare, the way he had said my name. Men like Iyke Obiora lived in a world too far from mine. Surely, he had forgotten me the moment he walked out of the school hall.
But on Wednesday afternoon, his driver pulled up in front of the school gates.
I noticed the sleek black Range Rover first, its tinted windows gleaming under the sun. It wasn't unusual for wealthy parents to send drivers, but when the window rolled down and Iyke himself leaned out, my heart stuttered.
"Miss Okoye," he called, his voice smooth and steady, carrying easily across the noise of departing students.
I blinked, startled. "Sir?"
"I wondered if you had a moment," he said, like it was the most casual thing in the world. His gaze, however, was anything but casual.
Colleagues glanced curiously in my direction. Teachers shepherded noisy children toward waiting cars, and still he watched me, patient, expectant. Against my better judgment, I walked closer to the car.
He smiled faintly. "I wanted to thank you personally for helping me the other night. I thought perhaps we could discuss it... over coffee."
"Coffee?" The word slipped out before I could stop it.
"Just coffee," he said, though his tone wrapped around the word with a weight that made it feel like something far more. "Theres a café not far from here. Unless, of course, you're too busy?"
Every instinct told me to say yes-that I was busy, that this was inappropriate, that a married man like him had no business inviting me anywhere. But my mouth betrayed me.
"I suppose... I can spare a little time."
His smile deepened, slow and deliberate, like a man who'd just won a game he knew was rigged in his favor. He opened the car door. "Please. Allow me."
The leather seat enveloped me as I slid inside, my heart pounding loud enough to drown out the chatter of the street outside. The faint scent of his cologne filled the space, intimate, inescapable.
As the car pulled away from the school gates, I glanced at him. He wasn't looking at his phone, or the road, or anything else. His eyes were on me-steady, unreadable, burning with an intensity that made my breath catch.
That was the moment I knew: this was no accident.
