**Mmasi's Pov**
After I hang up the call. I lay on my bed, burying my face in the pillow, trying to shut out the world and the confusing emotions churning inside me. I replayed the conversation in my head. My mind kept replaying the sound of Esteban's voice over and over again.
Damn it, why did talking to him make me feel so damn vulnerable? So damn exposed?
His voice, so damn gentle and warm... it made my heart skip a beat. And the way he talked to me—like I was the most incredible thing under the sun, like I could do no wrong. It was both flattering and terrifying all at once.
I was used to pushing people away. It was what I had done for years, the way I protected myself from getting hurt or hurting someone else.
But his words and that damn persistent determination of his... it made me question myself. Made me question whether I wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
I bury my face deeper into the pillow, closing my eyes as I let out a frustrated sigh. My heart is still racing from the phone call.
He's a persistent one, that damn man. And that damn voice of his... the way he called me 'sweetheart' in that low, gravelly tone...
Damn it. I can't get his stupid nickname out of my head. It's too damn intimate, too damn affectionate.
Sweetheart. No one has ever called me that before.
Sigh.
Why does it sound so goddamn perfect when it comes from him? Why do I want to hear him say it again and again, his voice soft and affectionate...
My heart squeezes in my chest at the thought.
No. I can't let myself get drawn to him. I'm not ready, goddamn it. I can't risk it. Not when I have Uchenna to think about.
My fingers unconsciously traced the edge of my phone, still warm from the call. I knew I should put it away, turn off the light, try to sleep… but my mind wouldn't settle.
He remembered Uchenna's name.
He didn't just walk past us like everyone else does. And he looked at me—really looked at me—like I wasn't broken. Like I was… worthy.
A single tear slipped down my cheek, quickly wiped away with the back of my hand. "Stop it," I whispered to myself in the dark. "You can't start hoping again."
But then why did his voice feel like home? Why did three little words — you're amazing, sweetheart — unravel something deep inside me that hadn't moved in years?
I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling through tired eyes.
Esteban... you're dangerous.
The next day.
I found myself constantly checking my phone. No new messages. Just the lingering memory of his voice, that deep, velvety tone saying "sweetheart" like it was something sacred.
I tried to focus on work—typing up reports and answering emails—but my mind kept drifting back to him. The way he stood so tall and calm when he held Uchenna. How gentle his eyes were when he looked at me… like I wasn't just a tired single mother trying to survive the day.
I spent the rest of the day trying to distract myself. I cleaned the house, did the laundry, and helped Uchenna with his homework. But every little task felt like an effort. Every time the phone buzzed, I nearly jumped out of my skin. But it was only ever spam calls, or work emails. Never a text from him.
As the night grew darker, my mind kept wandering back to him. I knew I shouldn't. I knew it was dangerous. But I couldn't help it. I found myself checking my phone again, a flicker of hope refusing to die.
Even Uchenna noticed I was distracted during dinner.
"Mama," he said softly, "why are you looking at your phone so much?"
I quickly set it face down on the table with a soft laugh that didn't quite reach my eyes.
"Nothing, baby. Mama's just… thinking."
Uchenna nodded, not pushing it any further. The little boy went back to his dinner, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil going on in his mother's head. Meanwhile, I picked at my plate, barely touching the food. My stomach was in knots, my mind replaying our last conversation like a damn broken record—over and over again.
Damn it. I couldn't shake this feeling. I was getting attached. Getting caught up in a fantasy that could never be real. He said I was amazing… like he meant it. Like he truly believed it.
My fingers itched to send him a text, to hear his voice again, just for a minute. Just one more time. But I stopped myself, a familiar voice of doubt and fear holding me back.
"Don't be stupid", it said. This is nothing but a fleeting moment. You don't need anyone, remember? You're better off alone. You don't have time for some man to complicate things. Uchenna needs you—focus on him, not some guy.
I knew that voice was right, but that didn't make it any easier.
Reality slapped me in the face again. He was Esteban—a rich, handsome man with a smooth voice and probably an easy life. And I? I was Mmasi—a struggling single mother barely making ends meet, with tired eyes and a heart full of scars.
I sighed quietly to myself, pushing my plate away. No matter how warm his words were, no matter how safe his presence made me feel.
I couldn't let him get too close.
I shook my head, trying to shake off the thoughts. But they kept coming back to me like a damn ghost, no matter how much I told myself to stop. I kept hoping, stupidly, that he'd contact me again—send something, anything. But there was nothing but radio silence. Just my imagination and this aching in my chest that I couldn't ignore.
Why was I like this? Why did three little words from a damn stranger mess me up so much? I was stronger than this. I had to be.
Night fell, and I found myself in bed again, staring at the ceiling. The house was silent, the only noise coming from the occasional car outside. I couldn't sleep, not with the thoughts swirling around in my head like a damn whirlwind.
My phone lay on the side table, taunting me. Why was I acting like this? Like a damn teenager with a crush, waiting for a boy to text or call. I was a grown ass woman with responsibilities. I had a job, a son, bills to pay… the last thing I needed was some guy messing me up like this.
I spent the whole damn night tossing and turning, unable to get a wink of sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face—that damn handsome face, those eyes like dark pools of honey, the soft, confident smile on his lips when he said my name. I heard his voice, that damn deep, gravelly tone saying "sweetheart", the word like a damn honey trap around my heart.
And when my thoughts started to drift into… more intimate territory? I quickly shut them down. No. No, no, no. No fantasising.
I couldn't allow myself to go there. I was a mother, for Christ's sake. And he—he was some rich businessman, probably going from one fancy party to the next without a care in the world. I was just a tired single mom trying to keep it all together. I had no business daydreaming about him like some stupid schoolgirl. We were from completely different worlds.
And yet… and yet I couldn't stop the dreams. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there like a goddamn ghost, smiling at me.
I had never felt this way before—confused, hopeful, terrified, frustrated, angry, damn well near desperate. I'd been alone for so long, keeping everyone at arm's length. But now, here was this one man—a total stranger no less—messing up my entire world. He was handsome, charming, and rich. Probably had a different girl on his arm every night. And here I was, the single mother, feeling so restless because of a guy I barely knew.
I hated it. Hated how weak he made me feel.
I tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. But every position felt wrong, every damn thought in my head driving me crazy. Why was I so desperate for a text, a call, even just a goddamn emoji? I tried to ignore the thoughts, the aching in my chest, to push it all down. I'd survived this long. I didn't need anyone, especially not him.
But then, as if the night wanted to mess with me even more, my goddamn phone vibrated on the side table. My heart immediately leapt in my chest.
It took everything in me not to immediately reach for it. I told myself it was probably just a notification, or a spam message. But that damn hope, that stupid hope that I tried to stomp out… it flared to life. It was pathetic, and I hated myself for it. My fingers itched to pick up the damn phone, to see if it was him.
And as if drawn by the damn devil, I grabbed it.
I unlocked the screen, my heart pounding like I was doing something wrong. I tried to ignore the feeling, the voice in my head telling me to put the phone back down and forget it.
But that stupid, stupid hope… it won out. I looked at the screen, my heart in my throat, bracing myself for whatever damn notification I was about to get.