She hadn't spoken again since she told me her name.
Chidinma.
The name stayed in my head like a song I didn't want to forget. It had a calmness to it, but nothing about her was calm.
She sat on the same couch, knees pulled tightly to her chest, head down, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to disappear. Her eyes stayed low, like she was afraid of meeting mine. Like she didn't trust anyone.
And maybe she had a good reason.
I'd seen fear before. I'd seen pain, grief, heartbreak. I'd lived through my own.
But what she carried in her eyes was different. It was deep.
Something I didn't fully understand.
*************
Fiona came in again, this time with a new tray. Jollof rice. Grilled chicken. Warm, fresh, and inviting.
"Try to eat something, sweetheart," she said softly, placing the tray on the table in front of her.
Chidinma didn't move.
Not even a glance.
She kept staring at the same spot on the floor like it held all the answers.
"Maybe she needs time," I said quietly.
Clara looked at me, then back at the woman on the couch. "I just don't want her getting weak. She hasn't eaten anything since morning. And her lips are dry."
"She'll eat when she's ready."
Clara sighed, then leaned in and whispered, "You need to stop pacing around her like a lost puppy."
"I'm not pacing," I muttered.
She gave me a look, then walked out.
I sat across the room, far enough to give her space but close enough to see her. Watch her.
Her hands trembled slightly as she hugged her knees.
I wanted to ask what happened to her.
I wanted to know why she was running.
But I knew she wasn't ready to talk.
So I stayed quiet.
********
The clock ticked slowly. The whole room felt still, like we were both stuck in the same frozen moment.
It reminded me of the days after Audrey died.
When everything around me kept moving—calls, meetings, board decisions—but I remained still. Emotionless.
That's how she looked now.
Not broken, but paused.
Like her spirit had gone somewhere else.
And I couldn't explain why… but I wanted to bring it back.
I stood up and walked toward the tray Clara had left. I picked up the glass of water and gently walked over.
"Here," I said, holding it out. "Just a few sips. You don't have to talk. You don't have to explain anything."
She didn't move.
"Please," I added. "Just water. That's all."
She looked at the glass, then at my face. Her eyes were tired. Red. Like she'd been crying in silence.
Then, slowly—very slowly—she reached out and took the glass.
Her fingers brushed mine. They were cold. Shaky.
She brought the glass to her lips and drank a little. Just enough to wet her throat.
I felt something loosen in my chest. Relief, maybe.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
She didn't reply. But she kept the glass in her hands, holding it like it was the only thing real in her world.
I sat down again, this time on the single-seater near her. Still not too close. Still giving her room.
The silence between us wasn't heavy anymore.
It felt like… a step. A small one. But still a step.
**********
As the day moved on, I watched her body relax slightly. Her shoulders weren't as tense. Her breathing wasn't as fast.
She still didn't eat, though.
She pushed the tray away gently when Fiona came back.
But she stayed in the room. She didn't try to run. Didn't scream.
It was progress.
And I could live with that.
Fiona cornered me in the hallway later.
"She needs real help, Callum," she whispered. "Like, professional help. Therapy. Maybe even medical attention."
"I know," I said.
"So what are we doing?"
"She's not ready for that yet. You saw how she reacted earlier. She probably doesn't even know who to trust anymore."
"And you think you're the one she'll trust?"
I didn't answer. Because I didn't know.
I wasn't even sure why I felt this strong pull toward her.
It made no sense.
But something about her pain… it hit me harder than it should have.
I'd been empty for so long. Numb. And now this stranger had come into my house, and somehow, I couldn't look away.
*******
By evening, I found myself sitting in the garden outside, just thinking.
The flowers were blooming. The breeze was soft. It should've been peaceful.
But my thoughts were loud.
What was I really doing?
This woman had shown up from nowhere. No story. No background. Nothing.
And still, I couldn't stop thinking about her.
I remembered the way she looked at me when I offered the water. Like she wanted to trust me… but was afraid to.
It wasn't just fear I saw in her.
It was a silent plea. A cry she wasn't voicing.
And maybe… just maybe… I was hearing it.
***********
Later that night, I checked on her one more time.
She was lying on the couch now, eyes closed, but not asleep.
I stood at the door for a few seconds, not sure if I should speak.
But then she opened her eyes and looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something other than fear in them.
Still sadness. Still distance.
But also… curiosity.
Like she was trying to figure me out.
I nodded once. Not a word. Just an acknowledgment.
She blinked slowly.
I turned and walked away.
*******
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The company was falling apart. My future was uncertain.
But all I could think about… was her.
Her silence. Her fear.
And the part of me that was slowly waking up again.
I didn't know who Chidinma really was.
But I knew one thing:
I couldn't walk away from her.
Not now.
Not when her silence sounded so much like my own once did.