The boutique had never felt this bright.
After weeks of chaos and whispers, peace had finally returned and with it, Juliette's quiet glow.
The same client who once stormed in furious now sent a glowing recommendation that spread like perfume. The boutique owner smiled wider these days. Mrs. Ajayi who once scolded with venom now softened her tone:
"Juliette, dear, can you help me with this one?"
Even Zina and Fola wouldn't stop teasing her.
"See our madam designer oo!" Zina grinned, nudging her.
Juliette only laughed, cheeks flushed, her voice shy but pleased. For the first time in a long while, the air around her wasn't heavy.
By noon, a luxury delivery arrived a pale cream box tied with a white ribbon, carrying the scent of soft vanilla and lemon cream.
No note. But she didn't need one.
Her chest fluttered quietly.
She'd mentioned those exact pastries once just once on a random evening weeks ago.
Cassian had listened.
She didn't say a word about it. Just smiled, tucked the box beneath her desk, and tasted one piece sweet, delicate, a softness that filled her heart.
Maybe this was his way of speaking. Not in words.
But in small, silent gestures.
That Friday evening, Fola threw her hands up dramatically.
"Girls' night out!" she announced, spinning her phone. "We're celebrating Juliette's boutique miracle tonight!"
Juliette protested half-heartedly.
"Ah-ah, I'm not in the mood for clubs."
But Zina was already on her side, whispering, "Please, babe. Just tonight. You've worked too hard. Forget men, forget stress. Let's breathe!"
——————
By sunset, they checked into a hotel suite close to the city's newest lounge gold lights, scented candles, champagne bottles chilling in ice.
Laughter filled the air as they prepared, music soft and playful.
Juliette sat by the mirror, quiet while Fola curled her hair.
The girl in the reflection didn't look like the tired, anxious woman from two weeks ago.
Her skin glowed warm under the lamplight. Her lashes brushed her cheeks. Her lips were a faint cherry rose, full and soft.
The dress a short, soft blush pink with a square neckline and thin straps hugged her in all the right places.
The fabric shimmered gently when she moved, catching light like spilled champagne.
A delicate gold bangle circled her wrist, and a pair of small pearl earrings caught the glow from the mirror.
Zina gasped when she turned.
"God, Juliette. You look like the kind of problem billionaires start wars for."
Juliette laughed, heat rushing to her cheeks.
"You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously right," Fola said, snapping a photo.
They danced around, took mirror selfies, and when it was almost time to leave, Fola suggested they crash at the hotel afterward.
"Abeg, no stress to drive home late," she said.
Juliette hesitated. Cassian's voice echoed in her mind that calm but firm tone.
"Never sleep out. Always come home."
She smiled faintly. "I'll go home tonight. Mama might need me."
It wasn't exactly a lie. But not the truth, either.
...
The lounge pulsed with music soft bass, velvet lights.
Juliette let herself enjoy it for once.
She danced. She laughed. She forgot the world outside that room.
Her phone buzzed sometime past 1:30.
Cassian.
She froze, the name burning on her screen.
"Everything alright?" Zina shouted over the music.
Juliette nodded quickly, stepping outside to answer.
"Hello?"
His voice was low, calm too calm.
"Where are you?"
She swallowed. "Out with friends."
"At this hour?"
The way he said it wasn't harsh. It was quiet. Contained. But there was a weight in his voice that made her chest tighten.
"Cassian, I'm fine. I just
"I'm sending the driver," he said, cutting her off softly. "Text me the address."
She wanted to argue. But she didn't.
She knew that tone.
And maybe… maybe she wanted him to come.
When the car pulled up, she was half-drunk, half-dreamy.
Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, perfume like vanilla and rose petals trailing behind her.
She stood by the curb, the cool night breeze brushing her bare legs, one strap of her dress slipping slightly down her shoulder.
The door opened.
Cassian stepped out.
He was still in his evening suit black, crisp, impossibly sharp.
His eyes found her instantly.
For a long, still moment, he didn't move.
He just looked at her.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed slightly with champagne and warmth.
Her lips glowed under the streetlight pink and glistening, curved in the softest smile.
She looked up at him, a little shy, a little tipsy.
"Cassian."
He breathed her name like it hurt. "You shouldn't be out here like this."
"Like what?" she teased faintly, voice slow, delicate.
He took a step closer, his jaw tightening.
"Like something that doesn't belong to the world anymore."
Her heart stumbled.
He took her hand, cold fingers brushing her wrist.
"Let's go home," he said quietly.
The ride was silent but charged.
Juliette leaned her head against the glass, half-smiling.
"I didn't think you'd actually come for me."
He turned his head slightly, his eyes finding her reflection.
"I always will."
Something soft cracked open inside her.
When they got home, she slipped off her heels at the door, laughing softly as she lost balance. He caught her before she could fall.
His hand around her waist.
Her breath against his neck.
"Cassian," she whispered. "You're too serious sometimes."
He looked down at her and something in him gave way.
Her lips were parted, eyes dreamy, the faint scent of wine and vanilla clinging to her skin.
She looked both vulnerable and untouchable, the kind of beauty that didn't try it just existed.
"Juliette," he murmured.
She blinked up at him, her lips trembling slightly.
His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth slow, deliberate.
Her breath hitched.
Her lips were dry.
She reached out her tongue and wet them unconsciously a small, thoughtless movement.
His eyes darkened instantly.
He swallowed hard, his hand still cupping her jaw.
The air between them thickened.
Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingertips.
"Cassian…" she breathed, voice shaking just enough to sound like surrender.
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because a moment later, his lips found hers
and the world fell silent.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't wild.
It was slow, searching, desperate in its restraint.
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
His hand slipped behind her neck, drawing her closer.
Her lips trembled beneath his, tasting faintly of lemon and longing.
And when he finally pulled back, both of them breathless, his voice was barely a whisper.
"Don't ever do that again," he said.
But his forehead stayed against hers, his breath still tangled with hers, his tone not of anger but fear.
As if he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.