Òyì nke e mepụtara

"She stood in the doorway, watching him. The city lights behind her cast her in silhouette, and something in the way she leaned against the frame made his chest tight. "You're late," she said. Not angry. Almost... amused. He couldn't find words. She'd always had that effect — rendered him stupid with a glance, a word, the barest hint of a smile. She crossed the room slowly. Deliberately. Each step measured, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Like she always knew.