Beyond Desire

30-I don't take women birdwatching by accident.

The silence after her question stretched longer than it should have.

"You..." she said again, this time, quieter. "You're a soldier?"

I took the card gently from her fingers before she could read anything else into it. Not because I was being secretive, I wasn't, but because some habits are just older than comfort. Older than affection even.

"No, I'm not."

Her brows furrowed immediately. "But this says...."

"It says defence," I interrupted calmly. "Not Military."

She tilted her head, suspicion and curiosity evident in her gaze. "Is that supposed to prove a point to me? Because it doesn't."

"It means, that I don't wear a uniform. And I also don't announce what I do."

She stared at me for a long second, then scoffed. "That sounds... worse."

"It's not."

"You literally just told me you keep your job secret," she said, incredulous. "That's how villains talk, Khalid."

"I am not a villain."

"That is exactly what a villain would say."

"God...You're dramatic." I shook my head, a smile playing on my lips despite myself.

She gasped. "I am appropriately responsive to new information."

"Right? That is why you thought I was trying to poison you with flowers earlier."

"Hey, it was just a silly joke. And in my defence, history is full of polite men who ruin lives."

"I brought lilies," I declared dryly. "Hardly a weapon."

She eyed the bouquet in her arms. "I don't know that. Maybe they are indeed cursed."

I chuckled. I hadn't even realized how much I needed that sound, something real and light, until it slipped out of me so easily.

"I work in defence intelligence," I eventually answered. "That is all you need to know."

"That is all you are giving me,"

"Yes."

She studied my face like she might find a loophole there. Then she sighed. "Fine. I won't interrogate you."

I raised a brow. "How gracious."

"But....I reserve the right to be suspicious."

"That's fair."

"And to make my own investigations."

"Are you that curious?"

"You have no idea."

"You won't find anything."

"Is that a challenge?" She beamed, staring at me as if she was daring me to say yes. I stared dead into her eyes and responded.

"Challenge."

Her small and satisfied smile followed and something settled in my chest. Not relief. Something quieter. Acceptance, maybe.

"Now," I said, gesturing toward the car, "are you still willing to trust a secretive, possibly cursed-lily-carrying intelligence officer?"

She considered for all of two seconds. "I already brought my Prada into this, returning her would be disrespectful." She wiggled the little bag She was carrying which I guessed was "the Prada."

⸻

The drive out of the city took longer than I planned, but she didn't complain once. Instead, she filled the car with commentary, about traffic, about how Abuja drivers treated indicators like optional accessories, about how I drove far too casually for someone who judged her driving skills.