In the weeks that followed, Alexander found himself thinking about Maya more than he cared to admit. He had tried to shake the feeling, dismissing it as a fleeting curiosity. Yet, every time he entered his penthouse, he found himself hoping she would be there, her presence a curious comfort he had never anticipated.
Maya returned to clean his apartment every Tuesday and Thursday, always with the same quiet determination and grace.
Alexander watched her from a distance, pretending to read reports or check emails, but his attention was inevitably drawn to her. She was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, and that intrigued him.
One evening, as she was about to leave, Alexander spoke up. “Maya,” he called, stopping her just before the elevator doors.
“Do you have a moment?”
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the button, but nodded.
“Yes, sir?”
“I’d like to know more about you,” he said, surprising himself with his sincerity. “Would you have dinner with me?”
Maya looked at him with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. “Dinner?
With you?”
“Yes,” he replied simply, unbothered by her incredulity.
She paused, then gave a small nod. “Alright.
Dinner.”
That evening, they sat across from each other in a modest Italian restaurant far removed from Alexander’s usual haunts. The setting was unfamiliar, but in a way, it felt right.
There were no expectations, no pretenses.
Just two people sharing a meal. Maya spoke of her life in Harlem, the struggles of being a single mother to her son, Caleb, and her dreams of becoming a nurse. Her story was not one of privilege or luxury, but of resilience and hope.
Alexander found himself captivated, not by her misfortune, but by her strength in the face of it.
As she spoke, he realized how detached he had become from the realities of life outside his bubble of wealth and status. Maya’s world was raw and real, and her perspective was a breath of fresh air he hadn’t realized he needed.
“Why do you want to know about my life?” she asked, her eyes searching his. “I guess I’ve been… detached,” Alexander admitted, the words feeling foreign yet honest.
“I’ve surrounded myself with people who want something from me.
But you… you’re different.”
“You could say that,” she laughed, her smile genuine and warm. “I’m not exactly your usual crowd.”
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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