By the time I drove to pick him up from the airport, I had already decided who I would be.
Reasonable.
Calm.
Not dramatic.
He walked through the arrival doors scanning the crowd.
When he saw me, his face softened immediately.
He smiled.
The same smile.
Relief washed over me before I could stop it.
He pulled me into a hug.
"You missed me," he murmured into my hair.
I inhaled.
His cologne.
Familiar.
Comforting.
Almost convincing.
"I did," I replied.
And I had.
That was the complication.
In the car, he talked easily.
"The meetings were longer than expected."
"The hotel food was terrible."
"Kumasi traffic is ridiculous."
Details.
Again.
And the details reassured me.
By the time we reached his apartment, I had almost convinced myself the video meant nothing.
Inside, he dropped his bag and turned to me.
"Let's go out this weekend."
I blinked. "You don't even like going out."
"You do."
He stepped closer.
"I should do more things you like."
That was new.
Over the next few days, he became attentive in ways he hadn't before.
Longer texts. Random check-ins. Unexpected compliments.
On Friday, he showed up at my office with flowers.
He had never done that.
The receptionist smiled at me.
"You're lucky."
Lucky.
That word stayed with me.
That night, his phone buzzed while we were on the couch.
He glanced at it quickly.
Then placed it face-down.
He had never placed it face-down before.
He stood.
"I'll take this on the balcony."
Another first.
I told myself not to notice.
But once you notice once, you notice everything.
When he returned, he wrapped his arm around me.
"You're overthinking something," he said lightly.
"I'm not."
But the truth was
I was working very hard not to.
And that effort was exhausting.