The train into Denvor Heights was delayed, which gave Jada time to rehearse her presentation for the third time. She was visiting for a conference her firm insisted she attend — “good networking, even better exposure,” her boss had said.
The hotel lobby buzzed with activity. Crisp suits, lanyards, coffee-fueled chatter. Jada tried to stay focused, but the city’s hum had a pulse that reminded her of another life — the one with Micah in it.
He used to talk about Denvor like it was magic. “The city that made me fall in love with jazz and midnight diners,” he once said. She didn’t expect him to be here — couldn’t have predicted it — but when she turned a corner into the second-floor lounge and saw him leaning against a high-top table, time folded in on itself.
Micah.
His hair was shorter now. Neater. He wore a navy blazer and spoke to a group of men with his usual confidence, one hand in his pocket. She froze, heart in her throat, half hoping he wouldn’t see her.
He did.
Their eyes met. A flicker of recognition. And then tension.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Just looked — long enough to say, I see you, but not long enough to say more.
Jada turned away, heart pounding.
She saw him again that evening in the hotel bar. This time, he approached.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, voice steady but unreadable.
“Same,” she replied, trying not to let her hands shake.
There was silence.
Then he added, “I got your letter.”
Jada’s breath hitched. “You did.”
He nodded. “Wasn’t sure how to respond.”
“You don’t have to,” she said quickly.
“I know,” he replied. “Still figuring out what I want to say.”
They didn’t talk much more that night. Just polite nods, small smiles, and two people wading through the wreckage of what once was.
But something had shifted.
For the first time in months, Jada didn’t feel like a woman begging to be seen.
She felt like a woman seen — even if just for a moment.
Baawa Unfiltered 