17/09/2025
Chapter 4 – The Charming Stranger
Norman had perfected his mask.
He knew how to stand just close enough to seem protective but not possessive. He knew when to speak softly, when to laugh, when to frown in sympathy. By day, he wore slim-cut suits that smelled of expensive cologne and drove a black SUV that gleamed like polished obsidian. By night, he dropped Anita and daniel off at church programs or at their small apartment with a warm smile and a bag of groceries.
He presented himself as a self-made businessman — a young man who rose from nothing through hustle, grit, and prayer. “I was once like you, Anita,” he would say in a low, sincere voice. “No father, no help. I sold water on the street to pay my school fees. But look at me now. God turned my pain into gain.”
Anita listened, half in disbelief, half in yearning. His stories gave her hope, even though a small, tired part of her wondered why such a man, so successful, would choose to spend his time with a broken woman and her little brother. But the bills were real. The hunger was real. Daniel’s school fees were real. And Norman paid them without complaint.
He was generous but careful. He never gave large sums that could attract gossip; instead he quietly paid for things Anita desperately needed. When Daniels shoes tore, Norman brought two new pairs. When Anita’s secondhand freezer broke down, Norman arrived two days later with a brand-new one. When she mentioned that she missed having her own sewing machine, a courier delivered one to her door the next week.
He also invested in her emotions. He called every morning to say “good day,” and every night to say “sleep well.” He learned Daniel’s ’s favorite snacks and showed up with them. He listened when Anita cried about her parents, when she recounted dreams about the fire, when she wondered out loud why she was still alive. He never tried to change the subject or rush her grief; he let it flow, appearing endlessly patient.
To the neighborhood, Norman was a miracle. Women whispered about how Anita was “lucky” to find such a man after tragedy. Men nodded respectfully at Norman’s polished car. Little did they know the car had once idled outside Anita’s home on the night of the fire.
Inside, Norman was not patient. He was calculating. Each gift, each favor, each gentle gesture was a link in a chain he was slowly building around Anita. He had studied her vulnerabilities — survivor’s guilt, financial strain, her soft heart for daniel — and he played them like a violin. Alex had taught him: destroy first, then rescue, then own.
Anita herself began to feel the shift. She caught herself waiting for Norman’s calls, choosing her outfits based on what he liked, asking his opinion before making decisions. Sometimes, late at night, she would sit on the edge of her mattress with daniel asleep beside her, staring at the sewing machine he bought, at the groceries stacked neatly in the corner, and feel a knot of gratitude and fear. Gratitude because he was the only person standing between her and starvation. Fear because she didn’t know how to live without his help anymore.
On a humid Friday evening, Norman took Anita and daniel to a new restaurant on the edge of town. Candles flickered on the tables, throwing soft shadows on the walls. Jazz music floated through the air, the kind of music Anita had only heard in movies. Joy’s eyes sparkled at the sight of shiny cutlery and sparkling water served in tall glasses.
Norman ordered without asking, his voice smooth as silk. “You deserve this,” he said to Anita, reaching across the table to touch her hand. “You’ve been through enough pain. Let me give you a new life.”
Anita’s throat tightened. She glanced at Joy, happily sipping her drink. She looked back at Norman’s face, so calm, so sure. He spoke of starting over, of moving them into a better apartment, of helping her relaunch her boutique dream. “You’re too young to carry all this weight,” he whispered. “Let me carry it with you.”
The restaurant lights glimmered on Norman’s watch, on the cufflinks at his wrist. His smile was steady, his eyes full of rehearsed compassion. In that moment, Anita saw him not as a stranger but as a lifeline — the only man who had been consistent since the fire.
She didn’t know his father, Alex, was still watching from the shadows, planning the next move. She didn’t know that Norman had already drawn up documents that would tie her to him legally and financially, papers disguised as “business agreements” and “insurance forms.” She only saw hope, and after months of hunger and pain, hope looked like salvation.
Norman leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This is only the beginning,” he said softly. “I have plans for you and daniel. Big plans. You’ll never suffer again.”
Anita’s heart fluttered — half from gratitude, half from exhaustion. She whispered “thank you” and looked away, fighting tears. She didn’t notice the satisfaction flicker across Norman’s face.
That night, as Norman drove them back to the apartment, the city lights reflecting off his windshield, Anita rested her head against the window and closed her eyes. For the first time since the fire, she allowed herself to imagine a future — a future built not on ashes but on the promises of the charming stranger sitting beside her.
And that was exactly how Norman wanted it.
