The next evening Maya returned to the old estate because the caretaker had messaged about two pieces of mail. She told herself it was an ordinary errand. At the security office, Juma, who had known Amina since primary school, greeted her carefully.
“Mrs. Maya.”
“Just Maya now.”
He bent to search the parcel cabinet. A white car rolled out from Block C. Maya recognized it before she saw the plate. Omar had loved that car because, he used to say, a good vehicle did not need to announce itself.
He drove past without looking at her. A white-and-green monthly visitor sticker sat on the windscreen.
Block C was nowhere near their former apartment. It was, however, near the contractor's public address.
Juma returned with the mail. Maya asked for records relating only to parcels left in her own name. He immediately drew a line. “I can't give you another resident's visitor history.”
“I didn't ask for it.”
Part of her wanted to. She wanted every date Omar had entered Block C. But she had promised herself she would not turn post-divorce curiosity into surveillance.
Juma found three parcel dates. On one, Omar's initials showed he had collected an item addressed to the old household. The other two had waited for Maya. Two of the dates sat within a day of Kito payments; the third was in the same week as the largest transfer.
Maya asked about the sticker system only in general. Juma explained that Block C issued monthly visitor authorization, not a sticker for each visit.
“So it proves access for a period,” she said, “not how often someone came.”
“Exactly.”
She wrote that wording down. In the car she added: `monthly visitor access observed; frequency unknown.` It sounded cold. That was the point.
She walked to Block C but did not enter. A services board in the common area listed owner and agent contacts. She looked only at unit 4C because its position matched the address trail she already had. Under 4C was a name she had heard before in the dim, unprovable final months of her marriage: Salma K.
Leila called almost immediately after Maya texted that she had found a relevant unit. “Ask security how long Omar has been going there.”
“No.”
“Why are you protecting him?”
“I'm protecting the difference between what I saw and what I can prove.”
Juma later gave Maya a slip confirming the parcel dates that related to her. He gave nothing from visitor records. Maya was irritated by every boundary she met, yet she also understood the advantage: anything she did obtain would not depend on someone breaking rules for her.
At the car she created a short chronology: public contractor address, Omar's car leaving Block C, monthly access sticker, three parcel dates overlapping payment periods. Then she wrote in capital letters: `DO NOT TURN OBSERVATION INTO ALLEGATION.`
She had no proof of how often Omar visited. No proof yet of what happened inside 4C. No proof that Salma knew anything about the joint account.
But she had a name.
Maya stayed in the estate another ten minutes and tested her own chronology against what she actually knew. The white car could have been there for many reasons. A monthly sticker could not establish a nightly pattern. The overlap with payment dates was useful only because it told her where to ask a more precise question next. She photographed the public services board, not Omar's car, and recorded the time. When she later saw the image, she noticed how badly she had wanted a photograph that looked like betrayal. Instead she had one that merely preserved a public name and unit reference. That smaller fact was enough to justify contacting Salma without pretending it proved more.
The owner contact for unit 4C was Salma K.