She pointed at a stack of notebooks near the window, half-tilting.
I'm honestly surprised this place hasn't collapsed on you. I was expecting some neat, minimal setup—textbooks color-coded and all that.
Alex raised a brow. Me? Color code? You really don't know me yet.
She laughed softly. Maybe not… but I'm learning. Slowly.
Alex looked up at her, and for a moment their eyes held. There was no rush, no pressure. Just two people in a small room filled with unspoken truths and light teasing that felt too warm to ignore.
Emily broke the silence with a light-hearted smirk. You know, I imagined your room to smell like vanilla or books… but nope. This is pure man cave.
Alex grinned, pretending to be offended. I'll have you know I sprayed something this morning.
She playfully sniffed the air.
Hmm… was it 'Eau de Anxiety'?
Alex burst out laughing. Maybe. Maybe I should bottle it. Sell it to nursing students. Limited edition.
They both laughed, and for a moment, it was easy. Comfortable. Like something was falling into place between them without force.
Then Emily's tone softened.
I'm really glad we came today, she said quietly.
Alex met her eyes again. I am too.
Outside, someone laughed—Kenny's unmistakable loud voice, followed by Mike shouting something dramatic.
Alex gestured toward the door. We better go save the house before they burn it down.
Emily stood up, brushing her skirt down. True. Before they open your fridge and start auctioning your leftovers.
As they stepped out into the hallway, the sound of laughter and chaos only grew louder. Angela was curled into the armrest, half-laughing, half-sighing as John retold an exaggerated story. Kenny was holding two remote controls like microphones while Mike mimicked a news anchor talking about the "exam crisis of the year."
Alex and Emily paused at the doorway, watching them for a second. Then Emily leaned in and whispered, This is what home should feel like.
Alex didn't respond right away.
Because for the first time in a long while… it truly did.
They joined the group, sinking into the noise, the joy, the ordinary magic of friendship on a slow Sunday morning.The house was buzzing with laughter and conversation, the kind that floats easily between friends who've grown close over time. The sun had risen high, and by the time the old clock near the hallway struck 1 p.m., the warmth of the day had fully settled into every corner of Alex's home.
Then came the sound of tires crunching softly on gravel—the front gate creaking open—and a familiar hum of an engine.
Alex paused mid-sentence, leaning forward slightly to catch the sound better. That's Uncle John, he said, already moving toward the door.
They all followed with their eyes as the door swung open. Uncle John stood there, dressed in his usual church wear, eyes blinking behind his glasses in surprise at the full room. But almost instantly, a wide, genuine smile spread across his face.
Ahh! My boy's brought the campus home! he exclaimed.
Everyone stood up politely to greet him. Uncle John stepped in, exchanging handshakes and light hugs, his energy effortlessly folding into theirs. He had that fatherly presence—charming, warm, with just enough teasing to make you feel at home.
So… he looked around, eyes twinkling, do I smell cooking or is this just academic energy?
Kenny grinned. We were just about to prepare something, sir.
Ah perfect! Then let the ladies show us what they've got!
The boys turned to Emily and Angela, mock horror flashing in their eyes as if someone had asked them to deliver a baby mid-exam.
Emily folded her arms, trying not to laugh. Oh really? So this is how it is?
Angela squinted. This is sabotage.
Mike leaned forward dramatically. We believe in your culinary destiny. Don't let Ghana down.
Even Uncle John was chuckling now, clapping his hands once.
Alright alright, let's make it fair. I'll guide you. Today, we're making something simple—boiled yam with kontomire stew, rich with palm oil, onions, and the good stuff. And we'll top it off with some calabash sauce.
Emily blinked. Kontomire stew… with what again?
Calabash sauce, Angela repeated slowly, wide-eyed. This is about to get tribal.
The girls tied aprons around their waists—Angela in one of the oversized ones Uncle John pulled from the cupboard, and Emily in a faded cloth one with the words "Chef's Assistant" written across the front. They headed into the kitchen, rolling up sleeves and tying up hair.
Meanwhile, the boys—now safely excused from the kitchen—gathered with Uncle John in the hall. They sat on the floor, barefoot, in front of the fan, talking about exams, life in school, and Uncle John's own stories from his younger years.
Alex sat quietly for a while, watching the scene unfold—his friends in his house, his uncle laughing like he hadn't in weeks, the smell of garlic and onions beginning to drift from the kitchen.
It felt good.
He caught Emily peeking her head out of the kitchen, giving him a half-smile before disappearing again with a laugh as Angela shrieked over a splatter of oil.
Even if the yam ended up slightly overcooked, and the stew had a bit too much pepper, this day was already perfect.
And the best part?
It wasn't over yet.
The scent of sizzling palm oil, garden eggs, and well-spiced kontomire stew drifted from the kitchen and filled the house, growing stronger by the minute. Soon, the girls called out from the kitchen.
Lunch is ready ooo!
The boys, who were sprawled across the floor chatting with Uncle John, sat up straight with renewed energy. Kenny clapped once and stretched like he had just completed a marathon.
Praise the Lord! he joked, dusting imaginary crumbs from his shirt.
Angela and Emily stepped out from the kitchen, aprons still wrapped around their waists. Emily had a soft sheen of sweat on her forehead, but her smile beamed brighter than the sun outside. She held a wide dish filled with boiled yam, neatly sliced and stacked like something off a food show. Angela followed behind, cradling a deep clay pot of kontomire stew, its rich aroma carrying traces of smoked fish, onion, and hot pepper.
They both walked into the dining hall—a modest space with a long wooden table and six chairs neatly arranged. It wasn't anything grand, but the way it held them all felt just right.
You guys should give us space to serve everything properly, Emily said, half-laughing as the boys tried to squeeze in before she had even set the dish down.
Yes please, Angela added, pretending to shoo them away like chickens. We didn't cook for you to scatter the table.
Uncle John leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, smiling proudly like he was watching his daughters serve food at a royal banquet.
The girls quickly laid everything out—plates, spoons, tumblers of water, and two bowls of calabash sauce that shimmered with palm oil and peppers. Finally, Emily and Angela dropped into their seats, relieved and excited at once.
Come o, make una chop before e turn story, Kenny grinned in a dramatic pidgin tone, already eyeing the yam like it was treasure.
Ehnn! Alex added in the same pidgin style, na today we go sabi who sabi cook o. Because if this food no sweet, I dey carry am go report for hostel!
The boys chuckled.
Mike nodded vigorously, pretending to whisper, We go know if na nursing dem dey learn or cooking. Even though I no chop for two days, I go still judge this food.
They all burst into laughter. Just then, Uncle John raised a brow, leaned closer, and said smoothly in perfect pidgin,
Na who una dey plan do this pidgin for? Una forget say I grow for Warri before I reach this Accra?
A hush fell across the table, then they all shouted in shock and laughter.
Ehhh! Uncle, you sabi am?
Uncle John grinned widely. My friend, begin chop make your stew no cold.
They dug in at last, and after the first bites, a wave of silent nods swept the table.
Ahhh, this thing sweet die, Mike said with his mouth half-full.
Emily giggled as she poured more stew into Alex's plate.
You like?
Alex swallowed, looked at her, and smiled. This might be the best kontomire I've ever tasted.
Angela smirked and nudged Emily gently with her elbow. Emily gave her a brief side-eye and quickly looked away, but not before catching Alex stealing another glance at her. All this while, Emily seemed to glow in Alex's eyes. The apron still wrapped around her waist gave her a homely, radiant look that tugged at something deep within him. She was laughing with the others, hair loosely tied back, sleeves rolled up. She looked real. Grounded. And, in a way Alex couldn't explain, she looked like peace.
Angela, noticing Emily drifting into Alex's gaze, leaned toward her again and whispered under her breath, You better keep looking before he finishes your stew and your heart together.
Emily blushed and tried to cover it up by sipping water, but her eyes kept sliding back to Alex, who, by then, was scraping up every bit of the sauce like a man on a mission.
They all ate with joy, laughter echoing around the room as empty plates replaced full ones. It wasn't just the food. It was the company, the comfort, the way their voices overlapped and filled the air like a favorite song. For Alex, for all of them, this wasn't just lunch—it was a moment.
A moment they didn't know they would remember for a very long time.The late afternoon sun painted golden edges on the pavement as Zara, Amanda, and Clara stepped out of the café just off the southern wing of campus. The breeze was warm and light, brushing against Zara's loose braids as they strolled down the walk path. Clara was already halfway into a story about a girl in their class who had mixed up exam dates, and Amanda was laughing with a hand over her mouth.
Just then, three guys stepped out from the opposite side of the walk path. The one in front—tall, neatly dressed in a crisp white tee and designer jeans—stepped ahead of the others and smiled confidently.
There she is. Zara, right?
Zara's steps slowed, lips pulling into a neutral smile. The guy was Derrick. Smooth-talking, known across the nursing faculty for his designer watches and the way he always found a way to "accidentally" sit close to Zara in class. His friends, Emmanuel and Tony, hung back a little, trying to act casual.
Derrick walked up beside them, hands in pockets, eyes fixed on Zara.
Mind if we walk with you?
Zara shrugged. It's a free campus, isn't it?
That was as close to a yes as he would get.
They fell into pace together. Clara and Amanda exchanged glances, their grins widening as they drifted behind to let Zara and Derrick walk slightly ahead.
The conversation quickly turned to the upcoming exams. Emmanuel was nervously rattling off possible questions from Professional Adjustment, and Tony kept insisting the chemistry paper was going to be brutal.
Zara walked quietly, nodding here and there, her eyes occasionally scanning the sky like she wished it could give her an excuse to vanish.
They reached the intersection near the library lawns, the natural point where most students parted ways back to hostels or study groups.
Alright then, Derrick said, adjusting his watch, We're heading this way. But— he turned to Zara, his voice softening—Before you go, could I have your number?
There was a pause.
Zara looked at him, her face unreadable. Then gently, she shook her head.
I'm not comfortable with that.
Derrick blinked. His smile faltered, just slightly. Oh... alright. That's cool.
He turned to hide the sting in his expression, mumbling something to his friends before they all walked away, a little quicker than they had come.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Amanda rounded on Zara.
Why'd you do that? He was polite!
Clara nodded. Yeah, Zara. That was kinda harsh. He didn't say anything wrong.
Zara walked ahead a bit before answering. Her voice was calm, but firm.
I don't like being forced to feel something I don't. Just because someone likes me doesn't mean I owe them anything. Especially not my number.
Amanda folded her arms. We didn't say you owe him, but he's been trying for so long.
Exactly, Zara said, her tone softening. He's been trying. And I still don't feel anything. That should mean something, shouldn't it?
They didn't answer. The three of them walked the rest of the way in silence, their sandals brushing softly against the pavement. But inside Zara's mind, her thoughts weren't on Derrick. They hadn't been from the beginning. No… her thoughts drifted again to a certain boy in class with calm eyes and soft, unsure smiles. The one who hadn't said anything to her yet—but whose silence felt louder than any attention she had ever gotten.
Alex.It was nearing 4 p.m., and the warm afternoon sun had begun to mellow, casting golden shadows across the living room where laughter still lingered in the air. After plates had been cleared and stories had been shared, it was time for Alex's friends to return to campus. Uncle John, ever cheerful and full of hospitality, offered to drive them back in his car.
The group slowly stood up from their seats, gathering bags and joking among themselves. Angela and Mike were still teasing Emily about the stew, while Kenny drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, calling shotgun before anyone could argue.
Come on, lazy boy, Kenny called toward the hallway, where Alex had disappeared a few minutes ago. Let's go before Uncle John changes his mind!
Alex's voice rang back faintly, I'm coming! Just changing quickly!
Emily had left her handmade Ghana bag in the room and remembered she hadn't picked it up. She turned to follow Alex's voice, her steps light, thinking she would just knock, grab her bag, and be out in seconds. But before she could even call out, she gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Her eyes froze.
There stood Alex, half-turned away, shirtless, his skin catching the light that poured in from the window. He had just pulled his top off and was reaching for a clean shirt when he heard the door creak. He looked up. Their eyes locked.
Emily gasped softly.
Sorry—! she blurted, turning around so fast that her hair whipped behind her. I didn't know—
Alex blinked, frozen in the moment. His hand dropped to the side. It wasn't embarrassment that filled the space between them. It was something else. A silent tension, a pulse, like two hearts skipped a beat at once.
Emily stepped out of the room, her hand resting briefly on the doorframe to steady herself. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. She stood just outside the room, staring down at the floor, biting her lower lip, her cheeks flushed.
Inside, Alex slowly pulled the shirt over his head, his mind far from the buttons and seams. He wasn't embarrassed. Not really. But he felt a strange, deep stirring in his chest—different from what he felt around the others. That brief moment… the way she looked at him, how she quickly turned away, how her voice shook—it left something unspoken hanging in the air.
He finally stepped out, now fully dressed, trying to act as though nothing had happened.
Emily stood by the door, facing away. When she heard him approach, she slowly turned around.
Everything okay? he asked, his voice calm but curious.
Emily nodded quickly, still not meeting his eyes. Yeah… just… I forgot my bag.
Alex handed it to her without a word.
They joined the others outside where the engine of Uncle John's car was already humming, and laughter resumed like nothing happened.
But deep inside, both Alex and Emily knew something had just shifted—subtle, unexpected, but real.
The late afternoon sun warmed the windshield as Uncle John's car rolled gently through the quiet Sunday streets, the city slipping by in a blur of faded buildings, soft chatter, and the occasional honk from a trotro ahead. Inside the car, laughter bounced off the windows as the group tried to shake off the heaviness of the full lunch and the warmth of the day.
Mike sat in the front seat beside Uncle John, who kept tossing in playful remarks about campus life and exams.
So you people want to become nurses, eh? he chuckled. Better start practicing how to handle patients who scream louder than Mike when he sees a spider.
Kenny burst out laughing from the back. You have no idea, Uncle! The way Mike jumps, eh… I swear he's already failed emergency care!
Even Angela, still a bit sleepy from earlier, giggled softly from where she sat between Kenny and John. Emily was beside the door, her bag resting on her lap, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of its woven pattern.
Alex sat at the far end of the back seat, next to the window, looking outside—quiet, thoughtful. But every so often, his eyes darted to the reflection in the glass, stealing small glances at Emily, and wondering if she was thinking about the same moment back in the house.
Emily wasn't laughing with the others as much as usual, though she smiled faintly at their jokes. Her mind was adrift, tangled in the awkward moment earlier. It wasn't like she hadn't seen a guy shirtless before—but this was different. This was Alex. And something about that brief glimpse, that silent exchange, made her heart skip in ways she hadn't prepared for.As the car approached the familiar archway near the hostel blocks, Uncle John slowed down.
We're here, he said, craning his neck slightly. I hope you enjoyed the visit—next time, you all better cook for me again.
Angela laughed. You mean Emily and I. You boys didn't even lift a finger.
We supervised, John defended with a grin.
They all stepped out one by one, murmuring thank-yous and waves to Uncle John.
Thanks, Uncle, he said with a half-smile, reaching through the window.
Uncle John gave him a firm nod. Study hard, guys. And don't let your friends eat all the food in the name of bonding.
Everyone chuckled as the car pulled away.
The sun was dipping behind the hostel roofs now, casting long shadows on the pavement. Emily lingered a bit behind the group as they strolled back to the hostel compound.
Agela caught up beside her. You okay?
Emily gave hee a small smile. Yeah. Just full. And thinking.
Same, she replied.
They said nothing else, but the silence between them wasn't heavy anymore. It was light. Familiar. Comfortable in its own way.
Behind them, Kenny and Mike were already arguing over who'd revise chemistry better, and Angela was pretending not to listen while clearly listening.
They walked slowly back toward their hostels—closer than they had been in a long time.
The girls' hostel buzzed softly with weekend life—low music from a nearby room, the hum of a ceiling fan, the faint sound of someone chatting on a phone down the hallway. Emily and Angela stepped into their room, the door clicking softly behind them. The cozy space welcomed them with the scent of the lavender air freshener Angela always insisted on using, and the familiar clutter of school life—books stacked near the bed, a half-eaten biscuit on the table, and two backpacks dropped lazily by the door.
Angela tossed her bag onto the bed and collapsed beside it with a loud yawn.
Today felt long, she muttered, reaching to untie her shoelaces. But it was fun. I'm still thinking about that food… whew.
Emily stood quietly for a second, her fingers lingering at the zipper of her bag, before she slowly turned toward her best friend with a look that made Angela sit up.
What?
Emily hesitated.
Okay. So… something happened.
Angela's eyes lit up like a switch. Eh, what? Wait—what do you mean something happened?
Emily covered her face with her hands and gave a soft laugh. Oh gosh, I'm not even supposed to talk about it but… I sort of—saw Alex.
Angela blinked. Saw him?
Like—just saw him?
Emily peeked at her through her fingers.
Half naked.
Angela's jaw dropped as she shot upright. Half what?! Ei, Emily!
It wasn't intentional! I was just going to get my bag from his room, I didn't even knock… the door was already open!
Angela blinked, wide-eyed, mouth still open.
And he was just there, shirtless, changing. He looked at me. I looked at him. I froze. Then I ran out.
Angela burst into laughter, flopping back onto the bed. Ei, Emily! This your life is turning into a whole nursing faculty drama series.
Emily laughed too, covering her flushed cheeks with a pillow. Stop it! I didn't plan it!
Angela turned toward her, raising an eyebrow. But be honest… you liked what you saw, didn't you?
Emily groaned. Please! Let me rest in peace.
Angela grinned. Emily Grant, you are finished.
Both girls broke into giggles, the kind that filled the room with warmth and comfort. And as they eventually quieted down and began to unpack their bags, Angela said softly,
You really do still care about him, huh?
Emily nodded without looking up. I think I never stopped.
They sat in thoughtful silence for a while, the laughter still lingering, but now replaced with something softer—real, vulnerable, and quietly understood between two friends.
The campus was unusually quiet that Monday morning, as though the buildings themselves knew what the week held for the students—pressure, anxiety, last-minute cramming, and the shared tension of facing pages filled with questions that would determine futures.
The long-awaited exams week had begun.
In the boys' room on the first floor of Jubilee Hostel, Kenny's loud voice broke the early silence.
"Mike, if you don't stop reading out loud like you're on a radio station, I'll throw this highlighter at you!"
Mike chuckled without pausing, eyes still glued to the notes in front of him. "But it helps me remember! Hypothalamus controls body temperature, hunger, and thirst…"
John, lying face-down on the bed with his face buried in a pillow, groaned. "You two are going to drive me mad. It's too early for this noise."
"Guy, it's 6:30 a.m. Wake up! We're writing Anatomy and Physiology in a few hours!" Kenny threw a sock at John, who muttered something inaudible and sat up reluctantly.
Their table was a mess of books, water bottles, and half-open biscuit packs. They'd studied through most of the weekend, taking turns to test each other with flashcards and exam-style questions. But this morning, it was all about last-minute brushing—group whispers, nervous glances, and prayers that what they studied would show up in the paper.
--
Back in the girls' hostel, Room 207, Emily had already gotten dressed. Her hair was packed into a neat bun, and her eyes—though tired—were alert. She sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through her summary notes, occasionally glancing at Angela.
Angela sat by the window, sipping tea while trying to memorize the pathways of nerve impulses.
"We've got this," Emily said suddenly.
Angela looked up and smiled. "You sure?"
Emily nodded. "Yeah. We've studied hard. And worst-case, we guess smartly."
Angela laughed. "Emily Grant, the queen of calculated guesses."
They both chuckled, and for a moment, the tension eased. Their books lay open on every surface. Their phones were set on 'Do Not Disturb.' They'd planned their exam outfits the night before, pre-packed pens and ID cards. It was the little things that helped them feel ready—even when the nerves wanted to creep in.
In the luxury hostel across campus, Zara stood in front of her mirror, brushing her thick curls while Clara sat on the bed flipping through a physiology textbook.
"You think they'll ask about negative feedback mechanisms again?" Clara asked.
Amanda, lying on her back with her legs hanging off the bed, mumbled, "If they do, I'm failing. I'm tired, you guys."
Zara smiled faintly. "You've read enough. We just need to stay calm."
"Easy for you to say," Clara said with a grin. "You were born calm."
Zara rolled her eyes. Her calmness was just a shell—inside, she too felt the weight of expectation, the silent pressure to live up to her name and her father's reputation. But she had trained herself well: panic never showed.
They all got dressed soon after. Zara picked a simple blue blouse and black jeans. Amanda wore her lucky hoodie. Clara tied a scarf around her wrist for good luck. Whatever worked.Across town, Alex lay still in bed, his Physiology textbook resting gently on his chest like a second blanket. The night had blurred into morning, and his eyes stung from reading into the early hours. When he finally checked the time, it was already 7:00 a.m.
"Ei," he whispered. "Three hours to go."
He sat up slowly, then dragged himself to the bathroom, rinsed his face, brushed, and changed into a clean shirt and trousers. The usual butterflies began to rise, but he kept a steady rhythm—step by step. When he entered the kitchen, Uncle John was already there, a calm presence amidst the morning tension.
"Eat," Uncle John said simply, nodding toward the plate of yam and eggs he had prepared.
Alex smiled tiredly and sat down to eat. It was silent, but comforting. When he was done, he picked up his bag and made his way out to the road where Uncle's car waited to take him to campus.
On the way, he sent a message to Kenny.
Alex: I dey come. Hope say una no go finish the whole exam before I reach.
Kenny responded with a laughing emoji and a simple:
Kenny: We dey wait you, Prof. No shake.
By 9:00 a.m., most of the students had already arrived at the exam hall, wearing serious faces, holding last-minute notes, whispering prayers under their breath.
And in that crowd—scattered but connected—were Alex, Emily, Angela, Kenny, Mike, John, Zara, Amanda, and Clara. Each of them, ready or not, about to face the start of their exam week journey.
The air in the exam hall was tense—almost sacred. It was 9:45 a.m., and the main auditorium had been converted into an exam battlefield. Rows upon rows of plastic and wooden chairs stretched across the floor, each marked with a sheet of white paper bearing an index number in bold black print.
Students moved in silently, eyes darting around as they searched for their designated seats. Some clutched their ID cards, others carried transparent pouches with pens, pencils, erasers, and calculators. No bags. No phones. No whispering. Kenny was the first to find his seat. He looked at the number on his card, then scanned the row. "15407… 15408… Ah, there," he muttered and sat down. He wiped his palms on his trousers.
Mike found his beside him. "Finally. I feel like I've aged ten years this morning."
John arrived last among them, still chewing gum, his index card folded in half. "This place cold oh," he whispered, even though no one was listening. He cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath. They gave each other quiet nods. No talking now—just that silent brotherhood before the paper begins.
Emily sat about four rows in front of Angela. She found her seat quickly and smoothed the hem of her skirt before sitting. She clutched her transparent pouch and inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. Angela slid into her seat, two rows behind Emily. She looked around and spotted her friend, giving her a little wave. Emily responded with a soft smile.
A girl on Angela's left was already muttering formulas under her breath. Angela turned her focus to her desk. You've got this, she reminded herself.
Zara entered the hall with her usual calm stride, head held high. Amanda and Clara followed closely behind her. Their section was on the right wing of the auditorium. Each girl quickly located her seat.
Zara's eyes scanned her surroundings. Clara was about two rows away; Amanda, somewhere at the edge.
Zara sat down and set her pen and ID neatly on the desk. Then she closed her eyes for a moment and whispered a prayer. Let me remember what I've read. Let me be calm. Let me write well.
Clara tapped her foot anxiously. Amanda looked like she wanted to chew her pencil. Alex entered just minutes before the invigilators did. He had reviewed a few pages in the car and left the book behind. No distractions now.
"Row D… Number 15823," he murmured, eyes scanning each paper posted on the desk until he found his spot.
He sat quietly, placed his pen and ID on the desk, and rolled up his sleeves slightly. He took a sip of water from his bottle and looked up toward the front of the room.
His eyes met Emily's—just briefly. She gave him a nod. He returned it, lips curling into a small smile.
A bell rang.
Two invigilators entered.
"Good morning, students," one of them said sternly. "You have five minutes to settle down. Your papers will be distributed shortly. No talking. No looking around. Only your pens, IDs, and permitted items should be on your desks."
Whispers ceased. Chairs stopped moving. The hum of nervous energy thickened the air.
And just like that, the room stilled.
The exam had not started yet… but the battle had already begun.
The hall was dead silent. The only sounds were the soft shuffle of footsteps as the invigilators moved between the rows, dropping question papers one by one. Each rustle of paper seemed louder than it should have been. Pens were placed at the ready. Eyes followed the invigilators as if trying to read something in their pace or posture.
A man's voice rang clearly from the front of the hall:
"You may now begin. Time starts… now."
Alex flipped the paper with a steady hand, scanning through the questions like a soldier analyzing a map. Okay… physiology. Question one… He nodded slightly. It was something he had read that morning. He whispered a short prayer under his breath and picked up his pen.
Beside him, a student's pen fell with a loud clack—no one looked up.
Emily gripped her pen tighter and leaned over her paper. Her brows furrowed slightly, but then relaxed. The first question was from the cardiovascular system—a topic she loved. She exhaled and began to write.
Angela, seated two rows back, was already scribbling. Her eyes were sharp, lips slightly parted in concentration. She tapped her pencil twice, turned the page, and kept going. Her fingers were steady, her lines neat and quick.
Kenny sat like a stone—calm and calculated. His eyes darted across the questions, then back to his paper. He flipped his answer booklet and began with question two.
Mike frowned at his paper. He scratched his head and mumbled silently to himself. "Ah… this question come like say e wan show me shege," he muttered under his breath, then composed himself and began writing slowly.
John, always the chill one, smirked. "They tried to twist this question… but I know the trick," he whispered, then began to write quickly, his handwriting bold and slanted.Zara's composure didn't break for a second. She read everything twice, making notes in her mind before touching her pen to paper. Her handwriting flowed like a calm river—elegant and sure.
Clara looked slightly anxious but was trying hard to focus. She kept blinking fast, then finally settled and began writing. Amanda paused for a long while before starting, biting her lip and tapping her foot lightly on the floor.
The sound of pens moving across paper filled the space, joined by the occasional cough, the squeak of a chair, or the breath of someone trying to calm themselves.
Every minute mattered. Every second counted.
At one point, Alex lifted his head briefly and looked straight ahead—not at anything, just to gather his thoughts. In that moment, he spotted Emily from the side. She looked focused, lost in her own world of answers and anatomy.
He smiled faintly, then returned to his paper.
The clock ticked.
One hour gone.
Then ninety minutes.
Then a voice from the front again:
"Thirty minutes more!"
Some students looked up nervously. Others doubled their speed.
Pens scratched faster. Pages turned. Sweat dripped.
And finally, as the clock struck the end, the voice echoed once more:
"Stop writing. Place your pens down. We'll begin collecting your scripts."
Reluctantly, everyone obeyed.
A breath passed through the room like a wave. Some leaned back. Others slumped forward. A few stretched.
The battle of paper and ink had ended—for now.
As the last script was collected and the invigilators gave the signal to leave, chairs scraped gently against the tiled floor. Students began filing out of the examination hall—some quiet and thoughtful, others already whispering about questions and answers they remembered.
Alex stepped out into the sunlight, stretching his arms as he squinted at the brightness. His legs felt stiff, but there was a strange lightness in his chest. That went better than I thought, he mused. He tucked his pen into his pocket and turned, waiting by the steps for the others.
Kenny was the first among them to exit, his face unreadable.
Mike came out right behind him and shook his head.
"Chale, I no go lie, that last question? E pain me!"
John laughed. "You too dey worry. The paper no be war. At least the first three questions make sense die."
Kenny looked at both of them and gave a calm nod.
"It was fair. Let's not start overthinking before the next paper."
They spotted Alex near the steps and joined him.
Angela was all smiles as she walked up beside Emily. "Tell me you saw that question on menstrual cycle phases?"
Emily laughed. "I did! I was so happy. I even wrote the hormonal changes."
They walked out slowly, their papers in hand.
Angela noticed Alex standing nearby and whispered, "Someone's waiting."
Emily's smile faltered for half a second before it returned. "Let's go," she said softly.
As they approached the group, Alex's eyes met Emily's for just a moment, and they both exchanged a gentle nod.
Zara exited the hall with her usual poise, tucking her paper into her folder neatly. Amanda was not far behind, rubbing her neck.
"Zara," Amanda said, "I totally blanked on the part about pituitary hormones. I had to guess."
Zara offered her a soft smile. "Don't worry, we all have moments like that."
Clara leaned in, "What about the kidney filtration process question? That one threw me a bit."
Zara nodded slowly. "I managed it. But I think I forgot the exact figures for glomerular filtration rate."
They walked across the lawn toward the hostel side, the day already feeling less heavy now that one paper was out of the way.
Mike chuckled as Angela explained how she wrote two pages for one question.
"You want make dem use up new booklet for only you or what?" he teased.
Emily was quiet but calm, standing near Alex without saying much.
Alex noticed and, in a light tone, asked, "How did it go?"
She turned to him and replied with a smile, "Better than I expected… thanks to that late-night revision."
There was a shared silence between them, brief but meaningful.
John clapped his hands together. "Alright, people, one down, more to go. Who's up for chilled drinks before we hit the books again?"
Laughter erupted. Despite the tension of exams, moments like these reminded them they weren't alone in it.The sun cast soft shadows through the campus trees as Zara walked quietly past the cafeteria, her bag loosely slung over her shoulder. Her friends, Amanda and Clara, had already gone ahead to the hostel, giving her a moment to breathe alone after the exam. The air smelled faintly of fried yam and gari from a nearby food stall.
Just as she was about to round the bend by the cafeteria, she nearly collided with someone coming from the other direction—a tall figure carrying a cold bottle of malt and a meat pie in a paper bag.
It was Alex.
He stopped in his tracks the moment he saw her.
Zara blinked, stunned for a second.
It was the same face she had seen once on the bus, a quiet boy with soft eyes and a presence that lingered long after he left.
They both stood still for a moment, as if the world paused just for them.
Alex was the first to speak.
"Hey…" His voice was gentle but steady. "You're the girl from the bus that day, right?"
Zara's lips parted slightly before a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And you're the guy who sat two seats in front, watching the road like it held all the answers."
Alex chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, turns out it didn't." He looked at her, his voice lowering, "Funny how we keep running into each other… like some quiet rhythm pulling us back together."
Zara nodded, still smiling, her eyes glinting under the late-afternoon sun. "I've seen you around campus, too."
"I've seen you too," Alex admitted. "But I never knew how to… say anything. You looked like someone who had everything figured out."
Zara laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't. I just walk like I do."
That made Alex smile fully, and for a brief moment, everything else fell away. No exams, no books, no noise—just them.
"You did well in the paper?" Alex asked.
"Yes," she replied. "You?"
"Still surviving," he said with a grin.
They stood in that small space between the cafeteria and the food stall, the smell of malt and flour and the sounds of campus far in the distance.
Zara finally asked, "So… you're not going to disappear again like you did after the bus?"
Alex shook his head. "Not if I can help it."
She gave a soft smile and looked at her watch. "I should go. But… I'm glad we finally spoke."
"Me too," Alex said. "I'm Alex, by the way."
"I know," she said, and started walking. Then glanced over her shoulder with a playful look, "I'm Zara."
Alex watched her walk away, his heart quietly racing. A moment that had been waiting in silence had finally happened—and it felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite explain.Zara walked slowly, each step lighter than the one before. The sun was lower now, casting a warm amber glow over the hostel path. The breeze fluttered her sleeve gently, but the real fluttering was in her chest. Her heart was still dancing to the rhythm of Alex's words.
She didn't rush.
She didn't want to.
Her fingers played idly with the strap of her bag, her mind replaying the moment by the cafeteria—the way Alex had spoken softly but surely, the way he smiled like he meant it, and the way he had finally, finally said her name.
A quiet smile stretched across her lips again. It stayed there the whole walk to her hostel, glowing like a secret lantern in the dusk.
When she got to her room, Clara and Amanda were there, chatting about the exam and flipping through some notes for the next paper. Clara glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you look like you just walked out of a fairytale?" she asked teasingly.
Zara chuckled. "Nothing… just tired," she said, brushing it off and dropping her bag gently on the bed.
They didn't press further, but Amanda gave her a side glance as if she didn't quite believe her. Still, Zara stayed quiet. It wasn't time to share—not yet.
But she couldn't resist for long.
As her roommates returned to their books, Zara sat at the edge of her bed, pulled out her phone, and tapped quickly on her screen.To: Abena [💛 Bestie]
You won't believe what just happened.
Three dots blinked almost instantly.
Abena was online.
Abena:
What?? Tell me!!
Zara smiled again, bit her lower lip, and began typing.
Zara:
I finally spoke with the guy from the bus. His name is Alex. He remembered me. And we actually talked. Like for real. Just the two of us. It felt… different. Good different.
Another pause.
Then…
Abena:
ZARA!!! What!! Finally!! I knew it! Tell me everything NOW!!
Zara looked up, making sure her roommates weren't watching, then leaned back into her pillow, phone close to her face, heart full of a feeling she hadn't named yet.
She wasn't sure what this meant.
But she knew one thing:
She didn't want this feeling to end.
Zara's smile lingered as she lay on the bed, still texting Abena. But as her phone screen dimmed, her eyes caught the time at the top.
2:00 PM.
Her heart skipped.
"Oh no… Anatomy!" she whispered, sitting up with a jolt.
She had just 30 minutes to get ready for their last paper of the day. Without wasting a second, she sprang to her feet and turned to her roommates—both Clara and Amanda were curled up and fast asleep, drained from the earlier paper.
Zara grabbed her hair scarf and shook Clara's leg gently.
"Clara… get up. It's 2 o'clock."
Clara groaned, blinking sleep from her eyes.
"Anatomy," Zara added quickly.
At once, Clara sat up.
Zara moved to Amanda, nudging her on the shoulder.
"Mandy, let's go. We've got thirty minutes."
Amanda blinked up, confused for a second, then sat upright like someone waking from a dream.
"Oh my God, is it 2 already?" she mumbled.
"Yes!" Zara laughed, already heading to freshen up.
Fifteen minutes later, all three girls were dressed in their nursing uniforms—neat, sharp, and purposeful. Books clutched in hand for last-minute skimming, they left the hostel and walked briskly toward the exam hall, the sun now mellow and the air carrying a mix of tension and relief.
It was the final paper of the day. The last hurdle.
As they approached the hall, a silence hung in the air. Unlike the noisy chatter before previous papers, this one was different. Final papers always had a strange feeling—part anxiety, part relief.
Inside, the room was full. Everyone had already arrived. Heads were bowed, pens were clicked nervously, index numbers checked and cross-checked.
The three girls found their respective numbers and slid into their seats. Zara sat just a few rows behind Emily and Angela, who were flipping through pages, whispering terms to themselves.
Clara gave Zara a thumbs-up across the row.
Zara nodded, her fingers pressed together in a quick silent prayer.
Anatomy was no joke, but she felt… ready.
Somewhere at the far side of the room, she spotted Alex. He hadn't seen her yet, but she smiled gently to herself.
They were all here.
One last battle.
Then freedom.
The invigilator stepped forward, exam papers in hand.
"Phones off, everyone. You may now turn over your papers."
And just like that, the room fell silent…
The Anatomy exam had begun.
The clock struck 5:00 PM, and with it came the sound every student had longed to hear.
"Pens down."
The voice of the invigilator echoed through the hall. Chairs creaked as students leaned back, sighing with exhaustion, relief, and in some cases—regret. Pages stopped turning. The once-tense air slowly softened into murmurs, zipping zippers, and the scuffle of backpacks sliding off the floor.
The Anatomy exam—the final paper—was over for the day.
One by one, students stood, stretched, and exited the exam hall like waves retreating from shore. Outside, the warm evening light washed over the crowd. Laughter and chatter returned, growing louder by the second. Exams were done. At last for the day.
Alex stood and packed his belongings slowly, then followed the stream of students out into the open. He felt light, like someone breathing freely after being underwater for too long. As soon as he stepped into the breeze, he spotted his friends—Kenny, Mike, and John—standing by a tree, already exchanging jokes about the paper.
"Guyyyy," Mike said, seeing Alex approach. "That question 4? E be like dem set am for devil oh!""Abi!" Kenny chimed in. "I look the thing like say na spiritual attack."
They all burst into laughter.
Alex joined them with a quiet smile.
"Alex, how far?" John asked. "You dey survive?"
"I dey," Alex replied simply, his voice calm but laced with that post-exam relief.
Angela and Emily soon joined them, linking up from the opposite direction. The group now complete, they stood in a small circle under the tree, the evening sun casting soft golden light over their faces.
There was excitement in the air. Talk of post-exam relaxation, food, sleep, movies, even plans for the weekend.
But all the while, as everyone spoke and laughed, Alex kept quiet about something else.
The moment with Zara—the brief, almost surreal conversation they shared outside the cafeteria—lingered like a silent flame inside him. He remembered the way she smiled, the way they'd finally exchanged words after all that time, and how oddly natural it had felt.
But now, with all his friends around… he chose to say nothing.
Not yet.He laughed with them, nodded along to their jokes, and played the part of the relaxed student. But inside, a new page had turned.
Would it stay that way?
Only time would tell.
As the final bell rang and the Anatomy exam came to a close, Zara placed her pen down gently and leaned back in her chair. She let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. A soft smile played on her lips—not just because the exam was over, but because her heart still echoed with the warmth of her unexpected moment with Alex.
She rose from her seat, eyes scanning the hall as students poured out in clusters. Behind her, Clara and Amanda were already talking and laughing about how tricky the cranial nerves question was. Zara only nodded silently, her thoughts elsewhere.
As they stepped into the warm dusk outside, Clara stretched her arms.
"Finally! That was brutal," she said.
Amanda added, "I don't want to see another diagram till next semester."
Zara chuckled softly.
But even with their excitement, she was quiet. Not withdrawn—just… dreamy.
The girls didn't notice. Not yet.
As they walked back toward their hostel, Zara trailed a step behind, clutching her notes loosely in her hand. She watched the golden light fall on the campus paths, her mind replaying the conversation outside the cafeteria—Alex's calm voice, the way he said "You found me again." It kept returning in small waves.
When they got to the hostel, Clara collapsed onto her bed.
"No talking," she groaned. "Just rest. Please."
Amanda was already pulling her phone out, likely checking for messages or scrolling through social feeds.
Zara, however, sat at the edge of her bed quietly, letting the room's hum fade into the background.
She reached for her phone and opened a chat—not the group chat, not Clara or Amanda.
She opened Abena's.
The evening breeze drifted lazily across campus, rustling trees and cooling the heat of a long exam day. The sky was tinged with a soft purple as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the pavement.
Alex, bag slung over his shoulder, walked alongside his friends—Kenny, Mike, and John—as they made their usual post-exam stroll toward the taxi rank. The group was in high spirits, laughing and reflecting on the trick questions in the anatomy exam, especially the one about the laryngeal nerves that almost tripped everyone up.
"Bro, did you see how Angela was just flipping pages like a printer?" John joked.
Mike laughed. "It's always the quiet ones. That girl's brain is a vault."
They all laughed—except Kenny, who had gone noticeably quiet.
As they neared the roadside, Alex spotted a taxi approaching. He casually raised a hand to stop it. The taxi slowed and pulled over—but just as Alex stepped forward to open the back door, Kenny suddenly reached out and stopped him.Kenny stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the taxi Alex had just flagged down. The girl inside turned slightly toward them, her gaze indifferent, her expression still. But Kenny's heart dropped. That cold wave of stillness he knew too well passed over him like a shadow. Something wasn't right—not with that taxi, not with her.
"Kenny?" Alex turned to him, puzzled by his hand resting firmly on his shoulder.
"Don't take that taxi," Kenny said softly, but with a seriousness that made even Mike and John look up.
Alex frowned, trying to understand. "Why? It's just a student heading back, like me."
Kenny shook his head slowly. "Just don't. Get another one. Please."
Alex glanced at the taxi again, but the driver, impatient, was already pulling off after waiting too long. The girl inside never once blinked or turned again.
Mike raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension. "Bro, what was that about?"
Kenny sighed, releasing Alex's shoulder. "Forget it. Just…trust me on this one. Something didn't feel right."
John chuckled nervously, "You sound like you just saw a ghost."
But Kenny didn't laugh. He kept his eyes in the direction the taxi had gone, then blinked and looked down at the ground.
Alex, though still confused, didn't push further. He knew Kenny wasn't the type to just act out for nothing. "Alright, alright," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll get another one. No stress."
He waved down a new taxi a few minutes later and got in after saying his goodbyes. But as the car drove off, Alex kept glancing out the window, wondering what Kenny had felt… and why that strange chill had crept up his own spine when he looked into the eyes of the girl in the taxi.
Kenny stayed behind, eyes still focused. This wasn't the first time—and he knew it wouldn't be the last.
Alex stepped through the front door and met silence. The house was dim and still, the soft hum of the ceiling fan the only sound that greeted him. He paused for a moment, glancing around.
"Uncle John?" he called, expecting the usual response from the living room or the kitchen. But there was nothing—just the empty echo of his voice bouncing back at him.
That was odd.
It was almost 6 p.m., and Uncle John was always home before then, especially on exam days. He'd usually be on the couch watching the news or warming food in the kitchen, waiting to ask Alex how his paper went. But today… nothing.
Alex dropped his bag by the couch and stood still for a moment, uneasy. But he quickly brushed it off. Maybe he was caught in traffic, he reasoned. Or had a late meeting. Still, a flicker of concern lingered in his chest.
He sighed and stretched, his body still heavy from the mental weight of the Anatomy exam. He had another paper to write the next day—Health Assessment—but the last thing he wanted to do was open a book.
His stomach grumbled. That, at least, made the next decision easier.
He headed into the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, and opened the cabinets. The usual supplies were there: rice, tomatoes, onions, oil, and some frozen chicken in the freezer. Jollof rice, he thought. It was easy enough, and Uncle John loved it too.
Soon, the kitchen filled with the comforting smell of frying spices and sizzling chicken. As the rice steamed, Alex leaned on the counter, staring into the quietness of the living room, mind drifting not to the next paper, not to school, not even to the strange moment with Kenny but to Zara.
He didn't even realize how much he was smiling until the lid rattled on the pot and brought him back to reality.
Alex quickly adjusted the lid on the pot and turned the flame down. He stirred the rice gently, watching the steam rise and swirl into the air like a memory trying to take shape. His thoughts drifted back—Zara's voice, the way she looked at him during their unexpected meeting by the cafeteria, the softness in her eyes, the way she smiled when she remembered the bus ride.
He smiled again, this time to himself.
He didn't know what exactly that moment meant, or whether it meant anything at all. But it felt… real. Calm. Like something long overdue finally finding its place. And now, in the quiet hum of the kitchen, away from the noise of campus, that moment lingered like a gentle echo.
What was she thinking now? he wondered. Did she tell her friends? Was she surprised to see me too?
He shook his head and pulled his mind back. The food was almost ready, and the clock now read 6:42 p.m. Still no sign of Uncle John.
Alex served two plates—just in case. He set the table and placed Uncle John's portion under a food cover. As he sat down to eat alone, the silence in the house pressed in again. He chewed slowly, occasionally glancing at the door. The house felt different tonight. Not just empty. Quiet in a way that made him listen for things that weren't there.
After he finished eating, he washed up and wiped down the counters. His books were still untouched. His phone buzzed with a class group message about the Health Assessment paper. He ignored it for now.
Instead, he stood by the window, arms folded, and stared out at the night. Still no headlights outside. Still no Uncle John.
His mind, just like the room, wasn't settled.
And somewhere deep inside him, the memory of Kenny's strange warning at the taxi rank stirred again.
Just as Alex turned away from the window, deep in thought, he heard the familiar clunk of the gate and the soft roll of tires onto the compound. Headlights spilled briefly into the house before going dim. A car door opened. Then another. Footsteps. And laughter?
Alex blinked. Uncle John... laughing?
He stepped out into the hallway and peeped through the curtains. Yep—there was Uncle John, alright. But he wasn't alone. A woman stepped out of the other car —tall, fair-skinned, and stunning in the way that made time slow for a second. She looked about twenty-seven, dressed smartly in a soft pink blouse and dark jeans, her silky hair falling to her shoulders in neat waves. Everything about her—from the way she smiled to how she gently adjusted her handbag—spoke of elegance and grace.
Uncle John, trying to keep a straight face, walked ahead of her but glanced back and whispered something that made her chuckle. They approached the door, and just as Alex pulled it open."Ei, Alex!" Uncle John said, grinning ear to ear. "You've turned into a ghost now—you don't even come out to greet your old uncle anymore unless I bring a fine woman home?"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "I was beginning to think you got kidnapped," he teased. "But clearly, you were on a... rescue mission."
Uncle John chuckled as he stepped in, motioning toward the woman. "Alex, meet Tina. Tina... meet Alex, my nephew. The only person in this house who eats more than he reads."
"Uncle!" Alex burst into laughter. "You're putting my whole reputation in front of a stranger?"
Tina smiled warmly and extended a hand. "Hi Alex, nice to finally meet you. Your uncle talks about you a lot."
Alex shook her hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you too Tina. You're beautiful—wait, I mean—uh, welcome to our humble house."
Tina laughed, her cheeks slightly pink. "Thank you."
"Uncle," Alex said playfully, looking at Tina then back at him, "You sure she's just your friend? Or you're trying to upgrade the house before telling me something?"
"Alex!" Uncle John said, eyes wide and laughing. "Ah! Is that how you welcome visitors now?"
Tina was laughing now too, clearly entertained.
"Well," Alex said, rubbing his hands together, "as a very respectful young man, I feel it's only fair to offer our beautiful guest some food. I cooked jollof."