Chizoba POV:
Minji grabbed my hand. "Don't mind him, he's allergic to social interaction." Then she turned to our parents with the brightest smile. "She's perfect. Can she sit beside me at dinner?"
My mom laughed, my stepfather just nodded like he'd seen this chaos before, and I ….well, I was just trying to keep up.
And just like that, my new life officially began with one overexcited stepsister, one emotionally unavailable stepbrother, and a house big enough to get lost in.
I could barely keep up. I was still trying to wrap my head around it all when my phone started buzzing in my pocket.
"Ah, omo!" (ohboy!) I muttered as I pulled it out and saw my best friend's name flashing on the screen.
"Excuse me," I said quickly to everyone, walking to my room.
Flopped onto the ridiculously soft bed as I answered the call.
"Babe! I don land oh!" (Babe! I've arrived!) I said, grinning.
"You no serious," (You're not serious) she replied, her voice practically bubbling with excitement. "How the place be? Abi you don chop kimchi already?" (How's the place? Have you eaten kimchi already?)
I laughed. "Kimchi ke? I never even reach kitchen. Babe, this house mad oh." (Kimchi? I haven't even made it to the kitchen. Babe, this house is crazy!)
"Chandelier dey my room! My room! As in, ordinary me wey dey manage fan for Lagos." (There's a chandelier in my room! Just me, the same girl who was managing an AC back in Lagos.)
"Wahala for who no get chandelier!" (Too bad for anyone who doesn't have a chandelier!)
We both burst into laughter, the kind that made your belly ache.
I rolled over, staring at the ceiling. "The house fine die, but everything just dey somehow." (The house is insanely beautiful, but everything feels strange.)
"My stepfather get bodyguards. My room be like hotel. And their wahala dey come with am." (My stepfather has bodyguards. My room is like a hotel. And this family definitely comes with drama.)
We chatted for another twenty minutes fast gist, playful banter, me struggling to describe just how crazy rich this place was.
Then boom, the door burst open.
Minji walked in like a whirlwind, waving two pairs of shoes in the air. "Hey! Okay, emergency heels or flats?"
I sat up, wide-eyed. "Erm, babe—I go call you back. Wahala don enter my room." (I'll call you back. Trouble just walked into my room.)
"Who be that one? Your Korean sister?" (Who's that? Your Korean sister?)
I chuckled. "Yes oh. I go gist you later. Bye bye!" (Yes. I'll give you the full story later.)
I hung up just as Minji plopped herself dramatically onto the edge of my bed.
"Sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Wait, were you speaking… Nigerian?"
"Yup. Nigerian slang."
"Cool!" she grinned like I'd just handed her a rare Pokémon. "Anyway, for dinner tonight, nothing too extra. Just a little classy. The chef goes all out when we have guests, and technically, you're our guest until you're not. You get it?"
I nodded slowly, still recovering from the shoe ambush.
"Oh, and house rules," she added, holding up a finger. "No loud music after 9. Jihoon's allergic to anything fun. He basically lives in his headphones and only comes out to glare at people and eat noodles."
I raised a brow. "Sounds delightful."
"You'll get used to it," she said with a wink.
"Eventually."
Dinner at theMansion