The morning sun filtered through the thin beige curtains of Amara's room, falling across her face like liquid gold. She stirred, the faint warmth nudging her awake. For a moment she lay still, listening — the distant chatter of girls in the hallway, the rhythmic gurgle of running water from someone's shower, and Ngozi's light snoring from the next bed.
She smiled sleepily.
Stretching, Amara sat up, rubbing her eyes before glancing at the small alarm clock on her bedside table. 7:02 AM.
"Perfect," she murmured under her breath, pushing the covers aside. Her 8 AM lecture meant she had just enough time to freshen up and get ready. She tiptoed to the bathroom, trying not to wake Ngozi. The tiles were cool against her feet as she brushed, washed up, and took a quick shower.
By the time she came out, wrapped in her towel, Ngozi was still asleep, one leg hanging dramatically off the side of her bed.
Amara laughed quietly. "So there's a day you can oversleep, Mrs. Serious?" she whispered, grabbing her clothes.
When Ngozi still didn't budge, Amara walked over and poked her arm. "Wake up before I pour water on you!"
Ngozi groaned, rolling over. "Mara, please. Five minutes."
"Five minutes my foot. You have a 9 AM law lecture, remember?"
Ngozi peeked from under her pillow, half-asleep. "You're evil. Who remembers other people's schedules this early?"
Amara laughed. "Me. Now go and bathe before you're late. We both know how long you take in there."
Ngozi sat up, giving her a mock glare. "Excuse me, I don't spend long—"
"Long enough to give birth twice," Amara teased.
Ngozi gasped dramatically, then flung her pillow at Amara, who dodged it with a grin. "Rude girl!"
Still chuckling, Amara moved toward the table by the window, pulling the small hot plate closer. "Go bathe, abeg. I'll make oats for both of us."
"Wait—did I just hear you say oats?" Ngozi's eyes widened in disbelief as she grabbed her towel. "You? Cooking?"
Amara smirked. "Yes. Me. The miracle of the century."
As Ngozi disappeared into the bathroom, Amara shook her head fondly. She plugged in the hot plate — the same one Ngozi had smuggled into the room — and poured some water into the small pot. While waiting for it to boil, she found herself murmuring, "I can't believe I'm using your illegal hot plate…"
When the water began to bubble, she poured in the oats and stirred slowly, inhaling the faint nutty scent as it thickened. She added a bit of milk, a spoonful of sugar, and smiled at her own handiwork.
By the time Ngozi emerged, wrapped in her towel and humming, Amara had already eaten half her portion and was rinsing the pot.
"Oh, you actually made it," Ngozi said, sounding impressed. "And it smells good!"
Amara laughed, slipping her notebook into her bag. "Thank you, chef. Yours is on the table. Eat before it gets cold. I'm heading out."
Ngozi pouted. "You're leaving me?"
"I've got class, remember? Eight to twelve."
"Fine, fine. Go. I'll lock the door behind you. And don't forget to come back with gist!"
Amara smiled as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Always."
She left the room, the familiar corridor air greeting her — a blend of body spray, perfume, and the faint scent of bread someone was toasting. Girls hurried past, adjusting their hairnets or chatting animatedly.
By the time she stepped out into the sunlight, the compound was alive. Groups of students streamed toward the main lecture complex, some laughing, some half-running.
---
Amara's morning passed in a blur of words, scribbled notes, and the low hum of voices. The lecture hall was packed, the lecturer's monotone voice echoing endlessly through the speakers.
By the second hour, her mind had drifted.
She stared absently at the board, chin in her hand, barely listening to the equations. Zainab and Tolu were on either side of her, exchanging quiet sighs.
"This is torture," Zainab muttered.
"I'm not even pretending to understand anymore," Tolu whispered back.
Amara stifled a laugh, quickly hiding her smile behind her pen.
When the final lecture finally ended, the wave of relief was almost audible. Chairs screeched, students stretched, and the crowd began to spill out of the hall in a noisy flood.
Amara stood, tucking her notebook into her bag. "Cafeteria?" she asked her friends.
"Obviously," Zainab said. "I'm starving."
"We'll grab a seat first," Tolu added. "Don't take long."
"I'll just order something light," Amara said as they started walking out together.
---
The cafeteria was buzzing. The chatter of students blended with the clinking of trays and plates, the air rich with the smell of fried rice, beans, and jollof.
Amara joined the queue, eyes scanning the menu board lazily. After the long, dragging morning, she only wanted something warm and comforting — coffee, maybe, to stay awake through the rest of the day.
Her friends had already found a table near the window. Zainab waved at her across the crowd.
"Get me a drink!" Zainab mouthed.
Amara nodded, smiling, and turned back to the counter. She collected her takeaway cup of coffee, thanking the server. The cup was warm in her hands, the faint aroma lifting her spirits.
She turned around carefully, balancing her drink — and collided straight into someone.
The impact wasn't hard, but enough to make the lid pop open. A splash of hot coffee spilled across the person's shoes and the lower hem of his shirt.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Amara gasped immediately, wide-eyed.
The guy blinked, then looked down at his shoes — black sneakers, now splattered with brown stains. For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them.
He looked up.
He was tall, his eyes sharp but calm, and his tone carried no anger, just quiet amusement. "It's fine."
Amara fumbled for tissues, mortified. "No, no — it's not fine! I just ruined your shirt—wait, your shoes—hold on—"
He raised a hand slightly, stopping her frantic motion. "It's okay. Really."
"I'll clean it! Or I'll buy another one or—"
"You don't have to," he said evenly, his lips quirking into a small, patient smile. "But… I'll remember this."
"Huh?"
"You owe me one," he said simply, his tone light but firm — then stepped aside, walking past her toward the exit.
Amara stood frozen, speechless, still clutching the half-empty coffee cup.
"Owe him one?" she muttered to herself. "What does that even mean?"
From across the cafeteria, Zainab was waving again, motioning for her to come.
Amara exhaled, cheeks flushed, and hurried toward them, trying to shake off the embarrassment.
As she sat down, Tolu immediately leaned forward. "Why are you blushing? What happened?"
"Don't even ask," Amara groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I spilled coffee on someone."
"On who?" Zainab asked, intrigued.
"I don't know," Amara admitted. "Some guy. I didn't even get his name."
Tolu gasped theatrically. "So you're just out here… spilling coffee on strangers? Our Amara has become a heartbreaker."
Amara rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. "You two are impossible."
They all burst into laughter, the tension melting away as the conversation drifted to lighter topics — assignments, lecturers, and weekend plans.
But somewhere in the back of her mind, Amara couldn't shake the small flutter of unease.
---
Kael's POV
From the far side of the cafeteria, where sunlight spilled across the floor in fractured gold, Kael stood near one of the pillars, eyes fixed on the crowd.
He hadn't planned to be here. He'd told himself to stay away — to let her be. But something had drawn him.
And now, he was watching her laugh with her friends, that easy smile on her face.
He'd seen everything — the way she had turned, the way the coffee had spilled, and the boy who'd walked away with that calm, almost teasing smile.
He should have looked away.
But when Amara brushed her hair back, the faint gleam of light from her wrist caught his eye.
The mark pulsed.
Just once — faint, almost imperceptible, but enough to make the air tighten around him.
Kael's fingers clenched slightly.
He drew in a slow breath, forcing the reaction down. The hum beneath his skin subsided, but the unease didn't.
He turned, disappearing into the crowd, his expression unreadable.
And across the cafeteria, Amara suddenly looked up — heart skipping for no reason she could explain — scanning the faces around her.
But there was no one there.
Only the noise of laughter, the warmth of sunlight, and the faint thrum beneath her sleeve that she couldn't understand.