Chapter 5 – Between Two Worlds
The weekend had barely begun, yet Amie felt trapped in a calendar that was not her own. Her mother had filled the hours with meetings and luncheons, each with carefully chosen guests. To anyone else, it looked like networking. To Amie, it felt like a silent negotiation of her future.
At one such gathering, Amie sat stiffly beside her father while a family friend introduced a young man named Idris. He was tall, well-dressed, and carried himself with the polished ease of someone raised for boardrooms and banquets. He spoke politely, but his eyes gleamed with calculation.
"Idris just returned from London," her father said proudly, as if Amie should be impressed. "He's finished his MBA. Brilliant young man."
Idris smiled. "Your father tells me you have an interest in design, Amie. Perhaps we could discuss opportunities—over dinner, perhaps?"
Amie's lips curved into a polite smile, but inside, she recoiled. Every word Idris spoke sounded like a business proposal, not an invitation. She excused herself as soon as she could, escaping to the quiet of her room.
There, she pulled out her phone, her fingers moving instinctively toward Lamin's chat.
Amie: "Have you ever felt like your whole life was being planned for you?"
The reply came minutes later.
Lamin: "Every day. Except no one plans mine. I just wake up and try to survive."
Her chest tightened. Two worlds—one of suffocating privilege, the other of relentless struggle. Yet somehow, they understood each other better than anyone else around them.
Amie: "Sometimes I envy you. At least you own your choices."
Lamin: "Amie, if you knew the weight of my choices, you wouldn't envy me."
She stared at the screen, her heart thudding. Even through simple messages, his honesty stripped her bare.
---
That night, Amie sat by her window, the city glittering beneath her. Somewhere far away, across oceans, Lamin might be staring at a very different skyline—but he was the one she longed to see beside her.
For the first time, she whispered into the night, "Maybe distance isn't enough to keep us apart."
On the other side of the ocean, Lamin sat on the edge of his narrow bed, phone glowing in his hand. His roommate snored in the corner, but Lamin couldn't sleep. Amie's last words replayed in his mind: "Maybe distance isn't enough to keep us apart."
He had lived a life where dreams were dangerous, where wanting more than survival felt foolish. Yet this one line from her cracked open something inside him.
He typed, deleted, and typed again. Finally, he sent it:
Lamin: "If distance doesn't matter, then what does?"
Her reply came slower this time.
Amie: "Everything else. My family, my world… they would never understand."
He swallowed hard. He knew what it meant to be unseen, but to be unseen in a world full of luxury—that was a kind of loneliness he couldn't imagine.
Lamin: "Then let's not explain ourselves to the world. Let's just be us."
---
The following day, Amie's world collided with her family's ambitions again. Her father called her into his study, the air heavy with cigar smoke and authority.
"Idris has invited you to dinner tomorrow," he said without looking up from his papers. "I expect you to go."
"Papa, I don't want—"
"This isn't about want, Amie. It's about respectability. Appearances matter. Do not forget you carry the Ceesay name."
Her jaw tightened. She nodded silently, though every part of her rebelled.
Back in her room, she messaged Lamin again, her fingers shaking.
Amie: "My father is pushing me toward someone else."
Lamin: "Do you want that?"
Amie: "No. I only want to keep talking to you."
She pressed send before she could lose her nerve. For a long moment, there was no reply. Then his message appeared:
Lamin: "Then keep talking to me. I'll be here, Amie. Even if your whole world tries to pull you away."
---
Amie lay back on her bed, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She had wealth, privilege, and security—but the only thing that felt real was a man across the ocean, building his life one day at a time.
And though neither dared to name it yet, both knew it: what they felt was no longer just friendship.
It was love.
The next evening, Amie dressed for the dinner her father had insisted upon. A deep blue gown was chosen for her—elegant, flawless, but heavy with expectation. As the driver escorted her to the restaurant, her chest tightened. She wasn't walking into dinner; she was walking into a performance.
Idris greeted her with a polished smile, the kind that spoke of rehearsed charm. "You look stunning, Amie," he said, guiding her to a private table. Candles flickered, wine glasses glimmered, and waiters hovered discreetly.
He spoke confidently about investments, global markets, his future plans—every word carefully designed to impress. Amie nodded politely, but her thoughts drifted. Her phone, hidden in her clutch, buzzed once.
A message.
Her pulse quickened.
She excused herself and slipped to the restroom, locking the door behind her. Hands trembling, she pulled out her phone.
Lamin: "Are you okay?"
Her eyes stung. Somehow, even across an ocean, he knew when she wasn't.
Amie: "I wish I were anywhere but here."
Lamin: "Then imagine this: you're sitting under the stars, no suits, no pressure. Just you and me. That's the world I want for you."
Her throat tightened. She stared at the reflection in the mirror—the wealthy heiress in silk and diamonds, expected to play a part. But in her heart, she was already somewhere else. With someone else.
She typed slowly, deliberately.
Amie: "One day, Lamin… I want that world too."
She pressed send, tears blurring her vision.
---
When she returned to the table, Idris droned on about a new project. But Amie barely heard him. The real conversation—the only one that mattered—was unfolding silently across the ocean, in the words of a man who saw her not as an heiress, but as a woman who longed to be free.
---
[End of Chapter 5 ]