The birthday decorations were gone, the music silenced, and the laughter that had filled the lounge now lingered only as memory. For most of Dav's friends, his twenty-first birthday was a night well spent a celebration marked by games, fun, and good vibes. But for Dav and Ruth, the echoes of that night carried a weight they could not shake off so easily.
Ruth lay awake in her hostel bed long after her friends had drifted off to sleep. Miriam snored softly across the room, while Tolu scrolled lazily on her phone until her eyes finally surrendered. But Ruth stared at the ceiling, her thoughts circling back to the moment Brown leaned toward her, the cheers of the crowd, the warmth of his breath so close to hers.
It wasn't the almost-kiss that unsettled her. It was the way her instinct had screamed no, the way she had turned her face away because letting it happen would have felt wrong. And more than that, it was the look on Dav's face the shadow in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.
She hadn't been able to forget it.
What hurt most was that Dav had barely looked at her after pulling her aside. He had brushed it off, but Ruth knew him too well. He wasn't angry at Brown not really. He was angry at her. Or maybe not angry… hurt. The thought alone left her chest tight.
Why do I even care so much? she whispered to herself. But the answer was one she already knew.
Dav, meanwhile, sat in his room hours after the party, the wristwatch Ruth had gifted him still strapped to his wrist. He had thanked her for it earlier, smiling and hugging her as though it were nothing more than another thoughtful gesture from his closest friend. But now, in the quiet of his room, he couldn't stop staring at it.
It was perfect. She always knew what he liked, what he needed, often before he admitted it himself. That was Ruth steady, thoughtful, always there.
So why had it bothered him so much when Brown dared to kiss her? Why had he felt that flare of heat in his chest, that urge to pull her away, to tell Brown to back off?
He told himself it was protectiveness. She was his closest friend, his sister in every way that mattered. Of course he'd want to shield her from unwanted advances. That was all it was.
But deep down, Dav knew better.
He hadn't cared this way when other guys flirted with Miriam or Tolu. He hadn't clenched his fists when Grace received a compliment. But with Ruth, it was different. Brown's eyes on her, his lips leaning close it had stirred something Dav wasn't ready to face.
So he buried it. Told himself it was nothing. And yet, every time he replayed the scene, his chest tightened.
The following days carried a strange quiet between them. They still walked to class together, still studied in the library, still exchanged their usual banter. But beneath the surface, there was tension. Their laughter didn't come as easily, their conversations felt slightly shorter.
It was Miriam who noticed first.
"You and Dav okay?" she asked one evening as she braided Ruth's hair.
Ruth hesitated. "Why?"
"You've been… different. Both of you. Like you're talking, but not really talking."
Ruth forced a smile. "We're fine. Just tired, I guess."
But inside, she knew Miriam was right. Something had shifted, and neither of them knew how to bridge it.
Brown didn't help matters.
He started showing up more often stopping by during group studies, joining conversations he once ignored, cracking jokes that drew awkward laughs. Ruth could feel his attention, heavy and insistent, like a spotlight she didn't ask for.
One afternoon, as the group gathered under a tree to revise, Brown slid into the spot beside her.
"You dodged me at the party," he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.
Ruth stiffened, eyes on her notebook. "It was a game. Don't make it more than it was."
He chuckled, leaning closer. "Maybe I want to make it more."
Before Ruth could reply, Dav's voice cut in from across the circle.
"Brown," he said flatly, "you're blocking the light. Move."
Brown glanced at him, smirked, and shifted slightly but didn't move far. Ruth's pulse raced. She wanted to tell Brown off, to set the boundary clear, but with Dav watching, she stayed quiet.
Still, the tension between the two guys was unmistakable.
That night, Ruth finally found the courage to text Dav.
Ruth: Can we talk?
There was a long pause before his reply came.
Dav: About what?
Ruth: The other night. Your birthday.
Another pause.
Dav: Nothing to talk about. It was just a game.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, frustration bubbling. She wanted to tell him it wasn't just a game. That it had meant something, not because of Brown, but because of him. Because of the way he looked at her, the way it mattered too much to her what he thought.
But she didn't send the words. She typed, erased, typed again, then finally settled on:
Ruth: Okay. If you say so.
The conversation ended there, leaving her with a hollow ache.
Dav lay awake after their exchange, staring at the glow of his phone screen. He wanted to tell her he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. He wanted to ask why she had let Brown get that close, why she had looked away when he caught her eye. He wanted to say the truth that it wasn't just a game to him either.
But the words refused to leave his chest.
Admitting them would change everything. And he wasn't ready for that.
So he did what he always did: pretended.
For the first time since they met, silence felt heavier than laughter between them. They still moved in the same circles, still shared jokes with their friends, but beneath it all was a storm waiting to break.
Neither of them knew when, or how, but both could feel it this was only the beginning of something they could no longer keep buried.