The night air clung heavy against Amara's skin, damp with the promise of rain. She leaned back against the cool wall of her apartment, pressing her palms flat as if she needed the solidness to ground herself. Her lips still burned from the almost-kiss she and Kelechi had shared earlier. Almost. It was maddening, the way his nearness left her trembling even though he hadn't fully claimed her mouth. And then, as if her world hadn't been complicated enough, Tunde's message had come through; a simple line, a haunting echo.
"We need to talk".
Her phone lay on the table, screen dark now, but the weight of those words pulsed through her veins like a curse. She closed her eyes, dragging in a shaky breath. Tunde's ghost had never really left her. His fire had seared too deep, leaving scars and cravings she hated to admit. And Kelechi gently offered her something different, something safer, but no less confusing.
A knock pulled her from her thoughts. Her body jolted upright, heart pounding. She wasn't expecting anyone. For a second, she almost hoped it was Tunde, though she cursed herself for it.
"Amara?" Kelechi's voice came from the other side of the door, soft but edged with worry.
She hesitated, torn between relief and dread. With a slow breath, she unlocked the door and let him in.
Kelechi's eyes caught hers immediately, and the concern in them was almost unbearable. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, his presence filling the small space. He didn't speak right away, just studied her face like he was searching for answers she wouldn't give.
"You've been quiet since earlier," he finally said, voice low. "What's going on?"
Amara forced a smile, one that faltered almost instantly. "Nothing. Just ermmm….Just a long day."
His brow furrowed. "Don't do that, Amara. Don't shut me out." He stepped closer, and her pulse quickened with every inch he closed between them. His hand reached for hers, warm and steady, and she let him take it though her mind screamed at her to keep some distance.
"Kelechi…" she started, but the words tangled. What could she say? That every time she closed her eyes, Tunde's mouth was on hers? That she craved something dangerous, even as she clung to the safety Kelechi offered?
He tilted his head, searching her expression. "You don't have to say it. I can feel it. There's something pulling you away from me. Tell me I'm wrong."
Her lips parted, but no denial came. Silence spoke louder than anything she could have said.
Kelechi's jaw tightened, though his touch remained gentle. "Amara," he whispered, almost like a plea, "if I've done something..."
"You haven't," she cut in, too quickly. Her voice cracked. "It's not you. It's just… it's me. I'm trying to figure things out."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Kelechi lifted his free hand to her cheek. His thumb brushed across her skin, soft, reverent. Her body betrayed her, leaning into the touch, craving more. His eyes dropped to her lips, and her breath hitched.
The kiss happened before she could think. One second she was drowning in his gaze, the next his mouth was on hers; gentle at first, testing, then deeper as she melted against him. A fire surged in her chest, and her hands clutched his shirt as though letting go would mean collapsing.
But beneath the heat, a shadow lingered. TUNDE. The memory of his kiss, his hands, his voice. Even in this moment, she couldn't escape him.
Kelechi pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to hers, his breath warm against her lips. "Tell me you want this," he whispered.
Her chest heaved, torn. "I…I don't know," she admitted, voice raw.
Pain showed in his eyes, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he kissed her again, softer this time, as if he could coax the truth from her body if not her words.
The storm finally broke outside, rain battering against the windows like an urgent drum. The sound filled the room, drowning out her thoughts, leaving only sensation; his mouth, his hands, the ache twisting through her.
But then her phone buzzed again on the table. A sharp, jarring sound in the charged silence.
She froze. Kelechi stilled too, his eyes snapping open. Slowly, she pulled away, chest heaving as she reached for the device. The screen lit with a name that made her stomach lurch.
TUNDE
Kelechi's gaze followed hers, and the look on his face was devastating; realization, hurt, and suspicion all at once.
"You're still talking to him," he said quietly, though the accusation cut deeper than if he had shouted.
Amara's throat went dry. She didn't answer. Couldn't.
Kelechi stepped back, letting her go, though the space between them now felt like an abyss. "I should have known," he murmured, more to himself than to her. His voice broke, and for the first time, his composure cracked.
Before she could explain, before she could even form a word, he turned and left the apartment, the slam of the door echoing like a gunshot.
Amara stood frozen, phone trembling in her hand, the glow of Tunde's name burning into her eyes.
With shaking fingers, she answered.
"Amara," Tunde's voice spilled through the line, low and dangerous, the sound of a storm in human form. "We need to see each other. Now."
Her heart clenched, torn between guilt and a desperate, undeniable pull. Outside, thunder roared, as though the heavens themselves were warning her that stepping into the dark again would change everything.
And still, her lips parted to say the one word that sealed her fate.
YES