Sleep refused Amara, though her body begged for it. The storm outside had switch into a soft drizzle, tapping lazily against the glass, but inside her chest, the chaos raged on. She sat curled on the edge of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, phone clutched tight as though it could answer the questions she was too afraid to ask.
Tunde's voice still echoed in her head.
"We need to see each other. Now."
She had said yes, like a moth helpless before a flame. She hated herself for it. Not just for betraying Kelechi but for knowing, deep down, that she would never truly resist Tunde. His pull was dangerous, intoxicating ; the kind that promised both pleasure and ruin.
Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe. But her mind betrayed her, dragging her back into memory.
It was two years ago, the night that changed everything. The night that had left its brand on her heart.
She had gone to the party reluctantly, coaxed by a friend, promising herself she would only stay an hour. The music thumped through the walls of the old house, the air thick with sweat, cologne, and secrets. She had tried to keep her distance, sipping a drink by the corner, when he walked in.
TUNDE
His presence had swallowed the room in an instant. Broad-shouldered, confident, eyes that carried storms. He didn't search the crowd; he commanded it, and yet when his gaze landed on her, the world seemed to narrow until she was the only one left.
The first touch had been an accident; his hand brushing hers as he leaned in to take her glass. The spark had been unmistakable. Later, when the others faded into background noise, she found herself with him on the balcony, moonlight painting shadows across his jawline.
"You're trouble," she'd whispered, half to herself.
His smile had been dark, knowing. "Maybe. But you like trouble."
And then his mouth had claimed hers, hot and hungry, as if he had waited his whole life for that kiss. His hands had found her waist, pulling her against him, and every rational thought had dissolved in the fire of his touch. That night had been a fever; stolen kisses, whispered promises, skin against skin in the suffocating dark of his room. Every breath had tasted of sin, every touch had burned like he was branding her as his.
When dawn crept in, reality had torn them apart. He had left without explanation, leaving her hollow, furious, and addicted to a man who had walked away without a second glance.
Amara snapped her eyes open, shoving the memory aside, but her body betrayed her. Her skin flushed, her breath uneven. She hated how the thought of Tunde still lit a fire in her belly. She hated that the ghost of that night still lived in her veins.
The guilt hit just as hard; Kelechi's hurt expression when he saw Tunde's name on her phone, the way his voice had cracked. He didn't deserve this. He deserved honesty, loyalty, love without shadows.
And yet, here she was, tangled in a web she had spun herself, caught between fire and calm, between the man who had broken her and the one who might save her.
Her phone buzzed again, sharp in the silence. She jumped, fumbling as the screen lit up. A message.
"Tomorrow. 8 p.m. CHICKEN REPUBLIC. Come alone."
Her stomach twisted. Chicken Republic; the one near the abandoned train station, the one she hadn't stepped into since she was a teenager. He chose it on purpose, she realized. A place where the past lingered, a place heavy with secrets.
She set the phone down and buried her face in her hands. Sleep was impossible. Her body ached for rest, but her mind refused to quiet. When she did finally collapse onto the bed, her dreams betrayed her.
They were fever dreams; tangled sheets, whispered names, her body arching under familiar hands. Sometimes it was Kelechi, tender, lips grazing her skin like worship. Other times it was Tunde, demanding, devouring, pulling moans from her throat she couldn't control. The two blurred, overlapping, until she couldn't tell one from the other.
She woke with a strangled gasp, drenched in sweat, heart racing as though she had been running. Dawn bled pale light into her room, but the heaviness in her chest remained.
For the first time in a long while, Amara was truly afraid, not of losing either man, but of losing herself in the dangerous storm that was pulling them all together.
The knock at her door startled her. She froze, clutching the sheets, dread prickling along her skin. It was too early for visitors.
"Amara?"
Her heart sank. KELECHI.
She didn't answer right away, torn between wanting to explain, to beg forgiveness, and wanting to hide until the guilt consumed her whole.
The knock came again, firmer this time. "Please. We need to talk."
Her phone buzzed again on the nightstand. Another message.
"Don't forget. 8 p.m."
Amara pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, eyes darting between the door and the phone. Two men. Two choices. Two lives colliding into hers, pulling her in opposite directions.
The storm wasn't coming. It was already here.