The knocking didn't stop. If anything, it grew heavier, each knock echoing through her chest like a drumbeat of guilt.
"Amara, open the door." Kelechi's voice was low, tight. He wasn't shouting, but there was an urgency in his tone that made her stomach twist.
She wiped at her damp forehead with the sheet, her pulse racing. The phone on her nightstand buzzed again, Tunde's words still glowing on the screen
'Don't forget. 8 p.m".
It felt like a brand, a secret scorching her skin.
Amara dragged herself out of bed, every step toward the door heavy. She wasn't ready. Not for this conversation. Not for his eyes, his questions, his pain. She opened the door anyway.
Kelechi stood there, his frame filling the doorway. His white T-shirt clung to him, rainwater dripping from the tips of his hair. He looked exhausted, but what struck her was the expression on his face; guarded, searching, like he was bracing himself for a blow.
"Can I come in?" His words were soft, but not tentative.
Amara hesitated only a moment before stepping aside.
Inside, Kelechi walked to the center of her living room, not sitting, not relaxing. He stood tall, arms crossed over his chest, watching her as though trying to piece her apart. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her skin.
"I couldn't sleep," he said finally. "Not after yesterday. Not after…him."
Her chest tightened. "Kelechi…"
"Don't," he cut her off, his voice sharp. He ran a hand over his face and let out a harsh breath. "Amara, I need to know. Are you still in love with him?"
The question struck her like a slap. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her silence stretched between them, a noose tightening around her throat.
Kelechi gave a short, bitter laugh. "That's it, isn't it? You couldn't even deny it."
She took a step forward. "It's not that simple. You don't understand"
"Then make me understand," he snapped, his voice breaking at the edges. His chest rose and fell with the effort of holding back his anger. "Do you know how it feels, Amara? To look at you and wonder if every touch, every kiss, every laugh we shared was just you trying to forget him?"
Tears pricked her eyes. She wanted to reach for him, to soothe the tremor in his voice, but her own hands shook.
"I care about you," she whispered. "I do. You've been the calm I never knew I needed. But..."
"But he's the fire." His words cut through hers, flat and bitter.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
Amara closed her eyes. "Kelechi, I don't want to hurt you."
"Too late," he said quietly, almost to himself. He looked at her, and in his eyes she saw not just anger, but the kind of hurt that went deep into the bones.
When he turned to leave, her chest constricted. Panic flared; she didn't want to lose him, not like this. She grabbed his wrist, and the moment their skin touched, the air between them shifted.
Kelechi stilled, then turned back to her. His gaze dropped to her lips, his breathing uneven. It wasn't planned, but suddenly his mouth was on hers, urgent, desperate, bruising.
Her back hit the wall as his body pressed into hers, the kiss raw and demanding. His hands cupped her face, then slid lower, gripping her waist as though afraid she would vanish if he let go.
Amara's mind screamed for clarity, but her body betrayed her. She melted into him, fingers tangling in his damp shirt, the taste of rain and heartbreak on his lips. Every touch felt like both punishment and plea.
When he pulled away, his forehead resting against hers, his voice was a rough whisper. "I don't want to share you."
She swallowed hard, her chest heaving. "Kelechi…"
He stepped back then, eyes shadowed. "Decide, Amara. Before he does it for you."
And with that, he left; the door clicking shut behind him like the final note of a song.
Amara slid to the floor, her body trembling. Her lips still burned from his kiss, her heart still pounding from his words. She looked at her phone, still glowing on the nightstand.
TUNDE: "Don't forget. 8 p.m".
CROSSROADS.
That's where she stood now. Between the man who had been her fire and the man who had been her calm. Between the life she thought she wanted and the one she might lose.
And the worst part was knowing that whichever path she chose, someone's heart; maybe even her own; was destined to break.