Tunde had never been good at pretending.
While others, especially his brother, wore masks with ease, charming parents, colleagues, and strangers alike, Tunde had always been the one who simmered just beneath the surface, too raw to hide his emotions. Tonight, that weakness had become unbearable.
He sat alone in his car parked a few streets away from Amara's apartment, the engine off, the heat suffocating. The Lagos night buzzed with life; generators humming, street hawkers calling, the laughter of neighbors drifting from open windows. None of it reached him. His world had shrunk to a single apartment lit faintly in the distance, a shadow moving across the curtain every so often.
Her shadow.
But he wasn't the only one inside with her.
KELECHI.
Tunde gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles blanched. The thought of his brother's hands on her, his lips pressing against hers; it made his blood boil, his chest ache with something dark and sharp. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel the tremble of her body beneath him from last night, the way she had whispered his name as if it were forbidden scripture. That memory burned so fiercely it made him dizzy. And yet, she was in there now with Kelechi, letting him hold her as though nothing had happened.
A bitter laugh escaped him. Of course Kelechi was the one she should choose. His brother had always been the golden one; steady, kind, reliable. The son their parents bragged about, the man everyone trusted. Tunde had been the storm, the rebel, the disappointment who could never quite match up.
And now, even in love, Kelechi stood in his way.
But this time, Tunde swore, he wouldn't bow out. Not again.
He leaned back in the driver's seat, staring at the faint glow of Amara's window. Memories flickered like cruel ghosts. The first time he had seen her which was years ago at one of Kelechi's birthdays; she had laughed at something his brother said, and the sound had pierced him, sweet and sharp. She hadn't noticed him then, not really. Most people didn't. Kelechi always commanded the room, and Tunde had lingered at the edges, watching.
But that night, when she had brushed past him to get to the kitchen, her hand had accidentally grazed his arm. She had smiled politely, murmured an apology, and continued on. Such a small moment, insignificant to her. Yet Tunde had carried it with him ever since.
Every gathering after, he found his eyes drifting toward her. He memorized the tilt of her head when she listened, the way her lips curved when she teased Kelechi, the fire in her eyes when she argued about something she believed in. He had wanted her for so long, in silence, in secret, while she only had eyes for his brother.
And then last night, that silence had shattered.
For one forbidden, breathtaking night, she had been his.
The feel of her body arching into his, the way she had begged him not to stop; it wasn't something he could forget, nor something he could allow her to dismiss as a mistake. She was his. She always had been.
Now, sitting in the dark, he realized he couldn't watch her slip back into Kelechi's arms as if nothing had changed. He wouldn't allow it.
The door to Amara's building opened suddenly, and Tunde's body snapped forward, pulse racing.
Kelechi stepped out first, tall and composed, his arm brushing against Amara's as he said something that made her smile faintly. Tunde's chest tightened at the sight. That smile, God, that smile had been his just hours ago, soft and breathless against his lips. And now she was giving it to Kelechi like a gift that didn't belong to him.
Rage seared through him.
He almost flung open the car door right then, ready to storm across the street and drag her back into his arms, consequences be damned. But he forced himself still, his breath heaving in and out, fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms.
He watched instead. He watched as Kelechi brushed a hand against her cheek, tender, intimate. He watched as Amara didn't pull away, though her smile faltered, her eyes betraying a storm he knew all too well. She was thinking of him. He could feel it, as sure as he felt his own heartbeat.
That was enough to keep him from exploding. Barely.
When Kelechi finally left, kissing her cheek before heading toward his car, Tunde stayed hidden, his body trembling with restraint. He waited until Kelechi's taillights disappeared into the distance.
Only then did he step out.
The night air hit him like a slap, heavy with humidity and the faint scent of suya from a nearby vendor. His steps were slow, deliberate, as he crossed the street toward her building. Every muscle in his body screamed with tension. He felt like a man walking into battle, though his only weapon was the fire in his chest.
Amara stood just inside the gate, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked fragile, caught between worlds, her eyes darting between the path Kelechi had taken and the shadows where Tunde emerged.
When she saw him, her breath caught audibly. "Tunde"
"Don't say my name like that," he cut in, his voice low, rough. "Like I'm something you regret."
Her eyes widened, guilt flashing across her face. "You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should he," Tunde said, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "Not after last night."
Her lips parted, trembling. She looked as though she wanted to deny it, but the way her body leaned back against the gate, the way her fingers gripped the iron bars, betrayed her. She remembered. She burned for it still.
Tunde closed the space between them until he was inches away, his presence enveloping her. "Tell me you don't want me, Amara. Look me in the eye and say it."
She swallowed hard, her lashes fluttering. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
And then, in the faintest whisper: "I can't."
The sound tore through him, equal parts relief and torment. He reached up, cupping her face in his hands, his thumb brushing her lower lip. She shivered under his touch.
"You're mine," he said, voice trembling with intensity. "Even if you fight it. Even if he stands between us. You're mine."
Her eyes glistened, torn, her breath unsteady. "Tunde, this will destroy everything."
"Then let it," he growled, leaning closer until his forehead pressed to hers. "I'd rather burn the world than lose you again."
Her body sagged against his, surrendering for just a moment before she pushed him back weakly, desperation in her voice. "Please… not here. Not now."
Tunde clenched his jaw, forcing himself to step away though it felt like tearing out his own heart. He looked at her one last time, his expression carved from anguish and determination.
"This isn't over, Amara. Not for me. Not ever."
And with that, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving her trembling in the shadows.
Tunde didn't drive home immediately. Instead, he found himself parked by the Third Mainland Bridge, staring out at the water as the city lights shimmered across its restless surface. His mind was a storm, memories of Amara's touch colliding with the sight of her in Kelechi's arms.
He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over her name. He could send another message, demand to see her again, but he stopped.
No. Words weren't enough anymore.
If he wanted Amara, if he wanted the life he had dreamed of with her, he would have to fight for it. Fight his brother, fight the world, fight even her resistance.
He wasn't the type to play fair. He never had been.
Tunde leaned back in his seat, his lips curling into something fierce, almost dangerous.
If Kelechi thought this would be a clean game of love, he was wrong.
This was war.