Two months had passed since Kevin's message shattered Catherine's heart like glass. Two long, aching months of trying to smile at the world while crumbling inside. The loneliness came in waves—some quiet and dull, others crashing loud against her soul. But Angel had stayed beside her, always encouraging, always patient. Together, they stitched small moments of joy into the sadness: study nights, long walks, silly dance videos.
Then came the departmental party.
"I swear you need this," Angel said, brushing lip gloss across her lips in their dorm room mirror. "You've been hiding in books and blankets since semester started."
Catherine rolled her eyes but smiled. "Parties aren't really my thing."
"This isn't just any party," Angel winked. "It's our department's end-of-term chill-out—and rumor says Brown will be there."
Catherine blinked. "Brown? That thug?"
Angel laughed. "He's not a thug, Cath. He's just… well, he doesn't play by the school's rules. But girls drool over him."
Catherine shrugged. "I'm not looking for anyone."
"I know," Angel said softly. "But maybe let the world find you."
That night, they arrived at the party around 9 p.m. The open-air venue was lit with fairy lights and buzzing with laughter, Afrobeats pumping through speakers as students swayed and danced. Catherine wore a dark green off-shoulder dress—simple, but it hugged her figure perfectly. Angel had gone for a bold red gown that sparkled under the lights.
They grabbed soft drinks and joined a group of classmates near the dance floor. At first, Catherine stood quietly, sipping her drink and nodding to the rhythm. Angel danced playfully, pulling her once or twice into the groove, but Catherine couldn't relax. Her eyes scanned the crowd, watching people flirt, laugh, touch. She felt like a ghost among the living.
"Be right back!" Angel shouted over the music, heading toward a group of boys dancing at the far end.
Catherine sighed and leaned against a pole, watching the colors swirl across the crowd. That was when he approached.
A guy she barely knew—tall, dark-skinned, with a heavy gold chain and breath that smelled faintly of alcohol. He smiled in a way that made her stomach twist.
"Fine girl, you dey alone?"
"I'm okay," Catherine said quickly, taking a step back.
He stepped closer. "Don't be rude now. I've been watching you. You fine die. Just one night, you go enjoy am."
Catherine froze. Her heart pounded. "I said I'm fine," she repeated, firmer.
The guy chuckled and leaned in. "You dey form now? I go still get you, you hear? You no go run from me."
She backed up, panic rising. Where was Angel? Why hadn't she come back?
Then suddenly, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Guy, she say make you free am."
Everyone around turned.
Brown.
He was taller than she remembered, with deep brown eyes, short dreadlocks, and a low, threatening calm in his voice. He wore all black—a clean designer shirt, jeans that fit just right, gold chains, and a Rolex that glittered under the party lights. But what stood out the most was his presence. People moved when Brown spoke.
The guy turned. "Na wetin? Who you?"
Brown didn't flinch. "I say, leave her. You touch her again, you go see madness tonight."
The guy hesitated, then raised his hands. "Omo, na just play we dey play—"
"Play with your mates," Brown cut in sharply.
The tension broke. The guy backed off and melted into the crowd. Catherine let out a shaky breath, still stunned. Brown turned to her.
"You good?" he asked, softer now.
She nodded slowly. "Yes… thank you."
"You shouldn't be standing alone," he said. "Too many fools in this place."
Before she could respond, Angel returned—wide-eyed and confused. "What happened?"
"Long story," Catherine murmured.
Brown gave Angel a quick nod, then turned to leave, but not before saying, "Next time, stay close to people that respect you."
That night, Catherine couldn't stop thinking about him.
---
The next time she saw Brown, it was at the faculty block. He was leaning against his car, talking with a group of guys. She tried to walk past quietly, but he noticed her.
"Fine girl," he said, flashing a smirk. "No more party drama?"
Catherine blushed. "No. Thankfully."
"You owe me a thank you drink," he teased.
She laughed. "Do I?"
He stepped closer, but not too close. "Just a soda. I don't bite."
Something about the way he said it made her smile. That's how it started.
---
They began talking.
At first, it was light-hearted: jokes during lectures, teasing DMs, random campus meetups. Brown was more than the image people had of him. Yes, he was flashy and bold—money-minded, with a reputation for not caring about rules—but he also had depth. He spoke about his past with honesty: growing up in a tough neighborhood, hustling to support his younger siblings, learning to fight before he could write.
"People think I'm a thug," he said one evening as they sat under a tree near the sports center. "But I'm just a guy who had to grow up too fast."
Catherine found herself drawn in. He was funny, smart in an unexpected way, and he listened. He didn't rush her to talk about Kevin, but he understood heartbreak. He shared stories of girls who had used him for his money or clout, who left once someone richer came along.
"You're not like them," he said once, gently.
Catherine didn't know what she was. All she knew was that around him, she felt safe.
Angel was wary at first.
"Brown? Are you serious?"
Catherine shrugged. "He's not what I expected."
"That's what scares me," Angel replied. "You just got out of something heavy. Don't run into fire just because someone helped you out of rain."
But Catherine was already falling. Brown made her feel wanted without pretending. He didn't make grand promises, but he showed up. Brought her food during lectures. Walked her to her hostel. Called her every night, just to say goodnight.
One night, as they walked together after a night class, he stopped and said, "Cath, I like you. I don't know how to sugar-coat feelings. I just know I want to be the guy who makes you forget any boy who made you cry."
Her heart jumped.
"I don't want to be your rebound," he added. "But if you give me a chance, I'll prove I'm more than the stories they tell."
Catherine stared at him. She was scared—but more than that, she was ready to feel again. Carefully. Slowly.
"I'll give you a chance," she said. "But no promises."
He smiled. "I'm not asking for promises. I'm asking for now."
---
Their relationship was fiery, passionate, and different from anything Catherine had experienced before. Brown was protective, sometimes too much, but always with good intention. He spoiled her in small and big ways: new shoes, surprise deliveries, even taking her to fancy restaurants just outside campus.
But Catherine made sure she didn't lose herself in him. She remembered Kevin. She remembered how fast things could fall apart when you ignored the signs.
Brown had his flaws. He got jealous easily, especially when she talked to other guys.
"Why's that one always texting you?" he'd ask.
"He's just in my group project," she'd explain.
Still, he'd frown.
He had a temper too. Once, he almost fought another guy for bumping into her at the canteen. Catherine had to calm him down, her hand on his chest, whispering, "Let it go, please."
But even with the flaws, she couldn't lie—he cared. Brown might not have been perfect, but he had her back.
For the first time in a long while, Catherine felt like she could breathe again. The girl who had once sat heartbroken in her dorm now walked through campus with confidence, her hand in Brown's, her smile real.
Still, something inside her stayed cautious. As if her heart, still tender from Kevin, didn't want to leap too far ahead.
But for now, Brown was her peace. Her chaos. Her surprise.
And for the first time in months, her heart wasn't just broken—it was beating again.