The sun was high and unrelenting as the church compound emptied, the dust from departing cars rising like smoke into the afternoon air. Abraham walked briskly, his shoulders tense, his jaw locked as if he were holding back words that burned to escape.
Chika jogged a step behind him, struggling to keep up. "Martial, slow down! Na church wey you comot from, no be battlefield."
Abraham stopped abruptly beneath the shade of a neem tree. He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "Did you see him? Sitting there like he owns the world. Sitting next to her."
Chika leaned against the tree, arms folded, smirk tugging at his lips. "So na Desmond dey worry you like this? I for think say na small boy wahala."
Abraham glared at his younger brother, but Chika only chuckled. "You better calm down, bros. If Glory go be yours, she go be yours. Na noisemaker no fit change that."
The words stung, but they carried sense. Abraham turned his gaze to the road where Glory had disappeared moments earlier. The image of her smile, soft yet distant, lingered in his mind, twisting at his chest.
Emperor's voice shattered the silence. "Ah, my guy! Na so you wan break Desmond head for church?!" He strode toward them with Miracle at his side, his laughter echoing like bells. "You for wait make ushers hold the guy, then you land am one holy slap. That one for sweet!"
Abraham shook his head in frustration. "This isn't a joke, Emperor."
"Na everything be joke," Emperor said, grinning. "If you no laugh, you go cry. And cry no dey sweet."
Miracle, who had been quiet, adjusted his Bible under his arm and spoke in a measured tone. "Jealousy burns faster than firewood. If you let it control you, it will consume you."
Abraham shot him a sharp look, but Miracle's expression was calm, steady. Chika's smirk faded as he caught the weight of those words. Even Emperor, though rolling his eyes, didn't interrupt.
"Think on it," Miracle added softly, before turning to greet another member of the congregation who passed by.
---
Meanwhile, across the compound, Glory and Chiburuoma were walking home together.
"You didn't tell me Desmond was coming," Glory murmured, her eyes fixed on the dusty road ahead.
Chiburuoma raised her brows. "And since when is Desmond my handbag? The guy likes you, everybody knows. Even Abraham."
Glory's steps faltered at the mention of his name. She pulled her wrapper tighter around her waist. "He was angry."
"Of course he was angry," Chiburuoma said, half teasing. "You were sitting with his rival. You think men don't mark territory?"
Glory sighed. "I don't want trouble, Chi. Not between them. Not in church."
Chiburuoma chuckled. "Trouble no dey ask permission. If two men wan fight for one woman, na the woman go decide who worth am. The question is—who do you really want?"
Glory didn't answer. The silence stretched as they walked, but her heart knew the answer even if her lips wouldn't speak it.
---
Elsewhere, Desmond leaned against his car, arms folded, a smile tugging at his lips. One of his friends approached, raising a brow.
"You and Abraham nearly lock horns today," the friend said.
Desmond's smile widened. "Nearly? He's already losing. Did you see the way she looked at me? He can't stop it. He knows it."
His laughter was low and satisfied as he climbed into his car, the engine rumbling to life. He drove off with the confidence of a man who believed victory was only a matter of time.
---
Back beneath the neem tree, Abraham remained silent. His friends' words and Glory's unreadable smile weighed heavily on him. He wanted to storm after Desmond, to tear down the smug grin on his face. But Miracle's voice echoed in his mind: Jealousy burns faster than firewood.
"Martial," Chika said, softer this time. "Don't let this thing eat you alive. You're better than that guy. Glory knows it too. Just… give her reason to choose you."
Abraham nodded slowly, though his fists were still tight. "I won't let him win, Chika. Not Desmond. Not anyone. But I'll do it my way."
As they started back home, the tension lingered like smoke in the air. The battle lines had been drawn, even if no fists had been thrown. And in the quiet corners of both their hearts, Abraham and Desmond knew this was only the beginning.