Kyomie woke up to another morning heavy with dread. The sun had barely risen, but the weight of reality pressed down on her chest like a stone. She needed to find a job fast. The government had issued final warnings the coffee shop her family once cherished was on the brink of repossession. Luna, her elder sister was drowning in hospital debt from their late mother's prolonged illness. And Rose, the second, clung desperately to the failing coffee shop, calling it their "family legacy," even though it hadn't made a profit since their mother passed.
Rose spent her days behind the counter, brewing coffee for a handful of indifferent customers, hoping sentiment would somehow revive the business. But hope wasn't enough. Every evening, she returned home exhausted and bitter, especially toward Kyomie, who had refused to work alongside her.
"You think you're too good for the shop?" Rose sneered one night, slamming the front door behind her. "You were the reason Mom got sick in the first place. She should've aborted you twenty-five years ago."
Kyomie froze. The words weren't new Rose had weaponized them in every argument but they still cut deep. Her fists clenched, her voice sharp as glass.
"And you think clinging to a dead dream makes you noble?" Kyomie snapped. "You're just a failure trying to drag me down with you. That coffee shop is a tomb, and you're burying us in it."
Rose's face twisted with rage. She stepped forward, hand raised, ready to strike but Luna burst into the room just in time.
"Enough!" Luna shouted. "The neighbors complain about you two every single day. What is wrong with you?"
"She started it," Rose said quickly, pointing at Kyomie. "She disrespects me, calls me names, refuses to help."
Of course Luna would take Rose's side. She always did. Kyomie's chest burned with frustration, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Without another word, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
The street was quiet, but inside Kyomie's mind, everything was loud memories, regrets, anger. She didn't know where she was going, only that she couldn't stay. Not in that house. Not with that pain.
---
Kyomie didn't know where else to go, so she headed to the one place that always felt like home Zain's house. Her best friend since childhood, Zain had seen her through every storm, and tonight was no different.
She arrived just as Zain was setting the table for dinner. The aroma of spicy jollof rice and grilled chicken wafted through the air, and Kyomie's stomach growled in response. Without hesitation, she made her way to the kitchen, grabbed a plate, and helped herself like she always did.
"You're lucky I love you," Zain teased, raising an eyebrow as Kyomie devoured her food.
Between bites, Kyomie recounted the chaos of the day the fight with Rose, Luna's silence, and the suffocating tension at home.
Zain listened quietly, her expression darkening with each word. "Luna's the eldest," she said finally, "She should know better. She's supposed to have the right judgment, not just play referee."
Kyomie nodded, grateful for the validation. "I just couldn't take it anymore. Rose keeps blaming me for everything. I didn't ask to be born."
Zain reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You're not the problem, Kyomie. You're just trying to survive."
After a moment of silence, Zain leaned back and said, "Listen, I think I can help. There's an opening at Castillo Bar. It's not the hotel getting in there is tough but the bar's run by Tommy, and he's fair. The pay's decent, and it'll hold you over until something better comes along."
Kyomie's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"
Zain smiled. "Dead serious. I'll talk to Tommy tomorrow."
Relief washed over Kyomie like a warm wave. For the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," she whispered. "Really."
That night, Kyomie didn't go home. She couldn't bear another confrontation with Rose, not with her heart still raw. Instead, she curled up on Zain's bed wrapped in a borrowed blanket, and drifted off to sleep with the faint hum of city life outside and the comforting scent of dinner still lingering in the air.
---
Zain stood over Kyomie like a drill sergeant, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. The sun hadn't even fully stretched across the sky, but Zain was already dressed and ready. Kyomie, however, was deep in her usual morning coma, wrapped in blankets like a burrito.
"Kyomie," Zain said, nudging her shoulder. No movement.
She leaned in closer. "Kyomie, get up. You know if I leave you, you'll sleep past time."
Kyomie groaned, rolled over, and buried her face deeper into the pillow. Zain sighed. This was typical Kyomie back in school, they were always late to class because Kyomie treated mornings like a personal offense.
"Don't make me drag you out of bed," Zain warned.
Kyomie peeked out with one eye, hair wild and defiant. "Five more minutes," she mumbled.
"You've had five more minutes for the past twenty."
Eventually, after much twisting and turning, Kyomie sat up with a dramatic sigh, blinking like she'd just returned from another universe. "Fine," she muttered. "But I'm getting breakfast."
After freshening up and throwing on casual outfits, the two girls headed out. The streets were just waking up—vendors setting up stalls, the scent of roasted plantains and spicy meat drifting through the air.
Kyomie stopped at a roadside stand and bought a hefty breakfast wrap, stuffed with eggs, sausage, and pepper sauce. She took a big bite, eyes closed in bliss.
Zain watched her, amused. "You're not fat, but you eat like a whale and sleep like a pig."
Kyomie didn't even blink. She tore off a piece of her wrap and held it out. "Want a bite?"
Zain snatched it and took a dramatic chomp. "Of course I do."
They laughed, their banter easy and familiar. Moments like this reminded them why their friendship worked—Zain was the spark, Kyomie the calm, and somehow they balanced each other perfectly.
Zain stood over Kyomie like a drill sergeant, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. The sun hadn't even fully stretched across the sky, but Zain was already dressed and ready. Kyomie, however, was deep in her usual morning coma, wrapped in blankets like a burrito.
"Kyomie," Zain said, nudging her shoulder. No movement.
She leaned in closer. "Kyomie, get up. You know if I leave you, you'll sleep past time."
Kyomie groaned, rolled over, and buried her face deeper into the pillow. Zain sighed. This was textbook Kyomie—back in school, they were always late to class because Kyomie treated mornings like a personal offense.
"Don't make me drag you out of bed," Zain warned.
Kyomie peeked out with one eye, hair wild and defiant. "Five more minutes," she mumbled.
"You've had five more minutes for the past twenty."
Eventually, after much twisting and turning, Kyomie sat up with a dramatic sigh, blinking like she'd just returned from another universe. "Fine," she muttered. "But I'm getting breakfast."
🛣️ On the Move
After freshening up and throwing on casual outfits, the two girls headed out. The streets were just waking up—vendors setting up stalls, the scent of roasted plantains and spicy meat drifting through the air.
Kyomie stopped at a roadside stand and bought a hefty breakfast wrap, stuffed with eggs, sausage, and pepper sauce. She took a big bite, eyes closed in bliss.
Zain watched her, amused. "You're not fat, but you eat like a whale and sleep like a pig."
Kyomie didn't even blink. She tore off a piece of her wrap and held it out. "Want a bite?"
Zain snatched it and took a dramatic chomp. "Of course I do."
They laughed, their banter easy and familiar. Moments like this reminded them why their friendship worked—Zain was the spark, Kyomie the calm, and somehow they balanced each other perfectly.
🚌 To Castillo Bar
They caught the bus, squeezing into a seat near the back. The ride was noisy and packed, but they didn't mind. They were headed to Castillo Bar—not just any bar, but the crown jewel nestled inside the opulent Castillo International Hotel.
The hotel itself was a marvel towering glass walls, marble floors that gleamed like water, and a lobby so grand it felt like stepping into a palace. It was where the elite gathered: old money with their quiet grace, new money with their loud flair, all mingling under chandeliers that looked like frozen fireworks.
Castillo Bar was tucked into the heart of it all. With velvet booths, gold-trimmed menus, and a live pianist playing soft jazz in the corner, it was the kind of place where deals were made over champagne and secrets were whispered between sips of aged whiskey.
As they stepped into the bar, the atmosphere shifted. The air was cooler, the lighting dim and seductive. Kyomie adjusted her jacket, suddenly aware of the elegance around her.
"You think they're already here?" she asked.
Zain glanced around. "Probably. But we're not just arriving—we're making an entrance."
Kyomie smirked. "An entrance or a scene?"
Zain grinned. "Why not both?"
" Com'on now I wouldn't want to lose the job before having a chance of working here"
Kyomie said