Chapter 2 – The Girl in Gold
Tomi had the kind of beauty that made people pause — tall, graceful, and effortlessly elegant.
The kind of woman who wore confidence like perfume.
Ivie didn't want to admit it, but the moment Tomi smiled at her, she felt… small.
"Hi! You must be Ivie," Tomi said warmly, reaching out her hand. "Mide talks about you all the time."
Ivie forced a polite smile. "Good things, I hope?"
Tomi laughed softly. "All good things."
Meanwhile, Mide stood between them, his grin a little too wide, like he was trying to make sure nothing went wrong.
> "You two will get along just fine," he said.
"Of course," Tomi replied, still smiling.
"Sure," Ivie muttered.
It wasn't that she disliked Tomi. It was that she suddenly realized there was no space for her in this new version of Mide's world.
---
Later that night, after the party, Mide drove Ivie home.
The car was quiet except for soft Afrobeats playing in the background.
"So," Ivie said finally, breaking the silence, "you and Tomi, huh?"
He smiled, eyes on the road. "Yeah. She's… amazing."
"You sound surprised."
"I'm just saying she's different."
"Different good or different complicated?"
He chuckled. "Both."
Ivie turned to the window. "She's beautiful."
"She is," Mide agreed, glancing at her briefly. "But she doesn't laugh at my stupid jokes like you do."
Ivie swallowed hard. "Maybe that's because she doesn't have to."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Forget it."
---
When he dropped her off, she lingered by the door before getting out.
"Mide," she said softly, "don't disappear now that you're all loved up, okay?"
He smiled. "Ivie, I could never disappear from you."
And he meant it — at least, that night he did.
---
A week later, Ivie realized he hadn't called in four days.
Not one text. Not one meme. Not even his usual "have you eaten?"
It shouldn't have bothered her. But it did.
By Friday, she was pacing her living room, her phone in hand. Efe, her roommate, watched her with amused eyes.
"Babe," Efe said, "just call him."
"I'm not desperate," Ivie replied.
"Desperate? No. Curious? Absolutely."
Ivie sighed. "He's probably busy."
Efe smirked. "Busy falling in love, you mean?"
"Shut up, Efe."
"I'm just saying," Efe said, tossing her braids. "Men like Mide — once they find a woman who calls them 'babe' instead of 'bro,' the rest of us become ghosts."
That night, Ivie lay awake staring at her ceiling, the city humming softly outside her window.
Her chest ached in that quiet, lonely way that didn't need a reason.
And still, she refused to call him.
---
The next morning, her phone buzzed.
> Mide: "You're ignoring me."
Ivie: "You went four days without texting."
Mide: "You could've texted too."
Ivie: "I'm not your girlfriend."
Mide: "That's the problem."
She froze, staring at the last message.
Before she could type back, the dots disappeared. No reply came.
And just like that, the silence between them grew a little louder.
---
That evening, as she sipped garri in her small kitchen, Ivie whispered to no one in particular,
> "Maybe that's how it starts — not with a fight, but with silence."
She didn't know it yet, but that silence would stretch far longer than she ever imagined.
---