Chapter 3.
The morning sun slipped through the curtains in thin, deliberate streaks, landing on the tiled floor like it had something to prove. The compound was slowly waking up — the kind of quiet that only exists before the day remembers itself.
Inside, the guys moved lazily, half-awake and unbothered. Chidera and Dooshu were already dressed, heading out. Chidera tossed his car keys into the air and caught them mid-spin, like it was muscle memory.
"Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone," he said with a smirk, his eyes flicking toward Osimhen, Dele, and Sariki, who were still sprawled across the couch.
"Who would miss you?" Osimhen replied without lifting his head from his phone.
"Only your mirror does," Sariki added calmly.
I walked past them, phone in hand, dressed in a simple top and joggers. Nothing special. Yet the air shifted anyway. I felt it before I understood it — the quiet awareness, the sudden stillness.
The glow of my skin in the morning light.
The way my long braids brushed against my back as I moved.
The intensity of my brown eyes when I looked up.
I didn't need to turn to know Chidera was watching.
When I finally did, his smirk faltered — just for a second. Barely noticeable. But it was there.
I smiled politely. "Good morning, Chidera… Dooshu."
Dooshu smiled back easily. "Morning."
Chidera hesitated, like the word had to be dragged out of him. "Morning."
I moved to Dele and wrapped my arms around him in a soft hug. He smiled like I had just been handed something precious.
Chidera's jaw tightened.
Sariki noticed. Of course he did. "Guy," he called.
Chidera blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had trapped him. He clicked his tongue and turned away sharply.
"Rat chef," he muttered.
Dooshu couldn't help but chuckle as they walked toward the gate.
Behind them, my laughter floated out from the living room, light and unforced.
He didn't look back.
Later, curled up on the couch, I thought to ask, "Is there a church nearby?"
Osimhen stared at me like I had switched languages halfway through a sentence. Then something clicked.
"Ah… you mean… Holy Vibes?"
Vibes?
I blinked. What kind of spirit names a church that?
Sariki groaned. "Guy, she means an actual church. Not that club."
"Ohhh," Osimhen said slowly, embarrassed.
Dele smiled. "I don't really know any church around here. It's been ages. My mom used to drag me along when I was younger."
Osimhen nodded. "Right? But now that I'm older, nobody drags me — unless I go home. If it's Sunday, she'll still drag me to church."
Dele laughed. "Even if you protest?"
"Even if I protest," Osimhen replied. "In that woman eyes, I'm still a little boy."
Dele chuckled. "I'll Google one for you, Star," he added, already reaching for his phone.
"Don't," I said quickly. "I'll find my way."
"You sure?"
I nodded. "I need some fresh air anyway. To get used to this place."
I stood up.
"Wait," Dele called. "I won't be home early tonight, so don't wait for me."
I smiled. "Thanks for letting me know."
As I walked out, I noticed something — quick glances passing between them. Quiet, knowing looks. Like they shared a joke I wasn't invited into.
I shrugged it off and left.
By the time I returned, the sun had dipped low, wrapping the compound in soft orange shadows. I was tired, but calm — the kind of tired that feels earned.
The house was quiet.
Halfway up the stairs, my phone buzzed.
Dele: I'm waiting for you upstairs.
I frowned.
That was strange. He had said he'd be home late.
Still, curiosity nudged me forward.
The door to his room was slightly open. Warm light spilled into the hallway. I pushed it open — and froze.
Chidera stood by the desk, leaning back casually, like he belonged there. His designer shirt was undone just enough to be annoying. The chain at his neck caught the light. And that smirk… that familiar, infuriating smirk.
"I thought…" My voice faltered. "Dele sent that message."
He lifted a phone.
Dele's phone.
My brows drew together slowly. "Did you send that text?"
He shrugged. "He said he'd be late. I figured you shouldn't be alone."
My stomach tightened. "Then give him back his phone."
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded cheque. Thick. Clean. Careless.
He held it out like it meant nothing.
"One million dollars," he said calmly. "Just keep me company tonight."
I stared at it. Then at him.
"They all think we hate each other," he added. "No one has to know."
My throat felt dry. "I don't need your money."
He tilted his head. "Dollars not your thing? Pounds? Kuwaiti?"
My hands curled into fists. "Are you done?"
He stepped closer. Not touching — just close enough to feel deliberate.
"Afraid Dele might find out?"
"Don't touch me."
He chuckled softly. "Relax. Why would I tell my friend I had… something with his girlfriend?"
That was it.
The slap landed before I fully realized my hand had moved.
The sound cracked through the room.
He staggered back, his hand flying to his cheek, shock written all over his face.
I didn't raise my voice. "Next time you touch me without my consent, you'll lose more than pride."
I turned to leave.
Halfway down the hallway, I realized my phone wasn't with me.
I went back.
Chidera looked shocked — then confused — seeing me again.
"I forgot my phone," I said calmly.
I grabbed it from the dresser, shot him one final look, and left.
Only then did laughter explode behind me.
"Why does that slap feel so satisfying?" Sariki gasped.
"I felt it in my soul," Osimhen wheezed.
Dooshu just stared. "That slap was like a principal catching a student cheating."
Dele laughed at Chidera. "Not so smug after all. Now I regret it — we should've made a bet."
Chidera stood still long after.
"She didn't take the money," he kept muttering. "She didn't take the money."
His fingers rested against his cheek.
Not angry.
Not amused.
Just… thoughtful.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Interesting."
I didn't know then.