Chapter 5

Ezinne stood outside the small café near Balogun market, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her throat. The place was modest—nothing like the glittering restaurants Chukwudi probably frequented—but it had soft lighting spilling onto the street and the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and puff-puff. She had changed into her best dress: a simple deep-green wrapper-style gown that hugged her curvy figure, accentuating her slim waist and full hips. Her long braids were tied back loosely, a touch of lip gloss on her full lips. She felt both beautiful and completely out of place.

She almost turned around twice.

But then he appeared.

Chukwudi stepped out of a sleek black SUV parked discreetly down the street, dressed in a casual button-down and jeans that still managed to look expensive. He scanned the area before spotting her, and his entire face lit up with a smile that made her stomach flutter.

“You came,” he said, reaching her in a few strides. His hand brushed her lower back as he guided her inside, the touch sending warmth spreading through her body. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I almost didn’t,” she admitted softly once they were seated in a quiet corner booth.

The café was half-empty, the low hum of conversations and gentle Afrobeats playing in the background giving them a sense of privacy. Chukwudi ordered for them—her favorite spicy puff-puff and chilled zobo drink—remembering details from their rooftop talk that made her cheeks warm.

As they ate and talked, the tension between them thickened like honey. He asked about her drawings again, and this time she showed him a few sketches on her phone: market scenes, portraits of her mother, and one old one from school days—of him laughing during a football match.

“You kept this?” he murmured, zooming in, his voice dropping lower.

Ezinne shrugged, suddenly shy. “Old habit.”

He looked at her across the table, eyes dark and intense under the warm lights. “Ezinne... I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night on the roof. The way you listen. The way you see me. No one else does that.”

Her breath caught as he reached across and took her hand, his thumb stroking her palm in slow circles. The simple touch felt electric. She could feel the strength in his fingers, the restrained desire in how he held back from pulling her closer right there.

“I know our worlds are different,” he continued, voice husky. “But when I’m with you, none of that matters. I want to know everything about you. I want...”

He trailed off, but his gaze dropped to her lips. The air grew heavy. Ezinne leaned in slightly, her full figure shifting closer, drawn by the pull she had felt for years. His free hand came up, gently cupping the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

Their faces were inches apart. She could feel his warm breath, smell his cologne mixed with the night air. Her eyes fluttered half-closed, heart racing toward that first real kiss she had imagined so many times.

But then his phone buzzed sharply on the table. Once. Twice. Then repeatedly.

Chukwudi cursed under his breath, glancing at the screen. His jaw tightened. “It’s my mother. She’s been calling nonstop. Something about an emergency board meeting tomorrow.”

Ezinne pulled back, the moment shattering. Reality rushed back in—the class gap, the risks, the impossibility.

“You should go,” she whispered, even as her body protested.

He didn’t release her hand immediately. Instead, he leaned forward again, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, then lower, to the sensitive spot just below her ear. His lips brushed her skin like a promise, sending shivers down her spine.

“This isn’t finished,” he said against her neck, voice rough with frustration and want. “I need to see you again. Soon. Properly.”

She nodded, barely trusting her voice. As he stood to leave, he slipped something into her hand—a small, elegant business card with his private number.

“Text me when you get home. So I know you’re safe.”

Ezinne watched him drive away, the café suddenly feeling emptier. Her skin still tingled where his lips had touched her. The tension was no longer a quiet spark; it was a roaring flame, pulling her deeper into dangerous waters.

On the bumpy ride home in a danfo bus, she clutched the card tightly. Part of her whispered that she should stop this before her heart got broken. But the bigger part—the one that had carried this crush for years—already knew it was too late.