~ SIXTY-NINE ~

~ SIXTY-NINE ~
"Obi..."

The warmth in her voice settled something in him. Obinna smiled, sitting up slightly from his bed and leaning against the headboard.

"Mummy."

"How are you, my son?" she asked in that soft tone that always made him feel like a little boy again.

"I'm okay," he replied, voice softer than usual. "Just tired. A lot’s been going on."

"I can imagine," she said, chuckling gently. "I’ve not even heard your voice since last weekend. You just send texts and vanish. Are you eating well? You sound lean."

He smiled at that. "Mummy, how can someone sound lean?"

"You think I don’t know my child’s voice again?" she teased. "There’s something in your tone… Your spirit sounds heavy."

Obinna let out a breath. She was right. She always was.

"I'm fine," he said after a beat. "School stress, project and all that. But it’s done now."

"Good. That’s good. You need to rest, mmh? And take care of your heart too, Obinna. All these things you keep inside you, let them out sometimes. Talk to someone."

He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing.

"I will, Mummy."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

There was a moment of silence on the line. Then, in that ever-knowing way, she added, "If it's about a girl, you can talk to me too, you know. I'm still your mother, even if you're now a big man."

Obinna laughed lightly, the sound strained but genuine. "I know, Mummy. I’ll be alright."

"Okay. Just don’t bottle things up too much. And don’t forget—love is patience, but it’s also honesty. You can't guess your way into someone’s heart, you have to knock and wait for them to open."

The line went quiet after that, and he thanked her and said goodbye. But her words clung to him.

You have to knock and wait for them to open.

Except Kaima wasn’t opening up—not anymore.

He lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling as her face danced behind his eyes. Her laughter. Her teasing. The boldness in her kiss. The stillness in her eyes last weekend when he had tried to reach for her heart, and she had gently looked away.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Obinna tossed the blanket aside, his feet hitting the floor in one determined motion. He didn’t even check the time. He just knew he couldn’t stay locked in with these thoughts anymore.

Kaima had answers, and he needed them.

Now.

\----

The golden hue of the sun filtered through the blinds in soft rays, dancing lazily over the warm tones of Chelsea’s living room. A mellow R&B playlist hummed from her Bluetooth speaker, wrapping the space in a soothing rhythm. She had her silk bonnet tied firmly on, a fluffy pair of socks warming her feet, and a bowl of popcorn nestled in her lap as she lay sprawled on the rug with her laptop open, half-watching Bridgerton, half-scrolling through Pinterest boards for aesthetic room ideas.

She had earned this moment. After a stressful week filled with classes, project deadlines, and endless team meetings, the silence in her apartment was sacred.

Until there was a knock.

She paused, her brows pulling slightly. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Sitting up, she tilted her head toward the door, waiting to see if it was her imagination.

Knock knock.
This time louder. More confident. She squinted at the door, then got up, brushing popcorn crumbs off her oversized shirt.

As she opened it, a tall figure leaned lazily against her doorway, hoodie sleeves shoved halfway up his forearms, a casual grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Aiden?"

"Surprise," he said, flashing her that dimpled smile that made girls on campus stare a second too long.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, half amused, half suspicious, leaning her hip against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest.

"I was in the area," he said, lifting a takeout bag. "And I remembered someone once complained about being too lazy to cook on weekends."

Chelsea raised a brow. "So, you came bearing food?"

"And good vibes. Don’t forget that."

"Right." She stepped aside, trying to hide her smile. "Come in."

Aiden stepped inside like he’d been there a hundred times before—which, to be fair, he had. But there was something different about today. Maybe it was the way he paused slightly at the doorway, taking in her lounging state and messy hair with a kind of quiet reverence.

"Nice playlist," he said, placing the bag on her coffee table.

"You say that like you don’t already know half the songs. I’ve caught you stealing my playlists more than once."

He gave her a faux-offended look. "Borrowing. Not stealing. There’s a difference."

Chelsea rolled her eyes and collapsed back on the floor, motioning for him to join her.

"I was supposed to have a date with Netflix and scandalous Regency drama," she said, tugging her bowl of popcorn back into her lap.

"And now you have me instead. A definite upgrade."

"Debatable," she teased, tossing a popcorn kernel at him. He caught it mid-air with his mouth.

She clapped mockingly. "Impressive."

"Thank you, thank you," he said with a playful bow. "So what are we watching?"

Chelsea passed him the remote. "Something that’ll make you cry. I feel like you need to be emotionally ruined today."

He chuckled, but inside, his heart was racing. He hadn’t planned to come over—not really. He’d told himself he was just going to be around her neighborhood, maybe stop by if the moment felt right. But when he passed her gate and remembered how she looked last week, tired but still smiling through her final project, he couldn’t help himself.

He’d always liked Chelsea. Too much. Maybe more than he should.

"So," she said, eyes narrowing as she leaned against the couch, one leg folded beneath her. "How come you’re not out with one of your many campus admirers today?"

"Because none of them call me at 1 a.m. to talk about why they hate the sun but still love golden hour selfies."

She flushed slightly and threw another popcorn kernel at him.

"I told you not to bring that up again."

"And yet I live to remind you."

They sat like that for a while, playful banter bubbling easily between them, laughter filling the room. But eventually, the silence crept in—not awkward, but heavy, charged.

Aiden leaned back, arms crossed behind his head as he looked at her.

"You’ve changed," he said quietly.

Chelsea blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve… grown. Not just physically, I mean. Emotionally. You don’t let people in as quickly anymore. You don’t talk about things unless you really trust someone."

She shrugged lightly, caught off guard. "Maybe I’ve just learned the hard way."

"And I wish I was brave enough to tell you that... I’ve noticed all of it," he added, softer now. "Every version of you, I’ve seen. And I like all of them."

Chelsea stilled. Her heart skipped.

"Aiden—"

"You don’t have to say anything," he said quickly, giving her an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I didn’t come here to make things weird. I just... wanted to see you today. That’s all."

Her voice faltered for a moment. "Thank you. For the food. For being here."

He nodded, standing up. "I should probably get going—"

"You could stay a little longer," she blurted before she could think. "Unless you have plans."

He paused. Then smiled.

"I do now."

And so he stayed. They didn’t talk about his confession again that day. Instead, they watched another episode, sitting a little closer than usual, hands brushing once or twice—lingering longer each time.

Chelsea didn’t say it out loud. But her heart had started beating differently.

And she was finally beginning to hear it.