~ SIXTY-FOUR ~

Obinna woke with a start as the insistent buzzing of his phone vibrated against the wooden surface of his bedside table. Groggily reaching for it, his eyes squinted at the caller ID: Obinze. A soft smile touched his lips. It had been a few weeks since their last proper conversation, and he was glad his elder brother was reaching out. Their relationship, once strained by youthful rivalry, had been steadily mending, a bittersweet development shadowed by the absence of their father. He swiped to answer, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hello, big brother,” Obinna mumbled.

Obinze’s voice, clear and energetic, filled his ear. “Obinna! Good morning, are you still asleep?”

Obinna chuckled. “Trying to be. What’s up?”

“Nothing much here in Abuja. Just thought I’d check in on my favourite younger brother. How’s Port Harcourt treating you? And how’s that little business of yours going?” Obinze asked, a hint of pride in his tone.

“Port Harcourt is… Port Harcourt,” Obinna replied, stretching in bed. “The university is keeping me busy, but manageable. And the production is actually doing quite well. I just landed a small contract with a local restaurant for their packaging.” A wave of satisfaction washed over him as he spoke.

“That’s fantastic, Obinna! See? I always knew you had a knack for business. Remember all those crazy inventions you used to come up with as a kid?” Obinze’s laughter echoed through the phone.

Obinna smiled at the memory. “Yeah, most of them ended up in the bin. But I guess something stuck.”

They talked for another twenty minutes, catching up on each other’s lives. Obinze shared some updates about his thriving company, a tech startup that was steadily gaining traction in Abuja. He offered Obinna advice on managing his growing business, his experience proving invaluable. They reminisced about their father, a shared pang of loss momentarily silencing them before they moved on to lighter topics.

“It really would have been great if Dad were here to see all this, you know?” Obinna said softly.

“I know, kid brother. I think about that all the time,” Obinze replied, his voice tinged with sadness. “But he’d be proud of us, I’m sure of it. Especially seeing us actually talking like this.”

“Yeah,” Obinna agreed, a warmth spreading through him. “It’s good, Obinze. Really good.”

After promising to speak again soon, they said their goodbyes. Obinna placed his phone back on the bedside table and glanced at the digital clock: 7:15 am. A groan escaped his lips. He had foolishly hoped for a few more hours of sleep on this Saturday morning.

Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His bedroom was simply furnished: a double bed with crisp blue sheets, a dark wooden wardrobe against one wall, and a small desk cluttered with textbooks and design sketches in the corner. Sunlight streamed in through the large window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

He padded out of the room and into the hallway. The walls were painted a neutral cream, adorned with a few framed photographs – mostly snapshots of him and Obinze growing up. Ones he had put up recently, alongside his photos with friends from school.

The living area had a comfortable L-shaped sofa in a deep grey, facing a large television mounted on the wall. A simple coffee table sat in the center, currently holding a stack of design magazines. The kitchen, separated by a breakfast bar, was modern and functional, with stainless steel appliances and dark countertops.

He moved to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pulling out eggs, bread, and a carton of milk. While the eggs sizzled in the pan, he glanced around the space. It was his sanctuary, this two-bedroom apartment. He had worked hard to afford it, a testament to his growing independence.

Breakfast finished, he sat at the breakfast bar, savoring the quiet of the morning. Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. He frowned, surprised. He wasn't expecting anyone. He glanced at the wall clock: 9:25 am. Setting down his mug, he walked calmly towards the front door. With a hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath and pulled it open, his eyes widening in utter disbelief at the person standing on his doorstep.

\----

"Missed me?" the voice purred, laced with a familiarity that sent a jolt of unpleasant surprise through Obinna. Standing on his doorstep was Hadiza. His jaw tightened instantly.

Before his mind could fully process the unwelcome sight, his instinct took over. He moved to slam the door shut, wanting to physically block out the intrusion. But Hadiza was quick, her hand flashing out to wedge itself between the door and the frame, a small gasp escaping her lips as the wood pressed against her skin.

Obinna froze, his hand still on the doorknob, his chest heaving slightly. He stared at her hand, then up at her face, his expression a mixture of disbelief and simmering anger. He yanked the door open again, his eyes blazing.

"Hadiza," he began, his voice low and dangerous, each word deliberate. "I have told you, repeatedly, to stay away from me. From my house. From anywhere near me. We are over. Do you understand that? Over!" The sharpness in his tone was unmistakable, a raw edge that even surprised him. It seemed his patience had finally snapped.

Hadiza flinched slightly at the intensity in his voice, her eyes widening for a fleeting moment. But just as quickly, her usual stubbornness resurfaced. "Obi, please, just let me explain—"

"Explain what, Hadiza?" he cut her off, his voice rising. "Explain why you can't respect my boundaries? Explain why you think it's okay to disregard my wishes? There's nothing to explain. It's over. Leave." He held her gaze, willing her to understand the finality of his words.

A flicker of something akin to fear crossed Hadiza's face, but it was quickly masked by a practiced pout. "Fine," she said, her voice tight with forced resignation. "I'll go. But this isn't the end, Obinna. You'll see." In her mind, a different narrative was playing out. He's just angry now. He'll come around. He always does. I know what he really wants, even if he doesn't realize it yet. I'll give him some space, for now. But I'll be back. I always get what I want. With a final, lingering look, she turned and walked away.

Obinna watched her retreating figure, his shoulders slumped with a weary frustration. He closed the door with a firm click, turning the deadbolt for good measure. He stood there for a moment, his breath ragged. Finally, he thought, a sliver of relief cutting through his annoyance. He just wanted to be left alone.

He started to walk back towards the breakfast bar, the half-eaten meal now cold and unappetizing. Just as he reached it, another knock echoed through the apartment. This time, a surge of pure anger coursed through him. It has to be her, he thought, his hand already reaching for the doorknob, ready to unleash a torrent of fury.

He yanked the door open, ready to lash out, "Hadiza, I swear—" The words died in his throat. Standing before him was Kaima. Her brow was furrowed in confusion, her usually bright eyes wide with a hint of apprehension as she took in his flushed face and the barely contained rage in his expression.

"Obinna? What's wrong? Is everything ok?," she said softly, her voice laced with concern.

Obinna stared at her, his anger dissipating instantly, replaced by a wave of embarrassment and a sudden rush of warmth. Kaima. He hadn't seen her in twp day, not since he kissed her at her door after their night _ study session?. He had been meaning to call her, but his fledgling business and the usual university pressures had kept him occupied. He hadn't realized how much he had missed her quiet presence and her thoughtful insights.

Oh God, I must look like a complete maniac, he thought, his cheeks flushing even hotter. Kaima was different from Hadiza. She was calm, intelligent, and genuinely kind. He valued her friendship, and the thought of her witnessing his outburst made him feel foolish.

Kaima, on the other hand, was trying to piece together the scene before her. Obinna looked disheveled and angry, and she had definitely heard raised voices on her way up. Her mind raced, wondering who could have possibly elicited such a reaction from him. She knew he could be fiercely independent and private, so seeing him this agitated was unusual. A small knot of worry tightened in her stomach. Is everything alright? Did something happen? She waited patiently for him to speak, her gaze steady and concerned.