This week, I’ll be sharing the scene of the “first kiss” between Ogonna and Philip from The Governor’s Wife.
Although not really their #FirstKiss, this was the first one they shared when they accidentally met again seven years after a bitter separation.
I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.
A deep part of his subconscious rose up in protest. This was Ogonna, the woman who broke him by running off to marry someone else.
He shouldn’t want to have anything to do with her, let alone kiss her. He needed to bring this madness to an end, turn and walk away.But Philip remained rooted to the spot, deepening the pressure of his thumb instead, and then trailing it slowly across her full lower lip.
Her tongue darted out, flickering lightly. A bold move. Unexpected.
His eyes swept to hers and he froze. They were wide as saucers, as if startled by her own boldness. It would have been easier for him to let her go if even an iota of repulsion or uncertainty registered in their dark depths. Instead, something primal flashed in her pupils.
His breath trapped in his chest. Ogonna wanted him, too. The realisation sent a wave of need through him, weakening him.
Another soft moan came from her. His nostrils flared, and he let out a groan from deep within his throat. Almost roughly, he reached for her face, cradled it in both hands and brought his mouth down on hers.
This week, I’ll be sharing the first kiss between Onome and Nnamdi from my #romancenovel Starting Over Again.
In this scene, Nnamdi visited Onome to inform her about the outcome of an account they had been both worked on securing for their investment bank.
A strictly business visit. 🤔Or was it?
“Did we get the account?” Onome asked nervously, scrubbing her sweaty palms over her bright green cotton shorts.
He hesitated, his facial expression serious.
Onome’s heart sank. She had let him down, let the bank down. Her stomach knotted with trepidation. “We… we didn’t get it?” she mumbled hesitantly.
His lips twitched momentarily, then cracked into a disarming smile.
“Congrats, Onome, you have brought in your first account.”
“Oh my God!” Onome exclaimed, jumping in delight. “I have been so anxious, oh my God!”
He opened his arms, and without a thought, she ran into his outstretched arms, wrapping her arms around him. He lifted her, twirled her around briefly before gradually lowering her on her feet.
“I’m so proud of you, Onome.” His deep baritone resonated within her.
“Thank you for letting me do this. I have actually missed doing this, hustling for accounts.”
They stood that way, locked in each other’s arms as moments ticked by, neither of them making any move to break the connection. Slowly, the atmosphere between them shifted from elation to sensual awareness. Their eyes locked. His brown eyes, darkened now, dipped to her lips.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured. He sounded as if he was warning her, giving her a chance to back away from him.
Onome had no such desire. She had dreamt of kissing him countless times, been consumed with the desire to feel his full lips glide over hers, spent nights wondering if he kissed softly and sweetly or if he plunged in, hard and rough, taking, demanding—
Before she could complete that train of thought, his mouth descended on hers. Onome parted her lips without hesitation, welcoming the intrusion of his tongue into her mouth
I hope you enjoyed reading this. Drop your comments below ⬇️
This week I’ll be sharing the scene from The Governor’s Wife where Philip sees Ogonna again for the first time in seven years— seven years after she abandoned him.
Although not their first time meeting, it is a dramatic encounter after years of not seeing each other.
A few seconds later, Philip glanced up at the sound of his office door opening. At first, he thought he was seeing things—hallucinating—and his heart dive-bombed in his chest. It simply couldn’t be. Philip blinked, and opened his eyes again. It was…it really was Ogonna. Walking into his office like a hurricane about to upend his life. Again.
Time stood still as he took her in, almost greedily. Stunning. As always. Tall and slender with smooth ebony skin. With her heart-shaped face and deep brown hue, he’d often told her she looked like the Nollywood actress Genevieve Nnaji. Her hair was shorter now, styled in a fashionable bob, bringing attention to her fine facial features—nicely carved eyebrows over large charcoal eyes, a cute nose, and that mouth. Oh God—full and pouty lips, coated with a startling bright crimson tint that contrasted sharply with her skin tone.
Philip’s heart continued to fibrillate violently in his ribcage, his body immobilized by the shock of seeing her again. Unexpectedly. Unprepared.
For self-preservation, he had avoided any news about Ogonna. He hadn’t wanted to hear about her happily living a blissful life with the governor who could buy her the world. He prohibited close pals from even mentioning her, had cut off most of his friends from university precisely to avoid running into anyone offering information about her.
When he had inadvertently seen a photo of her standing beside her husband on the front page of a newspaper last year, smile bright as the sun and looking like she’d won the lottery, he’d experienced weeks of intermittent heart palpitation episodes that had made him physically ill. Panic attacks, the doctor had diagnosed.
He’d managed to get over that period after months of isolating himself. Now, within a few seconds of seeing her again, his pulse jerked uncontrollably, his breathing became laboured, frighteningly similar to how he’d felt then.
“What are you doing here?” he sputtered, jumping to his feet. His annoyance wasn’t just with her, but with himself…for his weakness, for allowing her mere presence to destabilise him. “I was expecting Funmi Adelaja.”
“Hello, Philip,” Ogonna answered. Her gaze slowly swept over him, widening in guileless admiration.
An intense surge of anger rose up inside him. Ogonna had no right to look at him this way, no right to walk into his life again like a beautiful apparition and mess with the armour he’d carefully constructed around his emotions after her betrayal.
“I haven’t scheduled a meeting with you. If you need to see me, book an appointment with my secretary. This slot is allocated to Funmi Adelaja.”
Her breath hitched sharply. She appeared startled by his gruff tone. He was determined to ignore it.
“I am a busy man with no time for drop-ins.”
“I have an appointment, Phil, I’m not a drop-in.”
He must have been mistaken thinking his demeanour had startled her. She sounded calm, together, and completely unfazed by his dismissal. Which made him even angrier.
Phil? Phil? Is she kidding? How dare she call him Phil as if they were old friends catching up over lunch.
“Philip. My name is Philip to you,” he snapped. “Actually, scratch that. You may call me Mr. Adamu.”
She heaved a deep sigh before she spoke again. “Mr. Adamu, I have an appointment with you. I booked it under the name Funmi Adelaja…because I didn’t think you would want to see me—”
“You’re right as hell about that,” he cut in. Pointing to the door, he added in a biting tone, “This meeting is over. Please leave now, before I call for security.”
She didn’t budge.
“Listen, Phil…Mr. Adamu. I know we have our differences, but I’m here strictly on business, to discuss renting the property I’m interested in.”
“Differences? Is that what you call cheating on me and running off to marry the next money pot that crossed your path? Does your husband know you are here? Or do you cheat on him, too? I thought you live in Ebonyi state. What are you doing in Abuja?”
A pained expression crossed her face. For a moment, Philip felt himself weaken. Even after all these years, despite his rage, her pain got to him. Clenching his jaw tightly, he pushed the emotion aside. Anger was his weapon. He needed his fury, so he didn’t crumble in front of her.
“My husband doesn’t know where I am. Or maybe he does. It matters little. We are getting a divorce.” Her soft voice brought his mind back.
Silence. The air in the room seemed to have been sucked away, leaving Philip feeling a little dizzy. Divorce? When? Why? He shook his head rapidly to clear it. He shouldn’t be even remotely interested. Nor should the news be flooding his senses with profound joy. Ogonna’s marital status was no longer a concern to him.
“Now, isn’t that something. Found a richer one, have you?” His lips tilted into a sardonic smile. “Frankly, I don’t care about you or your life, Ogonna. So, like I said before…leave.”
Her jaw dropped open, a shocked gasp escaping her parted lips. “Won’t you even hear what I have to say? I need this property.”
“What part of I don’t care didn’t you get? Nothing you have to say interests me in the least. I won’t rent to you. Ever. So, you’d best spend this time looking elsewhere.”
“You think I didn’t search for an alternative, Phil…Mr Adamu? I really need this, please,” she said in a broken voice, the last sentence a shrill, frantic plea.
Philip suddenly burst into humourless laughter. “Good God, how ironic. I remember asking you not to marry the governor years ago. Pleading with you…just like this. Desperate. But you did it anyway. Now, here you are, begging—”
“I’m not begging for anything,” Ogonna interrupted him tersely, flashing dark eyes at him. She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin with the spirited confidence he’d always known her to have. “I’m interested in renting…and I will be paying.”
“Well, I don’t need or want your money.” He pointed to the door again. “Leave now or I truly will call security.”
“You don’t even know why I need the property.”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Out!”
She stiffened, staring at him in startled disbelief. He noticed tears fill her eyes and his stomach tumbled. Not once in their thirteen years together had he ever made her cry. A part of him wanted to apologise, take her in his arms and comfort her. But another part needed to hurt her, make her feel the pain she’d put him through when she’d deserted him. No true explanation, no remorse, leaving him to draw his own conclusions about their breakup—that he wasn’t good enough, rich enough. What other conclusion would one draw when she’d left him to marry a wealthy governor? The old wounds resurfaced, igniting his resentment.
“Leave my office, Ogonna,” he said in a low hoarse whisper.
Their eyes locked for a few moments, hers wet and shiny. A muscle in her jaw worked, as though with the effort of fighting tears. She’d lost—the tears came anyway.
Philip gripped the edge of his desk so tightly that he heard a crackling sound from his knuckles as he fought back the instinct to embrace her. How could he be so angry with her and still ache to take her in his arms? Why did she continue to have this much power over him?
Two enchanting stories about loss and love: In Ere’s Secret, Ere has a life-changing decision to make. In 223 Bonny Street, Ikenna wakes to the joys and challenges of being a woman.
I have a secret. In three days, I’ll be turning forty, and I’m in love for the first time. Decades ago, I sacrificed my life for the good of my family. But tragedy struck too close to home, reminding me of the brevity of life. Now, I have a choice to make: continue living in the shadows, or allow my true self to emerge.
223 BONNY STREET
After an accident, waking up in another person’s body seems like a dream until Ikenna realizes that he is faced with the stark reality of Nkechi’s life, the woman whose body he occupies. He experiences the pains and joys, the strengths and sacrifices of a woman.
The two of them make a connection beyond the physical, but matters of the heart are delicate. When secrets from the past are revealed, will their connection be strong enough to survive?
Firi has been an avid reader since she could read mostly because I caught the reading bug from my dad and mum. With reading Roots by Alex Harley and the Odessa file at 8, reading was her mode of escape.
Firi loves all fiction but enjoys being curled up under the duvet reading a hot sizzling romance novel when what being a mum, an adult, a wife, a sister and a daughter.
Writing this book has been a dream come true so I hope you’ll love it as much as I have love writing it. Please do not forget to leave a review on Amazon. You can follow me on for more updates on my incoming books.
Other interesting facts about Firi: she paints ceramic and glass mostly but everything can be her canvas so we would not be surprised seeing that she has painted a plane. You can find her paintings on her Instagram page.
Firi has always dreamt of becoming a pilot. Let’s see how this goes.
Love Africa Press presents Volume One of its Queer and Sexy Collections exploring queer sensuality.
In this debut edition of three Queer and Sexy interwoven stories written by Eniitan, we explore pleasure, desire, love, human nature and godhood. Follow the lives of Ufuoma, Larrie, Ariyike, Fausiat, Halimat and Uduak as they experience the magic that is the otherworldly Tara.
Ufuoma was the last off the plane. She had shunned her usual garb of comfortable jeans and tees and worn a cream skirt-suit that clung to her voluptuous figure like wet on water.
The cream showed off her dark skin, and to drive the point of her femininity home, she had the first three buttons of the white shirt open. Her bra pushed up the mounds of her breasts, leaving onlookers in no doubt of the gifts hidden underneath her clothes.
On her feet was a pair of heels, making her appear even taller.
She was determined to make the best of this long weekend away from her regular life.
This would be her first time at an all-female party, and although Loretta had assured her that it would be fun, she was still a little anxious, so she fell into the default of looking extraordinarily good to boost her spirits.
One of the best things, and the worst, was her ability to ‘pass’ and be taken for a heterosexual, cis-gendered woman, but it also made her invisible to other queer women. A blessing and a curse in a country like Nigeria. She remembered her university days with a shudder. Those years she’d spent listening to ‘godly advice’ from classmates and lecturers about how she should stop hanging out with her more masculine-presenting friends, the rumours they felt comfortable sharing with her about how these women were all a bunch of lesbians and that she should avoid being inducted into the ‘cult of lesbianism.’
To worsen her situation, bonding with women was not her strong suit, maybe because she was not primarily attracted to men, not sexually or emotionally. She’d never felt invested in them enough to mind their vagaries; she could take them or leave them, without a backward glance. But with women—she was always so scared, had always been, of the different ways loving women could drive you to a point of madness, of how invested she became in their lives, their well-being. But most importantly of the powerful way a woman could break you … but that hadn’t stopped her from wanting them, loving them.
Inspired by a post on Instagram by Romance Writers of West AFrica, I’ll be posting a series about first encounters between main characters in my novels.
In this scene from Melodies of Love, Ikenna is meeting up with Adaora again at his work place after 12 years of not seeing or hearing from her following a bitter breakup.
Although this isn’t the first encounter between them, it certainly felt like one.
Ikenna’s heart lurched in his chest. It had been twelve years since he’d last seen Adaora. She was still beautiful. His mind had not prepared him well enough for today even though he had planned this meeting for the past four months. He studied her as she stood across from him.
She was still petite, about five feet four inches, barely reaching his chest, but she was no longer thin. Her body had matured into lovely curves which suited her small frame. Her blue silk blouse with colourful embroidery at the top hugged her slender waist, and her black knee-length skirt fitted her round hips perfectly. She looked confident.
His eyes roamed to her feet which were perfectly tucked into a pair of blue four-inch heeled stilettos. It gave her some height, but it was still not enough to match his slightly-above-six-feet height. He had always towered above her. At one time, she had told him that it made her feel safe.
Ikenna stared at the face that had haunted him for the past twelve years. Her beautiful heart-shaped face, her dark luminous eyes which were large for her face, her small nose and full lips coated with pink lip gloss. Lips he had kissed countless times, twelve years ago, until they were swollen. Lips he had a sudden uncontrollable urge to kiss now.
Her hair was done in tiny braids which she had packed into a single bun. She had always liked braided hair. His Ada, the girl who had driven him to succeed because he never felt like he was good enough for her. The girl who made him feel insecure. The only girl who made him want to be better.
“Ikenna…” she whispered with a smile, jolting him out of his reverie. “I can see you are still never without your saxophone!”
In this week’s #LAP love notes, I’m turning up the heat with a snippet from Unexpected Love, one of the 5 heartwarming love stories from the anthology, Be My Valentine by Love Africa Press.
She suddenly reached between them and grabbed his crotch, squeezing his erection.
“Rush me, please,” she whimpered.
He groaned. “Don’t play with fire, sweetheart.”
“Who is playing, Vin?” Her eyes were fierce and challenging. “Now, are you in or out?”
His breathing became laboured, his nostrils flaring. “Open the fucking door before I attack you in the hallway in front of your neighbours.”
Yemi’s husky laughter sent a jolt of pleasure down his body. Holding her close from behind, he nibbled her ear as she pulled a bunch of keys from her sling bag and opened the door, his pulse pumping with excitement and anticipation.
I hope you enjoyed this sexy snippet. Please Leave a comment. And stop by Love Africa Press #Lovenotes to see more snippets.
It’s been a sad week. First with the Ethiopian airline crash, then the building that collapsed in Lagos, and then the horrible trailer accident at Onitsha, Eastern Nigeria. May all the souls of all the departed RIP. And may their families find comfort.
This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Melodies of love. In this scene, Ikenna just got back from the studio to find his girl busy in the kitchen.
Her back was to him, and it looked like she was chopping vegetables on the kitchen counter.
No wonder she did not hear me come in, Ikenna thought as he stood back and took in the delightful sight.
She was wearing a white camisole top and a pair of multi-coloured Ankara shorts. Those damned Shorts! The way they fitted snugly over her perfectly rounded derriere always kicked his libido into overdrive.
He watched as she wriggled her hips, singing off key to the song that was playing in her ears. Then he recognised the song. It was his last single. That was the moment when his heart stopped.
All the blood in his brain drained south. Now, this is what every man wants to come home to, he thought as he strode purposefully towards her
A few more days to the release of Be My Valentine by Love Africa Press. It’s an anthology of African love stories I co-authored with other amazing romance writers. So excited!
In the meantime, here’s another instalment of the segment, Breakup to Makeup from Starting Over Again, the last of the trilogy of The Obi family Series.
In this snippet, Nnamdi had to explain himself and beg Onome for forgiveness for being a jealous ass. Enjoy.
Starting Over Again
Her phone buzzed, splintering her thoughts. She looked at the screen. It was a text message from Nnamdi.
I am at your front door.
Onome’s heart flipped. She expected him to come after her. But not tonight. She didn’t even know he was back from Enugu. He had not communicated with her for three days. Three whole days. Who does that? She wanted to ignore the text message. She really did. But she knew it wasn’t the mature thing to do.
Sighing, she dried her tears and walked over to the front door. Inhaling deeply, she opened it.
He stood there, handsome, perfect, staring at her like she meant the world to him. Her chest constricted.
“Onome,” he began.
“Fejiro is asleep, let’s go to my room,” she interjected.
He followed her silently. As soon as they entered her room and she shut the door, he pulled her into his arms.
“Let go of me!” Onome snapped. He did instantaneously.
“Onome, I am sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
She moved away from him, needing the distance. God, she loved this man so much. How had things gotten to this point?
“Nnamdi, look, let’s cut our losses and move on. I still want us to be friends, though. For the girls’ sake. They really like each other.”
“Listen, I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”
“Not only did you follow me around taking pictures of me, you had the audacity to pay off Efe to stay away from me.” Onome moved to the window, increasing the distance between them. “Is that what you Obi men do? Play chess with people’s lives? Because you have money?” Her tone was louder, her anger resurfacing. “First your brother arrogantly tries to buy me off. Then you arrogantly buy Efe off.”
“Onome, it’s not like—”
“Don’t try to deny it. I saw the pictures in your office and Efe confessed it himself.”
“So, that fool still went behind my back to talk to you? After I warned him not to?” Nnamdi snarled.
She shook her head, fresh rage building up inside her. “Yes, he did! Yes, he did! And what can you do about it?” Onome goaded. Nnamdi’s nostrils flared.
“You are mine!” he declared possessively, his eyes fierce with passion. “Efe can continue with his games but I want you to know this, you belong to me! No other man!”
Onome burst into a sardonic laugh that lasted a few seconds. When she stopped laughing, she strolled forward calmly and stood directly in front of Nnamdi, both hands on her hips.
“Nnamdi, I don’t belong to any man. I don’t belong to my father, to Efe, and I certainly don’t belong to you.” Her tone was surprisingly controlled, considering her intense anger. “If you must know, I can make my own decisions, you don’t need to pay anyone to stay away from me.” Dragging a hand from her hip, she flicked a finger towards her chest. “I decided to marry Efe, despite my father’s disapproval. I decided not to crawl back to Efe after our divorce despite the temptation to do so.” She continued to point to her chest as she spoke. “I decided to reject Efe when he asked me to marry him again.”
Nnamdi’s mouth popped open.
“Yes, if only you had asked me instead of stalking me and jumping to conclusions, you would have found out that the only reason why I met up with Efe was for Fejiro. Only for Fejiro.” She lowered her voice when she made her last statement, still pointing to her chest. “And that is how I have decided to walk away from us, because if there is no trust between us, there is nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Onome, I am so sorry. My brain shut down when I saw those pictures of you with Efe. All I could think of was that he would take you away from me, that I would lose you. Although deep inside me, I know you would never hurt me that way, I couldn’t see past my jealousy.”
“That means you don’t trust me. How can you even believe I could ever go back to Efe? How? After what he put me through? After what you and I have shared together?” She shook her head. “I love you, but I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me. We have to end this now. We have to walk away before we hurt each other more.”
“No!” Nnamdi took her in his arms. He was trembling. “You can’t walk away from us, Onome. You can’t. We belong together.”
She held onto Nnamdi, tears streaming down her face.
“We have to end this relationship, Nnamdi. We both have children who are our first priorities. We both have to be absolutely sure about us, because any decision we make affects them.”
“I am sure about you, Onome,” Nnamdi rasped, holding tightly onto her.
“You may be,” Onome whispered. “But I am not sure about you.”
It’s always heartbreaking to witness a marriage proposal being rejected. I always wonder what happens to the relationship after that. Can the relationship be salvaged?
In the only one I’ve ever witnessed, the couple went their separate ways.
In Thorns and Roses, Ifeoma turned Chuma down in what I thought was a sweet marriage proposal.
Here is another instalment of my teaser series— Breakup to Make up. Enjoy.
Thorns and Roses
A few minutes after they left the restaurant, they arrived at their destination. Chuma led her out of the jeep towards a building. Ifeoma followed closely beside him, holding his hand.
She stopped when she saw the sign that said Eastern Delight hoisted on the ground floor of a three-storey complex building. Appearing puzzled, she turned towards him.
“What’s going on?”
“Just follow me,” Chuma said, leading her into the building.
“Follow me to the kitchen,” he said.
Ifeoma froze as soon as she stepped inside. It was a beautiful modern restaurant with mahogany tables and chairs neatly arranged, silk table clothes spread across the tables and lovely floral arrangements on the centre of each table.
Before she could respond to his prompting, he took her hand and led her to an even more fascinating kitchen where three yam pounders, multiple fancy kitchen equipments, including two large cookers, were strategically placed.
“I bought what I think you need but we can add anything else that you want,” Chuma was saying, but Ifeoma hardly heard a thing. Her mind was reeling from shock.
“Ifeoma Okafor, this is all yours,” he said, holding out a bunch of keys towards her. “All paid for in your name.”
Ifeoma was still speechless, her eyes widened in astonishment, her heart fluttering.
“Ify, I was there this afternoon. I know about Mr Peters. Trust me, he will never bother you again. I will never let anyone hurt you again.” Getting down on a knee, Chuma brought out a box from his shirt pocket. He opened it and Ifeoma gasped. A huge diamond ring dazzled her vision.
Will you marry me, Ify?” he asked simply because he was a simple man. Always direct, he did not know how to use any other approach.
She stared blankly at him for a few seconds, then turned and fled.
Cursing, Chuma got to his feet speedily and pursued her. He caught her in his arms before she could get far. They were in the middle of the empty restaurant.
“Let go of me!” she screeched.
Chuma dropped his hands. Ifeoma escaped his embrace and began to pace the room.“
“You were there this afternoon? How do you know about Mr Peters?” Ifeoma asked, panting heavily, eyes wide in shock.
“I found out about him, about what he did to you, I’m sorry for what he did. He will never bother you again.” Chuma’s tone was calm, even though he felt the direct opposite.
Ifeoma paused her pacing as if suddenly having an epiphany.
“Mr Peters … his face … did you … did you do it?” she asked, eyeing him sceptically.
“Not personally, but I was there when it happened.” Chuma did not bother to conceal that truth. “I wanted them to do worse, to break his neck.”
“Did you tell him to… to—”
“Yes! Ifeoma, yes!” Chuma answered indignantly. “I told him to stay away from you.” He noticed the repulsion on Ifeoma’s face, and then added. “I don’t regret it, I don’t apologise. I will do anything to protect you.”
“Protect me!” she cried in disbelief. “You think losing the restaurant I worked so hard for is protecting me?” Ifeoma shook with the rage that swept through her entire body. Chuma said nothing.
“You are a controlling, manipulative asshole, and I will never marry you!” Ifeoma pointed angrily at him as she spoke.
Flinching inwardly at her words, Chuma remained still. A deep-seated fear that he was losing her made his insides burn. Many women had called him an asshole. It was nothing new. Until now, he had actually thought nothing of being called that because he knew it was the truth. Even his family frequently called him an asshole. But hearing it coming from Ifeoma’s mouth was like a knife to his heart.
“I did all of this for you! Ify, can’t you see that?”
Chuma drew closer to Ifeoma, desperate to make her see how much she meant to him. He couldn’t lose her. She backed away.
“No, you did it for yourself. To control me. I will not allow you to control me!” she snarled, her nostrils flaring. Just then, the front door to the restaurant burst open.
The loud sound of cheering from the door interrupted them. Ifeoma and Chuma glanced simultaneously at the entrance.
Nnamdi, Adaora, Chioma, and Ngozi walked in cheering loudly with flowers and champagne bottles in their hands. Adaora held a big banner with congratulations on your engagement written boldly across it. They seemed to halt in unison as soon as they properly observed the expressions on Ifeoma and Chuma’s faces.
“You got my sisters involved?” Ifeoma turned towards him, her voice saturated with fury.
“I wanted to make this a wonderful night for you, believe me, Ify, I did this all for you,” he replied, running his palm over his shaved head. The vein at the side of his head became more prominent.
“Should we leave?” Adaora asked hesitantly.
The atmosphere was awkward and full of tension.
“No, I’ll leave,” Ifeoma said, her tone low, her eyes not straying from his face.
“Stay away from me,” she said to him as she took off her shoes and ran out into the night, leaving him staring after her.