Kingsley's POV
I never really noticed how quiet Amara could be.
Not just regular quiet—but the kind that makes you curious. The kind that feels like she's hiding an entire world behind her eyes. And lately, I found myself wanting to understand it—her—more than anything else.
At first, I thought it was just pity. You know, seeing someone always alone, getting picked on. But the more I watched her… the more I paid attention… it became something else.
Like the way she always wore that same faded bracelet on her left wrist—frayed, like it meant something. Or how she'd squint at the board sometimes but never asked to come forward, like she didn't want to call attention to herself. Or how she always took her food to go—even on days everyone else crowded around the cafeteria tables.
She was carrying something.
And now I wanted to carry it with her.
It had been a few days since the whole incident with Geraldine in the restroom. The tension hadn't gone away. Geraldine stopped texting. Stopped calling. But I noticed she watched me—watched us—every time I sat beside Amara in class.
She didn't have to say anything. Her silence said it all.
But me? I couldn't stop talking to Amara. I looked forward to our group meetings, our casual hallway chats, even just sitting next to her during lectures and watching her underline her notes so carefully. She had this calming presence that made everything—school, stress, even Geraldine—fade a little.
It was weird. She never tried to impress anyone. And yet… she kept pulling me in.
That Thursday evening, I found myself staring at my phone way too long before finally hitting "send."
Hey, random thought. Want to come over this weekend? My parents are hosting dinner. Nothing formal. Just food and good vibes.
I stared at the message for three seconds and immediately regretted it.
What if it was too forward? What if she thought I was trying to flirt? What if she said no?
But she didn't.
A few minutes later, a message popped up.
Wait—like dinner dinner? With your parents?
Yeah. I just thought… maybe you'd like it. You don't have to, of course. Just felt like you could use something warm and welcoming.
There was a pause. Then:
No one's ever invited me to something like that before.
Then another text.
I'd love to.
I couldn't help smiling at the screen.
Saturday came faster than I expected. I even cleaned my room without my mom yelling at me for once. When Amara arrived, wearing a simple lilac blouse and dark jeans, she looked nervous—but beautiful.
My mom, being the sweet hurricane that she was, hugged her instantly.
"So this is Amara! We've heard so much. Come in, come in. I made lemon roasted chicken and yam porridge—Kingsley said you like Nigerian dishes."
Amara blinked. "He told you that?"
I scratched my neck awkwardly. "You mentioned it once."
She smiled—soft, surprised—and followed my mom into the house.
And watching her settle into the dining room, answering my dad's questions about nursing school, laughing with my younger sister… I felt something click into place.
She belonged here.
She just didn't know it yet.
Later that night, as we walked back toward the gate, she looked up at me.
"That was… really nice," she said softly. "Like, really really nice. I didn't know families could be like that."
"You've never—?"
She shook her head. "Not like this. No one ever invited me to their house. People… don't usually notice me. Or when they do, it's not for the right reasons."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just said the truth.
"I notice you."
She looked at me, eyes soft but cautious. "Yeah. I'm starting to believe that."
The next day, I saw something I didn't expect.
Amara was sitting under the tree near the library—the same one we used for study sessions. And sitting beside her, of all people, was Geraldine.
My first instinct was to storm over and make sure she wasn't causing more trouble. But something about Geraldine's face stopped me. She didn't look angry.
She looked… regretful?
I lingered behind a tree, just within earshot.
"I know I've been awful," Geraldine said. Her voice didn't carry that usual sharpness. "I didn't mean to be so cruel. I just… I don't know. You were always around him. And I felt like I was losing him."
"I never meant to come between you two," Amara replied quietly.
"I know," Geraldine said. "I was just scared. And jealous. And that turned into something ugly. I'm sorry."
There was a long pause.
"I don't expect you to forget everything," Geraldine added. "But if there's even the smallest chance… could we maybe… start over? Be friends?"
I stood there, stunned.
Was this really happening?
I saw Amara look down at her hands, thinking. And though I couldn't see her whole expression, I saw her nod once.
And Geraldine? She actually smiled. Not smugly. Not triumphantly.
Just… gratefully.
That night, I sat in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
I wasn't sure what was happening anymore. Geraldine was apologizing. Amara was opening up. And me?
I was getting in deep.
This wasn't just a crush anymore.
I was falling.
Hard.