THE LOVE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 29

The day opened slowly, humid Lagos air pressing against the glass windows of the rented house in Oniru. The sound of the Atlantic rolled in steady waves, salt in the breeze mixing with frying oil from the kitchen. Chi was already at the stove, singlet clinging to her chest, spatula in hand as she turned over plantains sizzling gold in palm oil. On the other burner, beans bubbled lazily, soft and sweet with onions. “Na this kind breakfast go hold body,” she declared. Amina tied her scarf tighter, smiling as she sliced fresh tomatoes for sauce. “Hold body, yes. But Chi, if you burn those plantains again, nobody will forgive you.” The laughter was easy, filling the kitchen as Bisi came in, perfume trailing, her laugh like chimes, while Kingsley carried crates of malt and Fayrouz into the cooler. By the time the table was set with beans, dodo, pap steaming in enamel cups, and akara balls still crackling from hot oil, everyone gathered. ⸻ Freya & Vanessa Vanessa sat quiet at first,

The villa smelled of pepper soup and cigarettes by nightfall. Kingsley had ordered steaming bowls from a spot in Ikoyi, goat meat sinking into rich broth thick with pepper and scent leaves, the air sharp with heat that clung to everyone’s tongues. Bottles of red wine sat open on the table, sweating beers half-drunk, and a bottle of Hennessy already tilting dangerously low. The living room was alive, beanbags sagging under bodies, cards scattered across the glass table, speakers murmuring Asake’s “Lonely at the Top” into the night. The lagoon outside lapped against the shore, and through the open balcony doors the Lagos night spilled in: faint horns drifting from Third Mainland, danfos rumbling in the distance, the city never truly sleeping. Vanessa leaned back on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, her glass of wine trembling slightly in her hand. Stan’s arm draped casually along the back of the couch behind her shoulders, her voice carrying with the ease of someone who never brok

Sunlight leaked through gauzy curtains, draping the living room in soft gold. Empty bottles lined the coffee table like fallen soldiers, card decks scattered in half-played games. The faint hum of the generator filled the silence, steady and low. Vanessa stirred on the couch before anyone else, her head resting against a throw pillow that smelled faintly of coconut oil and someone else’s perfume. The laughter of last night still lingered in the walls, but for her, it was a memory edged with sharpness. Her chest ached. Not from Stan’s grip. Not entirely. It was the balcony, the words she could not unhear: You deserve better than to be someone’s proof. She sat up, brushing her curls out of her face, and glanced around. The others were scattered like dropped coins: Amina curled in an armchair with a blanket pulled over her head, Chi stretched out on the rug, one leg still twitching in sleep. Bisi and Kingsley lay tangled on a loveseat, limbs thrown in careless directions. Nonye was

The villa did what people always did after tension: it tried to heal itself with noise. Kingsley turned the volume up on the TV, forcing everyone’s attention back to FIFA. Bisi cracked open a can of malt and made a show of sipping it like champagne. Chi threw her head back, laughing too loudly at nothing in particular. It worked on the surface. The villa swelled with chatter again, card shuffling, insults flung across the room. The storm pretended itself into silence. But underneath, the air stayed different. Vanessa sat on the edge of the couch, Stan’s arm draped across her shoulders like a banner. She smiled when she was supposed to, nodded at jokes, even tossed a card onto the table at the right moment. But her body was a sculpture — stiff, deliberate, carved into obedience. Every so often, she caught Amina’s eyes across the room. The gaze wasn’t pity, wasn’t accusation just quiet knowing. Amina didn’t press. She only watched, steady, like someone leaving a door cracked ope