Happy 30th chapter after so many months🎊🎊✨✨

Bonus enjoyment for you if you've read The Kite Runner.

Y'all will get to see another version of Tamara in this chapter and No, it's not what you're thinking, onishina gbogbo.

And Happy Birthday to Nazeera's twin IfedayoOgunleye4 I love you so much ❤❤

Now, let's see what Nazeera is up to on her twin's birthday. 

NOUMAN

Nazeera was at it again.

This time, she wasn't crying hysterically, Alhamdulillah for that but she was crying all the same.

I walked out of my room, my camera bag slung around my shoulders, and was about to tell her I was heading out when I noticed the tears streaking down her face.

I couldn't even panic because I knew it was one of her many irrational tantrums.

"What's wrong?" I walked closer to where she was standing over the kitchen cabinet and sobbed quietly as she looked into the frying pan on fire.

"Why are you crying?" Again.

She didn't acknowledge my presence and question as more tears streamed down her face and she took the frying pan off the fire and poured the content- something I couldn't quite describe because I didn't understand what it looked like- into a large bowl that was almost full to the brim with what she just poured into it and she returned the frying pan to the low heat fire, poured some batter into it before folding her hands over her chest with eyes intent on the frying pan.

I take it that she couldn't get a recipe right and that was why she was in this mess.

Good!

"Are you not going to tell me why you're crying?"

She sniffed and  barely glanced in my direction as she muttered the almost inaudible, "I'm frustrated, that's why."

"So you're crying because you're frustrated?"

She looked at me then, eyes simmering with tears and she rolled them exaggeratedly that I feared they might roll to the back of her head.

I got her reply loud and clear, pretty much what I said.

"You shouldn't be crying because you're frustrated though," I told her and she looked away from me dismissively, her shoulders rising in what seemed like a fresh round of tears when she saw how whatever she was making was turning out to be.

"You are 17 years old now, Nazeera, crying because you're frustrated should be left for babies."

I wasn't so sure but the sound that escaped her lips sounded so much like a low hiss.

"All girls cry when they're frustrated."

"Not all girls," I corrected even though I had no idea if it was true, "I'm pretty sure it's just you and a couple of other girls like you that cry over the littlest things like this."

She scoffed as she turned the whatever on the frying pan.

"What do you know about girls? How many girls do you even know? And apart from me, do you even know any other girl's name?"

A random image popped into my head and I shook my head, "Not exactly but I'm pretty sure..."

"See something," She interrupted as she turned her pink jalab-cladded body towards me, "You don't even know any other girl so take it from me, exactly how I act is the way 99% of the girls act.-

And the other 1% are the abnormal ones, you should steer clear of girls like that," She told me, sounding like she just gave me the tip of a lifetime when I was sure that she was rather part of the 1% that were abnormal.

I mean, two people should behave the way Nazeera behaves, that'd be catastrophic.

"Oh God," She sobbed, drawing my attention to what she was doing once again, "I did everything right, I followed all the procedures but why is it turning out like this? Why? Who could I have possibly offended?" She kept going on and on as she poured the white dough that looked like a kind of pancake into the bowl and she poured more batter into the frying pan.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

"What are you doing?" I just had to ask.

"Trying out this recipe we learned in school yesterday. I got it right because I led my group in the practice yesterday but now, I can't seem to get it right again. I've been at it since morning but it's still not turning out the way it should be. I'm tired and frustrated and just fed up. I feel like crying." She lamented with more tears streaming down her face that she swiped angrily at them and I had to resist the urge to tell her that she couldn't possibly feel like crying when she was already crying this much.

"Sorry about that."

"We have to redo it next week and I'm going to lose the whole of twenty marks if I don't get it right."

"Eyah, Kiyi hakuri," Sorry. I leaned against the cabinet and raised my hand to slowly caress my nose as I carefully selected my next words.

"So the... The thing you're making is not turning out well?"

She eyed me warily, "Oppa, I already said that."

"But... You keep pouring the same batter into the frying pan, you're not even reducing the heat or something, how can you possibly expect a different outcome when you're doing it the same way?"

She didn't say anything, she just kept staring at me, mouth agape and eyes as wide as saucers and I stared right back at her.

"Wow," She finally exclaimed, her hands banging against each other, "You're such a genius, why didn't I think of that?"

Subhanallah!

"So you're telling me that... Since the morning that you've been... You're not... You've... Wow!" I trailed off, unable to articulate my thoughts because what's all these?

"But that should have been the first thing I should have done na," She muttered to herself and she put out the fire, "The problem is obviously with the batter, I should have just poured this away and made another one right from the beginning but why didn't I think of it though? It must be because I was frustrated sha. Don't beat yourself up too much Nazeera Baby, these things happen, you hear?"

I closed my mouth. I mean, I had to close it because it had been hanging open all this while.

And to think this young lady here was claiming to be a representative of every other girl. That being a possibility alone was more than terrifying.

But wow, who's this girl?

"Where are you going through?" She turned to me, her face now almost dry of tears, "You look like you're heading out."

"Yeah," My right hand moved to touch the strap of my camera bag, "I'm going to school."

"But I thought you don't have class today or are you trying to run away from me?"

As if I could run away from her.

"I'm meeting someone."

"A client?"

Oh God!

"I'm meeting a schoolmate for an assignment."

Her right brow quirked, "A girl?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because it's more than high time for you to start meeting girls, I've been praying hard and..."

"Ehn ehn, that reminds me," I interrupted her, and I unlocked my phone to show her something, "What's going on here?"

"That's my WhatsApp status," She answered me as of I didn't know what I showed her.

"Why does it look like a waist bead? What are you posting that your status icon looks like just one because they're too much?"

"Ohh," She beamed, like literally, she brightened up instantly, like stars magically appeared in her eyes with how they suddenly glowed up and her lips stretched into the biggest smile I've ever seen on her face.

"You haven't viewed any of them?"

"Of cou... No, I haven't had the time." Nah, I wasn't interested in looking at a status update like that.

"Well, it's my best friend's birthday."

"Today is the twins' birthday?"

"No, not them, this one is my real best friend, well, she's more of my twin than my best friend. She was my senior in my secondary school but we were really close and inseparable because we have a lot of things in common, we're both babies and we're both obsessed with BTS," She started gushing and I instantly regretted asking her about it, "Everybody in school used to call us twins or 5 and 6 because we were always together even though she was my senior..."

"Must have been nice."

"You don't know about it, then she graduated and she traveled out of the country to go and study Law, leaving me behind in this country. I feel so betrayed but we're keeping our friendship going by communicating every day and today being her birthday, I just have to go all out."

"So what you're saying is that the waist bead status is you wishing just one person happy birthday?"

"Yeah."

Wow.

"You know, Oppa," She tapped me, "Girls like to be shown off like this, when it's our birthday or even random days, we love it when people close to us post us like there's no tomorrow."

Oh wow.

"And I'm speaking on behalf of the whole population of girls. Do you even know how many girls have called it quits with their boyfriends because they don't post them?-

I'm just telling you this in advance so when you later get a girlfriend, you won't end up losing her, especially since you don't like posting anything."

I nodded while wondering how it was possible for Nazeera to never run out of things, most often nonsense to say.

"I'm going to do a video call with Ifedayo later so I'll be able to wish her properly."

"The waist bead status is not enough?"

"Not even nowhere enough. She's my twin, I'm supposed to go all out for her today."

"Ohh, sorry."

"She even attended two BTS concerts last year and we were on video calls almost throughout so I wouldn't miss out, you don't even know how important she's to me."

"Eyah, see friendship goals oo."

She gave me a stink eye and she started to say something at the same time her phone vibrated on the kitchen island.

"Oh my God, it's her," She gushed after practically throwing herself on the island just to take her phone, "Bye-bye Oppa, you can come back very late today, I don't mind." She told me while jumping towards her room in excitement and before slamming her door shut, I heard her say;

"Annyeong Ife, Chengil Chuka hamnida," which was quickly followed by what seemed like a song in that weird language.

I sighed.

Louder than I've ever had.

And now, I was leaving Nazeerah to go and deal with another girl who I didn't quite understand.

********

A very tiny percent of the student body calls it The Kuti Library because it was named after one of the many sponsors of Coven School of Art but the other and bigger percent calls it the General School Library because that was its purpose.

I walked through the sliding door of the beige-painted building and smiled politely at the two receptionists before walking in fully. It was a huge library with a four-storeyed building and because it was barely a month into resumption, the library was scanty and the first floor was near empty with less than 5 students in sight.

If it was exam period, the whole library will be filled to the brim but now, the absolute reverse was the case.

The lift dinged and stopped when it got to the fourth floor and when I stepped out, there was no one in sight. Even the librarian seats were empty and there was nothing around except the carefully arranged chairs around rectangular-shaped tables on the sparkling nude tiled floor.

She probably wasn't here yet or she probably had no intention of coming because she seemed to be someone that was wired that way.

I made my way towards the literature shelf because she had asked to meet there for reasons that still elude me. The library was arranged in a way that the chairs were on either side of the shelves along a long vertical line from where the entrance was situated.

I've entered the library only a few times and the few times, It was only to come to the literature session so finding my way there required little to no effort. Most of the books on the shelves were African books and as I walked closer, I could see some old African Classics like Things Fell Apart, Our Husband Has Run Mad Again, Weep Not Child, and a wave of nausea hit me.

Back in Kano, my mom used to have a lot of African books that she had to build a mini library, and growing up surrounded by such amazing and some now out of prints books fueled our love for reading. I used to read a lot then, used to devour everything as long as it was fiction but I moved away from Kano, and reading fiction suddenly became a herculean task.

Now, I had forced myself to read a book a month.

The rustling of sheets made me turn in the direction to see her and I was momentarily taken aback by the sight of her.

She was seated on a chair, her left hand propped on the table to support her head and her right hand holding a book she was reading. She was too engrossed in the book that she didn't notice my presence and instead of alerting her of my presence, my brain jumped and did that one thing it had been conditioned to do.

I brought out my camera and took a snapshot of her.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Before pausing to look at the pictures I had taken. They looked aesthetic. She looked aesthetic like someone made for the front of the camera and the pictures turned out to be impeccably pretty that it looked like a thoroughly planned photo shoot with the concept of books and a library from how the background of books on shelves accentuated the fact that she was holding and reading a book.

The pictures turned out to be almost perfect and I knew it wasn't because of my camera or the background or anything, it was because of her. Any other person could have replaced her, sat the exact way she had sat and the pictures would have never turned out to be as impeccable as this.

She really was made for the camera.

I looked away from the pictures to see that age was still engrossed in the book she was reading which surprised me because she never struck me as a book lover, not to talk of someone that'd read books like The Kite Runner.

And if the sound of the camera from earlier had alerted her of my presence, she didn't act like it. She didn't look up and she most definitely didn't say any word of greeting.

Weird but not unusual for her.

"Hi," She looked up slowly then as if she had all the time in the world to simply lift her head from the book she was reading and when her eyes finally settled on mine, I was taken aback again by the intense bleakness in her eyes. I've noticed and I was still noticing once again that while all eyes held certain emotions, hers held nothing.

They weren't cold, sad, angry, warm, happy, or anything, they were simply empty and devoid of anything and that fleetingly made me wonder if truly eyes mirror one's soul, then what exactly were hers mirroring?

She didn't say anything, she just kept staring at me in that bleak way, her eyes vacant and eerie that merely looking into them made the temperature in the room dim, made chills start breaking out on my body, and when it was evident that she wasn't going to reply, my mouth moved and formed the words I didn't process.

"You read?"

She didn't say anything after that either, she just continue to stare at me and it was after a while that she scoffed slightly and she finally broke the stare down to look back at the book she was reading.

"Is that supposed to mean anything?"

"No, not exactly," My face contorted into a frown, "I'm just surprised, that's all."

Her eyes didn't stop skimming over the book, "Surprised that a girl like me has the brain capacity to understand books like this?"

What?

"No," The frown on my face deepened, "I didn't mean it that way."

She turned two pages before she replied, "Of course, you do, you said it, and your eyes conveyed it."

Wow, "I'm sorry but that wasn't what..."

"Do have your seat, Mister," She interrupted me, pointed dainty fingers at the chair opposite her with the manner of a queen that was addressing one of her subjects.

Oh wow.

But I did take my seat opposite her, humored by the whole situation because it was really all shades of humorous.

She didn't say anything again, she just kept turning the pages of the book while the subconscious part of my brain registered her appearance. Just like every other day, her face was completely made up, like a red-carpet-ready makeup with contours and highlights and all those things.

My eyes dipped lower to take in her scanty top at the same time she shifted the book to cover her.

I cleared my throat, "Interesting choice of book."

"Hmm hmm."

"Have you read any other books by the author?"

"Not exactly," She replied, still not looking up from the book, "Tried reading A Thousand Splendid Sun but I couldn't get into it."

"And it's a good book but just not as good as The Kite Runner. The Kite Runner is a personal favorite."

She looked up then, eyes softening for a while as if my words had surprised her or something.

"I like the book too. I think... This is probably the 3rd time I'm rereading."

The Kite Runner was one of the books I read back then in Kano but I was really young then and I couldn't exactly understand the depth of the story and I only got to reread and appreciate the literary beauty a couple of months ago.

"Do you like Hassan?" I asked her because Hassan, even though he was the second lead and someone we didn't get to hear his thoughts, he was still the most loved character so asking her that question was probably even...

"No," She answered, shocking me, "I hate him."

My lips parted slightly in shock which was even an understatement because shock didn't come close to what I was feeling. Hassan was like the most loved fictional character according to Bookstagram and Booktok and here she was, saying she doesn't like him.

"You don't like... I mean, you hate him, why? He's loveable."

She scoffed again, "He's a dunce."

I was punched in the gut by shock again and I found myself leaning over the desk, "Who? Hassan? He's literally the most intelligent person in the book."

"Come on Sherlock, by dunce, I wasn't talking about that kind of intelligence, I mean he's a stupid person who..."

"Hassan? Stupid? How?"

Her hand froze in the mid-air at the interruption and she eyed me warily, "I was just getting into it."

"Sorry," I muttered, a little smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

"I have a strong aversion for people that are unnecessarily nice and Hassan is just that. He was too nice and his unnecessary niceness made all that happen to him."

"Wow, that's a very twisted way of putting it."

"But that's exactly how it happened."

"No, I don't think so, I don't think his niceness was unnecessarily and I don't think his niceness is the problem here."

"So," She dropped the book to sit more upright on the chair, "Enlighten me."

I heaved a sigh and tilted my has towards the book, "It was Amir, the problem is mostly Amir's fault and Hassan was only being himself. Nothing would have changed even if he wasn't that nice."

"Everything would have changed, he wouldn't have gotten raped if he wasn't putting Amir's happiness before his own, no, he wouldn't even have been in that position where he could get raped if he hasn't been such a pushover to Amir and if he had spoken up when Amir accused him of theft, his fate wouldn't have been that terrible. So tell me," She air-quoted it, "What's there to like in such a miserable character?"

"Miser..." I trailed off to think about her analysis again, that's exactly what happened in the book but putting it like that made it seem like it was more of Hassan's fault than Amir's.

"So, you're saying he's to be blamed for everything?"

"Obviously."

"He was only being a friend to Amir."

She shook her head slightly, "No, he wasn't, he was only being a friend to someone who wasn't a friend to him. He only had to speak up that he didn't steal anything and he wouldn't have ended up like that."

"And if he had spoken up, Amir's relationship with his father would be ruined completely."

"Yes and because he wanted to protect the person who accused him, he didn't speak up because it was okay if his own life got ruined as long as that of the person who accused him was fine,  oh nice," She smiled sarcastically, "What a nice character!"

"You really don't like him."

"How could I when he intentionally allowed all that to happen to him?"

"But he was happy, you know? He was happy and contented and he was really with everything he has and I guess that's all that really counts."

She scoffed again and God help me if it didn't sound sarcastic, "Was he really? We'll never get to know. There's the trauma from the rape, there's dealing with the fact that he's of low social status and there's dealing with the fact that his closest friend from childhood watched him get raped because of him and he did nothing about it and there's dealing with the fact that the best friend framed him as a thief just to get rid of him so," She shrugged, "How could he possibly have been happy?"

"Sure, he has a lot of trauma and betrayal and pain but he didn't allow them to pull him back, he decided instead to focus on the little things that make him happy."

She kissed her teeth, "How convenient!"

"Actually," I leaned back on the chair, "He's relatable, or at least, he should be some sort of yardstick for humans, we should try to focus more on the positive sides instead of channeling too much energy on the negative side."

Her lips stretched into a dark smile that wasn't capable of reaching her eyes, "Bullshit!"

"So you're saying..."

"I'm saying people should face their realities, it'll save us all from some delusionalism." She said it casually as if that was supposed to be the way it works as if it was supposed to be that way, and immediately after she spoke, she went back to her phone while I continued to watch her while trying to take in her analysis of Hassan's character.

She had analyzed him in a very twisted way that was quite shocking, to say the least.

"But I liked Hassan though, he represents sanity and hope in a world that's hell-bent on going insane."

"Maybe we don't need anyone to represent sanity and hope," She replied, eyes still intent on the book, "He was just unnecessarily nice to Amir, he allowed Amir to walk all over him however way he wanted and he honestly shouldn't have."

"That's just the kind of person he is. Should he have changed who he is because Amir was terrible to him?"

She looked at me then, "Yes, Amir wasn't reciprocating his energy so he should have reciprocated Amir's energy instead, that would have saved him from all those pains."

A second or minute passed, "The way you think is... It's fascinating."

Her reply was nothing. No glance, no curt nod, no nothing... I couldn't even be sure she heard me because she was now engrossed in the book with her forehead scrunched in concentration and her lower lip in between her teeth.

I couldn't remember the last time I had this kind of lengthy conversation with anyone that wasn't my manager or clients or Nazeera and Alfred. In fact, I don't think I've had this kind of lengthy conversation with a random person since I left home, and surprisingly, it didn't feel bad.

Instead, it felt oddly normal and even though she had completely twisted Hassan's character, a part of me still wanted more.

"They're nice," were the words that jolted me out of my reverie and they confused me because I don't understand what was supposed to be nice, and the girl that just uttered the words didn't look like she was going to volunteer more.

"What are nice?"

She flipped another page casually before she enunciated, "The pictures you showed me the other day."

Ohhh, the other day when I had to delay going home to stay with her because she was obviously scared of staying alone in that place and instead of walking away to a more secured place, she had stayed there... stood there while her ankles hurt to oblivion because of her 15 inches heel.

And we didn't do or say anything after we found a place to sit other than show her the pictures she kept looking at her dull, uninterested eyes, and now, she was telling me that they were nice.

She didn't even say anything, not a single word that night while the hours ticked by and the school become more and more deserted with the obvious apprehension and anxiety growing in her. She tried to mask them by being so stoic and distant but I couldn't miss them in the slight and barely noticeable shaking of her fingers and how she kept looking at the time on her phone.

And even when her ride finally arrived in the late hours of the day, she just left like that, without a backward glance or a nod of acknowledgment or a thank you.

But granted, she didn't know I stayed back because she asked me to even though she was done looking at the pictures like 2 hours before her ride finally arrived.

And I didn't hear from her until yesterday when she messaged me to tell me that she was free today.

"They are? You didn't seem like it when you saw them."

She flipped like three pages.

"Well, they are." Then she added what seemed like an afterthought, "And you can send them to my phone," She reached for the bag I hadn't noticed before on the chair beside and she slid the phone she brought out towards me.

If I thought Nazeera wasn't understandable, then this girl just raised the bar even higher.

"I read up on you," She told me and I looked up to see her still reading the book.

"You did what?"

"The pictures were nice so I read up on you."

Wow. That was the last thing I was expecting to hear from her, "And?"

"You're good." She still didn't look up from the book and that didn't sound like a compliment, it sounded just like a random observation.

"Thank y..."

"It wasn't a compliment."

Wow. She was so blunt and curt that it took me by surprise but it still didn't stop a small smile from tugging at the corners of my lips.

"So, how's the project supposed to work?"

"It's simple, I'm just supposed to take pictures of your daily activities and make them into a picture story or something."

"So, you're going to follow me around for the whole day?"

The way she put it made it sound like a terrible thing like I was going to be some sort of stalker hovering over her for 24 hours.

And she still wasn't looking up from the book she was reading.

"No, it doesn't have to for a single, you can just call me over whenever you're doing a normal daily activity and I'll come over to take your pictures just like..."

"Just like you did earlier when you got here," She completed for me, surprising me because she didn't seem like she noticed I was even taking her pictures earlier.

"So you knew I was taking your pictures?"

"Hmm hmm."

"But you didn't act like it."

"Wouldn't that have ruined the fun?"

That was true but then, she had acted so unfazed that it was near unbelievable she actually noticed but she was used to the camera so it probably wasn't that unbelievable.

"So, I guess we're done here then, are you done with..." She tilted her head towards her phone and I replied by sliding the phone towards her. Again, I got no reply or acknowledgment as she just busied herself with looking at the pictures.

Or rather studying them because she took at least a minute to stare at each picture and she zoomed in on every single angle, her eyes, her nose, her lips, her clothes, her everything.

"Why do I feel like they look slightly better on your phone?" She looked up then, brows raised in a challenging manner as if I had supposedly done something to make the pictures look less pretty on her phone.

I sighed and it was more of an amused one than a tired one.

"That's because my phone is directly connected to my camera so the pictures will look..."

"Okay, I get."

"Do you always interrupt people when they're trying to explain what you've requested from them?"

"Maybe," She wasn't even apologetic or anything, "I'm not a fan of plenty of words."

"I guess," I returned my phone to my camera bag, "Must have been the reason why you couldn't tell me that you asked me to stay the other night because you were scared of being alone."

She looked up from the phone then, her blank eyes flickering with an indecipherable emotion before she looked away and she took all the time in the world to put the book in her bag before looking at me again.

And a part of my brain registered how she was being so intentionally painstakingly slow with everything and it wasn't getting on my nerves.

I was just finding the whole thing amusing.

"So you stayed back because you thought I was scared?"

"Were you not?"

"So why did you stay back because I was scared? We're not even friends so you must be expecting to get something in return?"

"And if I wasn't expecting to get anything in return?"

"That's impossible."

"Do people always do things for you because they were expecting to get things in return?"

"Isn't that how it always is?"

You must have had really shitty people in your life then, was my initial thought and it was on the tip of my tongue to say but she sounded so normal and casual as if that's how it has always been for her.

As if every single person in her life has been doing things for her because they were to get something in return, as if she has never received little acts of kindness from people, even strangers and it made me wonder, though fleetingly, the kind of life she was living and the kind of people in her life.

But well, it wasn't any of my business.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to get anything in return, I just did that for..."

"Well, I don't believe you."

I propped my right elbow on the table to massage the building headache away, "Was that why you didn't say thank you or even acknowledge the time I spent with you?"

"Why should I thank you when you did it because you were expecting something in return for your time?"

How twisted, "Stop saying it as if you're so sure, and besides, what could I possibly be expecting to get in return? Mon..."

"You tell me," She leaned over the table too, eyes locked with mine, "What would someone like you expect from someone like me?"

The silence that followed her words was full of her unspoken words and as I stared back at her, an apprehension I couldn't decipher grew more and more in the air till I got what she was implying.

I cleared my throat but still didn't look away from her.

"I'm not sure what you were expecting but I wasn't expecting anything from you, it was just a simple act of kindness, it's not that deep."

She didn't say anything to that. She just looked away from me and stood up with her bag and it was only after she had walked around the table and was beside me that she said;

"I'll message you when next we're supposed to meet."

And while I was still trying to process her words and what the hell just happened, the sound of her heels faded more and more till I couldn't hear them again.

Wow.

Just wow.

********

Nazeera's high-pitched laughter welcomed me immediately I walked into our apartment and my eyes immediately sought her out to see that she was lying on the sofa and she was still dressed in that awfully pink jalab and she had her phone to her face with girlish laughter coming from her phone.

Don't tell me these ones have been on a video call since I left. That wasn't even possible.

"Oh, my brother is back," She told her twin on the phone as she started standing to her feet, "Say hi to him before you go."

I started to frown and mouth no to her but she was already shoving her phone at my face.

A petite and very pretty dark-skinned girl with the biggest smile came on the screen.

"Annyeong Oppa." She said with so much excitement and I shook my head.

Nazeera's twin indeed.

"Heyyy, Happy birthday, hope you had fun?"

"Yes, I did," She beamed, and the smile I didn't think could get deepened got even deeper,  "Thank you Oppa."

I nodded and Nazeera muttered some things in their language before she hung up.

"Isn't my twin too pretty?"

"She is but don't tell me you guys have been on that video call since I left?" I asked her as I walked into the strange-looking kitchen in my apartment. It was the same kitchen but it looked different.

As if something else that I couldn't place was in the kitchen.

"Of course not, we took two breaks, I know that she's mine but I had to give her time to attend to other well-wishers. I wish I could keep her to myself but I can't do that."

Yeah, obviously, She's hers.

"But why does the kitchen look..." I started to say when my eyes finally landed on why the kitchen was looking so strange.

"Why do we have a new fridge?"

"Because... Just because we... Because we had... Because we did not..." She started stammering as she took her seat opposite me on the island, "We can't be using only a deep freezer and besides, it's too small to contain everything."

"Wow, it's honestly how you're spending my money for me."

She sobered up immediately with her expression clearing till she looked like 7 years old that was being reprimanded.

"Why? Are you angry?"

"Of course not, you're free to spend it anyhow you want even though I'm sure you'll reach the limit in a couple of months when it's going to last a normal person a year."

Her lips stretched into what looked like a tight smile, "Saranghea, Oppa."

"Because you have my card?"

"Majorly," She beamed with her signature smile on her face.

"So how was your day? Did you have a nice time?"

A certain weird girl that I had spent a better part of the day with popped into my mind and my shoulders raised into what I hoped was a nonchalant shrug.

"Yes, I guess."

Welcome to what I hope will be the fastest ship in the book. Their ship is supposed to be the fastest in this book and the fastest I've ever written about but I hope these characters won't take the law into their hands.

Comment hi if you're excited about the ship 😩😩

What do you think is going on in Tamara's head?

And writing about Hassan and Amir's relationship in this chapter made me realize how a bromance in this book is awfully similar to it and it is probably even worse than the dynamics of Hassan and Amir's relationship.

Nazeera though 😂😂❤❤

So it looks like we might have a new POV in the next chapter. Omoh, surprise me by guessing who 👀👀

Till then, Saranghea ❤✨