Chapter 4: Small shifts
1031 Words
The lodge had its own rhythm.
Ada began to notice it more as the semester settled in. Mornings were usually quiet—doors opening and closing softly as students rushed to early classes. Afternoons were louder, filled with the hum of generators, the smell of frying plantain from the small food stall by the gate, and the chatter of students returning from lectures.
By evening, the lodge came alive.
Music drifted from open windows. Someone was always arguing about football. Laughter bounced through the narrow hallways, mixing with the sound of slippers dragging across the tiled floors.
Ada had slowly slipped into the life of the lodge.
It started with small things.
Sometimes after dinner, the 400-level girls would gather in Kemi’s room. His room had somehow become the unofficial hangout spot on the floor, mostly because it had the biggest space and a working fan that didn’t sound like it was dying.
Ada would sit cross-legged on the rug while everyone talked.
“Did you people see the assignment that madam dropped today?” one of the girls, Chioma, groaned dramatically.
“Please don’t remind me,” Sade replied, lying flat on the bed. “That woman enjoys suffering.”
Laughter filled the room.
Kemi leaned against the wall, watching them with a grin. “You people complain too much. Law students have ten readings every day.”
“Please rest,” Chioma shot back. “All you people do is argue big grammar.”
Ada laughed quietly, enjoying the easy energy in the room.
She had always been more reserved, someone who preferred quiet spaces and her laptop, but somehow this group made things lighter.
Then there was Tunde.
He was always around too.
He usually sat on the plastic chair near the door, listening more than he spoke. Every now and then he would glance at Ada and smile, like he was just happy she was there.
At first she had thought nothing of it.
But the way his eyes followed her sometimes made her a little self-conscious.
One evening, as everyone argued about which Nigerian artist had the best album that year, Ada felt someone nudge her shoulder.
She turned.
It was Kemi.
“Come outside,” he whispered.
Ada frowned slightly. “Why?”
“Just come.”
She hesitated for a second, then stood up.
Outside, the air was cooler. The night breeze carried the smell of roasted corn from the roadside vendor.
Kemi stretched his arms.
“I needed fresh air,” he said.
Ada gave him a suspicious look. “You dragged me out for fresh air?”
“Maybe.”
She shook her head.
“You’re strange.”
He grinned. “You like it.”
Ada rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile forming on her face.
They started walking slowly toward the gate of the lodge.
The street was alive in that typical Lagos night way—okadas speeding past, music from nearby bars, and students gathered in small groups.
For a few minutes, neither of them said anything.
Then Kemi spoke.
“You’re always serious.”
Ada looked at him. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
She laughed softly.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“A little?” he teased. “Ada, you walk around like someone who is carrying the fate of Nigeria on her shoulders.”
She pushed his arm lightly.
“Please leave me alone.”
“I’m serious,” he continued. “You need to relax sometimes.”
“And you relax too much.”
“That’s balance.”
Ada shook her head, but she felt lighter walking beside him.
It was strange how easy it felt to talk to Kemi.
With Tunde, conversations often felt… careful. Like she had to think before speaking.
But with Kemi, things flowed naturally.
They stopped near the gate where there was a supermarket where they sold parfait and ice creams with smoothies and loads of other drinks.
Kemi bought two ice creams and handed one to her.
Ada raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t ask if I wanted one.”
“I knew you would.”
“You’re very confident.”
“I’m usually right.”
She took a spoon of the ice cream, smiling slightly.
For a moment, they just stood there watching people pass by.
Then Kemi said casually, “Tunde likes you.”
Ada nearly choked on her ice cream,
“What?”
He shrugged.
“You didn’t notice?”
“I—”
She paused.
Of course she had noticed something.
But hearing it said out loud made it feel different.
“I think he’s just being nice,” she said carefully.
Kemi gave her a look that clearly said you cannot be serious.
“Ada.”
“What?”
“He literally follows you around.”
“He does not!”
Kemi laughed.
“Okay maybe not literally. But close enough.”
Ada looked down at her cup.
She didn't know what to say.
Tunde was kind. Thoughtful. Always checking if she had eaten or if she needed help with something.
But she had never thought about him that way.
And now the thought made her slightly uncomfortable.
Kemi watched her quietly.
“You don’t like him like that,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
Ada sighed.
“I don’t know.”
That was the safest answer.
Kemi nodded slowly.
“Fair.”
They started walking back toward the lodge.
Inside, the noise had grown louder. Someone had turned the music up, and Chioma was dancing dramatically in the middle of the room while everyone laughed.
As Ada stepped inside, Tunde looked up immediately.
His face brightened.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“Outside,” she said simply.
“With Kemi?” Chioma teased from across the room.
Ada ignored her and sat back down.
But for a brief second, she noticed something.
Tunde’s smile faded slightly.
Just for a moment.
Then it returned.
And somehow, Ada had the strange feeling that something small had shifted—something none of them were ready to talk about yet.
- Writer
