Episode 2: Unwanted Proximity
1265 Words
Amara noticed him again.
Not because she wanted to—but because he made it difficult not to.
He stood at the far end of the assembly ground, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, like the surrounding noise didn’t concern him. While others talked, laughed, or shouted, he simply… existed.
Quiet. Observant.
Different.
Her eyes lingered for half a second longer than necessary.
Then she looked away.
Irrelevant, she told herself.
“Your husband is here again.”
Tolu’s voice came out of nowhere, low and teasing as they stood in line.
Amara didn’t bother turning. “You need help.”
“I’m serious this time,” Tolu insisted. “At this point, it’s no longer a coincidence.”
Kemi glanced over subtly. “He is always around when we’re around.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Amara said flatly.
But this time, even she didn’t sound fully convinced.
First period: Mathematics.
Second period: Biology.
By third period, Amara had successfully pushed him out of her mind.
Until literature class.
“Settle down, everyone,” Mr. Adeyemi said, adjusting his glasses as he walked in. “Today, we’ll be doing something different.”
A collective groan filled the room.
“That doesn’t sound good, sir,” someone muttered.
“It’s good for your future,” he replied dryly, picking up a marker. “Group project.”
The class erupted.
“Yes!”
“Ah, God bless you, sir!”
“Who is in my group?”
Amara already felt irritated.
Group work meant noise. Distraction. Dependency.
Things she avoided.
Mr. Adeyemi began writing names on the board.
“Group One…”
Amara barely paid attention until—
“Group Four: Amara, Kemi…”
She nodded slightly. At least one familiar face.
Then—
“…Daniel.”
The name didn’t register immediately.
Until the room shifted.
Tolu turned so fast she nearly fell off her chair. “DANIEL?!”
Amara frowned. “Who is—”
Then she saw him.
The boy.
Standing up slowly from the back of the class.
Calm. Unbothered.
Walking forward like this was just another normal moment.
Her stomach tightened slightly.
So that’s his name.
Daniel.
“You people will work together on analyzing the theme of love and human vulnerability in your assigned text,” Mr. Adeyemi continued.
The irony was almost insulting.
Amara let out a quiet breath.
“Sir,” she raised her hand. “Can I change my group?”
The class went silent instantly.
Mr. Adeyemi looked at her. “Why?”
“I work better alone.”
“This is a group project.”
“I understand, sir. But—”
“No.”
Simple. Firm.
Final.
A few students snickered.
Tolu covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
Amara slowly sat back down, her jaw tightening.
For the first time in a while—
She felt… trapped.
“Seems like fate,” Tolu whispered dramatically.
“Seems like nonsense,” Amara replied.
But deep down, something else stirred.
Something she didn’t like.
After class, the three of them gathered under the mango tree again.
Well—four of them now.
Daniel stood a short distance away at first, like he wasn’t in a hurry to intrude.
Kemi cleared her throat. “Um… we should probably start planning.”
Amara crossed her arms. “I’ll do my part alone.”
“That defeats the purpose,” Kemi said gently.
“I don’t need help.”
“And we don’t need stress,” Tolu added. “Please cooperate, professor.”
Amara ignored her.
There was a brief silence.
Then—
“You don’t like working with people.”
His voice.
Low. Calm.
Close.
Amara looked up.
Daniel had stepped forward.
Not too close.
Just enough.
It was the first time he had spoken directly to her.
And strangely—
He sounded exactly how she imagined.
Steady. Unrushed. Like every word had intention.
“I prefer efficiency,” she replied.
He nodded slightly. “That’s not the same thing.”
Tolu’s eyes moved between them like she was watching a tennis match.
Kemi stayed quiet.
Amara tilted her head. “And you know the difference?”
“I try to.”
There was no challenge in his tone.
No arrogance.
Just… calm honesty.
That annoyed her more.
“Look,” Kemi stepped in before tension could rise further. “Let’s just divide the work.”
She pulled out her notebook.
“I’ll handle the introduction and background. Tolu—”
“I’ll design everything,” Tolu said quickly. “I like fine things.”
“Of course you do,” Amara muttered.
Kemi continued, “Amara, you can handle analysis.”
“Good.”
“And Daniel—conclusion and overall review?”
He nodded once. “That works.”
Simple.
Efficient.
Annoyingly smooth.
As they wrapped up, Tolu dragged Kemi ahead, whispering loudly on purpose.
“I’m giving them space. Let love breathe.”
“There’s no love!” Amara snapped.
But it was too late.
They were gone.
Leaving her…
Alone with him.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
That was the problem.
It was… comfortable.
Unsettlingly so.
Amara picked up her bag. “I’ll send my part when I’m done.”
She turned to leave.
“Why do you hate it so much?”
She stopped.
Slowly turned back.
“Hate what?”
“Love.”
The word hung between them.
Heavy.
Direct.
Amara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t know me.”
“I didn’t say I did.”
“Then don’t assume.”
“I’m not assuming,” Daniel said calmly. “You talk about it like it’s something dangerous.”
“It is.”
“To you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question was simple.
But it hit deeper than expected.
Amara felt it.
That slight c***k in her composure.
And she hated it.
“That’s none of your business.”
Daniel held her gaze for a moment longer.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
No pressure.
No argument.
No attempt to force an answer.
Just… acceptance.
And somehow—
That made it worse.
As she walked away, Amara felt it again.
That unfamiliar shift in her chest.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something else.
Something quieter.
That night, she sat at her desk, staring at her open notebook.
The topic written boldly at the top:
Love and Human Vulnerability.
She scoffed.
“Irritating.”
But her pen didn’t move.
Because for the first time—
Her thoughts weren’t clear.
Why do you hate it so much?
His voice echoed in her mind.
Calm.
Patient.
Unshaken.
Amara dropped her pen and leaned back.
Frustrated.
Not because of the project.
But because of him.
Because unlike everyone else—
He didn’t argue.
Didn’t mock.
Didn’t try to convince her she was wrong.
He just… saw her.
And that?
That was dangerous in a completely different way.
Across town, Daniel sat by his window, flipping through his own notes.
But he wasn’t reading.
Not really.
Because his mind was elsewhere.
On a girl who spoke about love like it was war.
And for reasons he didn’t fully understand—
He wanted to know why.
Back in her room, Amara closed her eyes.
Repeating her rules again.
Don’t fall in love.
Don’t depend on anyone.
Stay in control.
But this time—
The words didn’t feel as solid.
Because now—
There was someone quietly standing on the other side of her walls.
Not forcing his way in.
Not breaking them down.
Just… waiting.
And somehow—
That was already enough to shake her.
- Writer
