ONE MISTAKE AWAY PART ONE

PART TWO

familiar room — cream walls with a few family photos of people who barely spoke to each other, the small flat-screen TV on its wooden stand, the old couch — then her eyes met Zion’s for a brief second.“Hey, Zion,” she said softly, almost guarded.He gave one nod, eyes already flicking back to his screen. “Hey.”Cold. Short. The wall went up instantly.Mama clapped her hands once. “Naomi, your room is the guest one at the end. Drop your bag. Dinner go soon ready — I made jollof rice and chicken, extra for you. Welcome back, my daughter.”The first five days were tense and awkward. Every morning Mama would wake at 5:30 a.m., prepare a quick breakfast (usually bread with eggs or pap with akara from the night before), shout “Make una no kill each other before I come back o!” from the door, and leave by 6:15 a.m. for the long trek to Victoria Island. Zion would wake later, heat up whatever was left, then bury himself in editing until evening. Naomi tried to bridge the gap. She asked about his “celedit” channel, what new videos he was planning, even mentioning she liked his latest short on Lagos street food. She offered to help with chores or cook small things. Zion answered in grunts and one-word replies. She eventually stopped pushing hard and kept to herself — watching Netflix on her phone in the guest room with the volume low or helping Mama in the kitchen when she returned exhausted.One Thursday evening Mama came home earlier than usual, tired from the endless traffic jam on Third Mainland Bridge. She forced the issue while the jollof was still steaming on the stove in the tiny kitchen.“Dinner is ready. Both of you, come and eat. And abeg, settle whatever quarrel una get. This house is too small for silent treatment every day.”Zion muttered under his breath as he passed Naomi in the narrow corridor, their shoulders brushing, her breast lightly grazing his arm. “I no get anything to talk.”Naomi’s voice was low and sharp. “You no dey decide that one alone, Zion.”They ate in near silence — spoons scraping plates, the fan blowing warm air, Mama trying to make small talk about bank politics and how NEPA had taken light again in her office area. Under the table, Naomi’s bare foot accidentally touched Zion’s ankle. Neither pulled away immediately. The contact lingered a second longer than necessary.

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