chapter 2
1612 Words
Amara Bello did not believe in “meet-cutes.”
Real life was not a romantic comedy.
People did not collide in cafés and magically fall in love.
People collided in cafés and ruined expensive blouses before important presentations.
Which was exactly why she was currently standing in the office bathroom at 8:43 a.m., aggressively trying to scrub coffee stains out of white fabric while silently plotting a stranger’s downfall.
“You look stressed.”
Amara looked up at her reflection just as Nkechi from HR walked in.
“I am stressed.”
“Presentation?”
“Yes.”
“Coffee incident?”
Amara narrowed her eyes. “How do you know about the coffee incident?”
“Because Daniel saw you storm into the building looking like vengeance in heels.”
Fair.
Amara sighed and leaned against the sink. “Some annoyingly calm man walked into me.”
Nkechi smirked immediately. “Annoyingly calm?”
“Yes.”
“Attractive?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“So yes.”
Amara pointed at her. “You people are the reason society never progresses.”
Nkechi laughed loudly.
“Maybe the universe is telling you to relax.”
“The universe needs boundaries.”
“You work too hard.”
“I work the correct amount.”
“You answered an email during your own birthday dinner.”
“It was urgent.”
“You sent a PowerPoint at 2 a.m.”
“That was also urgent.”
Nkechi folded her arms. “Amara, when last did you do something fun?”
“I’m fun.”
“Name one fun thing you’ve done this month.”
Amara opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Nkechi gasped dramatically. “Oh my God.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You need romance.”
“I need investors.”
“You need therapy.”
Amara grabbed her bag before the conversation could continue. “I have a meeting.”
“You have emotional issues.”
Same thing.
—
At exactly 9:00 a.m., Amara walked into the conference room looking composed, confident, and entirely unaffected by the chaos of her morning.
Nobody needed to know she was surviving purely through caffeine and irritation.
The meeting began smoothly.
Her campaign presentation was sharp, creative, and bold enough to impress the company’s biggest client.
By slide seven, everyone in the room was paying attention.
By slide ten, even Mr. Adebayo — a man emotionally incapable of smiling — looked impressed.
“This,” he said slowly, “is excellent work.”
Relief spread through Amara’s chest.
Not happiness.
Not excitement.
Relief.
Because failure was never an option.
“Thank you, sir.”
The clients exchanged approving nods.
One of them leaned forward. “How old did you say you were again?”
“Twenty-four.”
A surprised pause.
Then:
“Impressive.”
Amara smiled politely even though she hated that word.
Impressive always sounded like:
You’re good... for your age.
Still, she accepted the compliment gracefully.
That was the thing about ambition.
Sometimes you swallowed irritation to keep climbing.
The meeting ended successfully an hour later.
Her coworkers congratulated her as she walked back toward her office.
“You carried that presentation,” Daniel admitted reluctantly.
“I know.”
“You’re very arrogant.”
“And yet correct.”
He rolled his eyes. “One day somebody will humble you.”
Amara grabbed her phone and bag. “Today is not that day.”
Unfortunately for her, the universe heard that statement and took it personally.
—
By evening, Lagos had transformed.
The city glowed gold beneath sunset traffic, loud and alive and beautiful in its chaos.
Amara stepped out of the office exhausted.
Her brain hurt.
Her feet hurt.
Her soul probably hurt too.
All she wanted was silence, food, and maybe eight years of uninterrupted sleep.
Instead, Teni dragged her to a bookstore café opening on the other side of town.
“You need balance,” Teni insisted while pulling her through the entrance.
“I need my bed.”
“You’ve been working nonstop for two weeks.”
“I enjoy working.”
“You enjoy suffering.”
The café was warm, cozy, and annoyingly peaceful.
Soft music played overhead while people sat reading beneath golden lights and shelves overflowing with books.
Amara hated how much she immediately liked it.
“This place is beautiful,” Teni whispered.
Amara nodded reluctantly.
A waiter passed carrying pastries.
Someone laughed softly nearby.
The entire atmosphere felt dangerously calming.
Like the kind of place where people fell in love accidentally.
Terrifying.
“You know,” Teni said, “if you met a man here, your children would have a cute backstory.”
“I’m not meeting anybody.”
“Your soulmate could literally be—”
Amara stopped walking so suddenly Teni nearly crashed into her.
Because standing near the back shelves with a cup of coffee in his hand—
was him.
The café man.
The human disaster who destroyed her blouse.
He looked up at the exact same moment.
And smiled immediately.
Oh, absolutely not.
“Well,” Teni whispered beside her, “that man is offensively fine.”
Amara ignored her.
The stranger slowly walked toward them, entirely too relaxed for someone approaching a woman who still wanted revenge.
“You survived,” he said casually.
Amara folded her arms. “Disappointing, I know.”
He laughed softly.
And annoyingly, the sound suited him.
“What are the odds?” he asked.
“Not low enough.”
“Tough crowd.”
Teni looked between them excitedly. “Wait. This is coffee guy?”
“Yes,” Amara said flatly.
“No,” the man corrected. “I prefer misunderstood hero.”
“You assaulted me with caffeine.”
“I apologized.”
“You smiled while doing it.”
“Multitasking.”
Teni pressed a hand dramatically against her chest. “Oh, this chemistry is dangerous.”
Amara glared at her.
The man extended his hand toward Teni first. “Adrian.”
Of course he had a calm name.
“Teni,” she replied instantly.
Then he turned to Amara.
Something shifted slightly in his expression then — softer now, more curious.
“And you are?”
She hesitated for half a second before answering.
“Amara.”
“Amara,” he repeated slowly, like testing the sound of it.
And for some incredibly irritating reason—
her stomach flipped.
She hated that immediately.
Adrian glanced around the café. “So what do you think of the place?”
“You work here?”
“I own it.”
Amara blinked.
That surprised her.
He didn’t look like someone who owned businesses.
He looked like someone who woke up naturally at sunrise and gave strangers life advice near beaches.
“That explains why you’re so relaxed,” she muttered.
Adrian smiled slightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is a bad thing.”
“You think everybody should suffer?”
“I think adults should take life seriously.”
“And if taking life seriously makes you miserable?”
“I’m not miserable.”
Adrian studied her quietly for a moment.
Then:
“You look tired.”
The words caught her off guard.
Not because they were rude.
Because they were true.
Amara straightened immediately. “I’m fine.”
“Hm.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you know things.”
Adrian took a slow sip of coffee.
“Maybe I do.”
And somehow, that answer was worse.
- Writer
