Rich Girl, Rough Boy

Rich Girl Rough Boy

The Taste of Something New

PART 3

The cut on Tani's foot was clean now. Emeka had wrapped it carefully with a white bandage, his fingers gentle against her skin. Neither of them had spoken for a long minute. The room felt smaller than before, the air thicker.

Tani's phone buzzed inside her recovered bag. Once. Twice. Three times. Then non-stop.

She pulled it out. Twenty-seven missed calls from her mother. Twelve from Dotun. Messages flooding the screen like angry bees.

"Tani where are you?"

"Your car is still on the bridge!!!"

"The police are looking for you!"

"TANI ANSWER THIS PHONE NOW!"

Her stomach dropped. She had completely forgotten. The world outside this tiny room had kept spinning. Her mother was probably climbing the walls. Dotun would be pacing in his expensive imported suits, thinking about how this would look to his important father's important friends.

"I have to go," she whispered.

Emeka stood up from where he knelt. He nodded, his face giving nothing away. "I know."

She stood too, wincing as her bandaged foot touched the floor. Emeka's hand shot out to steady her. His touch was warm. Electric. She looked up at him.

"Thank you, Emeka. For everything. I don't even know how to—"

"No need to thank me," he said quietly. He was still holding her arm. Neither of them moved to break the contact. "Just... be careful. Your people must be worried."

Your people. Not his people. The distance between their worlds had just been measured in those two small words.

Tani's phone buzzed again. Her mother's face flashed on the screen. She had to answer.

"Hello, Mummy—"

"TANI O! WHERE ARE YOU?! THE POLICE ARE HERE! DOTUN IS HERE! EVERYONE IS HERE! THEY SAID YOUR CAR WAS FOUND WITH BROKEN GLASS AND BLOOD AND—"

"Mummy, calm down. I'm fine. I'm safe. Someone helped me. I got my bag back. I'm coming home now."

Silence. Then her mother's voice, sharp and suspicious. "Someone helped you? Who? Where are you? Send your location now! Dotun wants to send a car!"

"I'll send it. I'm coming."

She hung up before her mother could ask more questions. When she looked at Emeka, his face had changed. The softness was gone. His jaw was tight.

"Dotun?" he asked.

Tani felt her face grow hot. "My... my fiancé."

The word hung between them like smoke. Fiancé. She was engaged. She was promised to another man. She was sitting in a stranger's room, her heart beating too fast, her skin still tingling from his touch, and she was engaged.

Emeka stepped back. Just one small step. But it felt like a mile.

"You should go," he said. His voice was calm. Too calm. "Your fiancé dey wait."

"Emeka—"

"Tani." Her name in his mouth sounded different than when Dotun said it. It sounded like something precious. "Go."

She wanted to say something. Anything. But what was there to say? Thank you for saving me, sorry I'm engaged, goodbye forever?

She picked up her bag. Walked to the door. Turned back one last time.

He was standing in the middle of his small room, hands in his pockets, watching her. The evening light through his single window painted him in gold. He looked like a painting. Like a memory she would carry forever.

"Emeka... will I see you again?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. Then he smiled. That small, sad smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Lagos be small city. Who knows?"

She left.

---

The car Dotun sent was black. Shiny. Air-conditioned. Driven by a man in a uniform who opened the door for her like she was made of glass. The drive back to her world took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of watching the streets of mainland Lagos transform into the clean, wide roads of Victoria Island. From yellow danfos to SUVs. From street hawkers to security gates. From Emeka's world to hers.

Her mother was waiting at the door of their mansion. Mrs. Adebayo was a beautiful woman, still young-looking at fifty, always dressed like she was about to be photographed. Tonight she wore an expensive caftan and enough gold jewelry to fund a small village.

"TANI!" She pulled her daughter inside, inspecting her like a damaged product. "What happened to your clothes? Where are your shoes? Your hair—look at your hair! And what is that on your foot?"

"Mummy, I'm fine. I told you—"

"Fine?! You are not fine! You are engaged to Dotun Adeleke! You cannot be 'fine' in a strange place with strange people! Who helped you? Was it a man? Tani, tell me it was a woman."

Tani thought of Emeka's hands. His back as he carried her. His eyes as he cleaned her wound.

"It was a woman, Mummy. An old woman. She helped me call the police."

The lie came out smooth. Easy. That scared her more than anything.

Her mother narrowed her eyes but let it go. "Well, the police found nothing. Those useless people. Dotun is in the living room. He has been waiting for hours. Go and see him. And Tani..." She gripped her daughter's arm. Hard. "Do not tell him about any 'old woman.' Tell him you handled it yourself. Men like Dotun want a woman who is strong, not one who needs help from strangers. You understand?"

Tani understood perfectly. She had understood that lesson her entire life.

---

Dotun was standing by the window when she entered the massive living room. White marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Art on the walls that cost more than most people's houses. And in the middle of it all, Dotun Adeleke, looking like he had just stepped out of a magazine.

He was handsome, yes. Tall, light-skinned, always dressed in designer clothes. His family had money that went back generations. His father was a senator. His mother was friends with governors' wives. On paper, he was perfect.

But when he turned and saw her, his first words were not "Are you okay?" or "I was so worried."

His first words were: "Tani, do you know how this looks? My driver had to go and pick up your car from the bridge. People saw it. People are talking. My father's assistant called to ask if you were okay and I had no answers!"

Tani stood there in her torn clothes, her bleeding foot, and listened to her fiancé talk about how her near-robbery was inconveniencing his image.

"I'm fine, Dotun. Thank you for asking."

He stopped. Looked at her properly for the first time. Something like guilt flickered across his face. "Of course you're fine. I knew you would be. You're smart. You handled it."

She had handled nothing. Emeka had handled everything.

"The police said your bag was recovered?" Dotun asked, moving closer. He touched her face, tilting it to examine her. "How?"

"I got it back."

"From who?"

"A woman. An old woman." The lie came easier this time.

Dotun nodded, satisfied. "Good. Well, it's over now. My father is sending his personal driver for you tomorrow. You're to come to the house for dinner. His colleagues will be there. Important people. Wear something nice. Cover that..." He gestured at her bandaged foot. "We don't need people asking questions."

Tani looked at him. At his perfect face. His perfect clothes. His perfect life that she was supposed to fit into like a missing puzzle piece.

"Dotun," she said quietly, "do you love me?"

He blinked. Confused. "What?"

"Do you love me? Really love me?"

He laughed. That polished, practiced laugh he used at parties. "Tani, what kind of question is that? We're engaged. Of course I love you. Now go and rest. You've had a long day."

He kissed her forehead. Quick. Dry. Then he was on his phone, walking away, already talking to someone about something important.

Tani stood alone in the massive living room and thought about a small room in mainland Lagos. About a boy who carried her on his back and washed her feet. About eyes that looked at her like she was a person, not a product.

She thought about Emeka.

And she knew, with a certainty that terrified her, that this was not over.

Not even close.

---

That night, Tani lay in her king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling. Her room was bigger than Emeka's entire apartment. She had a walk-in closet. A bathroom with a bathtub she had never used. Air conditioning that hummed softly.

But she couldn't sleep.

She kept seeing his face. Hearing his voice. "Lagos be small city. Who knows?"

Her phone buzzed. A number she didn't recognize. A text message.

"Your cut. Change the bandage in the morning. Make sure it dry. No wet. - E"

Tani's heart stopped. Then it raced.

She typed back, her fingers trembling.

"How did you get my number?"

Three dots appeared. Then:

"I told you. Lagos be small city. And I know people."

She smiled in the darkness. A smile she couldn't stop.

"Thank you, Emeka. For everything."

"You welcome, Tani. Sleep well."

"You too."

"Good night, rich girl."

"Good night, area boy."

She saved his number. Not under his name. Just a single emoji.

A heart.

Because some things were too dangerous to write down. But too precious to forget.

Outside her window, Lagos hummed with life. Somewhere across the city, in a tiny room with engineering textbooks and a single window, a boy was probably staring at his phone too.

And the distance between Victoria Island and mainland Lagos had never felt so short.

Or so impossibly long.

To Be Continued...