The bond grew stronger
619 Words
It was Saturday morning, and Amara had just rolled out of bed when her phone buzzed.
Damilare: Morning sunshine. You disappeared on me last night.
She smiled, stretching like a lazy cat.
Amara: I crashed early. Long day. Good morning.
His reply came almost instantly.
Damilare: Thought maybe you were mad at me.
Amara: Why would I be? You okay?
Damilare: Yeah. Just… you know, I don’t like silence. Not from you.
Amara stared at the message. Sweet. Maybe too sweet.
---
Later that day, he showed up again.
They walked around the estate, sipping Zobo and laughing about ridiculous i********: reels. He told her about a prank he once pulled on his cousin. She told him how she almost burned jollof rice trying to prove she could cook without her mom’s help.
He listened like every word she said mattered.
“You make people feel heard,” she said out of the blue.
He looked surprised. “I do?”
She nodded. “It’s rare. And nice.”
He smiled but said nothing. Instead, he reached for her hand. She let him hold it.
---
That evening, Amara got home to find her mom rearranging the living room.
“You didn’t clean the kitchen,” Ada said without looking up.
“I went out,” Amara replied, dropping her phone on the center table.
“You always go out. This house is not a hotel.”
Amara rolled her eyes. “It was just for a bit, mummy.”
Ada stood up straight, holding a throw pillow. “Your chores are your responsibility. Not just when it’s convenient.”
Amara’s voice rose slightly. “You act like I don’t do anything. I’m always cleaning!”
Ada crossed her arms. “Watch your tone, Amara.”
“And maybe you should stop acting like I’m a maid!” Amara snapped.
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Silence dropped between them.
Ada shook her head. “You’re getting too rude lately. That boy you’re hanging around—”
“Don’t bring Damilare into this!” Amara fired back. “He treats me with more patience than you do sometimes.”
Her mother stared at her like she’d been slapped.
Amara regretted it immediately. But she turned and walked to her room, slamming the door behind her.
---
She stayed in her room for hours, the guilt sitting heavy on her chest.
There was a soft knock.
Then another.
“Water is boiling over!” her mom shouted.
Amara jumped up, rushing to the kitchen.
The gas was still on. The pot of rice had begun to hiss.
She turned it off and began cleaning the mess.
Before she could even finish, Damilare showed up at the door.
“Just checking in,” he said. “You sounded off earlier.”
He saw the half-wet floor and grabbed a mop without asking.
By the time Ada walked in, he was already helping.
“You again,” she said, arms folded but smiling faintly.
“Just helping,” he replied.
She watched him mop, then glanced at her daughter.
“You two can eat together. The rice is enough.”
Later, as they sat and ate, Amara whispered, “I was awful to her.”
Damilare looked at her gently. “Mothers forgive faster than you think. Especially the brave ones.”
Amara didn’t reply.
But that night, she knocked on her mom’s door and said a soft, “Sorry.”
Ada pulled her into a hug without saying a word.
---
Zainab noticed things.
How Damilare texted Amara too frequently.
How he lingered around the house.
How Ada had started calling him “y
She wasn’t done yet.
- Writer
