It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. The dappled light filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground. Palm trees swayed lazily in the warm tropical breeze, and the scenery around LSDPC Estate, Ogba, looked like something out of a dream.
A strong eastern wind swept across the field, ruffling the jerseys of the players. Michael sat at his usual spot on the east wing — the unofficial headquarters for betting, run under the sharp eyes of Tosin. Naturally, that's where she always sat.
Michael was chilling, nodding to Dimension by JAE5, Rema, and Skepta blasting through his headphones. He hummed softly, lost in the beat, when Tosin walked up on him.
"What's good, champ? You didn't go to school today?" She paused, smirking. "Oh wait… it's Saturday. Never mind."
Before he could react, she pulled the headphones from his ears.
"Did you hear a word I just said?"
"Oh—shit!" He blinked, yanked back into reality. "My bad, didn't see you coming."
He shifted his backpack to the left. "You can sit."
She slipped on his headphones and started singing along, right on cue with the lyrics.
"I never knew you were a Raver," she said with a smirk.
"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me." He smiled.
"Like your football skills?" She placed the headphones beside her, eyes scanning the field. Then her tone shifted. "Truth is, I don't know a lot about people. And I like it that way. Getting too familiar is… stressful. People unload all their baggage… past drama, present chaos. Like, who really cares what happened to you five years ago? I don't. I just don't like the stress."
Michael leaned forward slightly. "That's not the truth. Sounds more like a defense mechanism to me."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I mean, I don't hang with girls much… never been that guy. But I can see it. You're just protecting yourself."
"That's what you think," she said, her tone harder now. "You probably think I'm some drug addict with serious emotional issues. It's cool. I like that impression of me. Keeps the fakers away."
"That's not what I think at all. Actually, I think you're…"
"I'm gonna stop you right there," Tosin cut in sharply, her eyes flicking away from his. She could already tell where he was headed — and the last thing she wanted was to be flattered.
"Please don't. I don't wanna have this conversation."
"You got anything else to say? If not, I've got business to settle with Daniels."
"Hey T, I was meaning to ask you something."
"What's that?"
"I haven't really seen you in a uniform since we met. Do you go to school?"
"Nah."
She glanced up at him, watching his face carefully, like she was bracing for a reaction.
"I finished last year… I'm not some no-good, lifeless dropout, if that's what you're thinking. Actually, I left with two A's, three B's and C's. And I scored 293 in JAMB."
Michael blinked. "That's… that's impressive. So how come you're not in school then?"
"My parents have a different definition of 'feats,'" she said, her tone calm but edged with bitterness. "They didn't want me going to some public university. They wanted to lock me away in Babcock."
She gave a short, humorless laugh.
"I never liked Babcock. Always dreamed of UNILAG. But no — the idea of the only daughter of the Adejejis going to some old, underfunded federal university terrified them. In their eyes, it was a place for the less fortunate. And me? I was their golden girl — their project."
She paused, watching the field for a moment.
"They threatened to cut me off if I didn't go along with their plan. But I wasn't about to let anyone map out my life for me. So I left. Been living with a distant aunt since then."
She looked him straight in the eye.
"The only daughter of the Adejejis, now gambling and drinking in the streets of Ogba. Must really burn them that I'd rather stay out here than play by their rules."
Michael smirked.
"And here I was thinking I held the monopoly on family drama."
He inched a little closer, his tone softer now, more curious than prying.
"Have you reached out to them since?"
She let out a dry laugh, eyes narrowing slightly. "No… I don't need them. I'm fine on my own. Honestly, they were always just… dead weight."
There was a pause. She looked around, like she suddenly realized how much she'd said. Her gaze settled on him, quieter now.
"Did I just unload my dysfunctional family history on you?"
He smiled, a warm, easy one.
"I think you did. But it's cool. That's what friends do, right?" He leaned in a little, just enough. "We are friends… aren't we?"
"Yeah. Guess we are… friends," she said, her eyes darting across the pitch as if searching for something to fill the awkward quiet stretching between them.
A few seconds passed before a buzz broke the silence.
"Hey, your phone's ringing. Someone named… Olivia?" Her brow arched as she read the screen.
"Shit…" He fumbled to pick it up.
Tosin raised an eyebrow, amused. "Girlfriend?" she asked, only half-joking. "She's pretty."
"She's not my girlfriend. Just a classmate. We're working on a school project together."
Tosin rose to her feet slowly, brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. "Mmhmm. Just a classmate. Nerdy. Pretty. Totally not your type, right?"
"How do you even know she's nerdy?" Michael called out, a hint of challenge in his voice.
"I'm a good judge of character," Tosin replied with a sly grin. "Catch you later, Michael. And tell your nerdy girlfriend I said hi."
"She's not my girlfriend!" he yelled, but she was already walking away, her locs swaying with every step.
"If you say so," she called back, not bothering to turn around.
Michael looked at his phone, then back at her fading silhouette. The phone buzzed again.
He sighed and answered, "I'll be there in a few minutes."
Without another word, he slung his red backpack over one shoulder and took off, feet pounding the dry earth as he ran home.
It was a five-minute walk back to the house. Michael scanned the gate area but Olivia was nowhere in sight. For a second, he thought she had given up and left. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.
"Where you at? I can't see you anywhere."
"Your mom saw me at the gate," Olivia's voice came through calm and clear. "I told her I was your classmate, so she let me in."
"Oh… right. I'm just outside. Um…" He ended the call mid-sentence and headed in.
He stepped into the house — spacious, polished, and dripping with quiet elegance. The living room looked like something straight out of an interior design catalog. And there they were: Rachel and Olivia, seated across from each other like old acquaintances.
They were chatting, laughing lightly. Probably talking about girl stuff, Michael thought as he stood at the entrance, unsure whether to interrupt or disappear.
Michael dropped his backpack at the foot of the red sofa — Rachel's weekday throne. It was her sacred spot for watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians. She never missed an episode. Come rain or shine, she carved out time for that show like her life depended on it. All she ever needed was a bowl of popcorn, a cold bottle of Pepsi, and her feet curled under her.
He made his way to the bar and grabbed a bottle of 4th Street from the counter, twisting the cap open with a soft hiss. "So… what did I miss?" he asked, letting the chill of the bottle soothe the heat on his skin.
Rachel tilted her head back, catching sight of him — sweaty, breathless, and a little flushed from the sun. "Ohhh… you're back already. How was training?"
Michael didn't respond. He took a sip, eyes glancing between Rachel and Olivia like something in the air had shifted.
"You look exhausted," Rachel said, rising halfway from the sofa. "You must be very hungry. Let me whip you up something to eat."
Michael didn't even pause. "That won't be necessary. I've already ordered burgers and fries. The delivery guy should be here any minute now — so you can save yourself the stress."
Rachel's face dropped. The light drained from her eyes like a vampire had sucked her dry. The room, once lively with girl talk and reality TV banter, now sat frozen under the weight of unspoken words.
Olivia shifted slightly in her seat, sensing the sudden tension. She glanced between the two, unsure whether to speak or disappear into the furniture.
"Okay then… I'll leave you two to it," Rachel said, her voice tight with disappointment. "I'll be in my room if you need anything." She managed a stiff smile. "It was nice meeting you, Olivia."
Olivia returned the gesture with a polite but clearly forced smile.
"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Ofor."
Rachel turned and began her slow ascent up the sleek, seamless staircase. Her footsteps echoed faintly, a soft yet deliberate sound that filled the quiet room.
Olivia's eyes followed her. There was something in the way Rachel walked—shoulders held high, but spine just slightly too stiff—that made Olivia's chest tighten with guilt. She didn't know the full story, but something told her Rachel wasn't as strong as she tried to appear.
"Is she your mother?" Olivia asked, her tone sharper now, like the bite of a blade. "Because if she is, that's no way to speak to the woman who birthed you. It's rude, and honestly, it's disappointing."
Michael shot her a cold look, his patience wearing thin. "Are we going to do this, or what?" He leaned forward, his voice low but firm. "I don't need you to lecture me on how to treat my family. Let's just get to work."