Morayo slipped into the lecture hall just as the Professor began speaking, careful not to draw attention. Her bag brushed against the chair beside a familiar figure, and she froze for a moment before letting herself exhale.
Daniel.
He was already seated, head bent over a notebook, scribbling furiously as if the rest of the room didn't exist. She had known him for nearly two years, yet the sight of him still pulled at her chest with that strange mix of comfort and unease.
Daniel was tall; slightly above average....but his height never felt imposing. There was a softness to the curve of his shoulders, the relaxed way he slouched when no one was looking. His hair, thick and carefully kept, framed a face that was gentle and earnest, with warm brown eyes that seemed perpetually concerned for someone else before himself.
He wore a simple white shirt today, sleeves rolled up to reveal lean forearms, the faint scar near his wrist catching the fluorescent light for a second. His jeans were plain, practical, and well-worn, and his sneakers had clearly seen better days. There was nothing flashy about Daniel, nothing polished or perfect. Yet everything about him made sense to Morayo—predictable, dependable, tangible.
He glanced up, and their eyes met. The faintest smile tugged at his lips, soft and cautious. "You made it," he said quietly, almost as if speaking too loudly might disturb the fragile balance of their lives.
"I…" Morayo hesitated, fumbling for her notebook. "I'm sorry. Lecture started—"
"I know," he said, tucking his pen behind his ear. "It's fine. Sit."
She slid into the seat beside him, grateful for his steady presence. Around them, students murmured, shuffled papers, and whispered to friends. But in that small space beside Daniel, Morayo felt a tiny reprieve from the noise and expectations of her world.
Still, as she opened her notebook and tried to focus on Professor Adeyemi's lecture, a subtle disquiet settled over her. Daniel was warm, reliable, and decent in every possible way. Yet… he was also ordinary. Predictable. And sometimes, that ordinary safety made Morayo feel strangely restless.
Her eyes drifted to the window, where sunlight caught the edges of the campus buildings, and she wondered if life could ever feel bigger than rules, quiet rooms, and small moments of safety.
For now, though, she turned back to Daniel, pretending the flutter in her chest was nothing more than nerves from running late.