BEFORE THE STORM
Back in the car, Jide told his driver to take the scenic route. They spent the next few hours cruising through the quiet streets of the city, the windows down as Bazzi’s smooth voice filled the air. Christine rested her head against the window, her fingers intertwined with Jide’s.
The driver nodded and adjusted course. The city, with its soft glow of streetlights and distant hum of nightlife, passed them by. The windows were down, letting in the cool night breeze. Bazzi’s cosmic album from the speakers filled the air, setting the perfect soundtrack for the moment.
The car cruised past familiar landmarks—the old theater lit up with fairy lights, the quiet gardens where they used to study for exams, and the lively marketplace now silent under the blanket of night. Bazzi’s song Mine filled the car, and Christine leaned her head against Jide’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed.
“You know,” Jide began, his voice breaking the stillness, “I never thought I’d have a night like this. Not with you.”
Christine opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Why not?”
He smiled down at her. “Because I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough for you to feel the same way.”
The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white, their reflections dancing in the car’s glossy exterior. They didn’t need words; the music and the moment were enough.”
Christine rested her head against the window, her curls framing her face as her fingers intertwined with Jide’s. He couldn’t help but smile, watching her as she softly hummed along to the music. She caught him staring and raised an eyebrow playfully.
“What?” she asked, her voice teasing.
“Just admiring the view,” Jide said, squeezing her hand lightly.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t let go of his hand. “You’re such a smooth talker.”
“Only for you,” he replied with a grin, earning a quiet laugh from her.
As the car glided through the quieter parts of the city, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. The lights outside blurred into golden streaks, their reflections dancing on the car’s glossy exterior. The scent of freshly bloomed flowers from a roadside park mingled with the crisp night air.
“Do you ever think about moments like this?” Jide asked suddenly, his tone contemplative.
Christine turned to him, her eyes curious. “What do you mean?”
“Just… how perfect they feel. How you wish you could hit pause and live in it forever.”
Christine looked down at their intertwined hands, her heart fluttering. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I get that.”
They fell into a comfortable silence again, the kind where words weren’t needed because everything that mattered was already understood.
The car eventually circled back toward Christine’s neighborhood, but neither of them wanted the night to end. Jide turned to Christine.
“Thank you for trusting me with tonight”
With a sigh to her lips, she replied “You're welcome.
When they finally pulled up to Christine’s house, Jide stepped out first and walked around to open the door for her. Christine smiled softly, stepping out of the car with her floral heels clicking against the pavement.
As they approached her door, the warm glow of the porch light illuminated her face. She turned to him, her expression gentle. “Thanks for tonight. It was… perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jide stepped closer, brushing a loose curl from her face. “Perfect because of you,” he replied, his voice low.
They stood there for a moment, the air between them thick with unspoken feelings. Christine’s heart raced as she looked into his eyes, but she eventually broke the gaze, taking a small step back.
“Goodnight, Jide,” she said with a smile, her hand lingering on the doorknob.
“Goodnight, Christine,” he replied.
As she disappeared inside, Jide stood on the porch for a moment longer, the memory of her smile etched in his mind. He turned and walked back to the car, his heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.
---
The morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Christine’s room, painting the pale lavender walls with a golden hue. She had woken up at 6:00 a.m., the faint chirping of birds mingling with the hum of the air conditioning. Her last day at school in Nigeria. The thought filled her with both excitement and a deep ache she couldn’t quite shake.
She slipped into her workout gear and made her way to the indoor gym on the ground floor. For thirty minutes, she pushed herself through a cardio routine: sprints on the treadmill, jumping jacks, and a series of burpees. The rhythm of her feet pounding against the machine, combined with the upbeat Afrobeat playlist she’d curated, helped calm the swirling thoughts in her mind. By the time she was done, her skin glistened with sweat, her muscles warm and relaxed.
Next was her favorite part of the morning—a soak in the jacuzzi. After rinsing off in the adjacent bathroom, she filled the tub and added a few drops of essential oils her mom had brought back from her trip to Egypt last year. The floral aroma filled the air, and as the warm water enveloped her, she allowed herself a rare moment of peace. Her mind wandered to everything she’d miss: her friends, the bustling energy of Enugu's nightlife, and the familiarity of her routine. But then, there was also the unknown—Kenya, the opportunities, the adventure. She sighed deeply before stepping out and wrapping herself in a plush towel.
---
Christine’s school uniform lay neatly on the chaise lounge in her room. She dressed meticulously, slipping on the tawny brown camisole and the dark navy green pleated skirt. She paired it with opaque black tights and polished Mary Jane shoes. Standing in front of the mirror, she adjusted her blazer and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. It wasn’t her favorite outfit, but there was something about the formality of it that made the day feel significant.
Downstairs, the aroma of breakfast greeted her. Her nanny, Aunt Clara, had outdone herself as usual. The buffet spread was a mix of traditional Nigerian and continental options: crispy akara paired with creamy pap, fresh bread served with fluffy scrambled eggs, golden pancakes, and hash browns. Christine opted for akara, a small portion of scrambled eggs, and a cup of hot Ovaltine. Aunt Clara hovered, ensuring everything was to her liking.
“You’ll eat well today, my pikin,” she said, her voice warm but tinged with sadness. Christine smiled, knowing Aunt Clara would miss her dearly.
---
Her father’s driver dropped her off at school. The gates of St. Pius’s International loomed tall, their wrought-iron design polished to a gleaming black. The school halls were pristine, the walls painted a soft cream and lined with motivational posters and academic accolades. The scent of polished wood and faint cleaning agents lingered in the air. Students bustled about, their uniforms a sea of tawny brown and navy green, some carrying stacks of books, others clutching sports gear or project models.
Christine made her way to her locker. Along the way, she noticed her classmates pulling into the parking lot, their sleek cars shining under the morning sun. Among the arrivals was Sean. He stepped out of his custom matte-black Mercedes G-Wagon, his presence immediately commanding attention.
Sean was every girl’s dream: a striking mix of Ethiopian and Northern Nigerian heritage. His height of 6'4" made him tower over most, and his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing dark eyes gave him an almost regal appearance. His complexion was the color of smooth mocha, and his athletic build was showcased by the tailored fit of his blazer. To top it off, Sean’s lineage connected him to African royalty on both sides of his family, making him not only a heartthrob but one of the wealthiest students in the school.
Sean’s eyes scanned the crowd, his usual confident demeanor shadowed by something darker. He spotted Christine and made a beeline for her, his strides purposeful.