~ TEN ~

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over Forcados University as students poured out of lecture halls, their chatter filling the air with a mix of relief and excitement. It was finally Friday evening, and the atmosphere on campus buzzed with energy. Groups of friends strolled lazily along the paved walkways, some heading to the cafeteria for a quick meal, while others made their way to the hostel blocks, eager to unwind after a long week of lectures and assesments.

At the pharmacology department, Kaima stretched tiredly, stuffing her notes into her bag as Chelsea nudged her playfully. "TGIF, girl. What's the plan for tonight?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

Kaima smiled, feeling the fatigue slowly being replaced by the thought of a restful evening. "Sleep, Chelsea. Lots of sleep."

Nearby, Chuma adjusted his backpack, shaking his head. "You two never change. How about grabbing some suya first? The spot by the stadium should be open now."

The trio walked down the tree-lined pathway, the cool evening breeze carrying the distant sound of music from a faculty event happening nearby. The streetlights flickered to life, illuminating the campus with a soft glow as another week at Forcados came to a close, and the promise of a relaxing weekend loomed ahead.

----

The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled the quiet room as Obinna paced restlessly, his phone pressed to his ear. The glow from his desk lamp cast long shadows on the wall, and the unfinished plate of jollof rice on the table hinted at his lack of appetite. His jaw clenched as the call connected, and after a few rings, his brother's voice came through, crisp and distant.

Obinze (over the phone): "Obinna."

Obinna: "Obinze." [Pauses] "You're finally picking my calls."

Obinze: [Sighs] "I've been busy. Work has been hectic."

Obinna: "Right. Work is always hectic. That's the excuse every single time."

Obinze: [A little defensive] "Obinna, you think it's easy managing a firm in Abuja? I don't have time to be sitting around doing nothing like you."

Obinna: [Scoffs] "Doing nothing? That's rich, coming from you. Just because I'm still in school doesn't mean I'm wasting my life, Obinze."

Obinze: [Sternly] "Then stop calling me with all this sentiment. What do you want?"

Obinna: [Slightly hurt but masking it with irritation] "I wanted to check on you. Is that a crime?"

Obinze: [Pauses] "I'm fine."

Obinna: "You don't sound fine. You sound... exhausted."

Obinze: "It comes with the job. Not that you'd understand."

Obinna: [Clenching his jaw] "You always do this. Always acting like I don't know what responsibility is. Just because you left Lagos early and started working doesn't make you the only one struggling."

Obinze: [Coldly] "We're not the same, Obinna. I had to step up because someone had to. You had the privilege of taking your time, of figuring things out without pressure."

Obinna: [Laughs bitterly] "Privilege? That's what you think? You left me behind, Obinze. You think handling everything alone was easy?"

Obinze: "We all make sacrifices."

Obinna: [Voice rising] "You sacrificed our relationship too, didn't you? You left, got busy, and now it's like I don't even exist in your life anymore."

Obinze: [Sighs heavily] "Obinna, I don't have time for this emotional blackmail. If you called to guilt-trip me, I'm cutting the call."

Obinna: [Frustrated] "You don't even care, do you? You act like you're the only one dealing with pressure."

Obinze: [Coldly] "I care, but I have priorities."

Obinna: "And I'm not one of them."

Obinze: [Softly, after a long silence] "That's not what I meant."

Obinna: "It's what it feels like."

A tense silence stretched between them. Obinna rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar pang of disappointment rise in his chest.

Obinze: [Eventually] "Look, I have to go. I have a meeting soon."

Obinna: [Flatly] "Of course you do."

Obinze: "Take care of yourself."

Obinna: "Yeah. You too."

The line went dead before Obinna could say more. He stared at his phone for a moment before tossing it onto the couch in frustration. Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled deeply and sank onto the chair.

"Same old Obinze," he muttered under his breath, feeling more distant from his brother than ever.

It has been like this for years... Every conversation between Obinna and Obinze felt like walking through a minefield, filled with strained silences and unspoken resentment. It was a cycle they had both fallen into—one reaching out, the other pulling away. And tonight was no different. Obinna sat back on his couch, staring at the blank screen of his phone after their tense call, a familiar ache settling in his chest.

Growing up in the wealthy Orjiakor family, life had always been a mix of privilege and discipline. Their father, Chief Felix Orjiakor, was a well-known business mogul with investments scattered across Nigeria's booming oil and real estate industries. Their mother, Lady Angela Orjiakor, was a renowned philanthropist and society figure, effortlessly gracing high-profile events with poise. From the outside, it seemed like Obinna and his elder brother Obinze had it all—wealth, connections, and influence.

But their father had other plans.

Chief Orjiakor was a man of principles, stern yet loving, and unwavering in his belief that true success wasn't inherited but built. Despite their family's affluence, he refused to spoil his sons with wealth they did not earn. "Money you didn't work for will never truly be yours," he would say, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. Instead of lavish allowances and free passes into the family empire, he chose to invest in their ambitions, pushing them to carve their own paths in life.

Obinna, being the last child and second son, enjoyed a unique bond with their father. Unlike Obinze, who often found their father's discipline suffocating, Obinna thrived under it, drawing inspiration from his father's relentless drive. Their relationship was one of open affection—whether it was long conversations about business over dinner or early morning jogging sessions where life lessons were casually slipped in between laps.

But for Obinze, things were different. Six years older than Obinna, he had always felt the weight of expectations far heavier. The pressure to be independent and make a name for himself had driven him to leave home while Obinna was still in SS2. Obinze packed his bags and moved to Abuja, determined to prove himself without their father's oversight. His departure left a gaping hole in Obinna's life, one that phone calls and occasional visits never quite managed to fill.

Obinna remembered watching his brother walk out that day, his jaw set in defiance as he told their father, "I'll make it without you. Without all of this."

That was the last time Obinna had seen Obinze as his big brother—the protective, teasing sibling who used to help him sneak out to parties and cover for him when he missed curfew. After that, their relationship became a distant, obligatory exchange of words whenever necessary. And now, with Obinna in his third year Forcados University, the distance between them felt wider than ever.

As he sat in his apartment, the hum of city life filtering in through the window, Obinna sighed. He wondered if there would ever be a time when they could bridge the gap that years of separation and pride had carved between them.

But deep down, he knew—Obinze wasn't just distant; he was different. And Obinna wasn't sure if they could ever go back to the way things were.

----

The cool night air wrapped around Chelsea as she strolled leisurely along the quiet campus pathway, her hands tucked into the pockets of her oversized hoodie. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement, and the distant hum of students chatting and laughing filled the air. She loved these solo night strolls—just her, the night, and her thoughts.

As she rounded the corner near the faculty garden, a familiar voice called out to her from behind.

"Chelsea? What are you doing out here alone?"

Chelsea turned, a small smile playing on her lips as she spotted Chuma, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

"Taking my nightly walk, of course. Helps me clear my head." Chelsea grins

"You and your late-night adventures. You know it's not safe to be walking around alone like this, right?" Chuma asks while shaking his head.

Chelsea rolled her eyes playfully. "Relax, Chuma. It's campus, not a jungle."

Chuma chuckled, falling into step beside her. "Still, it's late. I'll walk you back."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the distant chirping of crickets. Chelsea glanced at him from the corner of her eye, noticing the way his brows furrowed slightly in thought.

Chelsea asked. "You're thinking about tomorrow's class, aren't you?"

Chuma while smirking responds, "Of course. Saturday classes aren't exactly my idea of fun, but we have to be prepared. Don't be late, Chelsea."

Chelsea groaned dramatically. "You sound like my dad. I was planning on coming late, you know, just to mess with you."

Chuma laughed, nudging her shoulder gently. "You wouldn't dare. I'll personally drag you out of bed if I have to."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. I'll be early. Happy now, Mr. Course Rep?"

He grinned. "Very."

As they reached the entrance of her hostel, Chelsea turned to him, her expression softer now. "Thanks for walking me back, Chuma."

Chuma smiled, his gaze warm. "Anytime. Now go in and get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow."

Chelsea mock-saluted him before heading inside. Just before she closed the door, she peeked out and called, "Goodnight, Chuma."

He chuckled. "Goodnight, Chelsea."

As she disappeared inside, Chuma stood there for a moment longer, a small smile lingering on his lips before he turned and walked away, the night air feeling a little less cold.