Chapter Eight: Home, but Not Quite

The Nigerians in Norwich Independence Day celebration was many things loud, colourful, overwhelming.

Adelani stepped into the event hall, immediately met with the familiar scent of smoky jollof rice, fried meat, and chin chin. The room buzzed with conversation, the mix of Yoruba, Igbo, and Pidgin English creating a familiar, chaotic harmony.

Women in elaborate ankara and aso-oke moved between tables, balancing plates of food and babies on their hips. The men, in crisp senator outfits, stood in clusters, debating politics as if the future of Nigeria rested in their hands.

She had grown up in spaces like this family parties, church gatherings, owambes that lasted till dawn. Yet, even in a room full of her own people, she sometimes felt like an outsider.

"Adelani!"

She turned just in time to be enveloped in a dramatic hug.

Ronke.

Her best friend had arrived from Lagos the day before, and she was already causing a scene.

"Look at you!" Ronke pulled back, eyes scanning her outfit—an elegant green and gold iro and buba with approval. "At least you dressed properly. I was worried you'd show up in one of your oyinbo dresses."

Adelani rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too."

Ronke grinned, grabbing her arm. "Come. Let's go find food before all these aunties start dragging us about marriage."

She wasn't wrong. The matchmaking aunties were already scanning the room, plotting introductions. It was only a matter of time before someone said," Adelani, come and greet this fine young man. He just finished his PhD!"

The two of them made their way toward the food, piling plates high with jollof rice, fried dodo, peppered goat meat, and moin moin.

As they ate, Ronke leaned in. "So, are we going to talk about the mystery man?"

Adelani frowned. "What mystery man?"

Ronke rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb. The one from your Twitter message. And the one who was looking at you like suya at the alumni event."

Adelani nearly choked on her drink.

Ronke smirked. "Ah, so there is a story."

"There's no story," she muttered, suddenly very interested in her plate.

"Hmm." Ronke gave her a look. "Then why do you look guilty?"

Adelani sighed, knowing there was no escaping Ronke's interrogation. She lowered her voice.

"His name is Alexander. He was one of my lecturers during my master's."

Ronke's eyes widened. "Wait. Professor Alexander?"

"Not my professor anymore," Adelani corrected quickly.

Ronke grinned like she had just won the lottery. "And? Did he ask for your hand in marriage, or is he still toasting you softly?"

"Ronke!"

"What? I need details."

Adelani hesitated. How could she explain Alexander? His boldness, his attention, the way he made her feel both seen and completely out of her depth.

Instead, she settled for, "He's… interested."

Ronke raised a brow. "And you?"

Adelani's grip tightened around her fork. What was she?

Interested? Yes.

Curious? Definitely.

Terrified? More than she wanted to admit.

"I don't know," she finally said. "It's complicated."

Ronke snorted. "Complicated? My dear, a fine, successful man is looking at you like you're fresh agege bread, and you're calling it complicated?"

Adelani shot her a dry look. "He's older. He's British. He's…" She hesitated.

Ronke's teasing expression softened. "You don't think he's serious?"

"I don't know what he wants," Adelani admitted. "And I don't want to be some exotic experience for a man who has never dated a Black woman before."

Ronke nodded slowly, tapping her nails against her plate. "Valid."

"And even if it was something real," Adelani continued, voice quieter now, "my mother would never understand."

Ronke let out a dramatic sigh. "Ah, African parents. Where do we even start?"

Their mothers still believed in love within reason preferably Yoruba, preferably Christian, preferably someone with a stable job and a solid plan for marriage and children.

Ronke gave her a pointed look. "You know, even if he was Nigerian, your mum would still complain because you don't want kids."

Adelani's stomach tightened. That particular argument had been avoided for years, but she knew it was waiting for her like an unspoken time bomb.

"Which is why I'm keeping my distance," she muttered.

Ronke snorted. "You? Keeping your distance? So why did he orchestrate a chance meeting with you?"

Adelani blinked. "How do you know that?"

Ronke smirked. "Because I know you. You like to pretend you don't want things, but you're terrible at hiding it."

Adelani rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I invited you here?"

"Because you love me," Ronke said smugly. "Now, let's eat before these aunties start asking us to fry puff puff in the kitchen."

Adelani shook her head but smiled.

For now, she could put Alexander, her mother's expectations, and her own confusing emotions aside.

Tonight, she would just exist in this space, surrounded by her people, eating food that tasted like home.

Tomorrow?

Tomorrow was another problem