EDGES OF QUIET

Chapter Three*

I told myself not to overthink it, but Victor's words lingered in my mind like a stubborn fog clinging to a mirror's edge. *"I've known him longer than you. Just be careful."* The warning wasn't loud or dramatic—just a quiet caution, but it struck a chord. Victor rarely gave advice like this, never so serious, and that made it stick even more.

I wanted to brush it off. To laugh at my own worry and dive headfirst into the thrill of Matthew's unexpected message and the promise of a date. But beneath my excitement, that cautious voice echoed. Maybe Victor was just being protective, or maybe he saw something I didn't. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Wednesday night rolled around faster than I expected. The buzz of anticipation was replaced with the easy hum of routine when I found myself back at Victor's place. It had become this comfortable rhythm—showing up, kicking back, sharing food and stories. John was there, too. The three of us were set on cooking something simple to unwind after a long day.

Victor lounged in his chair, peeling off his slides, eyes half-closed.

"What's the menu?" he asked, voice lazy but curious.

John was already pulling out a pack of pasta from the cupboard. 

"Pasta," he said with confidence, like it was the best idea anyone could have had all week.

I grinned and headed for the onions on the counter. 

"Pasta sounds perfect," I agreed.

Victor sighed dramatically, pretending to be hurt. 

"So, my opinion doesn't matter today?"

John smirked without looking up. 

"Not today, sorry."

I chopped away, the smell of fresh onions filling the room, when suddenly the lights flickered and died. The room plunged into darkness, save for the soft glow from our phones.

Victor muttered under his breath, standing to find the generator switch. Moments later, a low hum filled the space as it sputtered to life. The guys returned to their game, controllers clicking away, while I kept slicing the onions, trying not to let my nerves get the better of me.

Then my phone buzzed, screen lighting up with a message from David. I read it aloud without thinking.

"'You guys won't believe it—hostels are being robbed at gunpoint.'"

The words hung heavy in the air. Victor froze mid-move, his controller slipping from his fingers. John's face turned serious as he quickly pulled out his phone.

"Are you sure that's real?" Victor asked, his voice low.

John scrolled, brows furrowing. "It looks legit. Social media's buzzing with the news."

Before any of us could respond, the generator died again, leaving us in total darkness.

"What now?" I muttered, standing up.

We all headed toward the hallway, where dim emergency lights revealed a small crowd of residents whispering anxiously. A security guard patrolled the corridor, methodically shutting off generators.

Victor called out to him, "What's going on? Why are you shutting everything down now?"

The guard's expression was grim but steady. 

"There's a new curfew—no movement after 10 p.m., no noise, no lights. Management's orders. These robberies have gotten out of control."

A cold knot formed in my stomach. 

"Can I still go back to my hostel? It's nearby."

He shook his head firmly. 

"Too late for that. Everyone stays put till morning."

I sank back against the wall, the reality settling hard. John and Victor joined me, the three of us staring into the dark hallway, the tension thick.

It wasn't what we expected when we started the night, but despite the unease, the place felt more like a temporary refuge than a prison. We weren't scared—just caught in a situation none of us wanted but had to endure.

I pulled my knees up, wrapping my arms around them, trying to shake off the growing sense of unease. Victor glanced over at me and gave a small nod, a silent reminder that I wasn't alone in this.

The night stretched out, slow and heavy, and I found myself thinking again about Matthew, about Victor's warning, and about how sometimes, the things you don't see coming are the ones that catch you the hardest.

---

Eventually, sleep found me—though it came fitfully. I lay stretched out on the thin mattress on Victor's floor, wrapped in his extra blanket. The hard floor wasn't exactly comfortable, and every little noise made me stir, heart jumping. I kept reaching for my phone to check the time, or just to distract myself, but nothing changed. The building was silent, peaceful in a way that felt both comforting and strange.

Morning arrived quietly, the kind of stillness that lingers after a restless night. Soft sunlight filtered through the threadbare curtains, spilling pale stripes across the cold tiles. My body ached from sleeping on the floor, and I rubbed the stiffness from my neck as I sat up slowly.

John was already packing his things, yawning widely. "Got class," he said, stretching. "Hope last night didn't mess you up too much."

I gave a small smile. "I'm okay. Just thinking."

Victor was still half asleep on the bed, lazily scrolling his phone without looking up. I grabbed my bag, ready to head out.

"I should probably go too."

Victor didn't even glance at me. "Nah, stay a little longer. It's calm now."

I hesitated but let myself relax back down. Maybe ten more minutes wouldn't hurt.

An hour later—a sharp knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I called, surprised.

"Matthew," came the calm reply.

I blinked in shock. Spinning around, I caught Victor's eyes and groaned. "You didn't tell me he was coming! I look like I just rolled out of bed. How could you?"

Victor burst out laughing, leaning against the wall. "You'll survive, I promise."

I rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, trying to tame my hair and wipe away the sleep. The mirror showed a messy, slightly panicked version of me, but it was the best I could do.

When I came back, Matthew was inside, standing by the door. I forced a small smile. "Hi."

"Hey," he said, his voice steady but distant, avoiding eye contact.

The air between us felt thick, loaded with things we hadn't said. Since our last conversation about the date, we hadn't spoken—this felt strange and a little uncomfortable.

Victor slipped into the kitchen, leaving us alone. Matthew chatted quietly with him about a class that had been canceled, his voice casual but I couldn't shake the tension between us.

I sat silently, unsure how to bridge the gap.

An hour passed. Victor stood, grabbing his bag. "I've got to head to school. You two okay here?"

Matthew nodded, eyes still not meeting mine. "Yeah, all good."

"I'll lock up," I offered quickly, relieved at the thought of some space.

Victor gave me a teasing look but didn't argue. The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly, it was just me and Matthew.

The boy I didn't know how to feel about anymore—the boy who had texted me, stirred my heart, then left me second-guessing everything.

I wanted to say something—anything—but words failed me.

The TV played in the background, low and distant, but I couldn't make out a single word. The sound felt muffled, like the air between us swallowed it whole. We sat in silence, the kind that stretched and folded itself over time, neither of us quite sure how to break it. I pretended to scroll through my phone, my thumb dragging across the screen with no real purpose.

He didn't say anything.

I didn't either.

Until I couldn't take it anymore.

*"So… we're just going to sit here and not talk?"* I said, my voice light, teasing—more playful than I felt.

He glanced over and smiled, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

*"I wanted to see how long it'd take you to say something first,"* he replied.

That made me laugh. The tension between us loosened a little, like a knot gently coming undone.

From there, the conversation took off, like it had just been waiting for permission. He spoke about his younger sisters—how loud they were, how protective he felt of them, how they drove him crazy and yet grounded him. There was something warm in his voice when he mentioned them, something vulnerable that he didn't even try to hide.

But when it came to himself, to the deeper things—he held back, careful. His words were measured, deliberate. Like he wanted to stay just far enough away.

Still, I listened.

Then came the question.

*"So how did you and Victor meet?"*

I hesitated for just a second, then smiled.

*"Through a friend… early on when I got into school."*

I skipped the rest. The part that mattered a little too much. I wasn't sure what he'd think if he knew there was more to that story.

He didn't ask again.

A little later, he picked up his phone without saying a word. A few taps, then he looked up at me.

*"I ordered food. I figured you'd be hungry."*

I blinked, surprised. *"You didn't even ask what I wanted."*

*"I didn't need to."* His voice was calm, sure. *"You've been talking for over an hour. I know you haven't eaten."*

I didn't know what to say to that, so I smiled.

Time had slipped through us like sand. The sun was already higher in the sky, and I hadn't even noticed.

He made it easy. Being around him.

Too easy 

---

The food arrived not long after—a simple bowl of jollof rice and grilled chicken with a chilled bottle of water. He handed it to me like he'd done it a hundred times before, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I muttered a soft "thank you," trying to keep my smile under control.

We sat on opposite ends of the bed, and as I ate, he scrolled through something on his phone. Occasionally, he'd glance at me, and I could feel it—but I didn't look up. I didn't trust my face to hide how flustered I was.

*"You eat like you've been starving all week,"* he said eventually, amused.

*"That's because I basically have,"* I said through a mouthful, laughing. *"School's been draining me."*

He nodded, his tone shifting. *"Nursing, right?"*

*"Yeah. Final year guys love to say we stress more than them. But they don't even see what we go through."*

*"I see it now,"* he said, locking eyes with me for a second too long.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not awkward this time. It was something else. Charged.

I placed the empty pack aside and wiped my hands. *"So, what happened to that date you asked me about?"* I asked, trying to sound casual.

He leaned back, a slow smile creeping across his face. *"I was waiting for you to bring it up."*

*"Well, I just did."*

*"Good. You free this weekend?"*

I hesitated. I was, technically. But something about this moment—about him—made me nervous in a way I didn't want to admit.

*"I think so,"* I said.

*"Then it's a plan."* He checked his phone. *"We'll go somewhere calm. Just talk. Eat. I won't kidnap you, promise."*

I laughed, shaking my head. *"That's comforting."*

The air between us shifted again. There was something deeper in his gaze now, something unreadable. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then stopped.

*"What?"* I asked.

He hesitated. *"Nothing. I just… didn't expect you to be this easy to talk to."*

That caught me off guard. *"Why?"*

*"I don't know. You seem guarded. But now, here… you're different."*

I didn't know how to respond to that. So I didn't.

Instead, I smiled and looked down at my lap.

Whatever this was, whatever it was becoming—it felt dangerous and gentle at the same time. Like something I wanted to fall into but also wanted to protect myself from.