Coincidence

 

Photo: from Google

Saturdays in most Nigerian homes are the days when all the chores in the house are done.

 The laundry.

The sweeping and mopping of the house.

The washing of toilets and bathrooms.

Then there’s the cooking. Soups and stews are cooked in large quantities for the week and stocked in the refrigerator. Well, most Nigerians hope that the power supply would be relatively stable to keep their food from spoiling. Shopping isn’t left out of the list of chores. Whether shopping for household goods or food items or whatever it is, Saturday seemed the perfect day to shop.

Amarachi Eze wasn’t left out of all the chores. As the first child and daughter of her parents, she took it upon herself to do most of the work. To her, it was a form of blessing. Her parents did everything to make sure she went to school, the least she could do was help in the house during the weekends. Well, it took over a year after her service to get the job she had at the moment. Before that, she was the “house girl” at home, according to her best friend, Ngozi Peters. Ngozi was from a wealthy home. And though she had her family’s wealth, it didn’t stop her from acquiring her own. She was an accomplished makeup artist who owned her studio.

Amara was so proud of her friend. And proud of herself too. Her hard work had finally paid off. She was an HR director in an IT firm and she loved her job. It could be stressful, but it paid the bills. She couldn’t complain. This Saturday was the day for rigorous shopping. She had gone to the food market as early as 6 am to get foodstuff at affordable prices. Now she was in the supermarket, getting provisions and other groceries. She’d soon tick that off the list of chores she still had to do at home. She checked her wristwatch. It was about 12noon. At least her mum would clean the house before she got home.

“Where the heck is the cornflakes when you need them?” Amarachi muttered to herself. She held on to the cart with both hands. It was almost filled with the groceries she had gotten. She grumbled as she pulled the cart around and finally found the cereal section. She picked up a box of cereal and pursed her lips.

“Rice Krispies, hmm. Mummy said she wanted cornflakes specifically.” She eyed the rice Krispies, thought for another second, and dumped them into the cart. She took another box and dumped it in the cart again. “The rice Krispies are for me.” She picked three boxes of cornflakes for her mum and dad. “This should do for another month or so.” She picked oats too. As she pushed her cart toward the payment section, her phone rang. She took it out of her small black handbag and grinned at the caller ID.

“Zii, how far?” she said as soon as she answered.

“I dey oh. Are you done with your housegirl duties?” Ngozi Peters, Amarachi's best friend said at the other end of the line.

Amara laughed, “I wish. I’m at the supermarket now. I’ve done the food shopping already.”

“Omo, babe. You dey try oh. So you woke up as early as 5 am, on a Saturday.” Ngozi said. “I can’t imagine doing all this work.”

“I am the only one free to help na, you should understand,” Amara replied absentmindedly, she had gotten to the payment section and stood in the queue. “And you know pidgin doesn’t fit you.”

“You’re the one I can flex the pidgin with. Deal with it.”

Amara laughed, then sighed, “the queue for payment is another thing.”

“I’ve told you to move in with me, but you refused.”

“And leave my parents alone? Zii, you know I can’t.”

“Bia this girl, they’re not alone. Isn’t Amuche around?”

Amara held the phone and laughed hard, causing some people in the supermarket to stare at her briefly. She swallowed the laugh and managed a little chuckle. “Amuche is in school, Zii.”

“And you’re a graduate,” Ngozi countered.

“Yes, I know. Graduates do house chores too.”

“Not like you. You took all the work and put it on your head.”

“Just helping my parents the way I can.”

“I’ve told you over and over again to employ someone to help with these chores,” Ngozi suggested. “You can’t go to work Monday to Friday and still shop all day on Saturday. Then go home and do the other chores. Your social life has become worse than when we were in school.”

“You know, if I was staying alone, I’d still do all the shopping and chores.”

“Yes, but not all the time, Amara.”

“If I was staying with you, same thing.”

“Definitely not!” Ngozi exclaimed in horror. “You know I would never let you do that. I have someone who helps here.”

“It’s because you have money na, Ngozi. I can’t afford a maid.”

“Yes, I’m rich. Let me pay someone to—”

“No, Ngozi,” Amara cut her off. “We’re not going to talk about this again. I told you to stop worrying about me. I got this.”

Ngozi sighed, “but Amara—”

“Ngozi Peters. I don’t need the maid. End of discussion.”

Ngozi sulked and rolled her eyes where she was, which was on her bed. She’d let her best friend win the argument at the moment. Soon, she’d realize the importance of the maid, when she moved out of her parents’ house and there’d be no one to help with the chores.

“Ok ma. Your wish is my command,” she said instead. “For now.”

“Thank you,” Amara said, ignoring her last statement. She moved forward on the queue as she and Ngozi chatted. She spotted someone ahead of her. He was on the other queue, not the one she was on. He had his back to her. And his back looked vaguely familiar. She tried to strain her neck to see his face, but he was busy with his phone. His cart was beside him too.

“You’re still coming over tomorrow, right?” Ngozi asked. “Amara? Are you still there?”

“Sorry Zii, I got a little distracted.” She tried to focus on her call. “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.” The man she had spotted then raised his head and faced the shop attendant. It was almost his turn to make the payment. He turned around then, like he was looking for something or someone and she gasped.

“Zii, let me call you back. I just saw someone I think I know.”

“Ok, but make sure—”

Amara hung up before Ngozi could complete her statement.

She left her queue to his queue. After a series of excuse me's and sorry's, she got to him and cleared her throat. “Luc? Lucas?”

His head snapped to her direction and his eyes rested on her.

“Yes?” He answered politely. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Wow,” Amara chuckled. “It is you. I knew it. You look different with your glasses, but I don’t forget faces.” She was so pleased that she was right, she forgot to introduce herself.

He raised his eyebrow at her and she got herself.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she put her hand on her mouth to control her mirth. “Morning Dew Secondary School. I’m Amarachi Eze.”

His eyes widened, at the mention of the school, but not at the recognition of her name. “Yes, I attended Morning Dew Secondary School. I’m sorry, were we set mates? I don’t remember your name.”

Or my face, she thought to herself. “Nah, don’t beat yourself up,” she waved her hand. “We weren’t classmates or set mates. I was two sets below yours.”

“Oh wow,” he gasped, “and you remember me. Even my name. That’s impressive.”

Amara laughed, “well, it would have been difficult not to know you. Your girlfriend, Beverly, was my classmate. You always visited her.”

“Wow again. That’s very detailed.” He smiled for the first time. It was nice. “I’m sorry I don’t recognize you.”

“There’s no problem. I wasn’t popular or anything,” she said. “I was such an introvert.” Ok, stop talking now, Amarachi. She chastised herself. He didn’t need to know all that.

“Well, if you remember me then you'd know I wasn’t popular either.” He said to her, adjusting his glasses. Something Amara thought was distracting. Very distracting.

Dude, you dated Beverly. I think everyone in my set knew you because of that. She said instead, “trust me, you were popular enough.”

He folded his arms and grinned at her. She tried not to look at his biceps and focused on his face. That was also very distracting. Well, she had always known Luc was cute, but this was something else. This Luc here was gorgeous. His glasses fit to his face perfectly. His dark hair was cut and trimmed perfectly. His beards were just perfect for his face. His chocolate complexion, not too dark, not too fair was perfect too. The polo he wore fit him perfectly. She didn’t need to notice his trousers or his footwear. Every other thing was perfect enough.

Shit, she was using the word perfect a lot. But that’s just how this guy was. Perfect. She hadn’t realized she was staring at him until someone touched her and asked her to move aside.

“Sorry,” she mumbled to the person and stepped aside.

“Any problem?” the man she stepped aside for asked Luc. He knew Luc?

“No, there’s no problem. I’m just reconnecting with an old school mate,” Luc answered, then introduced them. “Uhm, Amarachi, this is my friend, Chuka. Chuka this is Amarachi. We both attended Morning Dew.”

“Nice to meet you, Chuka,” Amara smiled and shook Chuka's hand. “You can call me Amara.”

“Pleasure, Amara,” he smiled back. “You’re pretty.”

If Amara could blush crimson, she definitely would have. “Thank you,” she managed.

It was Luc's turn to pay for his purchase. Chuka opted to attend to that while Luc and Amara talked more. As soon as the attendant bagged their goods, Chuka signaled for Luc.

“Yeah, I have to go now,” he said to Amara with a wry smile. “it was nice meeting you. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I guess so,” Amara replied. And he was gone.

She was left standing alone and she remembered she had goods to pay for. Luckily, it was almost her turn. She scoffed at the people behind her in the queue who thought she was jumping the line.

“I guess so? Pfft. Did I actually say that?” she muttered to herself again. “Ngozi is going to kill me when she hears this.” That made her laugh.

 

                                 ***

“Dude, that chick is pretty. Damn!” Chuka said to Luc as he strapped his seat belt. They had loaded the back with their groceries. Luc climbed into the driver’s seat and strapped his seat belt too. Turning the key in the ignition, he started his ash Mercedes C300.

“Dude, are you gonna act like you didn’t hear what I said?” Chuka scowled at Luc.

“I heard you loud and clear,” Luc said, adjusting his glasses, “I just chose to ignore.” Putting the gear in reverse, he checked his side mirror to be sure there was no one or vehicle behind him before he reversed.

Chuka chuckled, “guy, you won’t kill me oh. So tell me, who spoke to who first?”

Luc finished reversing and put the gear in drive and headed for the exit. Chuka kept demanding for an answer. He couldn’t ignore this one.

“She spoke to me first. I didn’t even recognize her.”

“What? The pretty chick spoke to you first.” Chuka growled with laughter. “I am astonished that you didn’t recognize her.”

“You keep emphasizing on her being pretty,” Luc kept a straight face.

“Because she is. I don’t know how you didn’t see it,” Chuka replied testily.

“Well, ok. She’s probably pretty. I wasn’t paying attention to her.”

Chuka put his face in his hands and muttered something under his breath.

“Don’t curse at me, Chuka.”

“Guy, first you said you didn’t know her in your secondary school—”

“She was two sets below me,” Luc interrupted.

“Then you don’t even notice she’s pretty. If not that I’ve seen you with a tiny amount of ladies, I’d say you’re gay.”

“Not every guy chases every woman he sees,” Luc threw a shade.

“Ha! Well, I didn’t chase her. She clearly just wanted to talk to you.”

Luc spared Chuka a glance for a few seconds, then returned his attention to the road. He didn’t really pay attention to Amara's face or her physique. He couldn’t even remember what she wore. He remembered the days he used to leave his SS3 class to go to Beverly’s SS1 class. Those days were long ago. He had been the shy type, but he’d have done anything for Beverly. He did do everything he could for her. He didn’t care to know or notice anyone in her class or set, except her clique of friends.

“I really didn’t recognize her. I wasn’t popular and I didn’t really know how to talk to girls except—"

“Clearly. You still can’t talk to them,” Chuka interjected.

“Except Beverly. Come to think of it, Beverly was the one who spoke first. And we just sorta became a couple.”

“And she used you a lot.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Chuks,” Luc said dryly.

Chuka laughed genuinely. “Did you at least get Amara's number?”

Luc frowned.

Chuka glared at him and shook his head. “Why did I even bother to ask. Of course you didn’t.”

“You know I’m not that kind of guy, Chuks.”

“What kind of guy are you then? When last did you go on a date? When last did you tell me anything about liking a lady? And the funny thing is the ladies practically throw themselves at you. In reality and social media. Freaking pick one.”

Luc sighed, “how did we get to my dating life?”

“Guy, you don dey old oh. Quick get girlfriend and marry.”

“Women aren’t on my mind now, let alone marriage,” Luc responded.

“Sure. I don’t want to hear all your excuses again before I get upset.” Chuka scoffed and turned up the volume of the radio.

“You could get married to, set an example for me,” Luc joked.

Chuka only scoffed at him and sang along with the artist singing on the radio.

Luc held on to the steering and navigated through the Lagos traffic. Grateful for Chuka’s silence, he thought back to his encounter with Amara. He really didn’t think he should have asked for her number. Maybe if he saw her again, he would.

 

                                                             ***

Amara loved Ngozi’s apartment. It was the place she could be herself the most. Suffice it to say, it was a safe space.  Ngozi had her own Ikoyi apartment, some distance away from her parents’ home. It was Sunday evening and they were both in her very cozy living room. The walls had portraits of Ngozi and any other person she termed worthy to occupy her wall. Her cushions were black and leather. A sculpture of someone playing a piano sat on the floor beside the flat screen TV. Ngozi’s attention was on a fashion show. She sat on the tiled floor and her back rested on the black couch Amara laid on. A floor length mirror hung on the wall behind them. Ngozi looked at her phone briefly and snorted. “I don’t  like this Bev’s Juices.”

“The gossip blog?”

“Yes. She writes derogatory stuff about people. Especially celebrities. Guess the worst part.”

Amara couldn’t guess, she was too busy doing what she was doing. And she also didn’t want to talk about the owner of Bev’s Juices. “I can’t guess.”

“People gulp the juices like hungry horses. Her blog posts get a lot of views and comments. It’s appalling.”

“It’s gossip, Zii. People like gossip. What do you think of this dress?” Amara changed the subject. She showed Ngozi a red gown on her phone.

Ngozi twisted her neck to spare the dress 3 seconds of her time and responded, “no, keep scrolling through the page.” She went back to the show she was watching on TV. Forgetting about Bev’s Juices.

Amara scowled at her. “This is like what? The hundredth dress you’ve said no to since I’ve been scrolling through this IG page.”

“What? It’s too simple,” Ngozi shrugged.

“That’s what you said about the last dress,” Amara screamed in exasperation.

Ngozi turned to look at her, “would you relax? Take a chill pill. Maybe if you’d go to the page I suggested we won’t be here.”

“I can’t afford the dresses on that page, Zii.”

“I can.”

“Oh God, give me strength,” Amara threw her hands up.

“God has given you me,” Ngozi smiled. “Ok, let’s do this,” She came up and sat beside Amara. “Why don’t you go to that page and select one dress you like, and I’ll pay for it.”

“No, Ngozi. I don’t want you to pay for anything. I have a job now.”

“For goodness sake, Amarachi. I have money, why won’t you let me spoil you?”

“Cos I don’t need the spoiling at the moment.”

“Everyone needs spoiling. Even my mother still likes receiving gifts from my father, and she can afford them gifts.”

Amara tried a tactic to distract Ngozi. “Forget the dress sef. I have gist for you.”

Ngozi’s face lit up with excitement. “Really? And you’ve been sitting here since.”

“I just remembered na.”

“Wait,” Ngozi decided to try her own tactic, “I’ll only listen to this gist if you choose a dress from the page I told you about.”

“Gozi!”

“Mara!”

“What if I say no? So you’re willing to sacrifice gist for that?”

Ngozi blinked. “Well, yes. I’m willing to sacrifice the gist. So sacrifice the silly pride you have and accept a gift from your best friend.”

“Ugh,” Amara grumbled, “fine. It’s only cos I really want to give you this gist oh.”

“Yes!” Ngozi bumped her fist in the air. “No problem.” She took Amara's phone and searched for the dress vendor on her Instagram. She found the page and gave Amara back the phone. “Feel free to choose more than one.”

“One was the deal, madam.”

Ngozi sighed, “a girl had to try.”

Amara went through the page for a few minutes before she finally selected a dress. It was a midnight blue dress. It had a silver halter strap neckline, which meant it was also a backless dress. She decided on it since she had never owned a dress like that. It was gorgeous, with an A-line skirt design. The dress looked like what would fit her petite frame. She wasn’t exactly short, but Ngozi and Amuche, her sister, were taller than she was. Something they never failed to remind her of. She wore enough heels to complement her height anyway.

“Here, this dress,” she showed Ngozi the dress.

“Damn girl! This is hot. What happened to the simplicity in your head?”

“I decided to try something different.”

“Do you have a date? Is that the gist? Is that why you chose this dress?”

Amara laughed, “gosh no. I don’t have a date. Far from it.”

Ngozi raised an eyebrow at her. “Ok. I’m listening to this gist.” She decided to order for the dress from her own account as she listened to her. She didn’t trust that Amara would pay for it if she sent the money to her.

“Wait, you said this guy was cute in secondary school, now he is gorgeous,” Ngozi interjected.

“Yes Zii. You needed to see him. He had the perfect physique. The perfect face.”

“How does just a simple guy get to date the baddest bitch in your class?”

“Not just my class, the entire set. Beverly was like the Queen Bee in the colony. I was like a worker.”

“Pfft, that was secondary school. You didn’t answer my question though, how does the Queen Bee get to date maybe a soldier?”

“Well, I don’t know. She had him. That’s what I know.”

“Hmm. And now he is not just cute, he’s perfect,” Ngozi rolled her eyes.

“Zii, I’m telling you. With his glasses—”

“Eww. Nerd alert.”

“Zii! There was nothing eww about him,” Amara scowled at her.

“Ok, ok. Nothing eww about him. Did you get his number?”

Amara frowned, “why?”

“Because according to you, he’s very hot.”

Amara shifted in her seat, “no, I didn’t get his number.” She knew Ngozi would ask this.

“Ok, did he ask for your number and did you say no?”

“Why would you think I’d say no?”

“Cos that’s typical you.” Ngozi ordered for the dress and waited for the payment details.

“Well, he didn’t ask for my number,” Amara folded her arms.

Ngozi sighed, “ok. Both of you are clearly crazy. Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

Ngozi gave her a look that made her hand over the phone immediately without any further question.

“What did you say his name is?” Ngozi asked.

“Luc.”

“Luke, really,” Ngozi repeated it dryly. She spelled the name wrongly and searched for it on Instagram. A lot of people popped up. Ngozi showed Amara the list and  yelled at her. “There are like a million Lukes on the planet, Amarachi! Give me his surname or something.”

“Jeez, relax. Besides it’s Luc, as in L.U.C not L.U.K.E.”

“I could type that and a million dudes would still appear.”

“I asked you what you wanted to do, but you didn’t say. How was I supposed to know you wanted to search for him on Instagram in the first place?” Amara countered.

“Fair enough,” Ngozi replied. “Now can you tell me something substantial.”

“Gosh, do I even remember his surname?” Amara thought for a while. “Ok, try Luc Madumere.”

Ngozi did, “this him?”

“No. Try Lucas Madumere.”

“This him?”

“No. Ok, try Madu. I know it’s a Madu something.

“Ok, trying Luc Madu.” Amara came closer and scrolled through the list of guys that popped up. She finally spotted Luc. “Yes, that’s him. Click! Click!”

“Relax madam.” Ngozi tapped on a Luc Maduka and she gasped. “Damn!” She went through the pictures with Amara. “You were right, there’s nothing eww about him. He’s hot.”

Amara smirked, “I told you.”

“And he has thousands of followers.” Amara scooted over to check the number of followers. She opened her mouth but couldn’t utter a word.

“Wait, you mean this chunk of a man was in front of you and you didn’t ask for his number?”

“Not this again, Zii,” Amara complained, resting her back on the cushion again. “Why would I ask for his number? The dude didn’t even know me in secondary school.”

“Well, he knows you now.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was just a coincidence running into him at the supermarket.”

“I can’t believe this,” Ngozi wasn’t even listening to Amara again. Then she turned to her and asked, “wait, what were you wearing?”

Amara wrinkled her nose at her. “What sort of question is that?”

“Just answer.”

“Ok, I was clad in a pair of jeans and a big polo.” She saw Ngozi’s face lit up. This time, with horror. She couldn’t help but complete her statement. “Then there was a bandana on my head. I couldn’t comb my hair before leaving the house.”

Ngozi adjusted on the couch and clasped her hands together. She tried to sound as calm as possible. “So, you’re saying you were wearing a pair of jeans. And it would have been better if  you actually wore something your size, but I bet you wore loose fitting jeans. And a big polo.” When all Amara could do was smirk, she continued, “With your small frame, you definitely looked like a bag of potatoes. As usual.”

“Ok, can I have my phone back?”

“You looked like a bag of potatoes in front of the hot guy.” Ngozi wailed.

“I don’t care.”

Ngozi snapped her head up and looked at Amara. “You know what?” She picked the phone up and tapped on the follow icon. “Now you’re following him on Instagram. You can send him a dm.”

“Gosh no!” Amara cried in horror. “Unfollow him.” She tried snatching her phone from Ngozi. Ngozi bolted from the couch and ran to her room, Amara's phone still in her hand. Amara was on her chase.

“For goodness sake, Ngozi. I don’t want to look desperate for his attention. Sending him a dm on Instagram sounds desperate.”

“Ok, don’t send him a dm. Let him follow you back.” Ngozi made sure the bed was between them.

“You saw the number of followers he has. What makes you think he’d see my follow, let alone follow back?”

“Because you’re a beautiful lady and he just met you. Forget that you looked like a bag of potatoes.” Amara rolled her eyes at her friend. “He’ll probably recognize you and follow you back.” Ngozi continued, not minding the look of disgust on her friend’s face.

Amara massaged her temples, “Ngozi!”

“It’s logic. Now don’t stress. If he doesn’t follow you back, like say, maybe in a week, you can unfollow him if you want.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m your best friend. Best friends annoy each other,” Ngozi smirked. “We also want what’s best for each other. You seem to like this guy. There’s nothing wrong in following him on IG.”

“I don’t have any special kinda like for him. I just said he was hot.”

“You noticed. That’s a start.”

Amara felt she couldn’t win this fight with her friend at the moment. It was better to yield. One week wouldn’t hurt. “Fine. We stick to following him. Just following him.”

“Good.”

She stuck her palm out, “can I have my phone?”

“Maybe you could check him out on Facebook and Twitter—”

“Ngozi! I’m not a stalker!”

Ngozi rolled her eyes, “you’re no fun anymore. What happened to the Amara in school?”

“She became an adult. My phone. Now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Amara didn’t wait for Ngozi to toss the phone, instead, she sauntered to where Ngozi stood and snatched her phone from her. Ngozi couldn’t help it, she pushed Amara on the bed and they started a pillow fight.

 

                                                               ***

There were ways Luc spent his free days. Sundays were predominantly his free days. And he enjoyed his Sundays to the fullest. He also relaxed when Chuka didn’t drag him out for one thing or the other. After coming back from church, he could go for a swim in the pool at the club in the estate. Or he could decide to prepare a new dish he learnt on YouTube. He liked cooking and he took pride in his prowess in the kitchen. Another way he could enjoy his Sunday is to gym. Well, given, that wasn’t always relaxing, but he liked the workouts. It helped him keep fit. He liked the influx of people in the gym and the conversations that brewed from it. He liked dragging Chuka along with him sometimes.

He could read a book, if he could get past a page. His fingers might have been twitching to code or develop something, but he’d force himself to take a breath and do something else.

This Sunday wasn’t different. He decided to enjoy a glass of wine, a movie and some popcorn. He sat on the red chaise lounge, a pillow behind his back, in the living room of his 2 bedroom apartment in Victoria Island. The living room was a sight to behold. The walls looked like the sketch book of an artist. Different colors mixed here and there, in patterns and stripes. A wall clock hang at a corner. The floors were covered with cream colored tiles. On a part of the wall, were there were no murals, a wall shelf hung. On its layers were flower vases, decorative bowls, animal figurines and a few books, with their spines visible. Side tables were placed at strategic positions and some had lanterns on them. The center table was terrazzo and had a larger decorative bowl on it. A rug, which was the same color as the chaise lounge was placed under it to further beautify the living room. The chaise lounge was a few meters from the terrazzo center table, which was also a few meters from the flat screen TV. Other red cushions added to  the artful feeling of the living room.

Luc loved his space, but sometimes it felt lonely. Without Chuka who made the loudest noises, or his sister who disturbed him from time to time, his home was quiet.  As he enjoyed the movie he chose to watch on his flat screen TV, he noticed his phone beep beside him. Bowl of popcorn in hand, he picked up his phone nonchalantly with his right hand, his eyes were still on the TV screen. He chuckled briefly at something the actor said and spared his phone’s screen a few seconds. He realized the notification was from Instagram.

“Ugh,” he muttered to himself, “another follower.”

Usually, he wouldn’t have bothered checking who the follower was immediately. He had a number of that almost every other day. His curiosity took the better of him when he saw the name of the follower, “HerGrace_”. He wanted to know the lady with such a name. He tapped on the notification and was taken directly to the page of HerGrace. He was a bit flabbergasted when he tapped on the first picture on her page. She looked like the lady from his secondary school whom he met yesterday.

“Wait a minute, this doesn’t just look like Amara. It is Amara,” he gasped. “How did she get my IG handle?” He muttered. He went to the next picture and paused a bit to assess it. It was a portrait picture, her face was accentuated by just a little makeup. He noticed her small lips were painted pink. Her eyebrows were lined and perfect. Her eyelids also beautified with eyeshadow. In the next picture, she was standing and she wore a casual flowered gown, which complemented her fair skin. The gown stopped at her knee. It wasn’t clingy but looked good on her. He realized she had a small build. Her body was actually nice. She also wore heeled pair of slippers. She smiled in this picture, revealing her perfect dentition and the diastema he could have sworn he hadn’t noticed the day before. 

“Chuka was right. She is actually pretty. How didn’t I notice this yesterday?” He kept glancing through her page and liking some of her pictures. He raised one eyebrow up as he travelled through her page, totally forgetting the movie he was seeing. Finally he tapped on the follow icon and followed her back, smiling to himself. He picked up his remote and rewound his movie to the point where he had gotten distracted. He popped some popcorn into his mouth and continued his movie.

                                                                   ***

Amarachi had left Ngozi's place and was currently in her bedroom at home. She had made dinner for her parents when she arrived, arranged what she needed for work the next day and just decided to turn on her data for a while before she slept. That was when she realized Luc had followed her back. And he had liked some of her pictures.

She had been laying on her back on her bed, when she saw the follow back, she sat upright.

“He followed me back,” she laughed. “The hot guy followed me back. Gozi would freak.” She immediately went to her WhatsApp to tell her best friend about the latest development.