The drive home feels longer than usual. Lagos traffic is crawling, but my mind is running laps

while listening to Chike ft Simi cheered me with running to you playing in the background.

Lunch had been… different. Not just because we were celebrating Tes-Tech’s soaring numbers,

but because Katie had been on the call—Katie, with her easy charm and razor-sharp wit.

When she hugged me goodbye outside the restaurant, I didn’t expect it to linger. And the kiss—

soft, quick, barely a second—still burned like an echo on my skin. It was innocent, friendly

even… but my pulse had other interpretations.

I push the thought away, focusing on the road. My heart already has enough confusion with just

one sister.

By the time I pull into my driveway, my twin, Tina, is already leaning against my front door like

she owns the place.

“You’re late,” she says, arms crossed, eyes scanning me like a detective on a case.

“I wasn’t aware I had a curfew,” I mutter, unlocking the door.

She follows me inside, flopping onto my couch. “So… how was lunch with your boss?”

I shoot her a look. “It was lunch with Telissa. And it was fine.”

“Fine?” She drags the word out, smirking. “You’re glowing, Tim. And don’t deny it.”

I head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. “It was a friendly lunch. We talked about the

company.”

“And you hugged Telissa,” she adds, like she’s been keeping score. “And you kissed her.”

I choke on the water. “It wasn’t a kiss. It was… a moment. She was being friendly.” C’mon, we

do this often, nothing serious.

Tina’s grin widens. “Friendly? Tim, you’ve been in love with Telissa since the first time you

debugged her code in that tiny, sweaty office 6 years ago. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

I run a hand over my face. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll never see me that way. To her, I’m just…

staff. A friend. The guy who keeps Tes-Tech running smoothly.”

Tina’s expression softens. “Or maybe she’s just never had the chance to see you any other way.”

Her words hang in the air, tempting and dangerous. But I shake my head. “The company policy

is clear. And besides… she deserves someone who can give her the world without breaking it

apart.”

What I don’t tell Tina is that part of me wishes I could be that man.

I toss my keys onto the counter and sink into the couch, the quiet of my bedroom wrapping

around me. My phone’s still in my hand, and before I can talk myself out of it, I send her a

message.

Tim: You get home safe?

It’s not unusual—this is what we do. We’ve always had each other’s backs. She checks on me

after late coding nights; I check on her after board meetings and long drives. It’s what friends do.

Only, I wish she wanted more than friendship. I wish I could be more than the guy who’s always

there but never quite chosen.

Her typing bubbles appear, then vanish. I smile faintly—classic Telissa, probably drafting and

redrafting a three-word reply.

I lean back, letting my mind wander to a memory I’ve tried to bury.

It was her birthday. Her 31st, to be exact. I was halfway through a slice of cake when she walked

in with him—Boyfriend Number Three. Femi. Tailored suit, overconfident smile, the kind of

man who shook your hand while already calculating what he could take from you.

I remember the way my stomach dropped when she introduced him.

“This is Femi,” she’d said, eyes bright.

I’d offered a polite handshake, keeping my real thoughts buried.

Later that night, after the speeches and laughter, I’d caught her near the balcony. I told her

straight, “T, this guy’s a gold digger. He’s not here for you—he’s here for what you’ve built.”

She’d laughed it off. “Tim, you see threats in every man I date.”

But then came the part that still stings—the rejection I never asked for. He’d leaned in,

whispering something in her ear. She’d smiled, then turned to me and said, “Tim, you’re a great

friend, but I’m happy with him.” And right there, she kissed him in front of me.

I swear I felt a chill crawl up my spine. Not from jealousy alone—but from the certainty that she

couldn’t see what I saw.

Now, months later, the relationship is nothing but ashes. And though I’d never admit it out loud,

I’m glad it ended before he could sink his claws any deeper.

I take a sip of water, staring at the unread message icon on my phone. Maybe tonight she’ll reply.

Maybe she won’t. Either way, I’ll still be here—her friend. Always her friend.