"I hate you."

Her boyfriend's brow raises, he sticks out his tongue. "You love me and I love you too."

Pauline settles in the middle of the bed with a huff, her arms cross on her chest, pushing her breasts up and her lips turn down in a frown which deepens into a scowl when he tries to bridge the gap between them. The pillow she places as a form of barrier soon disappears, he sits cross-legged in front of her, eyes gleaming with mischief as he flicks a finger over her exposed thigh. She ignores him, her head turns to the painted wall, the portrait of him in a boxing stance.

Feather touches on her exposed knees drags her out of her reverie, her gaze returns to his handsome face and the familiar feeling of warmth associated with his presence spreads through her chest. He grins, her heart swells with affection for him and her resolve weakens. Her fingers connect with his jaw, weave through his beards, she pulls his head down for a kiss and her tongue slips into his mouth, tangoes with his in a slow, sensual dance. Retracting her tongue to bite on his lower lip, a moan escapes her when he massages the mounds on her chest through the material of her red tank top.

"Paul," she mutters in a childish voice when they separate to catch their breaths. Her fingers splay on his bare chest, his hands circle her tiny wrists. "I don't want to go."

She sucks on her lower lip when he pushes her to the bed gently, her eyelids flutter, lust clouds her eyes as she stares at his full lips. Paul's head moves left and right in response to her statement, tears fill up her eyes, she sniffs and his eyelids shut briefly to allow the teary image of her tugging at his heartstrings pass. She touches his face.

"But I talked to Mmá, I told her everything."

His teeth graze her neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. "Yes but she's not a professional."

Silence prevails over them, her hand moves to his waist and he places a kiss on her jaw when she doesn't reply him and her brows crease as her eyes take on a faraway look.

"Do you know Kelechi is Mmá's boyfriend?" Letting out a small laugh, her eyes narrow at the ceiling like she can still see the image of the half-naked man with thick dreads she found in her mother's bed some weeks ago.

"That small boy. She's older than him," she scowls, he shrugs, "maybe he jazzed her."

Propping her head on the pillow, she pouts and lowers her hand to her belly. "Age is just a number," he whispers in return. A smile creeps into his voice, he continues, "Kelechi is not a small boy, you just dislike him. That man can give birth to two of you."

She smacks the back of his head, he lets out a yelp that has her eyes skimming his face for any sign of injury and the corners of her mouth twitch. His lips curl into a smile, he pecks her forehead before she can repeat the action and her body thrums in response.

"It feels wrong," she sulks, "I don't like him."

Hovering above her, his warm breath fans her face and his hand sneaks inside her top, touching the skin of her belly button. "You don't know him." Her lips pucker, she hates how logical he sounds most times. "The age difference isn't even up to a year. Give her a break na, she also deserves to be happy."

Their gazes meet with the brown colour of his eyes pulling her in like it did on the first day they met. His arms on each side of her keeps her from getting away, she is forced to agree with his logic and he pecks her cheek, going on to reward her with a smile that has her heart skipping a beat.

The whisper of her name after a brief pause causes her hands to raise to his shoulders, she heaves a sigh. Worry mars his features, his eyebrows crease and she squirms under him, trying to avoid his piercing gaze.

"Babe, I will be fine," she says, "I promise."

His head tilts to one side, he frowns. "That's what you said a month ago," her eyes close at the reminder of the nightmares, "and the month before that. Then the week we-"

"Shut up." His eyebrow shoots up, she raises her chin in defiance and smiles when his shoulders deflate. Time has taught him that arguing with her sometimes is futile but as he rolls over to lay beside her, eyes on the ceiling, she knows she won't be getting off easy. Her chin props on his chest, she tugs on his beard, his fingers weave into her scalp. "But I was fine when we went home."

"Because we slept in the same room with the lights on," he replies without hesitation. Her hand lowers, she mimics his position.

A calm breeze blows into the room, rustling the ends of the curtain, Pauline shivers, her arms come to wrap around herself and Paul saunters to the open window. His hands close over the window's iron bars, he casts a look outside which betrays the brightness of their room. A small sigh escapes him as he pulls the thick curtain over the looming darkness, he turns to face his ever beautiful girlfriend watching him with pouty lips.

His mouth opens and closes when she bats her eyelashes at him, she pats the bed, the space he once occupied and licks her lips.

Stalking to the switch close to the door, he squints at the circular lights on the ceiling, his hands find their way into the pockets of his beach shorts and his back connects with the wall. He spares her another worried glance, her eyes burn holes into his chest and her fist meets the bed with aggression.

"Come back," she says. Her lips quiver, she smoothens the wrinkles on the bed. "Come."

"I want to turn the lights off."

She scrambles to her feet, the pillow held out in front of her like a weapon. "Don't." Her eyes clamp shut when his fingers edge closer to the switch, she murmurs, "Please."

Only when his ticklish breath fans her neck and his hand draws circles on the small of her back do her eyelids part open. She is the one to break their stare-off, her shoulders deflate and Paul lowers himself to the edge of the bed, patting his legs. Crawling to his laps, she buries her face in his chest, twisting his nipple between her fingers.

"Ifunaya." She refuses to look up but the tug on his nipple tells him he was heard. "Babe, you need to see her. You are not fine."

"I'm not fine," she says, followed by another squeeze of his nipple. He nods and his smile freezes when she adds, "I am perfect."

His reply is cut off by the incessant ping of his phone, he pulls it out and pinches the bridge of his nose. The constant grunts from him as his fingers swipe on his screen has her eyes darting to his face. Without a word, she pulls the phone from his grasp, plonks it on the bed. Two of her fingers press to the sides of his head, move in a circular motion on his temples for a while before relocating to massage his shoulders and he exhales.

"Your fans are disturbing you again, eh?" she says in a voice laced with sarcasm. His groan is all the encouragement she needs to continue and she does, "Greatest chef ever liveth. Cooking champion of our time."

"It was your idea to do this fan whatever you call it." He lets out a hiss. "Now, look at this one asking if we have big cassava." His face contorts, veins appear on his forehead and she sucks in her lower lip to keep from cackling. "Cassava." He scoffs, she snorts with laughter and her boyfriend frowns. "As if there was ever cassava on the menu."

The mundane tone indicating he has a call interrupts her laughter, he stares at the phone and back at her. "I have to take this." She squeezes his lips and her head bobs as her butt settles on the bed. "Outside." Pauline nods again, he rises to his feet with his thumb hovering above the answer button. "Will you be okay on your own?"

Another person might have been bothered by the glare she levels him but he shrugs. She rolls her eyes. "I'm a big girl, I'm fine. Go." He taps on his screen, already heading for the entrance of the room when she screams at his back, "Leave the door open."

Her back connects to the bed, a defeated sigh escapes her as she stares at the ceiling, barely registering it. A resounding creak redirects her attention to the door, the lights flicker like someone is fiddling with the switch. She rises from the bed slowly, eyes darting between the door and the switch.

No one is there.

Darkness descends over the room when a male figure stops at the entrance, her heart thumps wildly with the sound echoing in the deafening silence. The lights from the corridor help to create a silhouette of the figure on the tiled floors, her teeth sink into her lower lip and she swallows audibly.

She scampers to the edge of the bed, her pillow ally already in her hand. "Pa... Paul?"

Lights flood the room, she squints and her pupils dilate on recognition of the person in front of her, his infamous niqab and unusual eye colour. And her pillow drops to the floor. Her mouth parts open, "Mike?"

On cue, he starts for the bed, eyes narrowed to slits. She staggers backwards and a yelp slips past her lips when her back connects with the wall. It doesn't deter Mike who jumps over the bed with the prowess of an avenger, her eyes clamp shut, fists clench as she collapses to the floor and her breathing becomes shallow. Rocking from side to side, head sandwiched between her knees, her shoulders tremble and her teeth sink into quivering lip as tears trail from her cheeks.

Mike's menacing footstep resonates as he nears her, his shadow falls over her and she shrinks into herself. Her eyes clamp shut, teeth threaten to separate the sensitive flesh of her lip which glistens red with her blood.

The faint sound of clapping causes her head to raise slowly, she cast a tentative look in that direction, to Mike having a staredown with the new guest. Her arms wrap around her legs, eyes glisten with tears she tries to blink away as her gaze rests on the stranger without a niqab or memorable eyes.

Stranger stalks to the centre of the room, his arms spread out like the host at a gladiator arena and she crawls to the darkest corner to seek refuge. With his lips set in a straight line, he pulls out a gun from the waistband of his jean trousers and gives it a wet kiss.

Pauline gasps.

The sight of the weapon unlocks a ton of repressed memories, images flash behind her closed eyelids and her teeth cut into her lip. Her pulse quickens, sweat coats her forehead and her clammy palms clutch her head to stop the echoing sound of gunshots. Stranger cackles, her eyes fly open. She sways, her blood runs cold when he sends a bullet between Mike's colourful eyes.

Her world slows as Mike's body hit the floor with a thud that reverberates in her head. Her eyes jerk to his body, her scream dies in her throat as she meets his empty, soulless eyes. "You did this. This is all your fault."

Closing her eyes, plugging her fingers into her ears does nothing to block out Mike's image or taunting voice. Her teeth sink deeper into her lip, not noticing the crimson liquid roll down from the cut she gave herself and her nails dig into her palms.

Unsatisfied with his work, Stranger takes another step forward to rain a torrent of bullets into Mike's chest until the final click to signify he has run out of ammunition breaks him out of his trigger happy mood.

Blood seeps from Mike's body, staining his white niqab, desecrating the tiles, slowly pooling at her feet. Her lips part open, no sound leaves her except for a whimper comparable to that of a wounded puppy.

Stranger crouches to inspect Mike's body, a devilish, all too familiar smirk forms on his face as his head raises to peer at Pauline and a scream tears through her bloody lips.

"Paul." She stumps on the ground, tears pour out of her eyes like a child denied his Christmas present and she pulls at her hair.

He grins. "Paul won't save you this time."

"Paul!"

The darkness ebbs as Paul swaggers into the room, his phone clatters to the floor on seeing her and he rushes to his girlfriend curled in a corner, murmuring jargons to thin air. She flinches at his sudden touch, swats his hand resting on her shoulders.

"Aaron," she whispers, struggling to get out of his embrace. "Aaron is here. He is here."

Knowing they are alone doesn't stop Paul from throwing a careless look around.

His voice lowers to a whisper, "There's no one here." He attempts to pry her fists open, provide the rigid Pauline with some level of comfort by caressing her cheeks but she recoils and he stops trying. "It's not real."

Her rocking stops, one glance at the room returns her to a bit of normalcy. "He's not real?" Her fingertips brush the surface of the cold tiles painted earlier with Mike's blood, she brings it to her eyes and blinks twice. Her head bobs. "He's not real."

Beads of sweat roll down her forehead, she grabs a fistful of her mini twists and allows him pull her into a hug. "I'll go." Crying into his chest with his hand on her back, she mutters over and over again, "I'll see her."

*   *   *

Dr Ebunoluwa NiFemi legs uncross at the ankles, she straightens up in the single sofa and her pen moves over her note pad in a chicken-like scribble. Pauline adjusts in a similar seat opposite her therapist, her eyes lower to her hands on her knees and a smile flits to her lips when their gazes clash.

"It's today," Femi, as her therapist likes to be called says and she nods. "It really is today."

Pauline lets out a small laugh. "It almost feels like yesterday when I was giving you tough times." Their eyes glaze as memories wash over them. "I slept with the lights off again yesterday," she states with a chuckle, "Paul wasn't even in the room. He slept out."

The ensuing silence lends her courage to continue, "I know it is not such a big deal-"

"It is a big deal," Femi cuts her off in her soothing voice. "Progress, however small, is still progress." Pauline nods, already used to hearing this line from her but loving the sound of it always. "You have come so far, Pauline, give yourself more credit. Yeah?"

Licking her lips, she offers her a tiny smile, the one reserved for only Femi, her kind therapist, the professional stranger who found a way to ease her nightmares. Taught her to develop a positive relationship with her thought process and subconsciously internalise her calm, therapeutic voice.

"Yeah. Yeah." Pauline's feet drum into the floor, she purses her lips. "I forget to do that sometimes, it's so easy to forget."

The wallclock chimes six, signifying the end of her final session with Femi. Comfortable silence reigns over them, she sets her notebook on the stool closest to her sofa. Tugging on the hem of her pencil skirt, she pulls it over her knees and her hands clasp on her legs as she eyes the dark-skinned lady sitting across her with a small smile.

"Any more attacks?" She shakes her head. "I hope they never return but do you still remember what to do when they happen?"

Pauline's head bobs. "List five things I can see, four things I can feel, three things I can hear, two things I can smell and one thing I can taste." She closes her eyes briefly, an image of a smirking Paul pops into her mind. "To picture my happy place."

Femi's reply of approval flies over her head, her hands rub over her exposed knees. Uncertainty clouds her eyes when they land on the clock, she pulls her lips between her teeth and reaches for the wrapped parcel --her parting gift-- by the foot of her seat.

"Is it okay to gift you stuff?" she asks while sauntering to drop the package on the glass centre table holding a mug filled with pens. Her brows crease at Femi's delayed answer, she barely registers the muffled sound that comes out of the pretty petite lady's lips.

Settling into her seat, she crosses her legs, causing her peplum gown to ride to her midthighs. A bit reluctant to leave the office, she attempts small talk that's cut short by her phone vibrating inside the handbag by her foot. The familiar feeling of dread that comes with the reminder of later events has her pressing her fingers to her temple. She let herself think of Paul and their moments together; her happy place. It was a trick that worked even without an anxiety attack.

"Something is bothering you."

A smile takes over Pauline's lips, she nods and her other foot meets the ground. Femi has always been able to read her.

"Paul is relocating to Enugu," she states in a casual tone and shrugs like she just read out the newspaper headline, a new habit she formed. Femi's mask of professionalism falls off, Pauline giggles and her eyes return to her hands lying idle on her knees. She sighs. "He leaves in less than two hours."

"Do you want me to give advice or listen?"

Her head tilts to a side, she says, "To listen."

The whirring of the only standing AC in a corner grows louder in the ensuing silence, she shifts in her seat, hesitant to spill her relationship details. Femi's head turns to the window blinds, her eyes fixate on the thin line of dirt coating the first slat. Her gaze returns to her ex-client, she coughs.

"I'm not sure I can handle long distance relationship," she nods and rubs her knees, "he didn't even ask me to move with him."

Seconds roll into minutes, not another word leaves her lips and Femi finally asks, "If he had asked you to move with him, would you have done it? Given up your life here?"

Within a blink, she replies, "Yes. I love him."

Giggles follow her words, her lips twitch as she fights the urge to join in the laughter at her expense. A content sigh escapes her, her eyes take on an expectant look, waiting for Femi's laughter to quiet down so she can dish out some words of wisdom. She pouts.

"You love him," Pauline nods, "I understand that. But you need a foolproof plan if you intend to change cities. To avoid harbouring hate or resentment towards him, you need other personal reasons to be in Enugu for when the honeymoon phase is over."

Femi scans her face, Pauline's subtle nod encourages her to continue. "You have a job you love here, you like being the boss, in control and in charge at work, how will the move affect that? The things you will give up for him, how badly will they affect you in the long run?" Femi leans into her chair, her fingers drumming into the armrest and she smiles. "I know you love him but is that the best course of action for you at this point? Can you handle the relocation?"

Pauline lips quiver, her hand freezes on her laps. "I don't know but I'm open to trying," she says. "My family is there. My friends are too, even his sister," a smile flits to her lips, "maybe it's time to leave. To return home."

"What will you do when you get to Enugu?"

The melancholic air vanishes with Pauline's dizzying smile, she smoothens her gown. "I don't know." This time, Femi doesn't try to hold back her laugh, it rings out in the near empty office, she bounces in her chair and shakes her head. "The orphanage is running now. Mmá has been handling it, I can help."

"Sounds like a plan. A good one." Her legs cross at the ankles, she folds her hands and all traces of laughter wipe from her face. "Is the orphanage your way of easing the guilt for Mike's death? It was never your fault."

Pauline drums her fingers on her knees, her gaze lands on her therapist's, holding it for longer than she should have. Her lips move into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, she shakes her head and dumps her handbag on her laps. A sigh escapes her, she blinks.

"I think, now, I know it's not my fault." Femi rewards her with a smile. "But I feel I owe him and daddy that, we should never have closed it in the first place. Maybe Mike..."

"Don't do that." Pauline's shoulders sag, she nods. "He made his choices long ago."

"But he tried to atone." Her chest deflates, she sifts through her bag absentmindedly. "I just wish we all got a happy ending." Femi nods, her lips press into a thin line and she nods again. Pauline looks up from her bag and smiles at her. "For now, I'll take things slowly but I don't mind moving cities for him." She pouts. "Why can't he ask me?"

"Why can't you ask him? Tell him."

"I did." Her eyes close, memories from days before spill over her. "I did. Indirectly. I mentioned it as a joke but he had to be the selfless gentleman who wouldn't let me give up my dreams for him." Sarcasm drips from her voice, her lips pucker into a frown and she rolls her eyes. "I even told his sister."

The clock chimes again, their eyes follow the sound to the tiny hands of the wallclock showing they have spent an extra hour on this impromptu, informal but kind session. Femi shrugs, Pauline relaxes in her seat.

"Men, sometimes, are the most clueless if hints are involved, you might need to be direct with him. Tell him what you want."

The ladies share a laugh, the vibration from Pauline's bag resumes as their heads bob in unspoken understanding. "I think I will." Pulling out her phone, her teeth sink into her lip and her smile grows shy when her head turns in Femi's direction. "He is here."

"Talk to him. Communication is key."

On her feet, she smoothens the imaginary creases on her gown. "Thank you."

The only semblance of a response she gets is a nod and a journal for writing down her thoughts. Pauline giggles as she reaches for the knob and twists it. In the past, she used to wonder how someone who barely spoke could work as a therapist but time already gave her the answer to that. Sparing one last glance at Femi who she hopes never to see again under these circumstances, she closes the door behind her, taking a turn by the right into the long, narrow corridor.

Warmth envelopes her when she sights Paul with his head bent over his phone, her lips curl into a blinding smile, on cue, his head raises and he flashes her a smile that has the butterflies in her stomach doing a naughty dance. The walk down the corridor to where he is would have taken her a few seconds and strides but he covers it in less.

They stare at each other and laugh. His lips meet her forehead in a brief kiss, she palms his face to reciprocate the gesture and they end it with a chaste kiss on the lips. Taking the bag from her, he pulls her in for a side hug, she moans and tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow as they begin the short journey downstairs. Away from therapy.

The hand holding the bag swings gently, his body acts as a prop to keep one of the double glass doors at the entrance open.

"How was it?" he asks once they step out of the large building. "How are you, love?"

Her arms wrap around his upper arm as their feet hit the pavement, she inhales the clean air. "Fine." Rows of cars line the front of the complex, her eyes scan them for their ride. "Today was kind of different. Nice."

A black Toyota Camry roars to life, spurting smoke from its exhaust pipe. Paul wraps his arm around her shoulders, guiding her into a less contaminated area. The duo walk on in silence, she retrieves her bag to allow him better ease of access with his phone.

"Is it odd I'll miss Femi and our sessions?"

"Nope," he replies with an extra stress on the p and she giggles, he learned that from her. His eyes remain on his phone when he says, "But all good things must come to an end." Pauline nods and he smiles without looking up. "I'm sure she will miss you too."

Her fist connects gently with his chest, he frowns and his fingers move across his screen before he presses the phone to his ear. She tugs on his lower lip to the point of irritation, her arms wrap around his waist and his mouth puckers when she winks.

"Sometimes you talk like you have sense."

Paul scoffs, holding his index finger out to her, he gives a one-word command to the person on the other end of the phone. His head bobs, he frowns and the call ends.

"I have too much sense, babe," he says with a smirk. "I'm a wise man. The wisest."

Her head falls back with laughter, she hits him again. "Lies. You are very foolish. I'm just managing you." He scowls, she rolls her eyes. "Fine, answer this. Why is water wet?"

Distracted by the beep of his phone, he gives no reply to her query and she buries her face into his chest. The hot sun baths them with her merciless rays, sweat coats his forehead, leaves a wet patch on the middle of his shirt. People in groups troop out of the complex, their voices float in the air as they saunter past the loved up couple.

The purring of a car draws the attention of the lovers to the vehicle behind them and a smile transforms Paul's features when he recognises the driver behind the wheels of the black Lexus. With their hands laced, they slide into the backseat of the car.

Welcoming the chill from the AC which offers them a reprieve from the scorching sun outside, none of them pays attention to the driver who mutters a greeting that goes unanswered. He eyes the couple grinning at each other through the rearview mirror and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. His lips pull into a grimace, his chauffeur hat dips, almost covering his eyes, he swallows and clears his throat to no avail.

Uncertainty swims in his eyes, he greets out loud again, finally eliciting a response from Paul. Pauline's head raises briefly from her boyfriend's shoulder, she flashes him an apologetic grin and looks up to Paul for an answer when the driver reiterates his question about their destination.

Paul traces the space between her chunky cornrows, her eyelids flutter. "I have about thirty minutes, do you want us to go out?"

She should have been glad to celebrate this special day with him, her head shakes. "No."

Surprise fleets across his face but he masks it properly, ordering the driver to begin the ride to the airport. "You are not happy." Her forehead touches his upper arm, the constant caress of her back proves furtive in trying to get her attention. "Ify. Ifunaya."

"I don't want you around those Enugu girls."

His chuckle lacks its usual mirth, he gives up on trying to make her smile. "I have eyes only for you." He whispers, "I love you. My love." The light in her eyes dims when she finally raises her head. "Smile for me na."

The corners of her lips twitch, she plasters a smile on her face and he ends up laughing.

"A real smile."

With little efforts, her lips curl into a more convincing smile and he shakes his head in disapproval. "Babe, I love you." When the expected reply doesn't come, he continues, "You will be joining me soon, I'll make you plenty shawarma." She blinks, he groans at the thinly veiled hurt in her eyes. "End of the month will arrive before you know it."

Twenty-five days until the end of the month but none of them mentions that little fact. Her hands rub over her knees, the distance between them grows as she inches closer to the tinted window. They stare at each other, a small smile plays on his lips, she sighs.

"What next after the restaurant launch?"

Confusion spreads all over his features. "We will book your return flight to Calabar."

Her shoulders deflate, the parting words of her therapist play in her head, encouraging her to make her request but her lips remain sealed. Looking out the window, her fingers trail random patterns on the glass, moist eyes barely processing the streets they pass.

"I love you back, maybe more," she mutters.

No protest leaves her when he tugs on the sleeves of her gown, she looks away from the window, his eyes dart between her and his legs and she snuggles into his embrace. A soft sigh slips from her as his fingertips brush the inside of her thighs, she tucks her head into the crook of his neck and sniff.

They arrive at the airport shortly, she goes rigid when their car continues to a lone jet.

"What's going on?" Tracing the neckline of his sweatshirt, she peers at him. "Paul?"

"Nothing." She points a finger at the jet, he chuckles and raises his hands when a frown finds its way to her face. "It was Mr Adams's idea, not mine," he spares one look at the white aircraft, "his pilot is taking me home."

Licking her lips, her head bobs. Being rich afforded him a lot of luxury, a luxury she is yet to come to terms with. She replies with the excitement of a bereaved, "That's nice."

Her apathy doesn't go unnoticed, his brow shoots up and her palm splays on his chest. "You didn't tell me, that's all. It's fine."

Guilt pulls him in an embrace at her reply, he attempts a contrite smile. "I... I forgot." His forehead creases, she nods, tugging on the rope of his hoodie. "I'm sorry, love."

The car slows to a stop, no one speaks, not even the driver who spares them another look through the rearview mirror. Weaving her fingers into his beard, she pecks him on the lips and her arms go around his neck.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you more," he replies.

Pauline steps out of the car first, he joins her. His arms sneak around her waist from behind, his jaw rests on the top of her head and she rubs her palms over his hands. The lovers remain that way, the driver brings out the luggage and returns inside the car.

"What are we waiting for?" she asks when he does not attempt to leave her. With her palms still on his intertwined hands, she tries to twist her neck to catch a glimpse of his face but it's futile. She stares straight ahead, almost tempted to make her request. "As much as I don't want you to leave, you have to. You have a food business to run."

Letting her gaze wander to the long stairs leading into the jet, her chest deflates and she twists in his embrace to face him. On tiptoes, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth, her hands go behind to cup his butt and his eyes round to saucers. Pulling away from the hug, she follows the direction of his gaze to the jet and her eyebrows raise.

"Is everything alright?" Paul nods, she folds her arms across her chest, scanning him from head to toe. Worry attempts to sink its claws into her at his tensed shoulders, she pulls his head down for a forehead kiss. "I love you." He never replies, her heart skips a beat and she gulps. "Babe. What's wrong?"

Myriad of thoughts swirl in her head at his obvious discomfort. The clenching of his fists before he slipped them into his pockets and the slight creasing of his brows didn't go unnoticed by her. She sucks on her lip as her hands return to his waist, worry swims in her eyes, he stares down at her with a wide grin that might have fooled a stranger.

Tired of his antics, she asks, "What's wrong? You can talk to me, remember? No secrets."

His smile grows unsteady. "Nothing."

That same answer. Her hands drop from his waist, she takes one step backwards and sticks her nose in the air. "You are lying. The same way you lied about forgetting to tell me of the," her hand motions to the jet, "of the new development. What's going on?" He shakes his head and she puts up a hand to stop him. "Are you breaking up with me?"

It is Paul's turn to move back, she crosses her arms. "If you want to break up with me, be man enough to do it here. Right now. Don't wait until you're in another state."

The wind blows, slapping the ends of her lengthy cornrows into her eyes, she yanks them from her face, tucking her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. The fire in her eyes matches the annoyance in his, his lips turn down in a frown and she scowls.

"Stop that." His voice brooks no arguments, she sniffs and her head bobs. Traitorous tears spill from her eyes, she swipes at her cheek and he closes the distance between them. Hooking a finger under her jaw, her brown eyes lift to his face and he sucks in a breath when she bats wet lashes at him. His beautiful girlfriend. "Nobody is breaking up with anybody. You're stuck with me."

"You are stuck with me too," she says with a laugh and buries her face into his chest. Her voice is muffled when she continues, "I'm sorry. I panicked. You were being evasive."

Paul's eyes scan the length of the place, he lets out a sigh and his hand lowers to the small of her back. "But I didn't lie about it. I was going to tell you, it skipped my mind."

Nodding in his embrace, she wonders if it will do them any good to mention the fact he already forgot one important thing today. Another sigh escapes her. Planning the launch of his restaurant, recruiting staff and the travel must be taking a toll on him; he never forgets. He is always the first one to remember special occasions, his calendar is dotted with alarms for important events.

Pauline's heart drops to the pit of her belly with the same speed as his knee lowering to the cemented floor. A hand goes over her mouth, she blinks and her eyes brim with unshed tears. Her heart thumps with anticipation, she sinks her teeth into her lip when he is fully on one knee and beams.

Without thinking, she slaps the back of his head when he straightens up after knotting his shoelace that had come undone. No ring. A scowl mars her makeup-free face, she glares daggers at him when he dares arch a brow. She scoffs, letting out a curse and her feet carry her a step away from him.

"Sorry," she grumbles out, knowing how much he hates being hit except playfully and rolls her eyes. He deserves that slap.

Disappointed at the turn of events, she lets out a hiss and looks away when he starts fumbling with an object in his back pocket. Focusing on the bright, baby pink nail polish coating her fingers, she blinks back the tears adamant on falling. Paul clears his throat, she refuses to look his way, not now.

She hears his faint chuckles, stumps a foot into the ground, trying to quell the lingering disappointment and forget his arrogant smirk. He tugs on the hem of her gown, she swats his hand, feeling stupid for thinking he will propose, they have only been dating for twenty months, it is too early for them. Her gaze remains on the jet, her chest rises and falls as she tries to clear her thoughts.

"I have wanted to do this for a very long time," he starts in a small voice. It's not just his words that has her head turning, it's the missing arrogance she has come to love. "I just couldn't find the courage to do it."

A gasp escapes her at the sight of the box displaying a diamond ring in his hand. She lets out a small scream, tears trail to her cheeks and her heart hammers so hard she has to place a hand on her chest. "Oh, Paul."

The hand holding the ring slightly trembles, she smiles at him, her thumbs press against his forehead to smoothen the lines. Paul offers her a weak smile that fades as soon as it comes, she chuckles and bends to peck his lips. The day he met her mother, he wasn't nervous. When his sister walked down the aisle, he remained composed.

"I..." He swallows and clears his throat. "The thought of you spending the rest of your life with another man kills me." Her face lights up, she grins and rubs her sweaty palms on her gown. He flashes her a smile, her knees turn to jelly and she has trouble standing upright. "Marry me, Ifunaya. Make me the happiest man, so we can fill the earth with melanin popping replicas of you and me."

Her laughter soon transforms into cries, her shoulders tremble as she nods. He stole her line again. She stretches her left hand to him, Paul releases a breath and she giggles.

"Melanin popping, eh?" He nods, her smile grows, he does pay attention to her words. "I'll marry you." Her lips pucker into a pout, she blinks. "You are stuck with me for life."

He slips the ring into her forth finger and she lifts her hand to admire the shiny band. The sun hits the diamond, causing it to glow blue, she gasps. "Wow." Pulling him up, she crashes her lips on his. "I love it. I love you."

Paul's head lowers to capture her lips again, to continue the kiss she broke off to declare her love for him. But it never happens. The clapping behind them doesn't let it happen. The glare on the young couple's face might have put another person six feet under but not his only beloved sister with pouted lips.

They groan, she twirls and her white knee-length gown rustles. "How do I look?"

A groan slips from Paul, he pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales. Pauline cackles, jumping into her friend's embrace. They separate after muffled giggles and tight hugs, holding each other at arm's length with eyes inspecting their faces. She shoves her ring finger into Chi's face, the duo giggle again and Paul's shoulders deflate with a sigh.

Keeping Pauline's hand in a gentle grip, Chi whispers, "See, that's why I told you to collect the bouquet. If you had not collected it, you will still be doing girlfriend things."

Pauline cracks up with laughter, she will never forget the incident at the reception. How Chi walked up to her with the bouquet instead of following the traditional way of throwing it to the group of girls behind her.

Pinching Chi's cheeks, her face lights up. "You look good, you look hot, as always."

She attempts to pull Chi in for another hug when Paul steps in, snaking his arm around her waist. "Udochi. Go away." Chi feigns hurt at his words, his frown deepens into a scowl and he waves her off. "Find your husband or someone else to disturb." Her nose scrunches, he adds, "Leave us alone."

Palming her lover's face, she pecks his lips, pulling away before he can deepen the kiss. She spares a sulking Chi a glance. "Be nice."

His eyebrows crease. "You are picking her side over your future husband?" She purses her lips, Paul's face takes on a contrite look. "That girl can be annoying sometimes."

No sooner do those words leave his lips when Chi storms up to them. She taps him on his shoulder, he turns to offer her an apology that never leaves his lips because his sister twists his ear until he yelps in protest. Sticking out her tongue, she winks at her friend, flips her brother the middle finger and struts in the direction of the jet.

"I have left you guys alone o, do as you like," she screams without looking back and they burst out laughing. Pauline's hand splays on Paul's firm chest, she sighs. Marriage has not changed her crazy best friend one bit.

Paul pouts. "See what I'm talking about."

"She loves you too."

Stalking in the direction Chi went, she frowns when Paul pulls her back to litter kisses all over her jaw. Her hands on his chest try to push him away, she moans when his kisses get intense and her head falls back to allow him access to her neck. They jump apart when his phone vibrates in his pocket, she sucks in her lip and attempts to go find Chi for the second time, only to be pulled flush against his chest.

"We are not finished here," he says before she has a chance to question him. She nods and pats his buttocks, eliciting a laugh from him. "Will you come with us to Enugu?"

Her world stops, she takes a step away from him to inspect his blank face. "For real?" He nods. "You are not joking?" He shakes his head and she juts her lower lip. "Yes. Yes," her expression crumbles, "but my things."

"Are inside the jet." Pauline gasps, he winks. "You weren't exactly subtle. I found your travel bag under the bed," he chuckles, "filled to the brim." She clamps her hand over his mouth, he licks it and her face contorts as her palm lowers. "What was your plan?"

"Shut up."

Embarrassment claws at her throat at the images his words evoke. Images of the bags she left under the bed, afraid to tell him she wanted to go with him today, she hides her face in her palms and giggles. He scatters kisses on her ring finger, her hands lower and she flashes him a grateful smile.

Together, they walk to the jet, bright smiles on their faces as their feet connect with the attached staircase. Choruses of: "Surprise", "Happy Birthday", threatens to burst her eardrums once they step inside. Her hands jam together, she jumps and spins to face her boyfriend standing behind with a grin.

She slaps his chest and pouts. "You."

A balloon settles on the top of her head, Paul grabs it to hand it over to her with a kiss on her cheek. "Happy Birthday, love."

Her eyes water, she sniffs and slaps his arm again and again. "I thought you forgot."

"Never."

Her fiancé starts a birthday song, the people behind them join in and she pouts, batting her lashes at him. Her heart swells with love, she turns to the singing group and sinks her teeth into her lip. Her eyes land on the cake surrounded by bottles of wine, she raises her gaze to the people waiting on her, her feet carry her to them, she blinks rapidly, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Paul stands behind to support her weight, her smile grows as the lips of Mmá, Leelee, Jennipher, Chi and a few other people her brain fails to register their names at this point continue moving. Her head sways in tune to their off-key singing, she giggles and her hand goes to cover her mouth.

"Hip. Hip. Hip," Chi says in a singsong voice and they chorus in unison. "Hip. Hip. Hip."

"Hurray."

The new voice which drowns out the singers causes Pauline's eyes to jerk to the owner who has a smirk adorning his lips. Her jaw slacks, she spins for the second time to face Paul who has a naughty smile on his lips.

"You invited King?" she whispers.

"Yeah, I wanted him to know I got the girl. Wave slowly." Her head falls back as giggles escape her, their fingers lace as they turn to face the group of horrible singers. His breath tickles her ear when his head lowers, he whispers, "Show him your ring."

A warm feeling spreads through her chest when her mother winks at her, laughter bubbles in her stomach, spills from her lips. Paul's arm around her waist pulls her closer, she leans on him, her lips curving into a smile. The butterflies in her stomach flutter, her eyes glisten. She is home again.

**********

As promised, this is the happy ending. I tried to make this very long as a compensation, I hope it didn't bore you guys. It was way above my word count and there wouldn't be any more chapters after this.

I couldn't resist putting King. 😉 I also decided to make this into a series titled "Weekend Series", King's book is the second one in the series. 😎 Chi's the third. Somehow, all three of them, especially the first two, their first meet was on a weekend, cue the name of the series.

PS: The Prologue comes right after the author's note, refresh your library, add and readd this book to get the chapters in the correct order.

Thank you for taking this journey with me (Paul and Pauline), they send their regards and love 😘😘😘

Word count: 7674.

Much love.
💝Mara