It took Kemi days-days of thinking, second-guessing, contemplating what the hell she was doing. Did she really want to live with Jeddah? Or even near him? She barely knew the guy. But the devil she did know was out for her blood, and that wasn't any better. So she had no choice.
She accepted his offer.
He sounded desperate on the phone, and though she didn't care to know why, she needed his help. Desperation met desperation. She didn't ask anyone for advice. Kemi never shared her problems. She went to work as usual, pretending like she wasn't about to make a reckless decision that could change her entire life-for better or worse.
On the day she finally moved into Jeddah's estate, there were no tears, no bags of emotions. Just one decision, carried out.
He had too many houses on the property, too many rooms. But he wanted her close. Said it would be "perfect for the plan." She didn't ask what plan. She didn't argue either. Fine by her.
She lived in the space like a ghost. Woke up, went to work, came back late. Took long walks around the city, ate junk food outside just to kill time. She returned when the sky was dark and the streets were tired. Jeddah was always home. She figured he worked from there-probably had a massive study or something. That man was definitely making money, and he looked the type to take his work seriously.
Their paths didn't cross the first two weeks.
Then one morning, on her way out of the apartment he'd rented her-a few houses down from the main mansion-she spotted him.
"Yo," he called, waving from his porch.
She saw him. Of course she saw him. But she pretended she didn't. That's what she'd been doing the whole time: avoiding conversation.
"Hi," she said, dragging the word like she was dragging herself out the house.
"Bye!" she added quickly, turning toward the gate.
"Okay, I'm a plague," Jeddah muttered with a playful nod, like he was confirming something.
"Yes, you are," she called back without looking at him.
He laughed. Then, to her surprise, got into his car and followed behind her.
"You know you don't have to do all that, right?" he said, pulling up beside her. "All this... this shakara? It's not for me."
Kemi didn't look at him immediately. She just kept walking, her heels clicking against the quiet street. She was dressed for work-blazer sharp, lips matte, eyes guarded. Jeddah's car rolled beside her, smooth and slow.
"You know I can walk," she finally said.
"Clearly. You've been doing Olympic-level walking for two weeks straight."
She fought a smile. Failed.
"You're stalking me now?" she asked.
"I own the road. Technically, I'm just... driving near my investment."
"You're sick."
"I've been told. Frequently."
He smiled like he was used to people throwing knives at him with their words. And dodging them with ease
. "Get in. I'll drop you off."
"No, thanks."
"Kemi . You're going to the bus stop. In heels. Under this sun." She stopped. Turned. "You checking me out now?" He smirked.
"I would, but you've been a ghost. You move like smoke." Her jaw tightened. "I didn't come here to be seen."
"Then you came to the wrong house."
Silence.
Tension.
A breeze passed through, brushing her braids across her shoulder. She looked away. Jedha didn't press further. He leaned back in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lazily on the door.
"Alright. Walk," he said. "But just know-whatever this is you're doing, I've seen it before. And I'll wait it out."
Her brows creased. "What are you talking about?"
"This thing. 'Keep your distance. Don't trust anyone. Don't owe anyone.' I get it. I respect it. But you moved into my estate,Kemi . You're already in the game. You might as well look me in the eye when you play."
And with that, he pulled off, tires whispering against the asphalt. Left her standing there with her pride and a thumping heart she wasn't ready to acknowledge. She hated him in that moment. And somehow, hated herself more-for wanting to know what his plan was.
"Douche bag"