Zara stood at the edge of the rooftop garden, the city lights flickering below like restless stars. The hum of Lagos traffic was distant but constant, a reminder that life was always moving—whether she was ready or not.
Behind her, Malik leaned against the railing, sipping from a paper cup of suya-spiced coffee. They'd come here every semester, always at night, always when things felt too heavy to carry alone.
"Do you remember the pact?" he asked, voice low, almost swallowed by the wind.
Zara didn't turn around. "The one we made freshman year?"
He nodded. "If we're both single by graduation…"
"We'd kiss," she finished, her voice barely above a whisper.
Silence stretched between them, thick with everything they hadn't said over the years. The laughter, the heartbreaks, the late-night calls. The way he always knew when she was lying. The way she never asked why he never dated seriously.
"I didn't think we'd actually make it," Malik said, half-smiling. "I thought you'd be married to your career by now."
Zara finally turned, her eyes meeting his. "And I thought you'd be designing skyscrapers in Dubai."
He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking like a held breath. "So… do we honor it?"
She looked at him—really looked. The boy who had become her anchor, her mirror, her maybe. Her heart thudded once, hard.
"I don't know," she said. "What if it ruins everything?"
Malik reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Or what if it's the start of everything?"
And then, without ceremony, without fireworks, he kissed her—soft, hesitant, like a question.
Zara didn't pull away.
She kissed him back.
And in that moment, the pact they forgot became the moment they'd never forget.