"No see... I heard what happened..." Dera called out as she approached, her voice still carrying that familiar groovy rhythm. Her brows were furrowed with concern, but her tone tried to remain upbeat, like someone bracing for bad news while pretending not to expect it.
Angel, standing just inside the gate with her arms folded, turned sharply at the sound of Dera's voice. Her heart skipped. She hadn't told her to come. And yet, of course Dera would.
"Ayi! You don't want to start talking about this outside, do you?" Angel said quickly, scanning the compound as if the walls had ears. Her tone was light, but there was a subtle urgency behind her words.
Dera only raised an eyebrow, her arms swinging casually by her sides. "Relax, your neighbors are more interested in the fuel price than in your life drama."
Angel rolled her eyes.
"I want Indomie and fried eggs," Dera said matter-of-factly, switching topics like it was just another day.
Angel couldn't help but laugh, a short, soft chuckle. "In this economy? Your taste hasn't changed one bit."
"You've said that before," Dera grinned, stepping closer.
Angel stepped aside and pushed the door open wider. "Well, I can provide that though. Come in."
The moment Dera stepped into the small, modest living room, she froze.
She hadn't taken two steps when her eyes fell on the crumpled IV bag on the side table, still half-filled with clear liquid. It hung loosely from its discarded pole, medical tape still clinging to the side.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"You-" She gasped, her eyes scanning Angel's arms and the soft indentation on her skin. "Were you on a drip?"
Angel paused. Her shoulders sagged.
Dera's tone had changed entirely. Gone was the playful air-replaced now by something low, urgent, and completely still.
"That's exactly how I woke up," Angel said quietly. She didn't look away, though she wanted to. "I still can't remember what happened before that."
Dera blinked rapidly, but her voice sharpened. "And you went to the police station like that? Angel!"
Her voice echoed off the walls, too loud for the small space.
"How many times have I told you to take care of your health? You think it's nothing-until you collapse again and scare everyone!"
Angel winced at the words, not because they were wrong, but because they hit too close to home.
"Chioma called me," she murmured, avoiding Dera's eyes. "She said if I didn't come, Stella would use that chance to pin everything on them-on her. I couldn't let that happen."
But even as she spoke, she noticed the shift in Dera's face. Her expression tightened like a fist curling inward. Her lips parted slightly, and for a second, she looked... different. Hardened. Older.
Angel's breath caught. She knew what was coming. She knew that look.
The next thing out of Dera's mouth would be a threat to call her siblings-or worse, show up at Angel's mother's house and raise hell herself.
Years ago, it had been the same. When Angel's sisters fell silent, Dera had stepped in. Not just as a friend, but as something more-protector, surrogate sibling, an anchor.
But even then, Dera had understood what the others didn't: sometimes, Angel just wanted someone to know, not someone to fix it.
And maybe that's why she'd never stopped trusting Dera, even when she trusted no one else.
Before Dera could speak, however, a low, calm voice broke through the thick air.
"She was almost raped."
Both girls turned.
Zhang stepped out of the shadowy corner of the room, where he'd been standing quietly. His voice was steady, though his hands were clenched at his sides.
"Just like the last time. She only went to the station to beat those guys up. Don't make her cry again."
Angel's lips quivered. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her eyes welled up. She blinked fast, as if the tears were intruders she could hold back by sheer force.
Dera turned her full attention to the stranger now standing just feet away. Tall, lean, and oddly calm-too calm. Her eyes narrowed, silently asking a hundred questions. But for now, she asked just one:
"What happened?"
Angel swallowed and looked down. "Only Zhang really knows," she whispered. "My memory's still... foggy."
She turned to Zhang and gave him a small nod.
Zhang stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck before clearing his throat.
"We went out," he began, his voice almost apologetic. "It wasn't a date or anything. Just something on my bucket list. I've been trying to cross a few things off before..."
He hesitated.
"Before you die?" Dera cut in, frowning.
Zhang glanced at Angel, unsure of how much to say. But she gave him a small nod of reassurance.
"Later, Dera," Angel said softly. "I'll explain later."
Zhang nodded and continued. "We had a small argument. I said something personal. It upset her. She told me to go back to the lodge, said she was going to visit a friend. But... she was gone for too long. Hours passed. And I started to worry."
He sighed. "I remembered I still had her GPS linked to mine from a while ago. I know she hates that kind of thing, but... I couldn't risk it. She's never out that late."
He paused, jaw clenching. "I tracked her phone. What I saw..."
His fists tightened.
"She was surrounded. Crying. Screaming. People passed. No one helped. Her friend-Chioma-was there, calling the police. Still, no help came."
He looked directly at Dera now, his voice quiet but filled with disgust.
"And in the corner... three people were recording. Laughing. One of them was Stella."
Dera's fingers tightened around a nearby spoon, her knuckles white.
"I ran straight in. I didn't think. I just fought. I beat them until the police arrived and dragged them off."
His gaze flicked back to Angel. "Chioma told me later she overheard the whole thing. They planned it. Said since the first time failed, this one had to succeed."
Angel looked down, gripping the edge of her chair.
Zhang's voice softened. "She fainted afterward. Right in my arms. But even before she passed out, she begged me not to take her to the hospital. Said she hated the smell."
Dera covered her mouth with one hand.
Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Her voice cracked-small and wounded.
"I hate feeling useless..."
Angel slowly reached over and placed her hand gently over Dera's. "Shh... stop crying," she said with a wobbly smile. "You look ugly when you cry."
Dera let out a shaky laugh, swatting her hand gently. "You're the ugliest."
The mood eased-just a little.
In the kitchen, Angel served the Indomie and fried eggs, garnished with thinly sliced onions and the perfect balance of pepper, just the way Dera liked it. The smell filled the room with warmth, grounding them in the familiar.
Dera ate slowly, chewing carefully, her eyes occasionally drifting toward Angel, who sat quietly across from her, staring at the wall as if lost in another world.
They chatted about ordinary things-TV dramas, school gossip, Dera's latest salon disaster. They laughed, even. But the silence between moments said more than any words could.
When the food was gone and the plates cleared, Dera stood reluctantly.
She lingered at the door, hand resting on the frame. Her body was angled to leave, but her heart hadn't followed.
She looked back.
There were still too many questions in her eyes.
About Zhang. About that night. About what Angel hadn't said. About what still hadn't been said.
But she didn't ask.
Not yet.
Another day, she promised herself.
Another day for the truth.