The apartment slowly began to change shape under their hands.
At first, it was chaos — boxes stacked in corners, clothes still folded in suitcases, bubble wrap scattered like transparent leaves across the floor. But with Linda there, everything started to feel intentional.
Zara followed her around like she was the owner of the place, asking unnecessary questions just to keep her attention.
"Linda, where should I put this vase?"
Linda didn't even look up from unfolding Zara's clothes. "Anywhere that doesn't make the place look like a funeral home."
Zara gasped. "So my aesthetic is funeral home now?"
Linda smirked. "Right now? Yes."
Zara leaned against the wall, watching her. "You're enjoying bossing me around, aren't you?"
Linda finally looked up — just for a second — and immediately regretted it.
Zara was standing there barefoot, oversized shirt slipping slightly off one shoulder, eyes bright and teasing like she knew exactly what she was doing.
Linda cleared her throat and went back to folding.
"I'm just helping you survive your own decorating skills."
Zara laughed softly. "Mmm. Sure."
But she didn't move away.
Instead, she walked closer and crouched beside Linda, picking up a cushion from one of the boxes.
"This one is ugly, right?" Zara asked, holding it up.
Linda glanced at it. "Very."
Zara smiled. "Good. I bought it because I thought you'd say that."
Linda froze for half a second.
"…What?"
Zara shrugged casually, like she hadn't just dropped something dangerous into the air. "I was thinking about what you'd like when I was shopping."
Linda swallowed, focusing too hard on folding a shirt that suddenly didn't need folding.
"That's… weird," she said, voice slightly softer than she intended.
Zara tilted her head. "Weird or thoughtful?"
Linda didn't answer.
Because if she did, she didn't trust what would come out.
Hours slipped by without them noticing.
They moved from the living room to the kitchen. Zara tried to arrange plates but kept distracting Linda by asking where "boss girls" usually keep spoons.
Linda reorganized the pantry twice just to avoid looking at her too long.
At some point, Zara stood behind her while she reached for something on a high shelf.
"Here?" Zara asked, her voice closer than necessary.
Linda stiffened. "Yes."
Zara didn't move away immediately.
Instead, she reached past Linda slowly, deliberately, her arm brushing lightly against Linda's side.
Linda inhaled sharply and stepped aside too fast.
"Zara."
"Hm?" Zara looked innocent.
"You're doing too much."
Zara smiled like she enjoyed hearing that. "I'm just helping."
"You're distracting me."
"That's also helping," Zara said sweetly.
Linda turned away quickly, grabbing plates just to give her hands something to do.
But her heart was not cooperating.
Every time Zara laughed, every time she stepped closer, every time she said Linda's name — it felt like something tightening inside her chest.
And what made it worse… Zara knew.
She had to know.
Because she kept doing it.
On purpose.
By the time they got to the bedroom area, the sun outside had already started fading.
Warm orange light spilled through the curtains, painting everything softer, slower.
Linda paused in the doorway.
Zara's bedroom was still half empty. A mattress on the floor, one suitcase open, clothes spilling out like they couldn't decide where they belonged.
Zara dropped onto the bed dramatically.
"I'm exhausted," she groaned.
Linda leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "We've been working for hours."
Zara tilted her head to look at her. "You're not tired?"
Linda hesitated.
She was.
But not the kind of tired that mattered.
Zara patted the space beside her. "Come sit."
Linda shook her head immediately. "No."
Zara raised a brow. "Why?"
Linda gave her a look. "Because I know you."
Zara smiled slowly. "That's the problem?"
"Yes."
Zara sat up slightly. "Linda…"
The way she said her name this time was different. Softer. Less playful.
It made Linda's chest tighten.
"I just want you to sit for a minute," Zara added. "You've been standing like my personal assistant all day."
Linda hesitated again.
Then slowly, carefully, she sat at the edge of the bed — maintaining distance.
Zara noticed.
Of course she did.
"You're far," Zara said.
"I'm fine here."
Zara sighed. "You're acting like I bite."
Linda turned her head slightly. "I don't know what you do."
Zara laughed under her breath.
A pause settled between them.
For a moment, there was no teasing.
Just quiet.
Then Zara spoke again, voice lighter but still soft.
"I like this."
Linda frowned slightly. "What?"
"You being here," Zara said simply. "Helping me. Talking to me. It feels… easy."
Linda looked away quickly.
"Don't get used to it," she muttered.
Zara smiled faintly. "Too late."
That made Linda's stomach twist.
The room fell into a comfortable silence after that.
Outside, Lagos had fully shifted into evening. Streetlights flickered on somewhere below. Distant sounds of life carried up through the windows — honking, voices, the city refusing to slow down.
Inside, everything felt suspended.
Zara eventually stood and stretched.
"I should order food," she said. "We haven't eaten since morning."
Linda checked her phone and blinked. "It's already past eight?"
Zara laughed. "Welcome to my chaos."
They ordered food, but neither of them moved far from each other after that.
Zara sat cross-legged on the bed scrolling through her phone while Linda sat on the chair nearby pretending to read messages she wasn't actually focusing on.
Every now and then, Zara would glance at her.
And every time she did, Linda would feel it.
Like being seen too clearly.
When the food arrived, they ate together on the bed, laughing over nothing, Zara stealing bites from Linda's plate just to annoy her.
"Stop it," Linda warned.
"I prefer yours," Zara said casually.
"That's not an excuse."
"It is if I say it nicely."
Linda rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with a small smile.
Time blurred again after that.
At some point, Zara's phone died.
At some point after that, Linda realized it was completely dark outside.
And at some point after that, Zara suddenly looked at her and said—
"You can't go home now."
Linda blinked. "What?"
Zara gestured toward the window. "It's late. And your place is far."
Linda hesitated. "I can still leave."
Zara raised a brow. "You want to be on Lagos roads at this time?"
Linda opened her mouth… then closed it again.
Because Zara was right.
Zara softened her voice. "Just stay. One night."
Silence.
Linda's heart beat louder than it should have.
Stay.
In the same apartment.
With her.
Zara watched her carefully, waiting.
After a long moment, Linda finally exhaled.
"…Fine."
Zara smiled immediately. "Good."
But instead of relaxing, something about Zara's expression changed.
Like she had been waiting for this answer.
Like she had planned it.
She stood up slowly.
"I'll get you a towel," she said casually. "And something to wear."
Linda nodded, still trying to process everything.
Zara walked toward the wardrobe, humming softly.
Then she paused.
Without turning around, she said lightly—
"You know, Linda…"
Linda looked up. "Yeah?"
Zara turned her head slightly, just enough for her eyes to catch Linda's from the side.
"I think it's dangerous that you agreed so easily."
Linda frowned. "What does that mean?"
Zara smiled faintly.
"I'll tell you later."
And then she disappeared into the bathroom.
Linda sat there, staring at the space Zara had just left behind.
The apartment was quiet now.
Too quiet.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
Zara's phone, left on the bed, lit up suddenly.
One new message preview appeared on the screen.
From an unknown number.
Linda frowned and leaned slightly forward.
The preview showed only four words:
"She's finally alone now."