Linda didn't move this time.
She just stared at the phone.
Her heart was no longer racing—it had slowed into something colder, heavier, like it was sinking instead of beating.
Zara noticed the change immediately.
"Linda?" she called softly.
But Linda didn't answer.
The phone lit up again in Zara's hand, the screen bright against the dim room.
Another message preview appeared.
Unknown:
She's lying to you.
That was it.
Something inside Linda snapped—not loudly, not dramatically—but like a thread pulling too tight and finally giving way.
She sat up so fast the bed shifted.
"Who is it?"
Zara blinked. "What?"
Linda pointed at the phone. Her voice was low now, controlled, but sharp around the edges.
"Who is texting you."
Zara glanced at the screen, then back at Linda. Confusion flickered across her face.
"It's nothing."
Linda let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Nothing?" she repeated. "Zara, someone is texting you things like don't trust her and she's finally alone now and you're telling me it's nothing?"
Zara froze slightly.
Just for a second.
But Linda saw it.
That tiny pause.
That hesitation.
And it made everything worse.
Linda stood up from the bed.
"Who is it?" she asked again, slower this time.
Zara exhaled and sat up properly now, turning to face her fully.
"Okay," she said gently, "just breathe for a second."
"Don't tell me to breathe," Linda snapped, surprising even herself. Her hands were shaking now. "I'm not a child. I'm asking you a simple question."
Zara's expression softened immediately.
"Linda…"
"No," Linda cut in. "Because I left everything I was doing today to help you. I came here, I spent hours with you, and now I'm seeing messages like that on your phone."
Her voice cracked slightly on the last words, and she hated it.
Zara noticed.
Her face changed instantly—softened, worried.
She put the phone down carefully on the bed like it was suddenly dangerous.
"It's not what you think," Zara said quietly.
Linda laughed again, but there was no humor left in it.
"That's always what people say right before it turns out to be exactly what I think."
Zara shook her head. "No. Listen to me."
Linda folded her arms tightly. "I am listening."
A pause.
Zara ran a hand through her damp curls, clearly choosing her words.
"Those messages… are from someone I used to know," she said carefully.
Linda's eyes narrowed slightly. "Used to know?"
Zara nodded. "An ex."
The word hung in the air.
Linda didn't respond immediately.
Zara continued quickly, as if afraid of losing her.
"We ended things badly. Not dangerous-bad, just… messy. And ever since I moved back to Lagos, she's been trying to reach me in different ways. New numbers. Fake accounts. It's been ongoing."
Linda stared at her.
Trying to process it.
Trying to decide what part of her chest felt heavier now—relief or frustration.
"So you knew this was happening?" Linda asked quietly.
Zara nodded once.
"And you didn't think to mention it?"
Zara looked down briefly. "I didn't think it mattered. I blocked her again today when I got here. I thought that was it."
Linda shook her head slightly.
"But it's not it," she said.
Zara stepped closer slowly.
"No. It's not."
Silence stretched between them.
The tension from earlier hadn't disappeared—it had just changed shape.
Less fear now.
More emotion.
Linda exhaled slowly, looking away for a moment.
"You should've told me," she said softer now, but still firm.
"I know," Zara admitted immediately. "I'm sorry."
Linda didn't respond.
Zara moved closer again, careful this time, like approaching something fragile.
"I didn't want to bring that energy around you," she said. "Today was supposed to be… good."
Linda finally looked at her.
"Zara, someone is literally sending messages to your phone about me."
Zara nodded. "And I will deal with it. Properly. Tomorrow. I'll change my number if I have to."
A pause.
Then softer—
"But I need you to believe me when I say this isn't about you."
Linda's eyes searched hers.
For lies.
For cracks.
For anything.
But Zara just looked… tired.
And honest.
That made something in Linda loosen slightly.
"I don't like feeling like I'm in the middle of something I don't understand," Linda said quietly.
Zara stepped even closer now, until there was barely space left between them.
"You're not in the middle of anything," she said softly. "You're here with me. That's it."
Linda swallowed.
Zara lifted a hand slowly, hesitating just before touching her face.
"Can I?" she asked quietly.
Linda didn't answer with words.
She didn't move away either.
That was enough.
Zara's fingers gently brushed Linda's cheek—soft, careful, grounding.
"I'm sorry," Zara repeated again, quieter now. "I should've told you."
Linda's breathing slowed.
The anger wasn't gone, but it was no longer in control.
"I just…" Linda started, then stopped.
Zara waited patiently.
"I don't like feeling like I can't trust what I see," Linda finished.
Zara nodded.
"I understand."
A beat.
Then Zara exhaled slowly, like she had made a decision.
"I don't want you to leave this room thinking something is wrong between us," she said softly.
Linda looked at her.
There it was again.
That closeness.
That pull.
Zara's hand was still on her cheek, warm and steady.
"I should've been honest earlier," Zara murmured. "And I'm sorry for that too."
Linda's eyes flicked down to Zara's lips for half a second before she could stop herself.
Zara noticed.
Of course she did.
The air changed again.
Not tense this time.
Something else.
Zara leaned in slightly, just enough for Linda to feel it.
"Linda…" she whispered.
It wasn't a question.
It wasn't a tease.
It was something softer.
More uncertain.
Linda didn't move back.
Zara's thumb brushed lightly along her cheekbone.
"I didn't mean for it to feel like this," Zara said, barely audible now.
Linda's voice came out quieter than she expected.
"Like what?"
Zara swallowed.
"Like I'm already too close to you."
That did it.
Something in Linda's chest gave way.
Zara leaned in slowly—giving her every chance to stop it, to pull away, to speak.
But Linda didn't.
And when their lips finally met, it wasn't rushed.
It wasn't chaotic.
It was careful.
Like both of them had been holding their breath for too long and finally let it go at the same time.
Zara kissed her softly at first—testing, apologetic, almost like she was asking forgiveness without words.
Linda's hand lifted slightly, hovering before settling lightly against Zara's waist.
That small touch changed everything.
Zara deepened the kiss just a little, then paused, pulling back only slightly, their foreheads still close.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again, breath uneven now. "I didn't mean to do that."
Linda didn't answer immediately.
Her eyes were still half-closed.
Her lips still warm.
After a moment, she finally spoke quietly.
"…Don't apologise."
Zara searched her face.
Linda swallowed.
But before either of them could say anything else—
Zara's phone, still on the bed behind them, lit up again.
And this time, it didn't show a message preview.
It showed a call.
Unknown Number.