The common room was dimly lit, its worn couches and mismatched furniture giving it a cozy, if slightly shabby, feel. Wale wandered in, his steps slow and aimless. The day had been long, and he needed a place to sit and think, to let the noise in his head settle.
He stopped when he saw Sophia on one of the couches, her legs tucked underneath her, scrolling absentmindedly through her phone. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, and a warm smile spread across her face.
"Hey," she said, her voice warm as she patted the cushion next to her, urging him to join her.
Wale hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting down. "Hey," he replied, his tone quieter than he'd intended.
For a while, they made small talk—complaining about rude customers, laughing about Felix's antics, and sharing a few stories from the day. But as the minutes passed, the conversation shifted.
"I miss my friends," Wale admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "The guys I came here with—they quit last week. Now it feels… different. Like I'm the last one standing."
Sophia rested her chin on her hand, her expression softening. "I get that. When I first moved to the UK for uni, I felt the same way. It was like… I was surrounded by people, but no one really saw me. You know?"
Wale nodded. "Yeah. I feel you."
Encouraged by her understanding, he found himself opening up. He told her about a childhood friend he'd lost touch with after moving to Lagos. "We used to talk about our dreams all the time—what we'd do, where we'd go. But life got in the way. Now, sometimes, I can't even remember what those dreams were."
Sophia's eyes lingered on him, her gaze steady. "I think about that too," she said after a pause. "Back home, there's so much pressure to have everything figured out. Sometimes I wonder if coming here is me running away from it all—or if it's me trying to find something real for myself."
Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and vulnerable. For a moment, Wale didn't know what to say. There was a vulnerability to her, and she had a look on her face as if daring him to judge her but hoping he wouldn't. He didn't.
Then, sensing the tension, he decided to lighten the mood. "You know," he said, leaning back, "I once fell into a ditch trying to impress a girl in secondary school. It was the most humiliating day of my life. The worst part? She just stood there and laughed. I wan die that day." He scoffed, ending the last part in pidgin.
Sophia blinked, then burst into laughter—a full, unrestrained laugh that filled the room. "Oh my God, Wale! That's terrible."
He grinned. "Yeah, but at least I learned my lesson. No more heroic stunts."
She shook her head, still laughing. "You think that's bad? I once sang the wrong lyrics in front of my entire church choir. Everyone stopped and stared like I'd just committed the ultimate sin—which I thought I did then."
It was his turn to laugh. "What—Sophia, that's priceless."
For a while, the room was filled with the sound of their laughter, the earlier heaviness momentarily forgotten.
As the evening wore on, their conversation slowed. They sat in a comfortable silence, but Wale couldn't help sneaking glances at her. The dim light softened her features, and her calm presence drew him in.
Sophia seemed to sense it, too. She glanced at him briefly, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. She smiled, but it wasn't the teasing smile he'd grown used to. This one was softer, almost shy.
When it was time to leave, they walked down the hallway together, their steps in sync. Neither said much, but the quiet between them felt meaningful, not awkward.
At her door, Sophia paused and turned to him. "Thanks for tonight," she said. "I didn't realize how much I needed a good laugh."
"Anytime," Wale replied, his voice steady even as his heart raced.
Sophia lingered for a second, as if she wanted to say more, but then she gave him one last smile and slipped into her room.
Wale stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, before heading to his own room.
Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, replaying the night in his mind. He tried to convince himself that they were just friends, but the way her laughter echoed in his thoughts told him otherwise.
In her room, Sophia sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers brushing against her phone as if she wanted to text him. She told herself it was nothing, just two coworkers bonding. But the warmth in her chest wouldn't let her believe that entirely.
Both lay awake that night, thoughts swirling, hearts quietly brimming with something unspoken.