The days passed in a rhythm that felt unspoken but deeply understood. Wale and Sophia fell into a pattern of shared moments—sometimes loud with laughter, other times steeped in quiet comfort. Their initial arrangement, a casual bond without expectations, began to evolve in ways neither of them could articulate, though both felt its weight.
After work, it was almost automatic now: they'd walk back together, hands brushing but rarely intertwining, like their unspoken promise to keep things undefined. More often than not, Wale would end up in Sophia's dorm or she in his, the pretense of just "hanging out" quickly melting into something far more intimate.
. . . . The Deepening Bond
Their first night together had been tentative, almost shy, but as time went on, the hesitations dissolved. They became attuned to each other's rhythms, discovering not just what felt good physically, but the nuances of what comforted and reassured.
Their physical connection wasn't just about desire—it was a balm for both of them, a way to momentarily silence the doubts and fears they carried. Wale found himself captivated by the way Sophia let her guard down in those moments, her usual wit and sarcasm giving way to vulnerability. Meanwhile, Sophia marveled at how Wale seemed to hold her with a quiet reverence, as though she was something precious.
But it wasn't just about the physical. Between the laughter, teasing, and stolen kisses, they began to share pieces of themselves they hadn't intended to. Wale found himself talking about his childhood in Lagos, the chaos of growing up in a large family, and the dreams that had driven him to leave it all behind.
"I want to make my parents proud," he admitted one evening as they lay tangled together on Sophia's bed. "They gave up so much for me and my siblings. I can't let them down."
Sophia traced lazy circles on his chest, her voice soft. "You won't. You're already doing so much, Wale. More than most people would in your position."
He smiled, though there was a trace of melancholy in his expression. "Sometimes, it feels like no matter what I do, it's never enough. Like I'm always chasing this impossible standard."
Sophia propped herself up on one elbow, looking at him seriously. "You're enough, Wale. Just as you are."
Her words lingered long after she fell asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.
. . . . Blurred Lines
Sophia, for her part, found herself sharing things she hadn't planned to. Late one night, as they sat cross-legged on Wale's bed, a bottle of wine between them, she opened up about her struggles with her master's program.
"Everyone thinks I've got it all figured out," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "But honestly? Half the time, I'm just winging it. I chose this field because it felt important, but now I'm not even sure I'm cut out for it."
Wale tilted his head, studying her. "Why did you choose it in the first place?"
She shrugged, picking at the label on the wine bottle. "I wanted to make a difference, I guess. Do something meaningful. But now it feels like... I don't know, like I'm just another cog in the machine."
"You're not a cog," Wale said firmly. "You care. That's what makes the difference. Most people don't even try to make an impact."
Sophia smiled faintly, her eyes meeting his. "How do you always know what to say?"
Wale chuckled, taking a sip of wine. "I don't. I just tell the truth."
Their conversations became as much a part of their intimacy as their physical connection. They'd spend hours talking late into the night, their words weaving a tapestry of shared hopes, fears, and dreams.
. . . Moments of Tenderness
Despite their agreement to keep things casual, their time together began to feel less like an arrangement and more like a natural extension of who they were becoming to each other.
Sophia started leaving small reminders of herself in Wale's room—a book on his nightstand, a sweater draped over his chair. Wale, in turn, found himself doing little things for her without thinking, like bringing her coffee in the morning or saving her a seat during their lunch breaks.
One evening, as they walked back from a late shift, Wale noticed Sophia shivering slightly in the cool night air. Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
"Thanks," she said, pulling it tighter around herself.
Wale shrugged, his hands now tucked into his pockets. "Can't have you catching a cold."
Sophia glanced at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You're sweet, you know that?"
"Don't tell anyone," he teased, though his cheeks flushed slightly.
Moments like these became the fabric of their days, small gestures that spoke volumes even when they didn't.
. . . . A Night of Dreams
One particularly quiet evening, after another night of making love, they lay side by side in the dim light of Sophia's room. The air was warm, their bodies a tangle of limbs and soft sheets.
"What do you want to do when all this is over?" Sophia asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.
Wale turned his head to look at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "All this?"
"The program. Being here."
Wale sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "I want to go back to Nigeria. Finish my degree. Maybe start a business, something that helps my community. I've always wanted to build something lasting, something that matters."
Sophia listened intently, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. "That's... really admirable, Wale."
He turned to her, a faint smile on his lips. "What about you? What's your big plan?"
She laughed softly, her gaze distant. "I wish I knew. I want to finish my master's, obviously. Maybe work for an NGO or something, somewhere I can actually make a difference. But honestly? Half the time, I feel like I'm just fumbling my way through life."
"You're doing better than you think," Wale said gently.
Sophia looked at him, her expression softening. "And what about us?" she asked quietly.
Wale's breath caught at the question, the vulnerability in her voice catching him off guard. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I know I don't want this—whatever this is—to end."
Sophia smiled, leaning into his touch. "Me neither."
They fell into a comfortable silence after that, their breaths evening out as they drifted into sleep.
. . . . Lingering Questions
Despite the growing closeness between them, there were moments when the weight of their unspoken agreement pressed heavily on Wale. He found himself lying awake some nights, watching Sophia as she slept peacefully beside him.
He wanted more—more than stolen moments and whispered promises that neither of them was ready to fully articulate. But he also knew Sophia's fears, her reluctance to commit to something that might demand more of her than she was willing to give.
For now, he told himself, this was enough.
But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that the lines between what they had and what he wanted were becoming increasingly blurred. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep pretending it didn't matter.