The sun filtered through the glass roof of *La Vida Lounge*, casting golden streaks over velvet couches, marble tables, and the quiet clink of glasses. The club wasn't wild today-just calm music, slow footsteps, and quiet conversations. That's exactly what *Zara* needed. Peace, but not loneliness. She walked in like a storm cloaked in silk-her red gown hugging her slim figure, heels clicking softly on the floor, drawing a few glances. Her long braids were tied into a high ponytail, her lips a glossy wine-red. She wasn't dressed for the day.
But then again, she never dressed for time-only for freedom. Zara slid onto the farthest bench, close to the window where the city of Lagos stretched wide and loud in the background. She placed her clutch on the table and sighed, her fingers trembling just slightly. It had been three days since the last anonymous message-the one that made her move out of her apartment at midnight. She had nowhere to go. Nowhere but here. Then she saw him Across the lounge, alone on a couch, was *Korede*. Black skin smooth as onyx, jawline sharp, hair faded and clean. He wore a deep navy suit, no tie, one button undone, looking more like a magazine model than someone sitting alone in daylight. Their eyes met. She looked away first. He didn't. - Zara tried to focus on her drink, but she felt his gaze. Not aggressive. Not rude. Just... curious. She stood up to change her seat-and froze when he walked toward her. "May I?" he asked, pointing to the space beside her. Zara hesitated. "It's a free country." He sat. They didn't speak for a few seconds. He smelled like something expensive-woodsy and dark. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't seem tense either. "I haven't seen you here before," he finally said. Zara arched a brow. "That sounds dangerously close to a pickup line." He chuckled, eyes lighting up. "Maybe. But I'm genuinely curious." "I come here when I need quiet," she said. "You?" "Same. Noise follows me around." He leaned back slightly. "I'm *Korede*." She hesitated before replying. "Zara." "Nice name. Biblical?" "Something like that." She sipped her drink and stared out the window. "What noise are you running from?" He gave a small smile. "People who think they own my time. My choices." She looked at him, more interested now. "Same." Their silence stretched again-but this time, it wasn't awkward. It was mutual.