Chapter four

Chapter 4 – Between the Lines

The next morning the bank smelled of coffee and fresh paper. Sochima arrived early, his shoes echoing on the polished floor. He tried to focus on the screen, but his mind kept drifting back to the garden bench, to Aisha’s gentle “I see you as a brother. The words sat heavy in his chest, like a stone he could not lift.

He turned his head and saw Aisha already at her desk, head bent over a file. She looked up, gave him a small smile, and went back to work. The smile was kind, but it was the same smile she gave everyone. Sochima forced himself to smile back.

“Morning,” he said, his voice a little too loud.

“Morning,” she replied, her tone even.

The day moved in its usual rhythm. Calls came, numbers were checked, and the clock ticked slowly. At lunch, Sochima found himself walking toward the small canteen where they had eaten together the week before. He hesitated at the doorway, then turned and went to a different table. He ate alone, watching Aisha from a distance. She laughed with a colleague, her eyes bright. The sight made his stomach tighten.

After work, Sochima lingered by the exit, hoping to catch a word with her. She was packing her bag when he approached.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual. You heading out?

“Yes,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Just got a call from my brother. He’s in town and wants to meet up.

Sochima’s heart gave a small, unexpected thump. Your brother?

“Yeah, he’s visiting from Kano. He’s staying with me for a few days. She smiled, but there was a flicker of something else maybe worry.

“Cool,” Sochima said, forcing a laugh. Tell him I said hi.

She nodded, and they walked out together. The evening air was warm, the sky a deep orange. As they reached the parking lot, a sleek black car pulled up. A man stepped out, tall and confident, his smile wide as he saw Aisha.

“Aisha!” he called, opening his arms.

She turned, her face lighting up in a way Sochima had not seen before. Chidi! You’re early.

The man, her brother walked over and embraced her. Sochima stood a few steps away, feeling suddenly invisible. He watched them talk, their laughter filling the space between them. He felt a pang of jealousy, sharp and unfamiliar.

“Hey, you must be Sochima,” Chidi said, extending his hand after a moment. Aisha has told me about the new guy at the bank.

Sochima shook his hand, his grip firm. Nice to meet you.

Likewise, Chidi replied, his eyes scanning Sochima. Aisha says you’re from Imo. How do you like Abuja so far?

“It’s…different,” Sochima said, echoing the line he had used with Aisha weeks before. Busy, but I’m learning.

The three of them stood there for a few awkward seconds. Then Chidi clapped Sochima on the shoulder. You should come over for dinner tonight. We’re having jollof, Aisha’s specialty.

Sochima looked at Aisha, who gave a small, uncertain shrug. Sure, he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “I’d love to.”

The drive home was a blur. Sochima replayed the scene over and over. He told himself it was just dinner, that nothing would change. Yet a part of him hoped that being around Aisha’s family would bring him closer to her, even if only as a friend.

He arrived at Aisha’s apartment a little after seven. The living room was small but tidy, with a few pictures on the wall family portraits, a photo of Aisha in a graduation cap, and a framed picture of a young man in military uniform. Chidi greeted him at the door, his smile warm.

Come in, man, he said, leading Sochima to a seat on the couch. Aisha’s in the kitchen. She’s making the jollof.

Sochima sat, his hands resting on his knees. He could hear Aisha humming as she stirred a pot, the scent of tomatoes and spices filling the air. Chidi turned on the TV, a football match blaring in the background.

Do you follow the league? Chidi asked, trying to make conversation.

“Not really,” Sochima admitted. I’m more of a basketball guy.

Chidi laughed. We’ll have to catch a game sometime. I’m a die‑hard fan of the Nigerian national team, though.

The evening passed with easy chatter about food, work, and the city. Sochima found himself relaxing, the earlier tension easing a little. When Aisha finally brought out the steaming pot of jollof, the table fell silent for a moment as everyone took a bite.

“It’s amazing,” Sochima said, genuinely surprised. You really can cook.

Aisha blushed, a soft pink spreading across her cheeks. Thanks. My mother taught me.

The night grew deeper, and soon it was time to leave. Chidi walked Sochima to the door.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, shaking Sochima’s hand. You’re good people. Aisha needs someone like you around someone who understands her.

Sochima nodded, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. “Take care.”

He stepped out into the cool night, the city lights flickering like fireflies. As he walked to his car, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Aisha. Thanks for tonight. It meant a lot to me.

He stared at the screen, a small smile breaking through his uncertainty. He typed back, Anytime. Goodnight.

The reply came a few seconds later: Goodnight, Sochima.

He drove home with the city humming around him, his mind a mix of hope and fear. He knew the road ahead would be tricky, that the line between friendship and something more could shift at any moment. But for the first time since he arrived in Abuja, he felt a quiet excitement, a sense that something worth waiting for might be just around the corner.

He pulled into his parking spot, turned off the engine, and sat in the darkness for a minute, listening to the distant sounds of the city. The night was still, but inside him a new rhythm began to beat steady, hopeful, and a little bit daring.

He stepped out of the car, the cool air brushing his face, and whispered to himself, One day at a time. The suspense of what tomorrow would bring settled in his chest, but this time it felt like a promise, not a threat.