Title: The Night the Generator Went Off
Omotola had always been the responsible one.
At 29, she had built her skincare brand from her small flat in Surulere, shipping products across the UK and Nigeria, and still found time to check on her mum every Sunday.
Men? She didn’t have time for distractions.
Until Tade moved into the apartment upstairs.
She first noticed him on a Wednesday evening when NEPA decided to humble the entire compound. The generator refused to start, and everyone was out in the courtyard, complaining.
That was when she heard it.
“Move,” a deep voice said, calm and steady.
She turned.
Tall. Dark. A simple black T-shirt. Rolled-up sleeves revealing forearms that looked like they’d never missed a gym day.
Tade.
Within minutes, the generator roared back to life.
The compound cheered.
Omotola clapped too… but her eyes lingered.
Later that night, there was a knock on her door.
She opened it.
It was him.
“You dropped this,” he said, holding up her AirPods case.
Their fingers brushed as she collected it.
Electric.
Not generator electric. Different.
“Thank you,” she managed.
He didn’t leave immediately.
“You run the skincare business, right?”
She nodded.
“My sister uses your glow oil. She says it’s magic.”
She laughed softly. “Your sister has good taste.”
Silence.
But not awkward silence. The kind that hums.
“Do you always look this serious?” he asked.
“I don’t have time for unserious things.”
He stepped slightly closer. Not touching. Just close enough for her to smell his cologne.
“What if something serious is standing in front of you?”
Her breath hitched.
“You talk too much,” she whispered.
“And you feel too much.”
Her pulse betrayed her.
She should close the door. She should.
Instead, she said, “Come in. Let me give you a sample for your sister.”
He stepped inside.
The lights flickered. Then darkness. The generator had gone off again.
They both laughed softly.
In the dark, the air shifted. She felt his presence behind her as she reached for a candle. His hand gently caught her wrist.
“Omotola…”
Her name had never sounded like that before. Not rushed. Not playful. Intent.
She turned slowly. Their faces were inches apart.
“You don’t have time for unserious things,” he murmured.
“Good. Neither do I.”
His thumb brushed lightly against her jaw. Not claiming. Not forcing. Asking.
Her answer came in the way she leaned in. Soft. Slow. Deliberate.
The first kiss was gentle. Testing.
The second carried heat.
The third made her forget NEPA, business, and responsibility.
When the generator came back on, they were still standing there. Foreheads touching. Breathing the same air.
“Is this serious enough for you?” he asked quietly.
She smiled.
“For now.”
To be continued… maybe.
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