Chapter 4 THE LINE IN-BETWEEN

There's always a line.

Between boss and worker.

Between kindness and something more.

Between safe and stupid.

And the most dangerous thing about a line... is not knowing when you've already crossed it.

Madam Nneka had traveled for the weekend to attend a wedding in Owerri, and the change was instant.The tension in the house loosened, as if everyone could finally breath.

No shouting. No clicking heels echoing down the hallway. No last-minute orders.

The staffs worked slower, Softer, we even laughed.

I spent most of the day in the laundry room, ironing the household clothes while the radio played faintly in the background. My favorite song Ololufe played through the speakers, and i sang along under my breath, almost forgetting where i was.

That's when i heard the voice.

"You always sing when you iron?"

Startled, i nearly pressed the iron onto my own hand.

Chinedu stood at the doorway, wearing a black t-shirt and gray joggers. No shoes, just casual, relaxed but his eyes were unreadable as always.

"I... I didn't hear you come in."

He did not move. "Do i scare you?"

"No," i lied.

He smirked. "That makes one of us."

Before i could respond, he turned and left, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Later, i went to the kitchen and found something odd tucked behind the pinned cleaning schedule a small square of paper folded neatly.

My name. Written in a sharp, clean hand.

Come to the balcony after dinner.

No signature.

But I knew who it was.

Every part of me said i should not go.

But my feet did not listen.

The third floor balcony overlooked the garden, dimly lit by ground lanterns casting long shadows. I stepped onto the cool tiles, my slippers quiet beneath me.

Chinedu was already there, resting his forearms on the rail, a drink in his hand. He didn't turn when i arrived.

"I like the quiet here," he said. "It reminds me of when this house did not feel like a prison."

I said nothing letting the breeze speak for me.

He turned slowly. "Do you still feel trapped?"

Sometimes i said

He took a sip of his drink, then set it down.

I called you here because i want to ask you something.

I nodded, cautious.

If i tell you something... something that could change everything... would you keep it?

I blinked. "What kind of secret?"

The kind that makes people disappear.

The words sank like stones into my chest.

"I would never repeat anything," i said firmer than i expected.

He studied me, his expression unreadable. "Even if it made you see me differently?"

I held his gaze. "You don't scare me like you think you do."

That made him smirk again. A soft, amused sound that barely reached his eyes.

I have seen fear but yours doesn't smell like it.

He stepped forward. Not too close but close enough.

"There's blood on this house, Tomiwa," he said softly.

A chill ran down my spine.

"What do you mean?"

He looked down at his hands. "Not tonight i just i needed to see something. What?

"If you will run."

I did not.

He nodded to himself, as if that answered something he had been asking all along.

Then, slowly, he reached out and tucked a loose braid behind my ear his fingers brushed my skin and the contact left heat in its wake.

"You're not like them," he said.

I didn't know who them was, but i did not ask.

He turned away, picked up his drink again, and stared out into the dark.

I should have walked away.

I should have gone to bed, buried the night like a forgotten whisper.

But i stood there.

Until he spoke again.

"You ever think about who you were... before you had to become strong?"

His voice was quiet, but it tore through me.

"Every day," i replied.

He did not look at me, but his shoulders tensed.

"I was soft once," he said, too soft now i don't even know if i miss it or if i hate that version of me."

I did not reply, i couldn't.

We stayed like two broken people staring into the dark pretending we were not falling into something neither of us was ready for.

The next morning, i woke up to find another package outside my door.

Inside was a silk scarf. Midnight blue, embroidered with gold thread.

No note. No reason.

Just silence.

And in that silence, I realized something terrifying,this was no longer just a job.