Chapter 5: Subtle Fire
Friday. 10:17 a.m.
Efe was seated at her desk with her AirPods in, rereading a licensing agreement for a Nigerian logistics company looking to expand into East Africa. Her Spotify playlist was playing Sons of Kemet, soft jazz layered with drums.
She wasn’t really listening.
Her phone vibrated beside her. Incoming call.
Tochukwu Nnaji.
She paused.
Not a voice note. Not a message.
A call.
She hesitated for half a second before swiping right.
“Hey,” she said, voice quiet.
“Hey,” he echoed. “I know you're probably knee-deep in contracts. Won’t keep you long.”
She sat up straighter. “No, I’m good.”
There was that small beat of silence on the line. Not awkward. Just… unhurried.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said. “For yesterday.”
She blinked. “For what? You bought me pepper soup. I should be thanking you.”
He chuckled. “It wasn’t the pepper soup. It was the quiet.”
Efe smiled into the air. “You like quiet that much?”
“I like when people feel safe enough not to fill it.”
That caught her off guard. Again.
He added, gently, “I hope you felt that too.”
She didn’t reply immediately.
But he didn’t rush her.
Finally, she said, “I did.”
A pause.
Then he said, “Alright. I’ll let you get back to saving Nigerian business owners from themselves. Just wanted to check in.”
She hesitated.
“…You’re allowed to call, you know.”
“Noted.”
“Don’t wait another week.”
“Also noted.”
Call ended.
✦ The Sting That Follows
Efe sat still for a few seconds, her screen glowing in front of her, untouched. Then she pressed her lips together and reopened her document.
Before she could even skim the first paragraph, Mayowa knocked lightly and entered with two mugs of coffee.
“One’s for you. The other’s a peace offering from Clara.”
Efe raised an eyebrow. “What’s she apologizing for?”
“She accidentally sent a CC instead of a BCC this morning and included her personal prayer journal in the newsletter.”
Efe choked on a laugh. “Oh my God.”
“Exactly.”
Mayowa handed her the mug, grinning. Then leaned against the door frame.
“So… who was that on the phone just now?”
Efe looked up, guarded. “A client. Why?”
“No reason. Just sounded… calm. Like, he has a voice for radio or Bible study.”
“Okay.”
Mayowa squinted. “Wait. Is it that guy? The one Chisom introduced you to?”
Efe said nothing.
Mayowa gasped like she’d uncovered a national scandal. “Wow! So you people are soft-launching already? Look at God.”
“Relax.”
“I mean, I’m just saying. He sounds… wholesome.”
Efe didn’t respond.
Mayowa looked at her closely. “But… be honest. Isn’t he a little too calm? Like, zero edge. He sounds like someone who washes his hands before peeling bananas.”
Efe raised her brows. “That’s a bad thing?”
“No. Just… predictable. You’re not exactly the ‘safe’ type.”
Efe’s smile thinned.
Mayowa backed up, reading her expression. “Sorry—no offense. I didn’t mean anything. He just doesn’t strike me as your usual fire-and-ice kind of guy.”
“He isn’t.”
She said it flatly. Without emotion.
And Mayowa, wisely, left the room.
✦ Alone Again
Efe stared into her coffee.
Tochukwu had called to say thank you for silence.
Someone else thought he was “too calm.”
One of those things mattered.
But the other… still got under her skin.
She hated that.
Because if someone else’s comment could rattle her like that, maybe she wasn’t as steady as she thought.
Friday. 1:02 p.m.
Lunch was at Botanica in Victoria Island—outdoor seating, leafy plants everywhere, and the kind of prices that made you order slowly.
Efe sat across from her friends—Isioma and Tomisin, both in high heels and big sunglasses, even under the shade.
They were already mid-conversation when she arrived.
“…and I told him straight—if your dream is to become a TikTok pastor, I support you. But don’t use my DSTV money for ring lights,” Isioma was saying.
Tomisin burst out laughing. “You said that?!”
“Loud and clear.”
Efe slid into her seat, grinning. “I missed something chaotic, didn’t I?”
“You’re just in time,” Isioma said. “We’re doing man debrief.”
Tomisin raised her glass. “To tired Christian women with trust issues.”
They clinked water bottles like wine glasses.
✦ The Question Comes
“So,” Isioma said, leaning in. “Are you still single, or is there gist?”
Efe gave a slow smile. “There’s… someone I’ve been talking to.”
Both women froze.
Tomisin’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious.”
“He’s not a boyfriend,” Efe said quickly. “We’ve just talked. Twice. Eaten once.”
“Twice?” Isioma leaned back. “Do you like him?”
Efe hesitated. “I don’t not like him.”
“Oh God,” Tomisin groaned. “She’s falling.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Isioma cut in. “What’s his name?”
“Tochukwu.”
Tomisin blinked. “That already sounds like someone who minds his business.”
Efe laughed. “He does.”
“What’s he like?” Isioma asked. “Talkative? Planner? Is he intense?”
“No,” Efe said, honestly. “He’s… thoughtful. Quiet. Very direct. Not flashy.”
“Is he funny?” Tomisin asked.
“Dry sense of humor. Not the life of the party. More like… the calm guy in the corner watching the drama and sipping water.”
Tomisin tilted her head. “So… safe.”
Efe frowned slightly. “What’s wrong with safe?”
“Nothing,” Isioma said. “But are you the type to fall for ‘safe’?”
Efe didn’t answer.
“Be honest,” Tomisin said. “If you showed up to a wedding with him, would he blend in or stand out?”
Efe shrugged. “He’d probably help the caterers. Quietly.”
Tomisin squinted. “Ehn.”
Isioma gave her a look. “You’ve always gone for the bold, sharp ones. This one sounds like… peaceful soup.”
Efe gave a half-smile. “Maybe peaceful soup is exactly what I need.”
They laughed again, and the conversation moved on—to jobs, skin care, one church choir scandal.
But Efe couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Peaceful soup.
She liked the taste.
But why did it feel like her friends expected her to want pepper?
Friday. 2:16 p.m.
Tochukwu sat at a small table in the corner of the shared office space. A fan turned slowly above him, barely moving the air. The power had just come back on. Half the building still smelled like hot plastic and body spray.
His laptop was open.
So was a contract document—Section 7.1 blinking at him like a test he was already tired of retaking.
Across from him, his co-founder Dayo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
“Bro, it’s not deep,” Dayo said. “We just change the phrasing, get the license approved, then fix the paperwork later.”
“It’s misleading,” Tochukwu replied quietly.
“Technically, it’s not a lie.”
“Technically, it’s not clean either.”
Dayo sighed, clearly tired. “Toks, we’re two months behind. If we don’t move now, we lose the window.”
“I’d rather lose time than lie.”
Silence.
Then Dayo muttered, “You and your integrity, sha.”
Tochukwu closed his laptop slowly. “That’s not an insult.”
“I didn’t mean it as one.”
“You said it like one.”
Dayo didn’t answer. He just stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked off.
✦ Sitting With It
Tochukwu sat still for a long time after that.
He wasn’t angry. Just tired.
Tired of having to explain why doing the right thing still mattered.
Tired of being the one in every room who sounded like a 60-year-old uncle with a prayer life and a savings plan.
Tired of people thinking he was “good” by nature—as if it wasn’t a daily fight to stay that way.
He took out his phone.
Clicked on Efe’s name.
Hit record.
Hey… just dropping this here. No crisis or anything. Just a quiet day and a bit of pushback at work.
Feels like the longer I do this right, the lonelier it gets. Not because people hate it… they just don’t get it.
Anyway. No pressure to respond. Hope your day’s going better than mine.
Later, Efe.
—Toks
He listened back once.
Didn’t edit.
Sent it.
Then turned off his phone.
Friday. 4:45 p.m.
The email came in with a chime.
Subject:
Kingdom Business Leaders – Private Dinner (Invitation Only)
Efe opened it without thinking.
Inside: a warm invite from one of the top Christian business circles in Lagos. Dinner at a private venue in Ikoyi. Guest list attached.
She scanned the names.
Board members. Pastors. Real estate moguls.
Tega Arinze.
Of course.
A quiet knock pulled her eyes from the screen.
It was her boss, Bayo.
“You got the invite?” he asked, stepping in.
Efe nodded. “Just saw it.”
Bayo smiled. “You should go.”
“I figured.”
“Take someone with presence,” he added, casually. “Someone sharp. They take that circle seriously.”
Efe said nothing. She didn’t move. Didn’t frown. Just blinked.
He started to walk off, then turned back. “Don’t overthink it. Just go looking impressive.”
✦ Stillness and Questions
Efe sat back in her chair, rereading the email.
+1 welcome.
She hadn’t asked Tochukwu if he liked formal settings.
She hadn’t even told him about the circle.
But now she imagined it.
Tochukwu walking into a room of polished suits and smooth talkers.
The men who dropped Bible verses between business metrics.
The women in high-end ankara and worship-me heels.
She pictured the way he’d stand in the corner, observing. Not networking. Not selling anything. Just being… himself.
Would he look like he didn’t belong?
Or would he expose the fact that they didn’t?
✦ The Question Inside the Question
It wasn’t about the dinner.
It wasn’t about the room.
It was about her.
Was she ready to be seen with someone like him?
Someone who didn’t charm.
Didn’t chase.
Didn’t impress… but lived right.
Would people see her differently?
Would they say she’d settled?
Would they ask the one question she hated most:
“Are you sure he’s enough for you?”
She closed the laptop.
Didn’t answer the RSVP.
Didn’t decline it either.
Just sat there.
Still.
Friday. 9:22 p.m.
The living room was dark except for the glow from Efe’s phone screen. Her dinner sat untouched on the center table—cold rice and peppered turkey slowly sweating on the plate.
She lay on the couch in her robe, earphones in.
Tochukwu’s voice filled her ears again. Soft. Measured. Honest.
“Feels like the longer I do this right, the lonelier it gets.”
She had played it three times already.
Not because she was analyzing it.
But because something about the way he said it…
Felt like it was meant for her.
Not as a performance.
Just… presence.
✦ What She Didn’t Want to Admit
She wanted to respond. She really did.
But her fingers froze every time she opened the app.
Because what would she say?
“Thanks for always being so real.”
“I’m scared of what people will think if I take this seriously.”
“I like you, but I don’t know if I have the courage to stand next to you when the spotlight’s on.”
No version felt right.
So she did what she always did when she couldn’t process a feeling—
She said nothing.
✦ The Real Pressure
Her phone buzzed with a message from Isioma.
“You going to the Kingdom Biz dinner?”
She didn’t answer.
Because she didn’t know.
She could show up alone. That would be easy. Clean. Strategic.
But she’d see Tega.
And she’d be forced to pretend she wasn’t still… checking her heart every time his name came up.
Or…
She could walk in with Tochukwu.
The quiet man.
The one who didn’t light up a room, but carried peace into it.
The one who didn’t sell a dream.
But somehow made staying present feel like a rare miracle.
And that terrified her.
✦ The Last Line
She replayed the voice note one more time.
When it ended, she stared at the screen like it was waiting for her to become someone braver.
Then finally, she whispered to the room:
“If I lose him because I cared too much about what they think… then I’ll have no one to blame but myself.”
She didn’t hit send.
Not yet.
But she knew:
Fire had started.
Quiet.
Slow.
From the inside out.
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