The office air felt like ice, but Ada's chest was on fire. How she go work under person wey she dey share bathroom with?
After the meeting, she stormed into the ladies' room, breathing deep.
"I go survive this madness," she told her reflection.
Back at her desk, she tried to stay focused, but Dimeji kept walking past like he owned not just the office but the air she dey breathe.
"Presentation deadline is 3 p.m. sharp," he said, stopping by her table without looking at her. "Don't be late."
His tone cut like blade, but Ada no dey carry last.
By 2:50 p.m., she stepped into the boardroom. Her slides were ready, voice steady, eyes sharp.
She nailed it.
When she finished, the room clapped softly — even the CEO nodded. But Dimeji?
He gave one small, annoying smirk.
"Not bad," he said, standing up. "Let's see if you can keep it up."
She stared at him. "Don't worry, oga. I get energy."
Later that night, back home, she opened the fridge and saw her jollof rice missing.
She turned sharply. "Dimeji!"
He looked up from the couch, spoon in hand. "Oh, was this yours?"
Her jaw dropped.
This man wan collect my career and my food? Na war.