(Amara's POV)
The final bell rang like it had been personally sent from heaven, and I bolted out of class like my shoes were on fire. Backpack sliding off one shoulder, sneakers squeaking across the tiles—I didn't care. School was done.
"Amara! Hold up!"
Adela jogged after me, her glossy hair bouncing like she had a personal slow-mo filter on.
I slowed down, grinning. "Bro, if I stayed one more second in that classroom, I would've jumped out the window."
She laughed. "For real. That math teacher was acting like we signed up for NASA training."
We walked out into the courtyard, golden sunlight spilling across the pavement. The vibe was perfect—until Adela's eyes lit up.
"Oh my God. Ethan!"
And just like that, she was sprinting away.
I turned, and there he was—tall, blond, calm. The kind of guy who didn't try to stand out but somehow did. He leaned against his car, phone in hand, looking like a magazine ad without even knowing it.
Adela threw herself at him with zero shame. "You're late again."
He caught her easily, smirking. "It's five minutes, relax."
"Five minutes is still late."
"And yet, I'm here." He leaned down and kissed her forehead like she was the only person in the world.
I almost gagged. Almost.
Then Adela dragged him toward me like I was the prize at the end of a scavenger hunt. "Ethan, this is Amara—the friend I keep telling you about. Amara, this is my boyfriend."
He gave me a nod, casual. "What's good?"
I dapped him up. "All good. You?
"Busy," he said with a small grin. "School's a grind, but I kinda like it. Keeps me sharp."
I blinked. Of course he was one of those straight-A types. The ones who didn't just survive school but practically married it.
"Yep. Trying not to get lost in the hallways," I said. "Still haven't found the vending machine."
Adela gasped. "Don't tell her about the vending machine! She'll drain it."
Ethan laughed. "She's not wrong. Adela's been banned from it twice."
"Because I have taste!" she snapped, elbowing him.
"She once bought out all the gummy worms," he said, deadpan.
"And I shared!" she shot back. "With you."
He raised an eyebrow. "After eating three bags yourself."
"Details," she muttered, flipping her hair.
I tried not to laugh, but failed. They were ridiculous—cute ridiculous. And part of me… envied it.
We piled into Ethan's car, Adela claiming shotgun before I even blinked. She tossed me the "you're new so you're automatically backseat" look, and I rolled my eyes.
The ride was a mix of chaos and warmth. Ethan drummed the steering wheel to whatever song blasted through the speakers. Adela sang loudly and terribly, reaching back to pull me in like I had to join.
"Amara, don't be shy!" she yelled.
"I am shy," I yelled back over the music.
"No excuses!" Ethan laughed, turning the volume even higher.
By the time we pulled up to my gate, my cheeks hurt from smiling. For a moment, school felt… light. Like maybe this transfer thing wouldn't kill me after all.
But then—my mum.
"Amara!" Her voice cut through the evening like thunder. She stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyes locked on Ethan like she could laser-beam him into dust.
"Who is that boy? Amara, I told you—"
"Mum, relax." I groaned. "That's Adela, my friend. And her boyfriend. They just dropped me off. That's it."
Her lips pressed thin. "Hmm. We'll discuss this later. Get inside and help me with dinner."
I muttered a quick goodbye and trudged inside, but my brain kept replaying Ethan's laugh, the way his gaze lingered like he actually noticed me.
And then… Malik's smirk barged into my head, uninvited. That smug face, always acting like he owned the place. God, I still owed him. And I was going to pay it back—double.
---
Dinner was the usual circus. Mum chopping veggies like she was auditioning for MasterChef. Dad reading the paper but clearly listening. Amaka sprawled on the couch, phone practically glued to her hand.
"Finally!" Mum said when I walked in. "I was about to drag you here myself."
"Would've been a dramatic rescue mission," I said, grabbing a knife.
She gave me the look. "Just chop these tomatoes and try not to bleed on them."
From the couch, Amaka piped up, "Amaraaa, like my post. I'm almost at five hundred likes."
I shot back, "Send me data money first."
"You're evil," she groaned.
"Im aware," I muttered.
That earned me a death glare. Worth it.
Dinner itself was chaos with a side of seriousness. Plates clinking, Mum's jollof steaming up the air, Amaka scrolling until Dad barked, "Phone down."
"So how was school?" Mum asked, eyes sharp.
"Fine," I said, stabbing at my rice.
Dad lowered his fork. "Amara, don't coast. You just transferred—you need to prove yourself. No distractions."
"Here comes the TED Talk," Amaka muttered.
"Amaka." Dad's voice made her sit straighter.
I sighed. "I get it. I'll focus."
Mum's expression softened. "We just don't want you wasting potential."
I nodded, chewing quietly. On the outside, I was calm. On the inside? My mind was buzzing with Ethan's smile, Adela's laugh, Malik's smirk, and my own restless determination.
The world outside was waiting—and it wasn't going to let me stay invisible for long.