Chapter 3 – Four Missed Calls
It started with a delay.
Then a missed call.
Then another.
Then four.
By the time Ivie looked at her phone that Friday evening, Mide had called four times — all in the span of an hour.
For a moment, she stared at the screen like it was a riddle she couldn't solve.
He hadn't called all week. Now, suddenly, he was calling like something was wrong.
When she finally answered, his voice came through — breathless, shaky, not his usual confident self.
> "Ivie… please tell me you're home."
"I am," she said slowly. "Why? What happened?"
> "I—I just need to see you. Please. I'm outside."
She frowned, walked to her window, and there he was — standing by his car, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled up, eyes tired.
She didn't even think. She went downstairs.
---
When she opened the gate, he didn't speak at first.
He just stared at her — like the sight of her steadied him.
Then he laughed a little, the sound dry and hollow.
> "Sorry for showing up like this."
"You look terrible," she said quietly.
He gave a small, helpless smile. "Thanks. Tomi and I had a fight."
Ah.
Of course.
Ivie folded her arms. "And your first thought was to run to me?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "No. My first thought was to drive. Then I realized I was already driving here."
That stung more than it should have.
It meant she wasn't even a decision. She was a habit.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked finally.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Can I come up?"
---
Upstairs, Mide sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
Ivie brought him water, watching him like she was trying to read what wasn't being said.
"She thinks I still have feelings for someone else," he said finally.
Ivie's heart skipped. "Do you?"
He looked up then — straight at her — eyes dark, searching.
"I don't know."
The silence that followed was heavy.
It filled every corner of the small apartment, pressing against the walls.
Ivie forced a smile, pretending her heart wasn't breaking. "You'll figure it out. You always do."
He leaned back and let out a long sigh. "I'm tired, Ivie. I just… I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
Without thinking, she reached for his hand. "You're just scared, Mide. That's all."
He looked at their hands — her small fingers, his trembling ones — and didn't pull away.
> "You always know what to say," he murmured.
> "And you always forget to listen," she replied softly.
They sat like that for a while — two people pretending that comfort wasn't love, that holding hands didn't mean something, that this wasn't crossing a line.
---
By the time Mide left, it was past midnight.
He hugged her tightly at the door — longer than he should have, tighter than she expected.
When the door closed behind him, Ivie stood there for a long time, her palm resting where his hand had been moments ago.
Efe came out of her room, hair wrapped, eyes sleepy.
"Is that who I think it was?"
Ivie didn't turn. "Yes."
Efe sighed. "You're in trouble, babe."
"I know," Ivie whispered. "I've been in trouble for years."
---
That night, she couldn't sleep. Her phone buzzed again — a message from Mide.
> Mide: "Thanks for tonight. I don't deserve you."
Ivie: "Go to bed."
Mide: "Good night, Ivie."
Ivie: "Good night, Mide."
She stared at his name long after the chat went silent.
And deep down, she knew — this wasn't just friendship anymore.
It was something else. Something dangerous.
Something she could no longer ignore.
---