Earlier That day
"Emmanuel... Emmanuel... Emmanueeel!"
Patrick Emmanuel groaned from the top bunk, dragging his pillow over his head.
"What is it this time, Samuel? I swear, if it's another Soccer, Arsenal or rubbish stuff—"
"It's not Arsenal this time," Samuel said, Heatset still in. "It's Martinell Hattrick. Against Portsmouth Fc. You need to see it, bro. Man Scored 2 headers like a creator of set piece"
Emmanuel sighed. "I must've offended you in my past life."
Samuel grinned. "You probably did. How will you support Saka and you expect me to give you rest."
"Madman." Emmanuel rolled off the bed, hair messy, eyes half-closed. "Wait—what time is it?"
Samuel glanced at the cracked wall clock. "Almost nine. Prof Darwin won't spare us if we're late for the project meeting."
"Ha! O my God," Emmanuel muttered, scrambling for his bag. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"
"I tried," Samuel said, stretching. "But you were too deep in conversation with your pillow. You both looked happy together."
"Keep joking. One day I'll choke you with that pillow."
They both laughed as Samuel slipped on his shoes. The room was a mix of chaos and comfort — posters of footballers on one wall, half-read books on the other.
"By the way," Emmanuel said, buttoning his shirt, "did you see Annabelle's new WhatsApp DP last night?"
Samuel smirked. "Don't make me laugh, bro. She looked like temptation wrapped in red velvet. You better start rehearsing your proposal speech."
"Calm down," Emmanuel said, pretending to be unbothered. "It's not really my business."
"Hmm," Samuel said, packing his notes. "You've liked her since 100 Level man up."
"And you've liked Jane since forever," Emmanuel fired back. "But you've never said anything. Why not confess for once?"
Samuel paused, adjusting his wristband. "Jane is... complicated. I just want it like that"
"You're just afraid of complicating your life ."
"I'm just being smart," Samuel said. "She gives that maybe-I-like-you, maybe-I-don't vibe. I don't want to die of mixed signals."
Emmanuel laughed. "Mugu."
Samuel grinned. "Realist."
Outside, the campus was already alive.
Students hurried past, voices mixing with the sounds of bike horns and Remain songs from a nearby hostel. The air smelled like fresh trouble.
"I swear this school smells like confusion," Samuel said as they walked toward the engineering block.
"That's because it is confusion," Emmanuel replied. "Missed lectures, missing grades, and bad roads filled with water that could drown people."
"Ahh, FUTO—land of eternal suffering," Samuel said dramatically.
"Land of delayed results," Emmanuel corrected, and they both began to walk faster
Their group was already gathered in one of the smaller classrooms.
Mary Cynthia flipped through her notes, Joy scrolled endlessly on her phone, Favour "Hotstuff" leaned back on a chair like she owned the place, and Martin Precious waved as they entered.
"Look who finally decided to join us," Martin teased.
Samuel dropped into a seat. "We bring peace and productivity, my brother."
Laughter rippled across the table. Then the door opened again — and Annabelle walked in.
Red top. Black jeans. That calm confidence that made people notice without trying. Her braid swung gently as she sat, and Emmanuel immediately straightened like a soldier.
Samuel leaned over. "Remember to breathe, lover boy. She's not an angel. Yet."
"You are crazy," Emmanuel muttered, pretending to write.
"Start small. Ask her for a pen."
Before Emmanuel could reply, the door creaked again — and in walked Jane.
Everything seemed to soften around her.
She was calm, composed, eyes quietly observant. The kind of girl whose silence said more than most people's words. She sat across the room, opened a book, and started staring at it like the rest of the world didn't exist.
Samuel tried not to look. He failed.
Emmanuel nudged him. "See who is giving me advice."
"Respect yourself Emmanuel," Samuel whispered, pretending to read.
Then... it happened.
A soft hum filled the air — faint, but real.
The fans stopped turning. The lights flickered once, twice, then steadied.
Everyone looked up.
"Who off the light?" Martin joked weakly.
"Did someone open a window?" Joy asked, hugging her arms.
"There's no wind outside," Favour said.
Samuel's spine tingled. That same weight again — like invisible pressure against his skin.
He blinked, and for a split second, the world blurred. Everyone's voices faded, replaced by something else—something whispering at the edge of his mind.
Then, a voice — low, ancient, echoing through his skull.
"The Gods remembers."
Samuel froze. His pen rolled from his hand.
"Bro, you good?" Emmanuel asked quietly.
Samuel swallowed hard. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
He didn't reply. His eyes darted around the room—nothing. Everyone else was back to normal.
But then, across the room, Jane looked up.
Their eyes met.
And in that instant, Samuel's
pulse stumbled—
because she didn't look confused.
She looked afraid.
And worse—like she had heard the same whisper.