3.1 | Undead

8

February 19, 2020.
Victoria island, Lagos.

"Huh?"

Lara had her hands inside the bowl of rice she was currently washing. An apron was tried to her waist, stopping right under her knees and revealing the flared skirt she had under.

Wide–eyed, I walked to her and put my hands on either sides of her round face. My heartbeat was erratic, breaths coming fast, sweat formed on my forehead. I lowered my voice.

"We're leaving," I told her with a heavy heart.

Her forehead creased and her eyebrows pulled together. She removed her hands from the bowl of parboiled rice and dried them with her apron. When she placed her hands over mine against her face, I felt the softness of them. Her gaze darkened.

"Is everything fi—"

"I'm not losing you, okay?" I didn't mean to shout, but I did. I was practically vibrating from the adrenaline rush in my system. In the background, I heard something move, causing my attention to snap towards it.

"Where are we going?" Lara asked in a soft tone. Her features had softened now. She ran her thumb over my hand in a weirdly comforting manner.

Lara and Bukola could never be the same. Bukola was the kind of person who would snap back at you immediately you raised your voice at her, whereas Lara would only try to calm you down. Afterwards she would tell you how she felt and make you feel guilty unknowingly.

She had a kind soul, one I was willing to protect.

I dropped my tone now, already feeling the guilt eating away at my edges. "Could you book a flight to Paris?" She let her hands fall from mine, jaw dropping as she gaped at me. I blinked. "Right now."

"Ri–Right now?" She stuttered, stepping away from my hold. "It's too sudden. Why do you want to leave so suddenly? Is something wrong? Why aren't you telling me anything?"

As she talked, I let my gaze wander around, searching for the piece of cutlery that I didn't know was a ghost killer. A spoon laid on the sink, glinting in the light. I moved towards it and snatched it up, turning back to Lara who now had her eyes wide. A frown was etched onto her lips as she stared between me and the spoon in my hand.

"I'll explain it to you," I promised, struggling to keep myself calm. "First, book us a flight to Paris. I'll pack up and give Yemi a call."

At first she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned to the side, feigning adamance. I put on a pleading look, letting my shoulders slump as I clutched the spoon in my hand. Lara exhaled, giving in. She united her apron and chucked it at me before sauntering out of the kitchen. I caught the apron easily and hung it over a hook on the wall.

With a sigh of my own, I put the spoon into my pocket and followed her out, drawing out my phone and dialing Yemi's number. He picked the call when I was almost at my room.

"I hope I'm not in trouble, you never call in the evenings."

I flung the door open and marched to the wardrobe to pull out an empty suitcase. Yemi was probably going to try and talk me out of this if I told him what I wanted to do, so, I decided to keep my message simple.

"I'm going to Paris with Lara."

His side of the line fell silent. I paused with a shirt in my hand, turning around. "Hello?"

"I'm still here," he muttered from the other end. Then he groaned. "Why are you leaving?"

My brain searched for the right words while I shoved more clothes into the suitcase. "I need a break."