Binary Hearts

59| Cracks In The Silence 🤫

Tunde laid Adeola carefully on the couch, her foot still slightly swollen from the twisted ankle. As she bit her lip, gazing at him with a quiet yearning, Tunde focused intently on rubbing the balm into her skin. His hands were firm but careful, indifferent to her soft sighs and the subtle tension in the room. Adeola watched him closely, her heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of his hands. She didn’t speak, only continued biting her lip as her thoughts drifted, wondering what he was thinking—wondering if he even noticed her longing. Tunde, as usual, seemed distant, absorbed in the task at hand, his expression unreadable. Before she knew it, sleep washed over her, pulling her into a deep slumber.

The next morning, Sunday, Adeola woke up, surprised to find herself in her bed, a soft blanket covering her. She knew she had fallen asleep on the couch, yet here she was. Her cheeks flushed, realizing that Tunde must have carried her. The thought of him lifting her, of his hands brushing against her skin, made her blush deeper. She quickly dressed and began her morning routine, though her mind kept wandering back to Tunde.

Downstairs, Tunde sat in the living room, his workout done, sipping a mug of Milo. He was dressed in white joggers, a thick white singlet hugging his muscular chest. His socks clung snugly to his feet, and Adeola couldn’t help but notice how his tall frame filled the room. His Adam's apple moved as he gulped the Milo, his veiny hands, a secret weakness of hers, gripping the mug. She took a deep breath and walked downstairs, her eyes lingering on him, feeling an undeniable attraction.

"Good morning," Adeola said softly.

Tunde glanced at her and replied, “Morning,” before turning back to his drink, his tone neutral, distant.

"Thanks for yesterday,” Adeola added, trying to ease the tension.

"Don’t mention it," Tunde said flatly, not sparing her a glance.

Adeola's heart sank a little, but she didn’t push further. She made her way to the kitchen, preparing to get a drink, but Tunde soon followed, scanning the cupboards for something to cook.

"Don’t cook," Tunde said, his tone a mix of command and routine. "I’ll handle it."

Adeola nodded but stayed in the kitchen, determined to help. As she reached for a bottle of water, she noticed Tunde wince, a hand going to his temple.

"Are you okay?" Adeola asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I’m fine," Tunde muttered, trying to brush it off.

But Adeola wasn’t convinced. "You’re not fine, Tunde! You always do this—bottle things up, pretend you’re invincible! You’re going to end up alone if you keep acting like this, refusing to let people in."

Her frustration boiled over, her voice rising. "Stop acting like you don’t need anyone! We all need someone, Tunde. Even you!"

The intensity of her words filled the room. Sam, hearing the argument from the living room, hurried to the kitchen to see what was going on.

Tunde’s jaw clenched. Suddenly, memories flashed before his eyes—Adaora and Chidi together, laughing at Paul's party, the collapse of his family, the weight of Spark Technologies hanging over him. His vision clouded with frustration. Before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between him and Adeola, his hand wrapping tightly around her neck.

"How dare you?" Tunde growled, his voice low, menacing.

Adeola’s eyes widened in shock and fear. She had never seen this side of him before—never knew the anger he was capable of. His grip tightened, and she struggled to breathe, panic setting in.

"Tunde!" Sam’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, jolting Tunde back to reality.

He let go, stepping back as if he had been burned. Adeola gasped for air, her hand going to her throat, trembling. Without another word, she bolted from the kitchen, rushing up to her room.

Sam turned to Tunde, his face a mix of shock and disappointment. "What the hell, man? You shouldn't have done that. You need to go apologize."

Tunde, his heart still racing, shrugged it off. "Apologize? No. She’ll probably leave, and then I’ll have peace."

He sat on the couch, pulling his laptop onto his lap, pretending to be engrossed in work. But 30 minutes passed, and the house remained eerily quiet. Sam’s stomach growled, and he glanced toward the kitchen, still no sign of food being prepared. With both Tunde refusing to apologize and Adeola locked away in her room, Sam knew he wouldn’t get fed anytime soon.

Sighing, Sam headed upstairs to Adeola’s room and knocked gently on the door.

"Hey… uh, sorry about what happened. On behalf of my boss," Sam said awkwardly, feeling the tension still lingering.

Adeola opened the door slightly, her eyes still puffy from tears. "It’s not your fault, Sam. I know he’s hurting, but…" She paused, shaking her head.

"I’m starving," Sam blurted out, trying to lighten the mood. "Wanna grab something to eat?"

Adeola let out a small laugh, appreciating Sam’s attempt. "Fine. Let’s get dressed."

Both of them changed into more comfortable clothes—Adeola in a simple yet classy dress—and made their way downstairs. As they headed toward the door, Tunde’s voice stopped them.

"Where are you guys going?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

Neither Adeola nor Sam responded, and they walked out of the house without a word.

At the restaurant, Sam couldn’t help but marvel at the variety of food. He eagerly tried different Yoruba dishes he had never had before. "Wow! This abula is amazing!" Sam said with wide eyes as he dug into the hearty meal.

Adeola smiled, enjoying the peace and seeing Sam happy, even though her mind kept drifting back to Tunde. What was she going to do about him?