BETWEEN THE LINES

ROOTS & ROUTINES

The next morning, Ify rose before sunrise.
Old habits.

Back in Lagos, she'd trained every morning at a weather-beaten outdoor court two streets away from her parents' apartment. The court had uneven pavement and a rusted rim, but it taught her resilience. No luxury. No noise. Just the rhythm of her body and the rising sun.

Now, she walked the quiet UConn campus, hoodie over her head, earbuds in, hands tucked into her jacket pocket. The sky was still gray, touched with pale pink. Most of the dorms were dark.

But the gym?

The lights were already on.

She pushed through the door, expecting silence.

Instead, she heard a ball bouncing. Steady. Familiar.

Paige Bueckers.

Alone. Hoodie on. Knees bent. She was mid-drill, launching jumpers from the elbow with surgical precision. Sweat already slicked her brow, and yet her eyes stayed calm—focused. Silent.

Ify leaned against the doorway and watched for a moment, arms crossed.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked softly.

Paige didn't flinch. She caught the rebound off the rim and turned, brushing a damp strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"You're one to talk."

Ify shrugged, stepping onto the court. "Where I'm from, the court gets crowded fast. Gotta claim your space before the heat rises."

"Same here. Just... different kind of heat."

Paige passed her the ball. "You up for a quick game?"

"Always."

They played for twenty minutes. No talking. Just glances. Footwork. Fakes. Pauses. A dance.

It wasn't competitive—not really. It was more like recognition.

Two people fluent in the same language, finally speaking it.

✦ After the Game
They sat on the sideline, drinking water. Paige looked out over the empty bleachers.
"You miss home?"

The question caught Ify off guard.

"No one's asked me that yet."

"I figured," Paige said. "People usually ask what it's like. Not how it feels to leave it."

Ify was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

"I miss the noise. Not the traffic—just the energy. The colors. The way everything's so full, you know? My mom's bookstore had these bright yellow walls. She'd play Fela Kuti and burn incense and yell at customers who dog-eared books. But somehow, people loved her for it."

Paige smiled. "She sounds amazing."

"She is," Ify said softly. "I was the only girl in our neighborhood who played ball. Most people thought I was wasting my time. My dad taught physics. He wanted me to be a surgeon."

"And now you're here."

"And now I'm here," Ify repeated, more to herself than to Paige.

A beat passed.

Then Paige spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "My dad used to drive me to practice every morning before school. Rain, snow, didn't matter. He'd sit in the car, drink gas station coffee, and just watch."

"Is he still around?"

Paige hesitated. "Yeah. Just... not always present."

Ify didn't press. She just bumped Paige's shoulder gently. "Thanks for sharing that."

"Thanks for showing up," Paige replied, eyes lingering on her face a little longer than necessary.

The air shifted.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Just closer.

Later That Night ~

In the lounge, Azzi watched Ify and Paige from across the room. They weren't touching. Not laughing too loud. But the way Paige leaned in to listen, the way Ify glanced up with those quiet eyes—Azzi felt something clench in her chest.
She hadn't planned on this.

She didn't want to feel weird about them.

But she did.

Nika flopped beside her with a plate of microwave popcorn. "Uh oh. Someone's looking pensive."

Azzi blinked. "What?"

"You've been staring at Ify for ten minutes like she owes you money."

Azzi chuckled softly. "I'm just... trying to figure her out."

Nika grinned. "That makes two of you."

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