FORBIDDEN (GL)

Chapter One: The Girl Who Felt Like Home

Ife had learned to listen to Lagos the way one listens to a restless child—patiently, attentively, knowing that beneath the noise was meaning.

The city never slept. Even at dawn, when the sky was pale and unsure of itself, Lagos breathed loudly: buses groaning awake, hawkers calling out prayers disguised as sales pitches, generators coughing into life. From her seat near the faculty building at the University of Lagos, Ife watched it all with a notebook balanced on her knees and a deadline ticking in her head.

Mass Communication wasn't just a course to her. It was survival.

At twenty-five, she paid her own bills, sent herself money when her account ran dry, and lived off freelance writing gigs that demanded speed more than rest. Her fingers were always moving—typing, scrolling, jotting ideas—because slowing down meant thinking too much.

And thinking too much always led her back to Amaia.

"Ife, you're not listening."

Amaia's voice cut through the haze, warm and familiar. Ife looked up to find her standing there, sketchbook tucked under her arm, locs pulled into a loose bun that never stayed neat for long. She wore paint-splattered jeans and a faded Fine Arts department T-shirt, like she had walked straight out of a studio and into Ife's morning.

"I am," Ife lied, smiling. "You just talk too fast."

Amaia snorted. "Liar. I said I failed my presentation."

That wiped the smile off Ife's face. "What?"

"I'm joking," Amaia laughed quickly, dropping into the seat beside her. "Relax. You panic too easily."

Ife exhaled, shaking her head. "You're evil."

"Only to people I love."

The word love landed softly, casually—but it echoed too loudly in Ife's chest. Amaia said things like that all the time, never meaning them the way Ife heard them. Never knowing how carefully Ife carried every word she said, like glass.

They had been like this since first year—inseparable, effortless. Strangers often mistook them for sisters, sometimes for something else. Amaia always laughed it off. Ife never corrected anyone.

Amaia leaned closer, peering at Ife's screen. "Another article?"

"Yeah. Opinion piece. Social media ethics this time."

Amaia groaned. "You and your serious topics. When will you write about something fun?"

Ife shrugged. "Fun doesn't pay."

Amaia smiled at her like she always did—soft, proud, a little teasing. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Ife's heart did that thing again, tightening and swelling at once. "You say that too easily."

"Because it's true."

Amaia said truths the way she breathed—without hesitation, without fear. It was one of the things Ife loved most about her. And one of the reasons she could never say what she really felt.

Amaia didn't do complicated. She didn't dwell. She survived by keeping her world simple.

An orphan raised in foster homes, Amaia had learned early not to expect permanence. People came and went. What stayed were her hands, her art, her independence. Ife was the only constant she hadn't questioned—and she never stopped to ask why.

As they walked across campus together, shoulders brushing, Ife wondered—If I disappear one day, would you finally notice how much space I take in your life?

The thought scared her.

They reached the arts building, where Amaia slowed. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah," Ife said quickly. "Party at Dami's place, right?"

Amaia rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."

Ife smiled. Parties meant noise, laughter, distraction. It meant she could pretend the ache in her chest was just another passing feeling.

Amaia paused before going inside, turning back. "Don't work too hard. You forget to breathe when you're writing."

Ife laughed softly. "You watch me too closely."

Amaia hesitated, just for a second. "Someone has to."

Then she was gone.

Ife stood there longer than necessary, staring at the door Amaia had disappeared through. Around her, life continued—students rushing past, voices overlapping—but inside her, everything was quiet and loud at the same time.

She pressed her palm against her chest.

Loving Amaia felt like standing at the edge of a forbidden place—beautiful, dangerous, and impossible to enter without losing something important.

And yet, every day, Ife stepped closer.

Unaware that soon, one reckless night would push them both past the edge.

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Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, organizations, and locations are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.

Content Warning:
This novel contains mature themes, including discrimination, homophobia, emotional trauma, psychological distress, obsessive behavior, manipulation, and consensual LGBTQ+ romantic relationships. Reader discretion is advised.

Written by Vinnie

Produced by BoundlessTales

To Be Continue....