SONIA
I woke up buzzing with excitement.
Today was the day my best friend was finally moving into my apartment.
The thought alone sent a rush of energy through me. I flung the duvet off my body and called out to Alexa to play "Dance" by Wizkid. Instantly, the beat flooded the room, and before I could stop myself, I was dancing and twerking around like Shakira on tour.
Honestly, I hadn't felt this happy in a very long time.
Tracy had become that rare kind of person — the spark that lit me up on dull days, the one who somehow made everything feel lighter. Having her move in felt like a blessing I didn't want to take for granted.
And guess what?
She would be here any moment.
Which meant her first night had to be special.
Food, obviously, had to be the star of the welcome.
I paused mid-twirl, hands on my hips, thinking hard.
What should I cook for her? What's her absolute favorite meal?
I chewed the tip of my finger, pacing. But with Wizkid still blasting in my room, my brain refused to cooperate. With a dramatic sigh, I hurried to the kitchen and told Alexa to pause the music.
Silence.
Better.
I dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, chin resting on my palm, mentally flipping through Nigerian dishes.
Jollof rice?
Hmm… too predictable.
Egusi with pounded yam?
Comforting, yes… but maybe too heavy after a long moving day.
Then it hit me.
Pepper soup. Fresh fish pepper soup.
Perfect.
Warm, spicy, soothing — exactly what someone needs after the stress of moving.
My face lit up instantly.
"Yes! That's it."
I sprang into action, grabbing my basket and pulling ingredients from the fridge and shelves — fresh catfish, scent leaves, pepper, seasoning cubes. Just laying everything out made the kitchen feel alive.
Grinning, I glanced at the smart speaker.
"Alexa, continue playing 'Dance' by Wizkid."
Boom.
The beat came back, and so did my hips.
I swayed while chopping onions, shimmying as I ground the pepper, and when the chorus dropped? I spun dramatically, wooden spoon in hand like I was headlining a concert.
I burst out laughing at myself.
The pepper soup soon began to bubble merrily on the stove, rich and fragrant, filling the apartment with warmth. And in that moment, I knew — this was exactly how I wanted Tracy's arrival to feel.
Warm. Joyful. Full of rhythm.
Moments later, the soup was perfect — steaming, spicy, and deeply aromatic.
Carefully, I ladled it into a wide ceramic bowl and placed it at the center of the dining table. Around it, I arranged sides: neatly sliced fried yam, golden plantains, and a plate of fresh bread rolls.
For the grand finale, I brought out a chilled bottle of champagne and set it beside two sparkling stemware glasses.
The table looked like a celebration waiting to happen.
Satisfied, I wiped my hands on a towel and returned to the kitchen to clean every single trace of my cooking spree.
When I finally stepped into my room, a wave of pride washed over me.
It looked beautiful — vibrant yet cozy, warm lighting glowing softly against the walls, every little detail humming with life.
But whew… I was tired.
I headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water melt away the day's tiny stresses. When I stepped out wrapped in a fluffy towel, the mirror caught me.
My skin glowed from the steam. Every curve held its own quiet confidence.
I smiled.
Tonight, I was ready.
I opened my wardrobe and pulled out one of my favorite dresses — sleek, stylish, and just daring enough to make a statement. The kind of look that says, welcome to the good life, darling.
After slipping it on, I ran my fingers through my hair, added a glossy touch to my lips, and spritzed my favorite perfume.
Perfect.
Now everything was set.
The table was ready.
The champagne was chilled.
Soft music floated through the apartment.
And I looked radiant.
All that was left was Tracy.
I quickly checked my phone.
No missed calls.
My brows knit together slightly.
Why hasn't she called yet? Where is she?
I glanced out the window. The sky was cloudy, heavy like rain was on the way. My eyes flicked to the wall clock.
4:32 PM.
I didn't waste another second — I dialed her number and pressed the phone to my ear.
Ring…
Ring…
Ring…
Finally, she picked up.
"Hey girl," I said, trying to sound casual even though my curiosity was screaming. "What's going on? Are you still coming over today or have you decided to abandon me already?"
I heard her laugh on the other end.
"Abandon you? Please! As if I would ever miss my grand entrance," Tracy teased. "Relax, drama queen. I'm literally on my way right now."
"Literally?" I narrowed my eyes playfully even though she couldn't see me. "Because you know you have a history of saying 'I'm close' when you're still thirty minutes away."
"Excuse me!" she scoffed. "First of all, that was one time — and traffic was wicked that day. Second of all, madam, I am five minutes away. Five. Minutes."
I grinned.
"Hmm… we shall verify that claim shortly."
"You better verify fast and come and carry my boxes too," she shot back. "Do you know how many things I packed? I feel like I'm relocating to a small country."
I laughed.
"Serves you right. Who told you to bring your entire life into my peaceful apartment?"
"Because your apartment is now our apartment, my dear," she corrected sweetly. "Better start adjusting."
I shook my head, smiling.
"You're lucky I like you."
"I know," she said smugly. "See you in a minute, baby girl."
The line clicked off.
I exhaled, my smile widening.
Moments later, everything was in place. The room hummed with quiet anticipation.
Then—
Knock knock.
My pulse jumped.
I smoothed down my dress and glided to the door, pulling it open.
And there she was.
Tracy stood glowing with excitement, arms overflowing with bags and boxes, looking both exhausted and thrilled. The moment our eyes met, we burst into laughter and fell into a tight hug.
The apartment, which had been quietly waiting, suddenly felt alive.
She stepped inside — and froze.
Her eyes widened at the dining table.
The rich aroma of pepper soup hit her first. Then the champagne caught the light.
She gasped.
"Girl… WHAT in this whole wide world is going on here?!" she squealed, spinning slowly. "Sonia! Is this for me? No, no, no — hold on — is this actually for ME?"
I giggled.
"Who else did you think it was for? The neighbors?"
She dropped her bags dramatically and pulled me into another crushing hug.
"Oh my goodness! Sonia, this is the best welcome I have ever received in my entire life — and I am not even exaggerating. See effort! See intentionality! See love!"
"Okay okay — breathe!" I laughed, tapping her arm. "You're squeezing the life out of me."
She pulled back, eyes shining.
"Seriously," she said more softly. "I'm so proud of you. This is beautiful. You didn't have to do all this, but you did… and I really, really appreciate it."
My smile softened.
"Anything for my sweet best friend. And please appreciate it well because your girl nearly fainted from the stress of preparation."
She burst out laughing.
"I can imagine you dancing in the kitchen and nearly burning the soup."
"Excuse you!" I gasped dramatically. "This pepper soup is premium quality. Five-star performance. Michelin-star behavior."
"We will judge that shortly," she said, already eyeing the table.
I grabbed her hand.
"Come and drop your bags properly and bring your hungry self. Madam, the food is getting cold and I am starving."
"Yes ma'am!" she saluted playfully.
Moments later, we were seated at the table, pouring champagne and clinking glasses with a soft, happy chime.
Her first spoonful of pepper soup made her eyes flutter closed.
"Mmmmmm… Sonia…" she groaned softly. "Okay wait — hold on — why is this actually so good? Like… why are you hiding this talent from the public?"
I leaned back smugly.
"Natural gift, my dear. I was born for greatness."
She pointed her spoon at me.
"No seriously. If you open a pepper soup spot, I will be your first investor. I'm not joking."
We dissolved into laughter between bites, swapping stories, teasing each other, and soaking in the warmth of the evening.
Later, the music drifted softly in the background, and we let it carry the night — talking, laughing, occasionally swaying in our seats.
Because deep down, we both knew…
This was just the beginning of the new rhythm we were about to share under the same roof.
And the night?
Rich.
Alive.
Absolutely perfect.