They say love is blind, but I think mine was reckless.

I knew falling for Dennis was dangerous. His family and mine had been feuding for as long as I could remember. But somehow, in the middle of all that hate, I found him.

It started on a rainy day in Lagos. I was at a friend’s art exhibition in Victoria Island when I saw him. He was standing across the room, sipping red wine, dressed in all black, and laughing that deep, rich laugh that stirred something in me. I recognised him instantly. Dennis Adeniyi. My father’s rival’s son.

We locked eyes, and something electric passed between us. I looked away first. I had to.

But fate or maybe madness kept drawing us together. That night, he found me on the balcony, trying to escape the crowd and the noise.

“You’re Ada Obasi, right?” he said, that familiar last name hanging between us like a warning.

I turned to face him. “And you’re the enemy.”

He smirked. “Funny. I don’t look like one.”

We both knew it was a bad idea. But that didn’t stop us. We started talking, texting, and seeing each other secretly. It was like tasting something forbidden, and I couldn’t stop once I’d started.

Dennis made me feel seen, not as Ada the politician’s daughter, or Ada the face behind charity galas, but as a woman. He touched my mind before he ever touched my body. And maybe that’s what made it more dangerous.

One night, after a long day’s work, we met up in our usual spot. He opened the door, and I barely stepped in before his arms wrapped around me.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my neck.

I didn’t say anything. I just kissed him.

Everything after that felt like fire. Our clothes came off between deep kisses and urgent touches. My heart was racing, not just from desire, but from the fear of being caught, of what everything meant.

But in that room, all I felt was him.

Dennis took his time. His hands explored me like I was art he had waited years to touch. His lips moved from my neck to my chest, leaving trails of heat that made my back arch. He whispered my name like a prayer, like he was worshipping every inch of me.

When he entered me, it was slow and deliberate, like he was trying to memorise how I felt around him. And then it got deeper, rougher, like he was claiming me, like we both knew there was no going back.

I held on to him like he was oxygen.

It wasn’t just sex. It was two people burning in silence for too long, finally letting the fire consume them.

After, we lay there in the dark, his fingers tracing circles on my bare skin.

“Do you think this will end well?” I asked quietly.

He sighed. “I don’t know. But I know I’d rather fight the whole world than let you go.”

I looked at him, at this man I was never supposed to love, and in that moment, I didn’t care about the feud, the gossip, or our families.

I just wanted this. Us.

Maybe we were mad. Perhaps love like ours never ends well.

But as I watched the sun rise through the curtains and felt his arms tighten around me, I realised something.

If this was war, I didn’t mind surrendering.

Downtown
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