Heart Fire
Chapter One: Stereotypes and Crashes.
Solape’s P.O.V:
Solape put on her earrings, paused, and glared at her reflection.
“See me. Full makeup. Full outfit. Full stress. For what?” she muttered.
For a hangout she didn’t even believe in.
She fluffed her hair, stepped back, and sighed again. “Is it not that Ladi that almost confused two of my friends? One minute he’s going on a date with Miriam, next minute he’s kissing NJ in a car like we’re acting in some Netflix teen drama?”
She hissed loudly.
Yes, she had helped NJ get him back. Yes, the reconciliation had been sweet. Yes, she’d even said “get your man back” like she was some love doctor. But that didn’t mean she was ready to be smiling with him like nothing happened.
No.
Solape was a principled woman.
Her phone buzzed. It was Miriam.
“Babes, are you ready?” Miriam asked.
“Ready for what? I don’t know if I’m coming again,” Solape said, tugging off one shoe dramatically.
“Solape...” Miriam warned.
Solape switched the call to video.
“See me now. I’m ready. A Babe. I’m about to leave the house. But just know that tonight I’m not smiling for anybody, especially not Ladi.”
On the other end, Miriam sighed the sigh of someone who had seen battle and accepted her fate.
“Solape, abeg calm down. You’re not going there to fight the boy.”
“I’m not fighting him,” she shot back, adjusting her gold hoop earring. “I’m just... setting emotional boundaries.”
“By frowning at him?”
“Yes.”
“By shining eye at him all night?”
“Exactly.”
Miriam groaned. “You know you liked him before all this Ladi-and-NJ drama started.”
“That was before he was supposed to date you and ended up falling in love with our girl like we’re all extras in his music video.” Solape answered sharply
“Ladi didn’t ‘fall in love’ like that,” Miriam argued. “And NJ is your friend. You know the whole thing was messy for everybody.”
Solape paused, because she knew Miriam was right. She just hated the fact that right meant admitting she was soft on the inside.
“I know,” she muttered. “I know. I’m just... I don’t trust him yet.”
“You trust NJ.”
“Yes. But him? He still has to win me over. That fine boy charm doesn’t work on me.”
“Of course not,” Miriam said dryly. “We all know you’re immune to beauty.”
Solape rolled her eyes. “Dey play.”
She paused. “But... okay, okay. I’m coming. But don’t expect me to smile at him.”
“Solape...”
“No! He will earn it. All that his fine-boy smile that bamboozled you people will not work on me. I will shine eye for him.”
“Come abeg,” Miriam said, still laughing.
“I’m coming jare. I’m already dressed. Let me not waste makeup.”
*********
The place was warm, dimly lit, and expensive. The kind of space where people whispered instead of spoke. A major problem for someone like Solape, who had the vocal range of a Lagos aunty greeting her long-lost cousin at a wedding.
She spotted NJ first, shy, glowing, pretending she was fine, but her eyes kept darting toward Ladi like she couldn’t believe he was real.
Miriam waved.
As Solape approached the table, Ladi stood immediately, pulling out a chair for her.
Yinmu... all this one does not mean that I will forgive you just like that, she thought.
“Solape,” he said, with the kind of nervous smile that suggested he knew judgment awaited him.
She sat, leaned back, and then said his name...
“Ladi.”
Miriam elbowed her under the table.
He launched into an apology.
“See... I’m sorry. Forgive us. NJ and I.”
“Leave NJ out of this. I have forgiven NJ” Solape said unmoved.
“But me?” Ladi asked.
“Oh you have to work harder. You bamboozled the professor with your charm. It does not work on me.” She said
Ladi raised a brow and his mouth tilted in a half smile, “Oh. I’d never dream of i.t.”
“Don’t smile, Ladi. Our friendship was tested because of you. A man.” Solape said, “You had a secret relationship with our friend, after going out on a date with one of us. Granted, you didn’t promise Miriam anything. But still, it’s giving shady”
“Solape... please, I was the one who insisted we keep it from you.” Nj interjected.
Solape sent Nj a withering look.
“NJ, he has a mouth, let him speak”
At this, Miriam placed a hand on Solape’s arm, as if to stall her. But Ladi interjected,
“You are right. to an extent. I should have insisted she tell you. I should have told you myself.” At this, he looked at Miriam. “Frankly, I didn’t know how you felt about me. But when NJ told me...and she did.” At this, he looked at Solape, then looked back at Miriam. “I should have had a conversation with you. For that I am sorry.”
Miriam smiled, “It’s okay Ladi. I forgive you.”
Ladi nodded, “Thank you. How about you Solape?”
Solape felt her heart thawing. Miriam was looking at her with a small smile. Nj was pleading with her eyes.
Solape rolled her eyes.
“C’mon now. Stop playing hard guy.” Ladi said, “I know the video NJ posted was your idea.”
Solape huffed as she responded, “That was Romantic Solape, this is realistic Solape.”
But against her will, she felt her shoulders loosen. She knew Ladi was a good guy and NJ was so happy.
She was just about to mentally lower her eyebrow when—
CRASH.
A chair slammed into her back.
She spun around like a cat ready to fight principalities.
“Oga are you blind?!”
The man froze. He was tall, dark and clean-shaven, wearing a simple black two piece, eyes warm but startled like he hadn’t expected to collide with a hurricane.
“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t see-”
“You didn’t see? How big is your problem that you can’t see the chair in front of you?”
“Ha! Solape...” Miriam whispered urgently.
Ladi picked up his drink and smiled into the glass.
“Solape, that is a little too much. It was not intentional,” NJ pleaded.
The man blinked, surprised. Then his eyes softened, not condescending, not irritated, just... calm. Too calm.
He looked around the table, then focused on Solape, “Your friend is right, it was my mistake. I truly didn’t see the chair. But I’m sorry.”
The calmness irritated her even more.
“Hm. I’ve heard you,” she mumbled, looking anywhere but at him.
He nodded once and returned to his table.
Ladi leaned forward. “Guy is gentle o.”
Miriam whispered, “Very gentle.”
NJ added, “And fine.”
Solape hissed. “Fine and gentle does not mean he should be hitting chairs anyhow.”
But secretly, very secretly — she was replaying that calm look in his eyes. Not embarrassed. Not defensive. Not annoyed.
Just calm... who is this one that is not moved by me?
Conversation continued around her. The atmosphere was warm NJ kept stealing shy glances at Ladi, as he spoke.
Miriam’s face carried that quiet, blooming joy she got whenever her people were happy together.
She could not contribute because her mind was on the handsome calm stranger.
He is not even that fine.
Even her subconscious did not believe it. But there was pent up energy inside of her. She had shouted and he had responded with calm. No release. Now she felt like a pressure cooker that needed to release steam. Now she felt like she overreacted.
Solape stabbed a piece of grilled plantain with unnecessary aggression.
“Can you believe that man?” she muttered, even though nobody had asked.
Miriam blinked slowly. “You mean the man who apologized twice?”
“Yes! That one.”
Ladi hid a grin behind his glass.
NJ nudged him sharply.
“Please don’t laugh,” NJ whispered. “She’ll turn it on you next.”
Ladi straightened like a student who had just been caught cheating in WAEC.
“True,” he said. “Peace. Peace be unto us all.”
Solape rolled her eyes.
But then, for reasons she refused to understand, her gaze drifted back to the man.
He was still talking — no, listening now - head bent, expression warm, shoulders relaxed.
He laughed at something the person across from him said.
Not a loud laugh, not a show-off laugh.
Just... gentle.
She hated it.
She hated that she was intrigued by him
She hated that he wasn’t flustered by her shouting.
She hated that she could still hear him in her head: “Your friend is right, it was my mistake. “I truly didn’t see the chair. But I’m sorry.”
Who apologized that calmly?
Who smiled like that after being insulted?
She glared at her drink as if it were responsible for the confusion.
“I’m not talking to him,” she announced suddenly.
The whole table paused.
“No one asked you to talk to him,” NJ said, her voice small but amused.
“I’m just saying. In case he tries to apologize again or something. I will not respond.”
Miriam exchanged a look with NJ-the look best friends give when they realise a crush has entered someone’s bloodstream.
Ladi leaned in, curious.
“But why would he apologize again?”
“Because...” Solape said, eyes narrowing.
The whole table waited.
She didn’t finish the sentence.
Miriam blinked. “Because what?”
Solape shrugged. “I don’t know. But because.”
NJ burst into laughter.
Ladi covered his face.
Miriam shook her head. “You’re not okay.”
Solape pointed her spoon at them. “Exactly. That’s why he should avoid me.”
Dinner winds down slowly, the plates scraped clean, the waiter hovering with the bill like he’s afraid to interrupt whatever chaotic energy lives at their table.
Ladi is telling NJ some story about a producer who once tried to sign him in exchange for “spiritual loyalty,” and NJ is laughing so much she has to cover her mouth. Miriam leans back, full and satisfied, her eyes engaged as she listens to Ladi.
Solape pretends to be fully present, but her brain... Her brain keeps drifting.
Not because she likes the man. God forbid. But because annoyance has a way of sitting in her chest like pepper.
She stabs the last plantain again, just to show dominance.
“Are you still angry?” NJ asks gently.
“I’m not angry,” Solape replies. “I just... don’t like being hit by a chair.”
Miriam smirks. “You don’t like being wrong either.”
“Don’t push it.”
They all laugh again.
And just when she thinks the night has ended peacefully, she hears a voice from behind. Not directed at her, but close enough to shake her.
“PK, here’s your receipt.”
The waiter’s voice.
His voice.
Him.
“PK?”
The word hit her like a slap.
She freezes.
Miriam freezes.
NJ’s eyes widen.
“PK?” Solape echoes. “Like P as in Pastor ... a real pastor?”
“Maybe it’s a nickname,” Miriam says.
“Nobody calls ordinary people PK!” Solape whispers harshly.
“It’s always Pastor Kingsley or Pastor Kenneth or Pastor Kolade.”
“True” NJ corroborates.
Ladi, slowly sips his drink.
Solape grabs his arm.
“You knew?”
“How will I know??” Ladi squeaks.
“Because you’re a musician and musicians know pastors!”
“What kind of stereotype is that??”
She ignores him.
Slowly, against her will, she looks over her shoulder.
He is standing at the counter. Calm. Quiet. Smiling lightly.
Collecting his receipt.
And suddenly she notices things she missed. The way he carries himself, not stiff, but grounded. The ease in his posture. The simplicity of his clothes. The quietness that feels like authority, not shyness.
A pastor.
A whole pastor.
She wants to melt into the table. But her eyes remain on the man. No, the pastor, who accidentally hit her with a chair and whom she insulted from the depth of her spirit.
And as if sensing her thoughts, PK turns.
Their eyes meet.
Not long.
Not dramatic.
Just a second.
He smiles. Gentle, knowing, annoyingly unbothered.
She jolts and looks away immediately.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
“You’re praying now?” Miriam asks.
“Yes! Because how will I explain myself to the Creator when the man I shouted at is His servant??”
NJ chokes on laughter.
Ladi wipes tears of joy from his eyes.
Solape squeezes her bag like it wronged her.
This is humiliation.
Catastrophic humiliation.
Suddenly, she noticed that everyone was looking at something above her head.
She turned.
And of course, of course... it was him.
Standing at their table.
Watching her with warm eyes. Steady eyes.
Eyes that had no business being that gentle.
Smiling the kind of smile that made her heart do something stupid.
Which kain wahala be this.
“Hi again,” he said softly.
Her mouth dropped open.
He continued, “l... just wanted to say I hope I didn’t ruin your evening.”
“You didn’t,” NJ blurted, far too quickly.
“She’s fine,” Miriam added.
Ladi nodded, almost respectful. “We’re good, man.”
Solape opened her mouth, ready to say something pithy, but for some reason, nothing came out.
Her brain short-circuited like NEPA had just taken light.
He smiled a little wider.
“Okay. I’ll leave you all to your meal. Have a good night.”
She blinked.
He walked away.
She blinked again.
Miriam whispered, “Oh my God?!”
Solape swallowed. Loudly.
NJ wasn’t as subtle, “This is the eight wonder of the world. Our Solape is speechless.”
“I wasn’t,” Solape replied, voice shaking. “I just... forgot the words.”
NJ giggled. “My guy, you were mesmerized. Now, you have to explain to the creator that you are crushing on his servant.”
Ladi laughed so hard, he spilled his drink.
Solape stands abruptly.
“I’m going home.”
“But we haven’t paid,” NJ says amidst laughter..
“I’ll transfer! I need to leave before he comes here again!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Ladi says as he stands and walks to the waiter
Miriam stands too. “You’re running away?”
“I’m retreating!” she snaps. “There’s a difference!”
The girls follow her out, barely holding their laughter.
PK’s P.O.V:
PK stepped out of the restaurant into the soft Lagos night air, receipt still folded in his hand. The cool breeze hit his face and he exhaled slowly, letting the noise of the room settle behind him. He hadn’t expected the evening to be eventful. He’d simply come to grab a late dinner with an old schoolmate, talk missions, talk youth outreach, talk anything except the stress of the week.
He definitely hadn’t expected to hit someone with a chair.
More specifically, he hadn’t expected her.
The girl with the sharp tongue and the sharper eyes.
He smiled to himself... not amused, not charmed, just... intrigued. There was something about the way she reacted, like her whole being was wired for confrontation first, context later. A human matchstick. One spark, full flame.
He didn’t take it personally. Pastoring had thickened his skin years ago. People snapped sometimes; out of stress, out of embarrassment, out of habit. And, truthfully, he had been distracted when he moved the chair. He should’ve looked.
Still... the way she turned around, fire blazing in her eyes like he’d walked into a fight she’d been rehearsing long before he arrived.
PK chuckled under his breath.
In all of this, it wasn’t the anger that stayed with him. It was something else.
The way her friends rallied around her. The way she went silent after he apologized.
The way she stabbed her plantain like it offended her ancestors.
She was rude. Yes. But she was... layered.
People like that always were.
He replayed the moment she looked away instead of holding the stare.
People who led with fire often carried something softer underneath, something they guarded with noise so no one tried to trespass.
In his line of work, he’d met many versions of her.
People whose first instinct was fight.
People who didn’t trust easily.
People whose defenses were built like fortresses, not fences.
People who used fierceness to hide vulnerability because they didn’t want to be taken advantage of.
He didn’t know her story... and he wasn’t trying to know it... but it crossed his mind briefly:
What made her so quick to swing?
What taught her to meet the world with armour before anything else?
He shook the thought away. He had no business analysing strangers.
Still, she stood out.
Not in the “fine girl” way, though she was that.
Not in the “loud friend” way, though she carried that energy proudly.
It was the contradiction.
The fire and the hesitation.
The noise and the sudden quiet.
The boldness that flickered into something almost shy when she realized he wasn’t fighting back.
It wasn’t attraction... or maybe it was.
He knew his own heart well enough to name that honestly.
People are stories, his father always said. Most people never let you read past page one, you have to insist..
For a split second, the girl who shouted “Oga are you blind?!” made him wonder what the rest of the book looked like for her.
Made him wonder what the rest of the book looked like for her.
He exhaled, put the thought aside, and walked to his car.
Tomorrow he had a sermon to finish.
Youth counselling in the evening.
A midweek prayer chain to prepare for.
His life did not have space for random curiosities, especially the chaotic kind.
Still, as he unlocked his door, he found himself smiling again... because she was memorable.
... and because he knew he was going to see her again.
Author’s Note: Welcome to Solape’s story.
NJ’s story wrapped up last year — if you haven’t read it yet, you can catch up here
But buckle up, because this one? You’re in for a ride. Expect chaos, tension, and moments that will have you sitting at the edge of your seat.
Thank you for being here and for coming along on this journey.
Solape and PK say hi.😉
Solape bites, I just can’t prove it.
May the God who called PK preserve him 🙏🏾😂
Solape will stress PK, I can already see it 🤣