A day with her

ens in the distance. Amidst the chaos, I stood out, lost in my own little world. My name is Tunde, and I was a 25-year-old graphic designer, struggling to make a name for myself in the co

t's okay, I'm fine," she said, her voice husky and confident. As we both bent down to pick up her bags, our hands touched, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I felt a sudden rush of attraction, which I quickly pushed aside, attributing it to mere embarrassment. Once we had gathered all her belongings, I stood up, brushing off my clothes. "Again, I'm really sorry about that,