Demi had always believed in two things: love and a life of soft luxury. Not necessarily in that order. She wasn't a gold digger - she had never dated for money, never even let a man pay for her lunch unless it was her birthday. But she had also always known she wanted to marry rich -if she marries-. Not in a scheming, trap-a-billionaire kind of way - just in a why should I suffer when I can marry well and still be in love way.

And then came Khalid.

The unfortunate thing about Khalid wasn't that he was rich. It was that he was Ayeesha's older brother. Worse, Ayeesha didn't know they had been flirting - lightly at first, then dangerously - until the night Demi got tired of the slow burn and kissed him first.

It had started the day Ayeesha moved into his house.

Demi had known Ayeesha since university, and when her friend announced, she was returning to Lagos after 5 years abroad, Demi had been the first to volunteer to help her settle in. Ayeesha had grown up in Abuja, where most of their family still lived, but she had chosen Lagos as her base instead. Her older brother, Khalid, had offered her a place to stay until she got her own place, and naturally, Demi had been there - hauling boxes, arranging furniture, and making unsolicited decorating suggestions.

She hadn't expected to meet him that day. Hadn't expected to turn a corner, arms full of folded abayas, and walk straight into someone solid, warm, and smelling like oud and citrus.

"Careful," he had said, steadying her before she could drop everything.

She had looked up into a pair of dark, knowing eyes - sharp in that quiet way that made her feel like he saw too much.

"You must be the famous Khalid," she had said, tilting her head.

"And you must be the famous Demi," he had replied smoothly. "The one bossing my sister around all day."

Ayeesha groaned from across the room. "She's helping me, unlike you, who vanished when it was time to carry things."

Khalid had only smiled, unbothered, before turning back to Demi. "Welcome to my home."

From that moment on, their paths kept crossing. Ayeesha had always been independent, but Lagos was different, and she didn't have many close friends here. So when she decided to open a boutique, Demi had naturally been the one to help her set it up. Between supplier runs, social media planning, and endless boutique arrangements, Demi was always around. And so was Khalid.

It started small. Glances across rooms, shared smirks, teasing remarks that carried too much weight to be innocent.

"You're always stealing my drinks," he remarked one evening when she took a sip from his glass without asking.

"And yet, you keep handing them to me," she replied, eyes gleaming.

"You think you're charming, don't you?"

"Admit it, Khalid. You like it."

He had only smiled then, a slow, unreadable thing that made her want to throw caution into Lagos traffic and hope for the best.

Demi knew she was playing with fire. Khalid wasn't the kind of man who acted on impulse. He was measured, deliberate. The type to test the waters, never dive first. But she was already drowning.

So one evening, after months of charged silences, accidental touches, and conversations laced with things unsaid, she got tired of waiting.

They were alone in the house, going through new arrivals after a long day. Ayeesha had left to bed early, exhausted. Khalid had stayed, claiming to help, though Demi suspected he just wasn't in a hurry to leave.

When he reached over her to grab the glass of water in the kitchen, fingers grazing her wrist, something in her snapped.

She turned, met his gaze, and before either of them could second-guess it, she kissed him.

It was brief at first, hesitant. But Khalid was not a hesitant man. The second he processed what was happening, he answered without hesitation, deepening the kiss, his hands settling at her waist, pulling her in like he had always known she would be here.

Demi felt herself sinking, warmth spreading through her chest, and for a moment, she let herself believe this was the start of something real.

Until it wasn't.

It unraveled days later.

"You kissed my brother?"

Ayeesha's voice wasn't loud, but it cut just the same.

They were in Ayeesha's apartment, away from the boutique, away from prying eyes. Khalid was there too, standing near the window, silent. Watching.

Demi's stomach twisted. "Ayeesha, I - "

"Oh my God," Ayeesha exhaled, shaking her head, her expression shifting from disbelief to something colder. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"That he's rich! That's why you went for him!"

Demi blinked. "What?"

"You've always said you wanted to marry rich. Always joked about it. And now, suddenly, you're with my brother? The perfect candidate?"

Demi let out a sharp laugh, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"You must have known," Ayeesha pressed. "You - "

"Oh, for God's sake, Ayeesha," Demi snapped, frustration bubbling over. "I didn't even know you two were siblings at first! You don't even share the same last name!"

Ayeesha faltered, but then, her eyes flicked to her brother.

"Who made the first move?"

Demi hesitated. Not because she had anything to hide. But because he should have been the one answering.

She turned to him, waiting.

And then it happened. The pause.

Not long, not dramatic. Just enough.

A breath of hesitation. A flicker of doubt.

Demi felt something in her crack.

Because Khalid - who had flirted first, who had watched her like he was memorizing, who had leaned in every time she got close - paused.

And Demi had never been that girl. Never been the girl who begged to be believed.

She straightened, grabbed her bag, and exhaled slowly. "You know what? It's fine."

Khalid's eyes snapped to hers, sharp with something unspoken. "Demi - "

But she was already heading for the door. Just before she left, she turned, her voice quieter now.

"I kissed you first, yeah. But don't act like you weren't dying for it yourself."

And then she walked away.

Ayeesha let out a breath and turned to her brother. "You dodged a bullet."

But Khalid didn't answer.

Because as the door shut behind Demi, he realized something horrifying.

He didn't feel relieved.

He felt like an idiot.

Because he had made the first move.

Just not with a kiss.

And now?

She was gone.