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“But there is no defence from a love that slipped between his ribs like a knife, a love who’s voice whispers to Ekene in the middle of the night, weakening his resolve, stiffening his flesh.”

“Had he been so desperate to believe in love that he had given it - or its semblance - to a stranger, only do he could feel its reflection on his skin, like moonlight?”

“But with Achike, there was nothing to chase. Beauty ran through him like blood. It was in everything in he did; every look, every look, every gesture, every word. There was no part of him that was not beautiful.
And Ekene loved him. Of course he did.”

“ Who, in the face of a love like this, could fail to return that love?”