THE ART OF BREAKING HEARTS

Miss Tina's Office

 Peter smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Interesting," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I didn't expect you to suddenly want more of this. I thought you'd struggle longer, but it seems your own body betrayed you. It's been waiting for someone's touch, hasn't it?"

 Tina, still catching her breath, slowly stood up from the floor. She dusted the sand off her body, her movements shaky but deliberate. Without looking at Peter, she walked toward her desk where he stood. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke. "Leave. And don't tell anyone about this. I promise to stay away from you."

 Peter chuckled softly, stepping closer to her. She was still naked, her skin glowing under the dim office light. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his own bare body.

 Tina gasped, her hands pressing against his chest. "Huh? What are you doing, Peter? Ouch—let go! Your—your dick is—"

 But Peter only smiled, tightening his grip. He pulled her even closer until their lips were just inches apart. Tina tried to push him away, but his hold was firm, unyielding.

 Peter locked eyes with her, his gaze intense. "Why do you struggle so much, Tina? Why resist what your body clearly wants?" His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic. "Just look at yourself—this beautiful body, so perfectly made." He paused, inhaling deeply. "Ahhh… you smell like creation itself. So tell me, Tina… don't you really want me? Don't you want this big boy down here one more time?"

 Tina's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. She poked his chest sharply. "First of all, you forced yourself on me, which is a crime here in Nigeria—punishable by five years in prison. Second, I don't even know what came over you to do something like this. And third—" Her voice trembled slightly. "What kind of home did you come from that made you this way?"

 Peter's grip around her waist tightened, making her wince.

 "Ouch! Ouchhh! Stop—you're hurting me, Peter!"

 At her cry, Peter suddenly released her. He stepped back, his expression unreadable, then walked over to the couch and sat down, his body relaxed as if nothing had happened.

 Tina, finally free, stretched her back, wincing at the soreness. She picked up her scattered clothes and quickly dressed, her movements hurried. Once covered, she turned to Peter, her eyes searching his face. "Tell me," she demanded. "What happened to you? Who made you like this?"

 Peter leaned back on the couch, his gaze cold. "Don't expect me to tell you anything just because you've decided not to report me."

 Tina scoffed. "Who said I wouldn't report you? For now, I just want to hear your story. Then I'll decide what to do."

 Peter's stare darkened. "It's none of your business, Tina."

 She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Fine. Let's make a deal, then. Since your stubborn head is impossible to crack without an incentive…"

 Peter raised an eyebrow. "What's the deal?"

 Tina hesitated, her cheeks burning. "I—I can't believe I'm saying this. Fuck." She took a deep breath. "I'll… give you my body for a week. Only if you tell me what made you this way."

 Peter burst into laughter. "So you did enjoy it after all! One moment, we're angry and hate each other, and now here we are."

 Tina's blush deepened. "Just shut up and give me an answer."

 Peter's laughter faded, his expression turning serious. He stood up, his voice low and firm. "To others, this might've been a great deal. But I'm not others. I'm not interested." He turned toward the door. "I'm going home now. See you tomorrow, Miss Tina."

 As he reached for the doorknob, Tina's voice stopped him.

 "Stupid boy," she muttered. "Don't forget—you're still naked. At least put your clothes on before leaving."

 Peter paused, then turned back. Without a word, he picked up his clothes, dressed quickly, and left.

 The door clicked shut behind him.

 Alone in the office, Tina exhaled deeply, her legs suddenly weak. She slammed her hands against the wall, her frustration boiling over. "Fuck! I can't believe myself today." She groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I need a bath… and a very long sleep."

 Peter's Home

 Knock. Knock. Knock.

 Peter pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Mom! Dad! I'm home! Prosper! Jubilee! Prestige—I'm back!"

 Silence.

 No one answered.

 He called again, louder this time. Still, nothing.

 A knot formed in his stomach. Something's wrong.

 He moved quietly through the house, his senses alert. When he reached the living room, he paused at the door, listening. Then, turning the knob slowly, he stepped inside—

 CHAOS.

 His parents were in the middle of a heated argument, their voices roaring through the house. His mother had her hands around his father's neck, and his father was doing the same to her, their faces red with fury.

 Jubilee, Peter's younger brother, spotted him and rushed over. "Senior! You're back!"

 Peter nodded, his eyes fixed on their parents. "Let me guess—they've been like this for hours?"

 Jubilee sighed. "Since we got back from school. Nonstop. It's so annoying."

 Peter shook his head. "Wonderful. Truly wonderful." He glanced at Jubilee. "You took all the weapons out of the house, right? Otherwise, they might actually kill each other."

 Jubilee nodded quickly. "Yeah, we did that as soon as we got home."

 Peter scanned the room, frowning. "Where's Prestige? Isn't she back yet?"

 Jubilee's expression darkened for a second. "Oh… yeah. She got slapped by both Mom and Dad for trying to interfere—like she always does."

 Peter chuckled. "Good. Serves her right. Where is she now?"

 "Sleeping in her room."

 Peter smirked. "That's exactly what she needs. I'm going to my room to rest. It's been a long day."

 Jubilee grabbed his arm before he could leave. "Wait, senior! Aren't you going to stop them before they actually kill each other?"

 Peter paused, then turned slowly. "Listen, Jubilee. They've been doing this for years—even before you were born. Don't worry. You're only fourteen. Just relax, okay?"

 Jubilee's eyes filled with tears. "B-but—"

 Peter sighed, rubbing his temples. Then, without another word, he walked toward their parents.

 "Mom. Dad. I'm back. How are you both doing?"

 In unison, they screamed, "GET OUT!"

 Peter nodded calmly. "Alright." He turned and walked away, heading straight for his room.

 Jubilee sprinted after him, grabbing his waist just before he could enter. "Please, senior! Wait!"

 Peter stopped, his patience thinning. "What now, Jubilee? Why are you bothering me?"

 Jubilee looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. "Senior, please… stop them. There are no weapons, but they can still hurt each other with their bare hands!"

 Peter's smile was cold. "Listen well, little brother. If they've decided to die, that's not my problem. Every neighborhood we move to, they do this—fight, scream, embarrass us. They don't even know anything about their children's lives. So leave me alone. If you're so worried, you stop them."

 Jubilee flinched as if struck. "Senior… I understand your pain. But if they die, who will feed us? Clothe us? Send us to school? Please, elder brother… don't let your anger blind you."

 Before Peter could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Bim. Bim. Bim.

 He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. Josiah.

 "Jubilee, we'll talk later. I need to take this."

 Jubilee reluctantly let go, nodding slowly.

 Peter answered the call. Before he could speak, Josiah's frantic voice exploded through the phone.

 "Brother, come quick! Get to the YKC Woji junction NOW! Luke is here with his gang, and they're looking for a fight! If you don't come, they might come to your house next!"

 Peter's expression turned stone-cold. He ended the call without a word, his fists clenching so tight his knuckles turned white.

 To be continued…