Chapter Two: The Drift
After Chiamaka’s graduation, things changed. Her replies to his texts became shorter, her voice cold and distant, everything about her changed. When he asked about their future plans, she said things like, “Let’s take it slow. You are rushing things. i need space to plan my future”
Then, the final blow four weeks later: “Samuel, I think we should just break up. You are in a hurry to settle down and I don’t want to waste your time. You’ve been good to me”
He stared at the message for ten minutes, his hand trembling. He called her. She didn’t answer. He called again. Blocked.
Samuel didn’t eat for two days. He laid in his room, staring at the ceiling, replaying memories. The days they walked hand-in-hand through the campus. The jollof rice he bought her during exam periods. The way she used to kiss his forehead and whisper, “You’re my everything.”
His mother noticed the change in him—he barely spoke, barely smiled. His friends noticed too. “You for no put your heart too much for girl matter,” one of them said.
But it was too late.
He tried moving on. Tried to focus on his hustle of selling second-hand clothes in Otukpo Market. Tried focusing on his siblings’ education. But the betrayal clung to his spirit like dust on a wet footpath. He felt used, discarded. The laughter of the boys who warned him haunted his dreams.
Then came the Facebook posts.
Chiamaka’s new life unfolded in photos. At a restaurant in Wuse. On a beach in Lagos. Driving in a new car, her arm around a man who looked like he never needed to hustle for a day in his life.
Then came the rumors. She was engaged. To a politician’s son.
