Episode 6 (Finale): The Weight I Still Carry
After that tensed up encounter with my landlady… … I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer.
Everything felt heavy.
Each step in the compound sounded like betrayal.
Each time I fetched water, I felt her watching.
Every night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, asking myself:
What really happened between us?
Was it my fault?
Was she broken… or was I the one who broke something sacred?
Leaving No. 17 Okechukwu Street
I didn’t wait for another confrontation.
I reached out to John, a fellow corps member I had met during CDS who was staying in a nearby flat with two other guys. His place was cramped, and he only had a mattress on the floor to offer, but I didn’t care. I just needed space to breathe.
Within two days, I quietly moved out.
I never told her I was leaving.
I never said goodbye.
No drama. No farewell.
I just… disappeared from her life — the same way I had entered it.
The Last Glimpse
One week later, I passed by the old street on my way to buy garri. She was outside, watering her plants — looking as calm as ever.
Our eyes met briefly.
She looked at me like she didn’t know me.
Or maybe… like she wished she didn’t.
I wanted to wave. Or nod. Or just… say sorry.
But I couldn’t.
I turned and walked away.
Till Today…
I stayed with John and his guys till the end of NYSC. Life moved on. I relocated to Lagos. Got a small job. Found a better apartment. Started to build myself up.
But that one chapter… never left me.
Sometimes at night, I still think of her — the quiet woman with tired eyes, who gave a stranger food and shelter and maybe asked for too much in return.
And even now, years later, I still don’t know:
Did I do the right thing… or did I abandon a woman who had already been abandoned by life?
Was I just a tenant?
Or did I become something more than I was ready for?
The Honest Truth
They don’t prepare you for this during NYSC orientation.
They teach you how to serve, how to report to your PPA, how to fill clearance forms.
But they don’t teach you what to do when grief wears a kind face.
When trauma feeds you with one hand and holds your heart with the other.
I’m not sure I’ll ever have the full answers.
But one thing I know:
That compound changed me.
She changed me.
And even though I left, a part of me… never really did.
THE END.
