Yes, my father was chasing an insect around the backyard. What for? I couldn't come up with any tangible reason.

"-and you'll most likely be here with them in February, yeah?"

Tshola's voice floated back into my consciousness and my eyes moved away from my insect-chasing father to his face on my screen.

"Yes, yes." I nodded like I had been listening all the while. "I'll be there."

He observed my face carefully, as if searching for something. Then he told me,

"You know you don't have to come, right? You don't have to visit here if you're not ready yet."

I squinted at him, a playful smile stretched my lips. "Is this a ploy to avoid facing me?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, mirroring my smile for just a second. "But I'm serious, Vicky. You do not have to do this if you're not ready."

"It's The Nationals." I reminded him. "I'm not going to back out."

"Look, this is about -"

"I want to do this, Tshola." I declared, watching him swallow the rest of his words. "Tell me, how long should I keep running? It's exhausting, I'm tired. I'll do this, and I'll be fine."

"Alright," was all he said, even though had more to say, I knew from his tight-lipped smile. "Then I'll see you in February."

"Tshola, don't be like this." I breathed. "I really want to do this. And I think I'm ready, I know that I am."

"I just don't want anything that'll interrupt your healing process." He confessed, paused to reason something. "But I trust your judgement."

"Plus, you'll be there." I quipped.

"Surely." He nodded with a gentle smile. "So, see you in February, Victoria."

"Till then." I threw him a salute just before he dropped the call.

And I was left alone with my thoughts now, doubtful ones were the loudest. I had sounded so sure to Tshola, claimed that I'll be fine. Meanwhile, I was there wondering what wave of emotion would swarm me once we touchdown Abuja.

My brewing anxiety was beginning to tighten my throat, so I started sucking in deep breaths through my mouth.

In. Out. In. Out.

Just when I had successfully calmed my breath, Micheal Jackson's Beat It blasted from inside Dad's bedroom and almost had my soul ascending to heaven.

What kind of person sets such a funky song as their ringtone?

Shaking my head, I walked into his room to see who was calling, and the caller's ID had my brow shooting up, eyes fixed on the screen, unable to blink.

Alex.

The same Alex that Dad had been talking to secretly, the one whose identify he was trying so hard to hide from me.

I was so torn between picking the call or just walking away.

The latter ceased to be an option as my curiosity had already gotten the best of me.

I picked the call.

As I pressed the phone against my ear, I decided that he was going to speak first, so I remained silent, hoping within me to hear a voice that I could put a face to.

Instead, breaths were all I could hear; not just breaths, they were heavy pants. Like the dude had called just after running a marathon or something.

I knew nothing about this man, but I had just discovered something: he was not dumb. Because, without saying a single word, he cut the call.

With a sigh, I placed the phone back on the bed. I felt defeated to say the least.


You know what it's like when you're riding a bike down hill, but it's moving way too fast and you have no idea what to do; and you know that if you should clutch the break, you would tumble down the hill together with the bike, and most likely end up with broken bones and wounds?

That's what my life felt like.

I had lost control of my own life. Heck, I was not even sure if I had control to begin with.

"Vicky! Baby, I caught a butterfly!" Dad burst through the door, proudly holding up the butterfly trapped in a white net.

I looked at my father that was grinning from ear to ear over an insect. With the light in his eyes, one would think that his life was as vibrant as his energy.

I wished I was able to do that, smile even though I was about to crumble under the weight of my reality.

I thought deeply, searched my mind, and then I realized that I just needed to do what Dad had already mastered: pretend.

"It's wings are perfect..." He was still awestruck by the damn insect.

I was going to begin right then and there, the art of pretending. I would awaken myself in another dimension where everything that sat in my chest did not exist.

Alex did not exist.

Gbenga Williams did not exist.

My mother was never even there.

That was how it was going to be, my new reality written by me, everything would take the shape that I give it.

So, I smiled, stepping into that new realm I had created within me.

"It's perfect, yes." I said to my Dad. Just like my life.











A/N

I

don't even have the energy for long talk right now, y'all.

The next chapter will be out whenever it's ready 🤝🏿.

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