A million emotional instabilities and uni shege, I was about to wrap up a chapter after being stuck for nearly two months.😂😭 I can't quite put the whole thing into words so let's not talk about it. I am here now. That's all that should matter. I wish I could say it gets better because I don't know when next an update is coming. I have a test on Monday as we speak—my weakest course is staring as the opening course, btw—but it's okay. We are not going to fold!😌
With that out of the way, my dears, let's get this ship moving! Dive in!
The song for this chapter- Hold on by Nightcore.
_______________𖧷_____________
𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠,
ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛
𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡𝑠
𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.
𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒
𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚.
_________________𖧷______________
~𝚂𝙷𝙰𝙺𝙸𝚁𝙰 𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙺~
It's true that you don't know the value of what you have until you lose it.
I'd have probably thought that saying sounded a little too far-fetched a few hours ago but the torturous cold sensation of the tiled floor against my bum that was covered in the sheer material of cotton shorts made me miss my bed a little too much.
I had taken the soft mattress for granted these past few days which I had been stuck onto like glue, shutting out the outside world and I had forgotten what it felt like to feel its absence. The cold blast of air oozing from the air conditioning system that enveloped the corridor—which was coated in an irritating white colour that had done nothing but trigger a sense of angst within me—magnified the iciness that trickled through my veins.
But, I didn't move a muscle from where I sat. I was practically threading down the path of freezing to death. I disregarded the empty seats in the reception and clung to the discomfort I had subjected myself to on the bare floor. It was oddly comforting because it aided me in offloading the guilt that ate at me, even though it was barely effective.
I was punishing myself.
It'd make perfect sense the reason I was willingly drowning myself in the smell of drugs, and antiseptic that shrouded every inch of this reception, fully aware that all it did was intensify the unwavering aversion I had to hospitals. They had been a constant during my dark phase and it was hard not to go down that lane when I was in a vicinity of something that reminded me of what I'd rather erase.
As I tugged harshly at the now-slackened sleeves of my crop top, the line between my reality and those grim memories completely blurred. Their merging made it hard to decipher what was real and what wasn't because it suddenly felt like I was reliving every bit of those moments.
The shuffling of feet grew louder, the hush whispers that I had occasionally caught on earlier now became the most prominent sounds I could hear, alongside the clattering of metal objects, which upset my eardrums. They all converged into loud, distorted and cacophonous noises that echoed around me in waves, singling everything into a dizzying spiral.
Before I knew it, I was back on that cold floor where I had dropped onto with a thud, waiting for the darkness to envelop me after I jammed the syringe into my skin. In that minute moment between the welcoming darkness and my surroundings, I could hear Khalil screaming at the other end of the door, his voice thick with heavy sobs as he rammed his shoulders into the door violently, hell bent on ripping it from its hinges.
Then came the unceasing beeping sound of the machine. And my least favourite part, slipping in and out of consciousness while fighting to remain asleep. That urge to slip into oblivion and get away from everything was vividly overwhelming and I could feel it all over again.
"Where's my daughter? Ọmọ mí dà?!"
"Mrs. Malik you have to calm down."
"Get your hands off me and do not tell me to calm the fuck down!"
"Lekan, where's Nini? Kilose Niniola?!"
Her frantic screams and hysteric voice laced with raw fear and vulnerability that I almost couldn't associate with her, coming from the other end of the sickly white room I was stuck in and the taunting sound of the machine, was like an uncomfortable itch beneath my skin, serving as an anchor I didn't even ask for, grasping onto me and preventing me from letting it all go.
"I WANT TO SEE HER."
"Mom, Mom—"
"Fimisile!"
“—dear?” a warm, gentle touch on my shoulder nearly made me jump out of my skin, a faint shriek leaving my lips. I was almost shrinking into the wall, wrapping my arms around myself. My head snapped upwards and the tall figure beside seemed like it flat-out crawled out of a fog because of how obscure it was but then, it dawned on me that I was the one crying.
The salty liquid that dropped onto attested to that fact. I brought my freezing palms to my face, wiping my tears off.
“Why are you on the floor, honey?” she whispered, crouching to my level. A deep frown pulled onto my face as her tender brown eyes bore into mine. Her perfectly arched brows were drawn together in concern, and I didn't miss the hint of caution that swirled in her eyes as she reached out to touch me.
I shrunk backwards even more.
“I am fine.”
Cold, hard, and dismissive. That was how I sounded. However, my reaction didn't seem to faze her. Her lips only stretched in an encouraging smile that irritated me so much.
Maybe you are just triggered because she reminds you of her. The pesky little voice found a way to crawl out of the hole I had been shoving it into since I sat here.
A muscle ticked off in my jaw in annoyance but I withheld from firing back a response.
You know, dark-skinned, a doctor, warm brown eyes—
“For the love of God, keep shut!” I fired with so much disgust, my eyes catching the swift confusion that glided through her expression.
“Are you okay? Get up, at least. It's cold on the floor.” She stretched her hand forth to help me up but I eyed it in disdain.
“I don't need your help.” I rolled my eyes and rose to my feet. That seemed to be an unwise decision because I was hit with a sudden dizziness that almost sent me backwards but she held onto my arm.
“Easy,” she said gently. “Come, come.” It was useless trying to shrug her hands off me because she seemed insistent on helping me and I was too exhausted to fight her.
I took my seat on iron settee, pushing my weave backwards.
“How is my mom?” I asked her.
She exhaled, slipping into the space beside me. Panic seized me immediately, her heartbeat spiking as I shifted backwards in horror.
“Did anything happen?”
“Your mom is fine. She's stable now, at least.” She assured me, a warm smile playing on her lips. I released a breath of relief, my eyes snapping shut for a moment.
“So, what happened to her?” I queried, confused.
“She has been overworking herself a little too much and the excessive stress has builded up over time. Her blood pressure is really high too, so I think something shocking might have triggered it for her to slump.” She relayed, her voice carrying so much solemnity and concern.
I wasn't prepared for the truckload of guilt that slammed me in the guts. It brought a load of stinging liquid to my eyes rapidly, my lips trembling. I peeled my eyes off her, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Hey,” she placed her arm on my forearm and this time around, I didn't shrug it off nor feel repulsed by her touch. I welcomed it. Her eyes met mine, brimming with assurance and other tender emotions I couldn't decipher as an optimistic smile played on her lips. “She's going to be fine. We just have to monitor her a little bit and we'll discharge her. She needs a lot of rest, so I’ll be administering some drugs and health tips to her. It's something we can control. The damage can be undone,” she told me.
I exhaled, my lips twitching in a small smile as a lone tear trickled down my face. She brought the pad of her thumb to my face, wiping off the stray tear gently.
“Do you want to see her?” she asked quietly.
My heart skipped. Not in the good way that came with butterflies. My stomach did churn but with nerves as my spine stiffened, a shiver slashing through me.
She must have picked up on the mortifying expression that mounted on my face because she chuckled slightly.
“I don't know what's going on between you two. She might be asleep but I am so sure she'd want to see you, honey. So just. . .get yourself together for as long as you need to. She's in the last private ward by your left.” She urged me on with a smile. Dipping her hand into the pocket of her scrubs, she whisked out a keycard, opened my palm and gently dropped it on it. Her palm covered mine, squeezing it gently.
“Go see her,” she whispered.
My eyes strayed from our interlocked hands to her warm gaze. I was stunned for a moment at how someone could radiate so much positivity and optimism without her class and elegance diminishing in any way.
It wasn't until then that I realised how beautiful she was.
Her ebony skin pulled off a flawlessness that was a tad-bit intimidating. She had her black braids pulled in a cute bun atop her head and the only semblance of makeup on her face was her minimally glossed lips. With her stethoscope hanging around her neck, a name tag was perched on the breast pocket of her blue scrubs depicting her identity.
Doctor Tishe Adejala.
“Thank you, Dr. Tishe.” I mumbled, squeezing our entwined hands in appreciation but not without encountering a rocky bump on her finger. On cue, my eyes flitted to her diamond engagement ring and wedding band strapped around her ring finger.
“I'll see you around. . .” The slight pause in her voice made me catch on to the fact that she was asking for my name.
“Shakira,”
“I'll see you around, Shakira.” With a contagious smile plastered on her face, her hand slipped out of mine, carting away with the momentary warmth I had been feeling.
She cast me a soft, lingering gaze, rose her feet and retreated.
A rush of coldness swept through me, leaving me so bare as I watched her tall frame fade out of sight. It was as if her being around me made it easier for me to undermine what it felt like to actually see her again after everything that went down because the minute she left, I was thrown into a state of panic, my hands that held the keycard trembling violently.
I sat stiff on the chair, my thoughts shifting between hiding out here for as long as I could or going in there to check in on her.
I had been traumatised enough by the sight of her laying so still on the floor and I wasn't about to relive that kind of pain all over again. But then, I couldn't shake off the need to at least see her and weasel my way out of the shackles of the guilt that was crushing me.
I drew in a breath, and damned the odds in my head, rising to my feet. I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts and began making my way to her ward.
My heart wouldn't stop pounding erratically against my ribcage as the ward came into sight. My vision thinned out the nurses moving to and fro, my breath growing heavy with each step I took, closing the gap between me and that door. The little confidence I had managed to muster up was completely crushed to dust, overwhelming me with a crippling sense of emptiness.
By the time I got to the door, I was a panting, terrified mess, my slippery palms threatening to give away the card in my hands.
“She's not awake. She's not awake. She's not awake.” I chanted to myself in a bid to convince myself that I had everything under control.
Swiping the card against the door, I let myself into the ward.
•••••
The wave of dizziness that whipped me across the face like a whiplash almost threw me off balance when I stepped into the room. A sound has never made so disoriented the way the beeping of the machine made me feel. It was disturbing, triggering, and almost made me want to give in to the thought of bolting out of the room but I surprisingly stood my ground.
It was just like I remembered.
Nauseatingly white walls, that strong antiseptic smell and the gloomy air that wrapped the room in its cold, abysmal embrace.
Every piece of me froze when my eyes landed on her frail figure tucked in that sheer, ugly polka dot gown. While I stood rooted to the ground, slapping my palm over my mouth to suppress the thick sob that threatened to roll out of me, I felt myself shatter all over again.
I breezed over to the seat beside her, feeling my heart rip itself out of me as I assessed what I had put her through. I couldn't help the loud sob that was punched out of me, punctuated by helpless whimpers.
Stupid girl. It's all your fault. The sinister voice chipped in its unsolicited opinion.
“I know. I know. I am sorry and I take full responsibility for it.” I mumbled shakily, reluctantly reaching for her hand but I halted midway. Even though she wasn't awake right now, I couldn't shake off this unwavering feeling of disgust that she would nurse towards my touch.
“I was just so angry. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. I didn't mean for things to get this bad. I am so sorry.” I whimpered.
It was gutting me out as my eyes glazed over her still body, taking in how her express was void of the poise her aura had always embodied. Her pale skin, tacky cornrows, and chapped lips were a far cry from her intimidating scowls, dead expressions, blank eyes, and flawless makeover. It was as strange as it was scary. It hadn't even occurred to me how used I was to seeing her in all her royal element until now. It felt like I didn't even know the woman I was currently looking at.
Not like the personality she adopted was all-too familiar but this…this was outrightly scary.
I didn't want to see her like this.
It was giving a vulnerability I couldn't wrap my head around.
It was fleeting but my thoughts couldn't help but stray to that moment she dropped to the ground. I felt my word stop. I had never been that petrified to lose something…to lose someone. And for that tiny moment that I allowed myself ponder on the thought that I was alone, I wanted to die because it appeared as though there was no reason to even live anymore.
That crippling sense of loss, that moment was all it took for me to come to terms with the fact that I never wanted to feel that way.
Ever.
Not anymore.
To hell with that reluctance from earlier because I gently grabbed her hand, squeezing it softly and it was hard not to embrace the rush of warmth that coursed through me. The way my eyes desperately searched her frame to see if she was still breathing was clashing with the supposed hatred that was supposed to consume me at this slightest body contact.
A hint of longing, a trail of comfort mixed with heavy nostalgia, were the notable feelings that seemed familiar to me amidst the myriad of emotions swirling within me. But they were momentary because the rage that seized me out of nowhere brought heavy, stinging tears to my eyes which I desperately refrained from shedding.
“I get it,” I sniffed. “You hate our faces so much. It's understandable. I mean, I hate yours too but can you do us a fucking favour and not get yourself killed?” I whispered, infuriated.
“When are you going to understand that you are all Khalil and I have left? Can't you just resist that urge to always overwork yourself? Ove Oil and Axis Resorts are not running anywhere for christsake, so what exactly are you so terrified of coming back home to? It's not going to take anything away from you to fucking breathe for a second, Mom.” My voice went low, coming out in strains as a lump settled in my throat.
“YOU DO NOT GET TO LEAVE. YOU DO NOT GET TO WALK AWAY. NOT WHEN YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO MAKE UP FOR.” I choked out.
“So, you are stuck with us. Do you understand that?” my voice broke and I burst into tears, pressing my face onto the back of her palm. My shoulders quaked heavily with sobs, and my occasional sniffs synced with the beeping sound of the machine reverberating through the room.
I sucked in a breath, inhaling the faint trail of her perfume. I wiped my tears, sniffing.
“You are going to get well soon and come back to us. We can hate each other without anyone dying. We have excelled at it all these years. There's no reason to stop now. Hm?” I ran my thumb across her wedding band, gently reaching for the side of her face and caressing it with my palm.
The knock that sounded at the door interrupted the moment I was having with her and I frowned, swinging my head in the direction of the door.
“Who is there?” I asked hoarsely.
“It's me,” the familiar voice had me sitting upright, wiping my tears as quickly as I could.
“You can come in, Mama Heather.” I ushered her in and the door creaked open. Her long floral dress was sweeping the floor behind her as she strutted over to me, wearing an exhausted smile on her face.
She pressed a kiss to my forehead when she got to me.
“How are you holding up?” she whispered, running her palm across my shoulder.
“I am just there, abeg.” I answered dryly, sniffing. Her eyes drifted to my mom's frame and I watched her a flash of sadness dart through them for a moment, her shoulders slumping tiredly.
“I brought you some things,” she announced, dropping a black backpack on my lap. She was still carrying a larger one that looked like a lunch box. “You should go change out of this outfit. It's too tiny and it's cold in here. I am not about to try and convince you to go home and get some sleep. So, just wear them for the night. We can go home tomorrow morning.” She told me.
“I am okay. I am not cold.” I dismissed her, not removing my eyes from her figure. Call me paranoid but it feels like if I dared to look away from her for a second, something might go wrong.
“Don't be stubborn, Shakira. Get up.” She ordered me, her stern voice giving no room for arguments.
I frowned, begrudgingly rising to my feet and clutching the backpack to my chest. I still didn't move away from the bedside after she took her seat on the chair I previously occupied.
She turned to me, slightly amused.
“I am not going to leave her side. Go get dressed and come have dinner. I am not going to take no for an answer.” She made herself clear, but still managed to maintain her soft tone.
I rolled my eyes and spun around, heading out of the room.
“Oh, she's just as stubborn as you are, Ameera.” That was the last thing I heard before slipping out of the ward.
•••••
A grumpy hiss tore from my lips as I pushed forward the door that led to the bathroom, slamming it shut with a bang and approaching the countertop with the deep frown on my face not waning for a second. I still couldn't shake off that apprehensive feeling, my mind occasionally wandering back to the woman in the ward.
It felt like I had committed a grave sin for leaving her behind. It shouldn't feel that way because Mama Heather was there but I still felt like that. I tossed the backpack on the counter, sinking my fingers into the weave on my head that was surprisingly not itchy because of my fluctuating emotions in the past few hours.
I took calming breaths to control my racing thoughts. My gaze didn't linger on my awful reflection in the mirror as I tamed the tresses of my artificial curls into a rough bun, slipping out of my clothes.
The first thing I lay my hands on was a pair of long, comfortable cotton trousers, which I threw on but my breath caught when my hands caught a soft, wooly fabric.
A feeling of dread and coldness slithered up my spine, gripping me right in the guts as I desperately clung to hope for it not to be what I thought it was. But every ounce of hope I had in me dissolved into nothingness when I fully pried the bag open, staring at a piece of the boy I had been avoiding for days now. . . and my phone.
It was as though an invisible force that had been creeping up behind me without notice shoved me so hard because the shaky gasp that flew out of my mouth jerked me backwards. Touching the backpack was now like a surge of heat ran up my skin, causing me to part with it aggressively.
I was flooded with so many things all at once, but one emotion stood out the most.
Fear.
It merged with the bitter taste that exploded at the back of my throat, tainting every inch of my being with a speed as fast as the light until I was so close to practically convulsing. A sheer irony was what was unfolding in front of me because a piece of clothing that used to bring me so much comfort now petrified me to the ends of the earth.
A material that was tied to one of my vulnerable moments with him, which had grown to become a part of him that I had clung onto and didn't want to be separated from now became a reminder of him that I'd rather not remember.
Aren't you forgetting the teddybear you stashed at the bottom of the closet. One of the numerous voices in my head snickered at me.
A fat, ugly tear rolled down my cheek, followed by a ton of liquid that blurred my vision like a dam broke.
Poor thing must be suffocating right now.
“Get out of my head!” I screamed like a banshee.
The only thought that lingered in my mind—the only thought I willed control to—was a question. What was Mama Heather playing at? Was she conniving with him to torment me now? A huge part of me clearly believed that I was only being delusional at this point because I knew that boy respected me a little too much to dabble into something like that even if it was almost pushing him to the brink of insanity that I was shutting him out.
It was a partial conviction that answered the question of him choosing not to come see him after everything. And weirdly, I believed that it was his own way that despite the rocky patch we were going through, he trusted me enough to let him in on my accord.
Admitting that to myself came with a twinge of relief that had my shoulders slumping in defeat.
It depicted my exhaustion and for a long time, in days, I broke out of my cowardly shell by choosing to reach for the sweater. I slowly tugged it out of its confines. The minute it fully came into view, every feeling of doubts, angsts and fear that had consumed me dissipated into a need to have a part of him close to me.
And in no time, I was forgetting about the fact that I was supposed to be staying away from him, shrugging it on. His essence shrouded me immediately, making me feel so safe and I found my eyes fluttering shut in relief and pleasure as I revelled in the feeling of having a piece of him around me again.
Although his smell had only been potent on it for the first few days I had it with me, and frequent washing had made it wane, the shamelessly obsessed part of me could only pick up on his smell on the sweater as I brought the hem to my nose, sniffing it. His scent had found a way to imprint himself in my memory that despite the layers of detergent mixed with my scent that shrouded it, it was the only scent I could pick up.
It was like a permanent imprint of some sort.
I shifted backwards a little bit, buttoning it up and examining how large it was on my slim frame. A light, croaky laugh escaped me as I imagined the large grin that would be etched on his face if he saw it on me.
I was cocooned with a sense of safety that made the corners of my lips twitch.
It should be weird but I could feel him. Memories of him, of us were ever present in my mind and around me as though a phoenix was finally rising from its ashes. My gaze shot up from my outfit to my reflection in the mirror and that knot in my chest was easier to live with. For one, I wasn't in a hurry to look away. I could stand my reflection.
As my gaze lingered on my dehydrated self in the mirror, I wasn't prepared for the vivid flash that hit me. A fleeting memory of us in front of the mirror with him clinging onto me and helping me through one of my major breakdowns after the chaotic confrontation with Jasmine.
My throat tightened, fresh tears welling up in my eyes and I furiously looked away, snatching my phone out of the backpack. The creaking sound of the door sounded at the exact time, causing me to swing my head in the direction of the door at the intrusion.
The rage swirling within me thickened, a deep frown mounting on my face.
“Did you do it on purpose?” I seethed, glaring at her tall frame by the doorpost.
Her shoulders sagged as she heaved a sigh, wrapping her arms around herself. She was awfully calm for someone who just took it upon herself to mess with me and it only irritated me further.
“Did you do it on purpose?” I repeated firmly this time around.
She pushed her frame off the doorpost, advancing towards me.
“Shakira—”
“Answer me!” I fired, my voice quivering.
She had absolutely no right to make me confront what I was running from. It was my feelings. They belonged to me not her. She had no right interfering.
“Yes,” she answered unflinchingly, overly calm. The softness in her eyes were meant to put me at ease but it increased my angst, eliciting a quiver from me. I struggled to keep my tears and frustration at bay but they had more control over me than I did them.
“It wasn't your decision to make.” I whispered.
A flash of frustration ran swiftly through her eyes, accompanied by a slight hiss.
“I don't know what's going on between you two that's making you shut him out. A very ruthless decision to make, by the way because even a blind rat can tell how much the poor boy is into you.” She chided me, going on, and dismissing the evident gritting of my teeth and clenching of my fists.
“—it’s none of your business—” I interrupted.
“IT IS MY BUSINESS!” she yelled at me and I froze.
Mama Heather might have chided me but she had never raised her voice at me this hard in a very long time. It took me off-guard like a whiplash, causing me to veer backwards a little bit but she wasn't even done, judging by the scowl that had taken residence on her face and the determination to talk sense into my head blazing in her fiery brown eyes.
“It is my business to set you straight and knock some sense into you when you are acting like a child! I am so sure that there's only little shred of self-control holding back the boy from coming to see you since all these days. How long are you going to run away from him for? You are no longer a child and when two mature people have a misunderstanding, they talk it out and not avoid each other!” She snapped.
“I am not avoiding him!” I quivered.
“Yeah, tell that to your phone that has been switched off for days. Did you even know where I found that phone and the sweater you are wearing?” she queried, her voice dropping.
I swallowed thickly, looking away from her.
“You can't always run from your problems, Shakira. They will always catch up to you. When you understand that, you know the right to do.” She sounded exhausted and a tad-bit distant, her words cutting through me.
She didn't say one more word to me before she retreated from the doorstep and shut the door behind her. A shaky exhale immediately rolled out of me, my eyes snapping shut as tears cascaded down my cheeks non-stop.
I hated that she was right.
I hated how every fibre of my being, like a moth to a flame, burned to speak to him and hear him speak. I hated how badly I ached to breathe him in again for one more second. I hated how I longed for his touch. I hated how I could feel every piece of me shattering in his absence and the gap I had willingly driven between us.
Most of all, I hated how much control he had grown to have over me.
How could I allow myself to get this attached to someone I had known for roughly three months?
The air around me was thinning out, leaving me little to no oxygen left to cling to and I was left with no choice than to exit the suffocating environment of the bathroom. I practically hightailed it out of the hospital's interior, heading for the premises.
The air outside wasn't as stuffy as it was in the interior and I didn't miss the breath of relief that emitted from me to have been away from a space that was actively choking the life out of me. My gaze travelled around the vast surrounding that was covered in bright lights surging from different directions, almost overpowering the silvery glow of the moon that hung low in the sky.
But it was all just a momentary distraction because the minute I became brusquely aware of the fact that I held my phone in my hands, my breath caught for a moment. It was outrightly so scary to come to the conclusion that the power to fix what was withering between us was in my hands and right now and all I had to do was take it.
On one hand, I wanted to shove the phone into my pockets, turn around and forget that I had my phone with me in the first place, but on the other hand, I wanted so badly, to turn it on, dial his number, even if it was just to listen to him say one word before I hung up on him.
And I found my will leaning towards the latter because my freezing, shaky hands powered the device, my heart quickening in pace as I waited for it to come on.
Even though he didn't have much pictures on his page, I might have stalked Stefan on IG a few times and practically saved all his pictures, in the later days of our friendship before the complications set in and I made it my wallpaper. I had convinced myself that I wanted to see what it would look like to have him sitting pretty on the screen of my phone and after I used it, I immediately became attached to keeping it there.
Now, that decision had come to haunt me back to back because the picture of him in an all-white two-piece, wearing a laughter so genuine like an armour, which was caught in an unaware frame—my guess was his curly-haired friend—didn’t just make my heartache, it widened the void in my chest.
My eyes burned so bad like I had stayed in a room where a food processor chopping habanero pepper in pieces had been working nonstop because the tears that hung in them was threatening to spill as much as they stung. I sucked in a harsh breath, unburdening my phone of the flight mode I had trapped it in for days.
The way my phone flooded with so much texts and notifications was enough to make my mouth run dey and my hands clammy. The erratic pounding of my heart hiked in pace, hurting me with every breath I took but I tuned out the texts and headed straight for my call log.
I wasn't prepared for the truckload of guilt that struck me when I saw how many calls of his I had missed. I felt so horrible, a low sob punching itself out of my guts. It was as though the reality of my actions were beginning to dawn on me and the way they crushed me made me want to dig a hole, crawl into it and hide from the pain. The thought of the kind of hell I must have put him through made me feel like I couldn't breathe.
I nearly rethought my decision as my shaky hands hovered on the screen but for once, I didn't think. I just did it.
I dialled Stefan's number for the first time in days.
And for a fleeting moment, my breath caught and I could have sworn I stopped breathing because I was struck with a harsh reality that he might not actually want to talk to me but the worst part was that I had no idea what to say to him.
However, it was too late because he picked up.
“Reina?”
I couldn't quite pinpoint what I was feeling because I was consumed with a rush of intense emotions that was enough to throw me against the wall I hadn't even realize was behind me, causing me to slid down weakly until my butt was connecting with the cold ground.
But what I did know was that I was gripped with a strange yet familiar sense of addiction that even days of being separated away from him couldn't suddenly wash away. Although hoarse, the husky allure of his voice was ever-present, soothing my aching soul like a magical balm.
I was tongue-tied, not only because I was short of what to say but also because of the lulling effect that one word had on me. It was like walking into a place and automatically knowing that I was home.
That was how familiar it was for me to lean on.
“If you'll please just say something to me. Please, Reina. Please. Even if it's a word. I need to know that you are okay. Don't shut me out, baby. Please. . .” The protective armour surrounding me came cracking immediately. They crashed with a booming crack that resounded in my ears.
I didn't have it in me to hold on to any defense mechanism at this point.
Not when he sounded so worried out of his mind, not when he was practically pleading and desperate to know if I was okay despite everything I had put him through.
“Actually, fuck that,” he said gruffly. “You don't have to say a word. I am not pressuring you to say anything but please don't hang up on me. I'd rather just listen to you breathe and trust that you will speak to me on your accord. Your pace, Reina. Remember?” he whispered, sounding as though he was suppressing a sob.
“I am here. I am always here.” Words of reassurance dripping with softness that made my eyes water so badly that I had to slap a palm over my mouth to hold back a loud sob.
“Stefan,” I croaked.
I heard him release a shaky breath that was punctuated by something that could be likened to a relieving laughter.
“Hey, Reina.”
“I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I-uh-I-” He cut me off before I ventured further with my apology.
“You don't have to apologize for anything. Have you been crying? What's going on? Is everything alright?” he bombarded me with questions, not stopping to catch his breath.
It made me laugh.
“I am fine. Everything's fine.” I lied through my teeth.
“Where are you?” his question took me off-guard, his words thick with a hint of suspicion that made my heart skip. “Do you want me to come meet you?” he asked immediately.
“No!” I said with a sharpness that was just as instinctive as how I stood up from where I had been crouching. It took me a while to realise that would only heighten his suspicion. “I mean. . .no. I am fine. I promise. I just need to tie up some loose ends and everything will be okay. I need you to trust me. Can you do that for me?” I asked hopefully.
He exhaled, taking a while to respond.
“You did shut me out after our first intimacy. How do I know that this is not another attempt to run away from me again? Wherever you are, just text me, I'll come meet you and we can talk.” He tried to persuade me, the twinge of hurt in his voice not going unnoticed.
“How about you come to my place on Saturday? All these would have blown over by then and we'd get a chance to talk.” I suggested, shocked by the words that emitted from me.
“Saturday?” I could hear how his voice lit up.
“Yeah,” I whispered, smiling.
“I'll be there.” He agreed in a heartbeat and I exhaled in relief, knowing that I hadn't lost him.
“Goodnight, Stefan.”
“Goodnight, Reina.”
I hung up, shoving my phone in the pocket of my trousers. The corners of my lips twitched in a smile.
Somehow, it just felt easier to breathe and the knot in my chest had soften, the pit in my stomach replaced with a minuscule flicker I recognized to be hope.
Hope for me.
Hope for us.
A/N
Omo mhen, omo. Na the only thing I fit talk right now be that. I am still going to refer back to the fact that you guys should pray for your favs.💀 At this point sef, una fit dey do countdown to the chaos because it's now like a bomb waiting to go off. So, if you are not a big fan of Shakira rn, you might tend to dislike her even more. Not going to say more than that.
But Stefan thoughhhhhhhh, poor boy! Na love you love you no kill person.😭 It is well, abeg. Y'all should tell me what you think about this chapter in the comments section. And on a lighter note, we are getting a pov from one of our most missed characters in the next chapter. You can take a guess!😌
Till whenever, guys.
Love, Didi.♥️
Adios.✨