Three days passed.
Funmi told herself it wasn't a big deal. People met, people laughed, people tripped over shoelaces, and life went on. Right?
But there was something about the way he said her name—like it was a lyric he was still trying to memorize. Something about that crooked grin he wore like a badge of honour, like life had tried to humble him, and he'd chosen to smile anyway.
She had a class that morning, one of those long, sleep-inducing, three-hour lectures that made you question your entire academic journey. Her pen hovered over her notebook as the lecturer droned on about economic theories and models. But instead of notes, she found herself doodling… a small cartoon figure with curly hair and lopsided glasses.
It was unmistakably Emmanuel.
She sighed, shook her head, and flipped the page. She needed to focus. She was not the kind of girl who got flustered over one lunch and a falling meat pie.
Except she had dreamt of him the night before.
In the dream, they were sitting by the lagoon, eating roasted corn, and arguing about whether Fela or Burna Boy had better lyrics. He kept making bad jokes, and she kept pretending not to laugh. It was ridiculous. But it made her wake up smiling.
Across campus, Emmanuel was experiencing his own kind of chaos. He had tried, very hard, not to text her.
He stared at her number in his phone. He had saved it as Funmi – Goddess of Plantain after their canteen lunch, because why not?
He typed:
> Hey, did you survive the rice or do I need to write you a farewell poem?
Then deleted it.
He typed again:
> Three days without you. I'm not saying I'm dying, but the ants finished my new meat pie today. They miss you.
Deleted.
Eventually, he sighed, tossed the phone on his bed, and grabbed his journal. Writing always helped.
> There are girls who walk like a breeze, and then there's the one who walks like a memory you forgot you needed.
Still too much.
Meanwhile, Funmi finally packed up after class. She hadn't seen Emmanuel since their lunch. She hadn't expected anything serious, but now it felt like a scene left hanging—with no next page.
She walked to the library. Not because she needed to, but because that was where she had first seen him. Maybe, by cosmic coincidence—or divine pettiness—he'd be there again.
He wasn't.
But someone else was.
His friend, a tall guy with a loud voice and headphones the size of dinner plates, was sitting by the fountain nearby. She remembered him vaguely. She took a chance.
"Hey," she said, approaching. "You're friends with Emmanuel, right?"
He looked up, surprised. "Yeah. You looking for him?"
"No!" she said quickly. "Not like that. Just… well, yeah. Kind of."
He smirked like he knew more than he was letting on. "He talks about you, you know."
Funmi raised a brow. "Oh really?"
"Yeah. Calls you 'the girl who made gravity his enemy.' He hasn't stopped talking since."
She tried not to smile. Failed. "Do you know where he is?"
"Check the faculty garden. He likes writing there when he's avoiding human beings."
Funmi thanked him and left.
Five minutes later, she found him—sitting under a tree, scribbling furiously in a black notebook. He didn't see her at first. His head was bowed, brows furrowed like he was solving national problems.
She cleared her throat.
Emmanuel looked up, and the smile that spread across his face was so unfiltered, so real, it caught her off guard.
"Hey," she said. "Miss me?"
"I thought you were a dream," he said. "You're even more beautiful in daylight."
Funmi rolled her eyes. "You really never stop."
"Only when you're not around," he replied, standing up.
She handed him something—a folded note.
"What's this?"
"My turn," she said. "Open it when I leave."
And just like that, she walked away, not looking back.
Emmanuel opened the note. Inside, in her handwriting, were the words:
You fell, I smiled.
You spoke, I stayed.
Now I wonder…
What happens if I stay a little longer?
He sat down again, this time with his heart racing—and a grin that stayed long after the sun had set.