No one believes in Cupid anymore. Not in the real way. People joke about him around Valentine's Day, laugh about love at first sight, and scroll past cheesy romantic quotes. But if you ask me, that's exactly what he wants — to be forgotten, hidden in the corners of old myths and children's books.
But I know Cupid is real.
Because I met him.
And I broke his heart.
It started one cloudy afternoon in Uyo, when I was walking home after class. The sky looked like it was about to spill secrets, and so did I. My mind was heavy with thoughts of someone I shouldn't have fallen for — someone who had already chosen someone else.
I stopped at a quiet spot by the roadside, under a fading bougainvillea tree. That's when I saw him.
A boy with golden eyes, sitting on the edge of a broken concrete slab, barefoot, holding something that shimmered in his hands — a bow. Not just any bow. It glowed with a soft light, like the edge of a dream.
He looked up at me, surprised, as if he hadn't expected to be seen.
"Can you… see me?" he asked softly.
I blinked. "You're not exactly invisible."
He smiled sadly. "Most people don't. Not anymore."
"Who are you?"
He paused, then stood up, brushing dust off his white jeans.
"I'm Cupid," he said, "and I think I just made a mistake."