Chapter 4 – The Silence Between
Three days.
That was how long it took before the silence started to feel like a punishment.
After that night, Mide stopped calling again.
No texts. No updates. No "have you eaten?" messages that used to fill her days.
Ivie told herself she didn't care.
She was fine. She had work, deadlines, and Efe's endless chatter to distract her.
But she wasn't fine.
Every time her phone buzzed, her heart still jumped — only for it to be an email or a food delivery notification.
On Wednesday evening, she found herself scrolling through their old chats, rereading their ridiculous conversations.
The jokes. The voice notes. The pictures he used to send from traffic.
She realized that their friendship wasn't quiet — it was alive, filled with a rhythm that now felt gone.
---
That night, she met Efe at a small rooftop bar in Lekki. The air was warm, filled with the faint hum of Afrobeats and laughter from nearby tables.
Efe sipped her drink and watched Ivie closely. "You're moody. Talk."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"I just have a lot on my mind."
Efe raised a brow. "Is his name Mide?"
Ivie sighed. "We're just friends, Efe."
"Then why do you look like you lost your heart and your appetite in the same week?"
Ivie smiled faintly. "You're dramatic."
"I'm right," Efe said, leaning closer. "And you know it."
Ivie looked down at her glass. The ice had melted, and the drink tasted watered down — just like her excuses.
---
When she got home that night, there was a message waiting.
> Mide: "Can we talk?"
Her chest tightened. She typed slowly.
> Ivie: "When?"
Mide: "Tomorrow. Lunch?"
Ivie: "Okay."
She didn't sleep much that night.
---
The next day, they met at a small café in Victoria Island — the same one they'd been going to since university.
The same wooden table. The same corner seat. The same coffee he always ordered for her.
"Hey," Mide said softly when she walked in.
He looked tired, like the world had pressed too many expectations on his shoulders.
"Hey," she replied, taking her seat.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence between them wasn't comfortable this time. It was thick. Heavy.
Finally, Mide sighed. "Tomi found out I was with you that night."
Ivie's stomach dropped. "How?"
"She went through my messages. She saw I called you."
"And?"
"She asked if something's going on between us."
Ivie's heart thudded. "What did you say?"
He looked at her then — eyes unreadable.
"I told her no."
The words were simple, but they burned.
Ivie forced a small smile. "Good. Because there isn't."
"Ivie—"
"No," she cut him off gently. "You don't owe me an explanation. You're getting married. She's your person. You're allowed to protect that."
He rubbed his forehead. "You sound like you're angry."
"I'm not angry," she said softly. "I'm just… tired."
He reached across the table for her hand, but she pulled back.
Not because she didn't want him to, but because she knew — if she let him hold her now, she wouldn't be able to let go later.
---
They finished their coffee in silence.
When she stood to leave, Mide said quietly, "You're still my best friend, Ivie."
She smiled, but her voice was calm, almost too calm.
> "That's the problem, Mide. I don't know if I still know how to be just that."
She left before he could reply.
Outside, the wind was soft and warm.
But Ivie felt cold — the kind of cold that comes when you realize you're losing someone who was never really yours.