CHAPTER 15- An opening
"Some friendships begin with a message you didn't plan to send, but somehow needed."
Lillian wasn't expecting anything meaningful that evening.
Her mind was still crowded with the confusion of life, the Emmanuel butterflies, the quiet anxiety resting in her chest, and that endless prayer she kept whispering to herself.
God, I'm tired.
She lay on her bed, scrolling lazily through her phone, when Snapchat suddenly pinged.
"Adaeze.xx added you."
She frowned slightly.
She had almost forgotten she even had Snapchat, except on the rare days when a filter tempted her into taking pictures that never left her gallery.
Curious, she opened the profile.
Pretty face.
Soft cheeks.
Eyebrows far too neat for a university hostel girl—meaning somebody either had money or serious talent.
Her display picture carried that effortless Gen Z confidence: lips slightly pouted, eyes daring the world to challenge her.
Before Lillian could decide whether to accept the request, a message popped up.
Adaeze:
Good evening, ma 😭😭. Tinuke said you're her friend and she posted you on her Snapchat one time. I hope it's okay I added you.
Lillian laughed out loud.
Lillian:
First of all, remove "ma." I'm not your lecturer abeg.
Adaeze:
😭😭 Sorry! I respect you. You look mature and deep... like someone that has sense.
Lillian:
Wow. So because I have sense, I'm old? See this small girl oh.
Adaeze replied with another string of crying emojis.
Adaeze:
You're a graduate na 💔.
Lillian:
I'm a graduate, but don't age me prematurely.
Adaeze laughed.
And somehow, that tiny exchange broke the invisible wall between them.
The conversation flowed effortlessly after that.
They talked about hairstyles, roommates, annoying lecturers, hostel drama, relationship wahala, and the kind of random gist that somehow kept people awake till midnight.
Adaeze spoke with the excitement of someone who practically lived inside group chats.
Lillian replied with the quiet humour of someone who had seen too much life too early.
Then, almost without warning, the conversation changed.
Adaeze:
Tinuke said you write... like serious writing?
Lillian paused.
Her stomach tightened ever so slightly.
There was always something unsettling about hearing someone mention a part of herself she rarely spoke about.
Lillian:
Yes... small. Nothing big.
Adaeze:
I saw your write-up on "When Women Love Too Early and Endure Too Much."
Mama, you finish work for that one.
Lillian blinked.
That piece had been one of the rawest things she had ever written—the one where she poured out everything she believed about women carrying impossible burdens and calling it love.
Lillian:
I didn't know you saw it.
Adaeze:
I did.
And it made so much sense. Sometimes I think we women are just trained to suffer in silence.
Something shifted between them.
They weren't just chatting anymore.
They were connecting.
Lillian typed slowly.
Lillian:
I write what I see.
What girls go through.
What mothers hide.
What society pretends not to notice.
Adaeze didn't reply immediately.
After a long pause, another message appeared.
Adaeze:
Do you ever get tired? Like... tired of waiting for your life to start?
Lillian stared at the screen.
The question landed somewhere deep inside her.
She released a slow breath before replying.
Lillian:
Every day.
But I still wake up and try.
It's the one thing I can control... trying.
A few seconds later, a short voice note came in.
Adaeze's voice was soft, almost trembling.
"I wish I had your strength."
Lillian smiled sadly.
If only the girl knew.
She pressed the keyboard one last time.
Lillian:
You're stronger than you think.
Trust me.
The conversation slowly drifted into silence.
Neither of them knew it then, but an ordinary Snapchat message had quietly become the beginning of a friendship that neither of them would ever forget.