We didn't talk for a while after that day.
Three weeks. Maybe four. I stopped counting after a while because counting made it worse. Made it real.
I threw myself into Pharmacy. Lectures, practicals, assignments, readings. I stayed in the lab longer than I needed to. I sat in the library until it closed. I filled my days so full that there was no room left to think about her.
It worked. Mostly.
Then, slowly, the messages started again.
A reaction to my story. A reply to a status. A random "Hi" late at night. Nothing heavy. Nothing deep. Just... presence. Like we were both checking if the other was still there.
We didn't talk about what happened. We just talked. About her lectures. About my practicals. About how stressful 100 level was. About everything except us.
And for a while, that was enough.
---
Then came that afternoon.
I was in my room, going over some notes on drug receptors, when something I'd heard weeks ago crawled back into my head. A name. A rumour. Something someone had said that I'd tried to ignore.
I picked up my phone.
true
I sent it first. Just that word. Like we were continuing a conversation we'd never started.
Then:
But how long do you want to hide him for, Mustapha right?
I typed it before I could stop myself. Before I could think about what I was doing.
Then:
.....
I sent that too. Like I was already backing away from my own question.
Then:
Wow, so truly things can take turn like this.
I don't know why I sent that. Maybe because I wanted her to feel what I felt. Maybe because I wanted her to know that I knew.
Then:
I can't talk much.
A lie. I could talk. I had so much to say. But I didn't know how to say it without breaking.
---
Her reply came.
So congratulations
I stared at it. Congratulations. Like this was something to celebrate. Like I was happy about any of this.
She sent again. Trying to lighten it. Trying to make it casual.
I sat there, phone in my hand, my heart doing something strange in my chest.
I won't stop you from thinking whatever you wanna think about
I typed back. Calm. Controlled. The way you talk when you're trying not to sound like you're drowning.
Whoever told you this I know it's someone close
Because it had to be. Someone had said something. Someone had put that name in my head.
---
I waited for her to deny it. To explain. To tell me I was wrong.
Instead, her next message came like a blade.
U mean I was with another guy
I read it twice. Three times. The way she phrased it — like she was shocked. Like I was accusing her of something insane.
But she hadn't denied it. She'd just repeated it back to me.
And that's y I broke up with you
The words sat there on my screen, glowing faintly in the afternoon light.
I stared at them for a long time.
So that was it. Not the distance. Not the different universities. Not the faith thing we never talked about. Not the families who didn't know we existed.
Another guy.
Mustapha.
---
I wanted to reply. Wanted to scream. Wanted to ask her how long. Wanted to know if he held her hand the way I used to. Wanted to know if she told him about me, or if I was just another secret she carried.
But I didn't.
I just sat there, in my room, Pharmacy notes forgotten on my lap, staring at my phone like it had just told me someone died.
Because someone had. Us.
---
The three dots appeared again. Disappeared. Appeared.
Then nothing.
For an hour. Then two. Then the rest of the day.
And I let the silence have the last word