“For listening. For… existing tonight.”
It was such a simple thing, yet it pierced him. He drove her home, the ride quiet but heavy with something unspoken. Every red light, every turn of the wheel, was stitched with an energy neither could name. When they arrived at her gate, Amara hesitated before stepping out. Her fingers trailed across his hand — not quite a touch, not quite a withdrawal.
“I’ll see you again,” she whispered, as though making a promise to herself more than to him.
And then she was gone.
Chike sat there, engine running, heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years. He told himself it was just a moment, just a girl. But he already knew he was lying. He felt it in his bones: this wasn’t the kind of meeting life gives you twice.
That night, as he lay awake staring at the ceiling, he realized something dangerous. He didn’t just want to see Amara again. He needed to.
And in that need, in that uncontrollable hunger to belong to her world, the seeds of his heartbreak were quietly sown.
Because love doesn’t always knock politely. Sometimes it breaks down the door, sets fire to the room, and leaves you burning in the ruins.
Chike didn’t know it yet, but Amara wasn’t just going to change his life. She was going to undo it.
KinQ.K.c_23 
Leave a comment