"Ella," he began, voice low and unsure, "I like you… and I was wondering if—maybe—we could be more than just friends?"
He stood there, eyes searching mine, the weight of his words lingering between us like a fragile thread.
I blinked. Not because I was surprised, but because I'd rehearsed this moment too many times in my head. I smiled, gentle, maybe a little too calm.
"I'll think about it," I said.
Tari's face lit up, just a little, and I knew then that he took my words as a possibility—a hope. But deep down, I already knew the answer. It wasn't him. It was never him.
Don't get me wrong. Tari was sweet—kind in a way most boys weren't. He listened when I spoke. He sent airtime when I casually mentioned my line was dry. He transferred money without asking why I needed it. His loyalty was soft, consistent, but it didn't ignite anything in me.
The truth? I couldn't stop thinking about Michael.
Michael, with his churchy attitude, his pressed shirts and awkward shyness. The way he sat beside me last Sunday in the main service, even though he never did. The way he smelled. The way he looked at me like I confused him, like I wasn't supposed to exist in his structured little world. I wanted him to stop being so holy and start being real. I wanted him to want me the way I imagined. But he was still behind his walls. So for now, I kept Tari in the waiting room of my life, a placeholder for something deeper.
The week rolled Into exams, and the first paper—Mathematics—felt like second nature. I answered each question with ease, smiled as I dropped my pen and walked out like I owned the place. Finally, something was going right.
That afternoon, I sat cross-legged on the floor, Dayo's tiny head resting on my lap. She'd insisted I braid her hair, even though she kept nodding off midway. I was halfway through when I noticed the drool on her chin. I laughed softly, wiped it with my sleeve, then carried her to bed like a baby. Moments like that made the noise in my head quiet. Made me feel needed.
Dinner was calm. For once.
My mom laughed loudly at something on the radio, her voice bouncing off the walls. It was the kind of laugh that told you peace had come, even if only for a moment. No shouting. No slamming of doors. No icy tension. Just us—eating, breathing, existing without fear.
Afterward, I packed my bag for the next exam. Revised a little. Drank cold water straight from the bottle and let it chill the back of my throat. I told myself I was ready—for the exam, for life, for everything.
But peace never lasts in my house.
My phone rang past midnight. Kosi. I answered, confused.
Her voice cracked through the speaker like shattered glass. "Ella… my dad caught me. With Tunde. Outside the house. He beat me. He beat me so bad, Ella. I think I'm… I think I'm pregnant. I think I'm going to drop out."
I sat up straight, heart pounding. "What? Calm down..Where are you now?"
"In my room. I locked the door. My face is swollen. My lips are bleeding. I bought a test kit. I'm bringing it tomorrow."
She hung up before I could say anything else.
The next morning was a blur. I barely tasted my breakfast. The whole walk to school, my stomach churned. Kosi met me at the gate, her hoodie pulled low over her face. Her eyes were puffy. Zinny joined us, no words were exchanged. Just heavy glances. We snuck past the assembly ground and rushed to the girl's toilet at the far end of the school compound. Kosi clutched the test in her hand like it was a weapon.
The door locked. Silence fell.
She went into the stall. We waited. Breathless.
Then the test came out, facedown.
No one dared flip it.
"Should we… check?" Zinny whispered.
I reached forward, fingers trembling.
Was Kosi really pregnant?
Everything would change.
The answer was just one turn away.