I should have been happy.
Michael finally confessed his feelings. The boy I'd crushed on in silence for years. The same boy who haunted the edges of my thoughts, who I'd imagined kissing more times than I could count, had said the words I thought I wanted to hear. And yet… all I felt was dread.
I stared at the screen, heart thudding, but not for the reasons I used to dream about. His message was sweet, honest, and vulnerable—exactly what anyone would want. But I was too weighed down by the ache in my chest to even smile.
My father.
The image still burned in my mind like hot iron. Him—laughing, holding a woman like she was his forever. Her head tilted against his shoulder. Kids that weren't us dancing nearby. That funeral post he was tagged in revealed more than just his location. It exposed the double life he'd worked so hard to hide from us. And now, it was only a matter of time before my mom saw it too.
I knew it would break her. She'd just started to feel again. Laugh again. Her smile had only just begun to reach her eyes again after years of pretending. I couldn't watch her crumble.
My friends noticed I was off during school. Kosi leaned over while we walked, nudging me with her elbow. "You're too quiet. Something happen?"
Zinny chimed in, "Yeah, you've barely spoken since we left school. Is it about that Michael guy?"
I forced a laugh. "Me? Please. Michael ke. There's nothing there."
They exchanged looks. I could tell they didn't buy it, but thankfully, they didn't press. We talked about random things—exams, fashion, Zinny's newest obsession with lip gloss. I laughed at their jokes and acted like nothing was wrong. Pretending was a skill I'd mastered, after all.
They walked me home like they usually did, standing outside the gate until I waved and entered. I forced one more smile before closing the gate behind me.
Inside, it was calm. The twins were home already, flopped on the couch watching cartoons. I ruffled Dara's hair and tickled Dayo's side as I passed, earning a dramatic giggle from him. For a second, I felt grounded again.
"Where's mummy?" I asked, dropping my backpack by the stairs.
"She came to pick us," Dara replied. "Because of our result."
I raised a brow. "She didn't tell me she was coming to school."
"She said it was a surprise."
Of course, she did. That woman could never sit still when it came to results. Always anxious, always making sure we didn't fall through the cracks. I walked to the kitchen to check if there was anything to eat, but the ache in my stomach wasn't from hunger. It was fear.
I went to my room and sat on the bed, phone in hand. Michael's last message still sat unopened. I hovered over it, thumb twitching, then locked the phone again. I couldn't read it now. It felt like another weight on top of the already suffocating pile on my chest.
Instead, I did something even more foolish—I texted Tari.
Call me. Please.
Within a minute, he did.
"Baby," his voice was calm, soothing. "You good?"
"No," I whispered. "I just needed to hear someone. I feel like I'm drowning."
He didn't ask questions. He never did. That's what made Tari different. He didn't pry—he just listened, waited, made space. I curled under my duvet, voice barely audible as I told him about how tense I felt. I didn't mention Michael. Or the post. Or the fear of my mother seeing the picture. I just needed someone to talk to. And for an hour, he gave me that.
We talked about random things—he told me about his annoying cousin, the guy that stole his shoes, the music he was into lately. I told him I missed the amala at school. We laughed.
But just before we hung up, his voice shifted.
"I love you, Ella."
I went silent.
I wanted to say it back. Maybe I even felt it sometimes. But the words didn't come. My lips parted, but no sound escaped. I stared at the ceiling, frozen.
"You don't have to say it," he added quickly. "It's okay. I just wanted you to know."
He sighed before the call ended. And the silence that followed felt heavier than anything I'd felt all day.
I pulled the duvet higher over my head and lay still.
Minutes passed. Then I heard my mother's door creak open.
Footsteps.
"Ella," she called softly.
I jumped out of bed and rushed to the door.
She stood in her wrapper, phone in hand, a relaxed smile on her face. "I was just about to lie down, but I haven't checked Facebook in days. That group chat will be on fire by now."
My heart stopped.
"Ah—Mummy, don't worry," I said too fast. "You look tired. Sleep first, abeg. You've been running around all day."
She laughed. "Are you calling me old?"
"No nau," I smiled, swallowing my panic. "Just saying you need rest."
She chuckled and handed me the phone. "Alright. Hide this one before I disappear into Facebook land."
I laughed too, hiding how my hands trembled as I took the phone and placed it on the shelf in the corridor.
"Good girl," she murmured as she disappeared into her room. "You children worry about me too much."
I waited until her light clicked off before I slumped against the wall and exhaled. My body was shaking. Every nerve on fire. I was playing a dangerous game. But I couldn't let her see it. Not yet. Not until I figured out what to do.
The phone vibrated again. Michael. Another message.
But still… I couldn't open it.
Not tonight.
---
Later that Night
Lying in bed, I replayed the day like a bad movie. Michael's confession. The picture. Tari's call. My mother's trust.
I used to feel powerful manipulating people. Faking feelings for money, for attention. But now, I felt small. Powerless. A fraud trapped in her own web.
I'd built my life on pretending. On faking love. Now, real love—love I might want—was staring me in the face and I was too afraid to take it.
Because I was afraid it would cost me.
Michael saw me. That was terrifying. Not the fake version I gave boys who offered me things. He saw the real me—sarcasm, coldness, cracks and all. What if I let him in and he walked away? Or worse—what if he stayed and saw everything I was ashamed of?
I turned to my pillow and cried silently. Not loud sobs. Just slow tears that soaked through the pillowcase, carrying pieces of me with them.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But I knew one thing:
Something inside me was changing.
And I didn't know if I was ready.