TRACY
The night breeze off the ocean brushed gently against my skin as I stepped out of "788 on the Sea". The restaurant lights glowed behind me, warm and golden, reflecting the laughter and tenderness that had filled the evening. Fred stood beside me, relaxed, happy—different from the chaos I had grown used to.
"I had a really beautiful time," he said softly, his smile sincere.
"So did I," I replied, meaning it more than I expected to.
He offered to drive me home, curiosity and care in his eyes, but I shook my head lightly. "Another time," I said, leaning in to place a gentle peck on his cheek. "Let's not rush everything."
Fred nodded, respectful, clearly content. He watched as I got into my car, waited until my headlights came on, and stood there until I drove off. As he returned to his own car, a fulfilled smile lingered on his face—one of hope, of something rekindled at last.
My drive home was long and quiet, the city lights blurring past as my thoughts replayed the evening. Fred's laughter. His patience. The way being with him felt easy—safe. My first love, resurfacing at a time when my heart needed honesty more than drama.
I realized, somewhere between traffic lights, that I wanted to try again. To follow my heart this time, not fear. To love Fred properly.
But then another thought intruded.
Eli.
The distance between us lately. My restlessness since returning from the Maldives. The confusion I hadn't been able to explain to anyone—not even myself. Before I could overthink it, my hands turned the steering wheel instinctively.
I headed to Eli's.
As I drove, I rehearsed my words silently. I wanted to explain everything. About Fred. About why I'd been distant. About how I needed clarity—for all of us.
When I pulled up at Eli's house, the lights were on. Too bright. Music pulsed faintly through the walls.
My heart skipped uneasily.
I walked up to the glass door—and froze.
Inside, in the open sitting room, were two familiar figures tangled too closely. The lights flickered across their faces, unmistakable.
Sonia.
Eli.
The world tilted.
My breath caught as if someone had struck me. My hands trembled as I pushed the door open and walked inside. Suddenly, my instinct kicked in—I lifted my phone and took a photo of them. The sound was soft, but loud enough.
As they saw me, everything stopped.
For a moment, no one moved and I couldn't stand both of them. Then I turned, ready to leave, my composure hanging by a thread.
"I'm sorry, Tracy," Sonia's voice cut through the silence. "But this is who I am."
I turned back slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you loved me."
"I do," Sonia replied, eyes unflinching. "But I couldn't keep watching you have everything."
"You're jealous of me Sonia? What do you not have?"
"I'm sorry." Sonia whispered.
A bitter smile curved my lips. "Okay then." I lifted my phone slightly. "Get ready to go viral with this photo. You can have him. He doesn't deserve me. Enjoy."
I walked out before either of them could respond, slamming the glass door so hard it rattled, nearly shattering.
That night, I returned to the apartment I shared with Sonia and packed everything I owned. Clothes, memories, pieces of a friendship I never imagined would end like this. I left nothing behind—except silence.
I took the car Eli had gifted me, telling myself it was compensation for time wasted and trust broken.
By dawn, I checked into the Jotani Living Apartments in Lekki and shut the world out.
Days passed.
I ignored calls. Messages. Questions.
I grieved not just Eli—but Sonia. The betrayal cut deeper than heartbreak. I never saw it coming. Never believed my best friend would do something like that to me.
I thought about Fred often. About telling him where I was. About leaning on the one person who had shown me genuine care.
But for now, I chose solitude.
I needed time.
As I lay curled on the wide bed in the quiet apartment, the curtains drawn, the city outside muted and distant. The silence pressed in on me, heavy, and my thoughts drifted—uninvited but relentless—back to the place I once called home.
Family.
Once, it meant laughter, shared meals, warmth. Peace. I had believed I belonged there completely, that my roots were firm and unshakeable. Until one day, everything cracked open.
I remembered the argument—the voices raised, the words sharp and careless. A war between my mother and the man I had called father all my life. I hadn't meant to hear it, but truth has a way of forcing itself into the light.
She isn't mine.
Those words had changed me forever.
The secret they had hidden from me for years came crashing down in one moment. The man I loved and respected wasn't my biological father. And suddenly, the home I knew no longer felt like mine.
Everything shifted after that.
My siblings grew distant, their eyes colder, their laughter excluding me. Conversations stopped when I walked into a room. I felt like a visitor in the house I grew up in—present, yet unwanted. Even the man who once claimed me now treated me like an obligation he wished he didn't have.
And my mother...
That hurt the most.
I had expected my mother to fight for me. To shield me. To hold me and remind me that none of this was my fault. Instead, my mother went quiet. She looked away, played along with the cruelty as if silence could erase guilt.
I had begged—not with words, but with tears, with my shattered heart—but my mother turned a deaf ear. No comfort. No defense. No apology.
That was when I knew I had to leave.
I packed my life into bags and moved to Lagos finally, since I already got an admission into the university of Lagos, chasing the fragile hope of starting again, of building a place where I could belong. I waited for calls that never came. Messages that were never sent. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years.
No one checked on me.
No one cared if I was alive or dead.
My family betrayed me.
My mother betrayed me.
Now, lying alone in Lekki, the pain came full circle. Sonia. Eli. The faces changed, but the wound felt the same. Every person I had loved deeply, trusted fiercely, had eventually turned their backs on me.
My chest tightened as the tears finally broke free. I cried until my body shook, until my throat ached, until the strength left my limbs. I wept for the girl I used to be—the one who believed love was safe, that loyalty would be returned.
And somewhere between sobs, one thought pierced through my grief.
What if Fred does the same?
The fear wrapped itself around my heart, cruel and familiar. I wanted to believe in him. I wanted to trust that some people stayed. But my past whispered otherwise.
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, alone in the dark, grieving not just the betrayals—but the hope I was slowly learning to let go of.