The Things We Buried

Chapter5

Monday mornings had always carried a peculiar kind of sadness. Perhaps it was knowing that weekends never lasted long enough, or perhaps it was the cruel reminder that life, no matter how beautiful, always demanded a return to reality.

This Monday felt different. As the taxi crawled through the familiar chaos of Lagos traffic, I rested my forehead against the window watching the city around me. Hawkers weaved effortlessly between cars, balancing baskets on their heads while impatient drivers blasted their horns as though the noise alone could clear the road. None of it reached me, my mind was somewhere else. Saturday morning, a quiet apartment, grey sweatpants, a feverish smile, his lips brushing against my forehead before I left. I caught myself smiling, just one weekend, that was all it had taken.

I had spent weeks convincing myself that whatever existed between Daniel and I was nothing more than admiration. I was wrong.

The General surgery department was already buzzing by the time I arrived. Porters hurried through the corridors pushing patients towards the theatre. Interns stood around the nurses’ station discussing overnight admissions, and a registrar barked instructions at two house officers who looked as though they hadn't slept in days. Different departments, different faces, different routines.

I adjusted my ward coat and took a fresh breath.

“Fresh start.”

“Melissa!”

I turned just in time for Ifeoma to throw an arm around my shoulders.

“Finally, a familiar face.” I sighed.

She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’ve been posted here too.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Where’s Sarah?” she asked, looking through the crowd.

“OBGYN”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

For the first time that morning, I laughed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

By noon, my feet were aching. General surgery moved at a pace that felt almost unforgiving. Consultants expected answers immediately. Even standing still somehow felt exhausting. During lunch break, Ifeoma collapsed dramatically onto the cafeteria chair opposite me.

“I miss cardiology.”

“You?” I teased.

“You nearly fainted during every ward round.”

“That was before I had surgery.”

I laughed.

She leaned across the table.

“So…”

“So?”

“You’ve been suspiciously happy.”

“What?” I almost dropped my spoon.

“You heard me.”

“I’ve just been.. sleeping better.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Liar.”

I shook my head, trying so hard not to smile.

She sighed dramatically. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

The afternoon disappeared beneath a mountain of patients. One minute we were in the surgical outpatient clinic, the next we were rushing to Accident and Emergency to review a young man with multiple stab wounds.

By Friday evening, General surgery had done everything in its power to convince me that sleep was a privilege and comfort was luxury.

“We survived our first week.”

I looked up from the stack of patient notes tucked beneath my arm to see Ifeoma standing across from me.

“Barely.”

She laughed, falling into step beside me.

“I’ll admit..” I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “I nearly cried during ward rounds on Wednesday.”

“You and everyone else.”

“Tunde actually got scolded today.”

“That’s because he argues with everybody. He argued with a consultant this morning about attendance.”

I groaned. “That boy is going to get himself suspended one day.”

“No,” Ifeoma corrected. “He is going to argue his way out of being suspended.”

We both laughed. Across the courtyard, Tunde, our course rep was indeed arguing with a colleague, who had somehow convinced him that he’d submitted his logbook three days earlier. The week had somehow turned strangers into familiar faces and for the first time, medical school felt less lonely.

“I have to run,” Ifeoma said, checking the time on her phone. “My bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”

I nodded.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

She hugged me briefly.

I was walking towards the gate when I felt my phone vibrate. I didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was but I did anyway. Daniel. I answered immediately like I had been anticipating his call all day.

“There you are.” His voice wrapped around me like warmth after rain. “I’ve been waiting to call you all day.”

“You sound dramatic.”

He chuckled softly. “How has surgery been so far?”

“I’ve decided surgeons are clinically incapable of walking at a normal speed.”

“I told you.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“I implied it.’

I smiled, waving through students towards the hospital gate.

“I’ve missed you.”

The words slipped out so naturally that I didn't even realize I'd said them until silence settled between us. When he finally spoke, his voice had softened.

“I’ve missed you too. How long until I see you?”

I glanced at my wristwatch. “Twenty-five minutes.”

“Too long.”

I laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

“I’ll be ready.”

By the time I reached the apartment, Sarah was sprawled across the sofa with a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap. She looked up the moment I opened the door.

“Mrs A.” She teased.

I frowned, “what?”

“You’re glowing again.”

“It’s called having a good week.” I dropped my bag onto the sofa.

“It’s called seeing a MAN!”

I burst into laughter. “Well, I may be seeing a man this evening.”

She screamed. “Again?”

“Make sure you do it this time because I need every detail.”

“Eww.. Sarah!”

I disappeared into the room before Sarah could tease me any further and stood in front of the wardrobe, suddenly convinced I had absolutely nothing to wear.

“Wear the black dress!” Sarah yelled from the living room.

I rolled my eyes, but reached for it anyway.

The shower steamed behind me as I stood in front of the mirror, turning sideways for what had to be the tenth time. The black dress lay against my skin like it had been made for me. It was simple, elegant, and dangerously flattering. The soft fabric hugged my waist before skimming over my hips, tracing the gentle curves I'd inherited from my mother without clinging too tightly. The neckline dipped just enough to reveal the delicate line of my collarbone, while the hem rested a few inches above my knees, exposing long caramel legs that somehow looked even longer in the heels Sarah insisted I wear.

My braids were freshly done, waist-length knotless braids with curly extensions gathered over one shoulder, with a few loose strands framing my face. They brushed lightly against my bare arm whenever I moved. I kept my makeup minimal, soft brown glittery eyeshadow, mascara, a hint of blush, and a nude gloss that made my lips look naturally fuller.

When I entered the living room, Sarah slowly lowered the mug she’d been drinking from, then she stood.

“Melissa…” She walked around me slowly, taking in every detail.

“Turn.”

Rolling my eyes, I obliged.

“That man is finished.” She held both hands over her heart.

“If he doesn’t forget his own name tonight, I’ll personally buy you breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Leave me jare,” I said, soothing imaginary creases from my dress, already blushing so hard.

Daniel was already waiting when I walked out of the building. The city lights reflected against the polished black SUV parked by the curb. He leaned casually against the driver’s door, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket. For a moment, he didn’t notice me, then he looked up and everything about him was still.

He was dressed in a charcoal-black shirt, the sleeves rolled up neatly to his forearms, revealing strong, tanned hands and the silver watch resting against his wrist. The first two buttons at his collar were undone, softening the formal edge he always carried at the hospital. His dark brown tailored trousers completed the look, making him appear effortlessly elegant. But it wasn’t the clothes, it was the way he looked at me. I stopped a few feet away.

“What?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze travelled over me once before returning to my face.

“I had a speech.”

“A speech?”

“I’ve forgotten every word.”

I laughed, lowering my eyes.

“Beautiful doesn’t seem enough.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the ends of one braid resting over my shoulder.

“Shall we?” He opened the passenger door.

The rooftop restaurant overlooked the city. From where we sat, Lagos stretched endlessly beneath us, glittering under the night sky like scattered diamonds. Cars streamed across distant roads in ribbons of white and red light while soft live music drifted through the evening breeze.

Tiny candles flickered between the tables, everything felt unreal. Daniel watched me as I took it all in.

“You like it?”

I nodded slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

The waiter interrupted long enough to place their meals before them. Daniel immediately reached for the bread basket and without asking, he tore off a small piece, dipped it lightly into olive oil and held it toward me. Shaking my head, I leaned forward and accepted the bite.

He looked absurdly pleased with himself. “I like taking care of you.”

The simplicity of the statement stole my reply.

Dinner dissolved into laughter. Somewhere between dessert and another round of teasing, I discovered Daniel couldn’t dance to save his life. In return, I admitted I'd once fallen asleep standing during ward rounds after a 36 hour call. His thumb traced slow absent circles across the back of my hand as we continued talking.

Soon after, the restaurant around us had emptied. The candles had burned low, the music softer now, the conversations around us replaced by the occasional clink of cutlery as waiters began clearing the tables. I glanced at my phone.

“Oh my God!”

Daniel looked up. “What is it?”

“It’s almost eleven.”

He smiled. “I’ve known for the last thirty minutes.”

He stood up before I could protest and held out his hand.

“Come.”

I slipped my hand into his. His fingers closed around mine so naturally and the night air greeted us as we stepped onto the open terrace. The gentle breeze lifted the ends of my dress, carrying with it the faint scent of rain.

“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”

I looked back at the city, the lights blurring together from a distance.

“When I was little..” I said, “I wanted to be a dancer.”

“A dancer?’”

I nodded.

“Ballet.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I laughed. “It’s true.”

“What happened?”

“My mother spared me the embarrassment, I was terrible.”

“I can’t picture you being terrible at anything.”

“I cried after every lesson because everyone else was graceful.”

“And you weren’t?”

“I had two left feet.”

His laugh was quiet, warm. We spoke for a few more minutes but my mind kept trying to imagine how he would taste. Would the wine he had been sipping all night linger on his tongue?

“You want to kiss me, don't you?”

I smiled. A small, hopeless smile.

“Yes.”

He took a step toward me and leaned in until our foreheads brushed. The wine lingered on his lips exactly the way I had imagined– dry, rich, a little sour. I wrapped my arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. When he finally pulled away, his forehead stayed against mine, his hand still resting on my waist as though he wasn’t quite ready to let me go. Neither was I. We stood there smiling at each other, saying nothing, because somehow the silence had learned to speak for us.

The drive back was quieter. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting gently over mine on the centre console. Every now and then, his thumb would brush against my fingers, as if reassuring himself I was still there. When he pulled up outside my apartment, neither of us reached for the door.

“I had a really good time,” I admitted.

“So did I.”

“You’ll have to take me here again.”

He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was meant to be quick, simple but before I could pull away, he turned his head just enough that my lips brushed his instead.

“You did that on purpose.” I said, laughing.

“I absolutely did.”

“You cheat!”

“I prefer ‘resourceful'.”

Still smiling, I opened the door and climbed out. Halfway to the entrance, I turned around and he was still there, watching me. The moment our eyes met, he smiled. I smiled back before disappearing into the building, completely unaware that this perfect night would soon make the truth so much harder to bear– because while some people survive the night, some secrets don’t.