WHEN THE RAIN STOPS FALLING.

EPISODE 8: WALLS AND WOUND

Old scars resisted healing even as hope started to defrost those areas of my life that had been covered in ice for a long time. During peaceful times, when the house was enveloped in silence, or when emotions were threatening to overflow during the day, my heart would rise in defiant defence. I erected barriers to shield the lingering anguish, and brick by block, those barriers made it difficult to embrace Emeka's tactful perseverance.

There were times when I found myself doubting every gentle touch and pleasant remark. "Am I just clinging to a lifeline in a sea of loneliness, or is this love real?" I pondered, mentally reliving each grin and each whispered phrase. Every fresh beginning is tainted by the lingering, bittersweet recollections of Chidi. The shame of going on and the sense of betrayal—to memory, to the past—persisted even as Emeka's laughter filled the air around us on calm evenings.

When raindrops pelted the windowpane of my apartment one rainy day, Emeka and I sought refuge in a small, comfortable café. The aroma of freshly made coffee and the gentle murmur of conversations provided a moment's respite from the intensity of my feelings. He discussed his personal scars—failures, losses, and the lessons learnt from them—over steaming cups. He was unexpectedly and disarmingly vulnerable, and for a few while I let myself think that I wasn't the only one going through this.

However, concerns began to creep in like unwanted memories as we returned to the chilly drizzle outside. Every stride he took seemed to rip at an invisible wall. I thought back to the nights when my only company had been anguish, when my heart shook at every new hope. Was I prepared to allow someone to get past these well-built barriers? Would I be able to take the chance of falling again, even a little?

Oyinye was sleeping soundly in our room that night, so I sat by the open window and thought about the delicate balance between the tender promise of love and the wounds of the past. I came to see that healing involves a slow, sometimes agonising, revealing of the heart rather than a quick erasing. And maybe there was a chance to redefine love in that agonising revelation, one that accepted the wounds of the past as well as the tender promises of the future.