Chapter 10 — Pressure From Home
632 Words
Samuel’s mother was not a subtle woman. At all.
By Saturday morning, she had called him three times, sent two voice notes, and forwarded several wedding gown styles “for your bride to choose from.” She would say.
Samuel stared at his phone in horror.
He hadn’t even told her the engagement was fake.
He wasn’t ready.
He didn’t know why he wasn’t ready.
So when she called again, he sighed and picked up.
“Good morning, mummy.”
“Oh, so you finally remembered you have a mother,” she said dramatically.
“Mummy…” he started.
“How is Jenna?” she cut him off.
He froze. “She’s… fine.”
“Good! Because I told your aunty, your uncle, and your grandma already. Weddings are coming o!”
“WHAT?!” he shouted.
She hummed happily. “They said it’s long overdue. Twenty-eight years old. A handsome young man like you. What are you waiting for? Christmas?”
“Mummy, it’s enough.” He said.
She ignored him. “Send me her number. I want to welcome her to the family.”
Samuel rubbed his temples. “You can’t call her.”
“Why?” she asked.
Because this entire thing is fake.
Because I’m catching feelings.
Because she makes my heart do stupid gymnastics.
Because I don’t know how to stop.
He swallowed. “It’s… too early.”
His mother paused. “hmmm.” She hummed.
Then she asked the one question he didn’t want to answer. “Do you love her?”
Samuel felt the world stop.
He stood by the window, watching cars drive past, people living their normal Saturday lives. His heart thudded unevenly.
“I care about her,” he said finally.
“That is not an answer.”
He exhaled. “I don’t know.”
His mother’s voice softened. “Then find out.”
Meanwhile, Jenna was having her own crisis.
She sat on her couch in pajamas, hugging a throw pillow while Aisha and Mide interrogated her on video call.
“Start talking,” Aisha demanded.
“From the top,” Mide added.
Jenna sighed. “We had gelato. That’s it.”
“That’s not ‘it’,” Aisha said. “The tension in those pictures you sent—my God.”
“I didn’t send them! Mide took them without asking.”
Mide shrugged. “For documentation.”
Aisha leaned forward. “Okay, let’s be serious. Are you developing feelings?”
Jenna opened her mouth to deny it.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
Mide gasped. “You like him.”
“No,” Jenna whispered.
Aisha folded her arms. “Say it with your chest.”
“I don’t— I can’t— It’s fake!”
“So?” Mide countered. “People catch malaria by accident. Feelings are not harder.”
Jenna buried her face in the pillow. “This is a mistake.”
“Is he treating you well?” Aisha asked.
“Yes.”
“Is he kind to you?”
“Yes.”
“Does he look at you like you’re puff-puff fresh from the oil?” Mide asked
“MIDE!” Jenna shouted
“Answer the question.” She smirked
Jenna’s voice became small. “Yes.”
Her friends exchanged looks.
Aisha said gently, “Then maybe it’s not a mistake.”
Jenna shook her head. “But what if he doesn’t feel anything? What if I’m just… enjoying the attention?”
Mide sighed. “Then you’ll deal with it. Feelings are allowed. You’re human, not concrete.”
Jenna exhaled. “I hate this.”
“You love this,” Aisha corrected.
But Jenna wasn’t sure.
Because for the first time…
She wanted the pretending to be real.
And that was dangerous.
- Writer
