Chapter 8 — Samuel’s Side
566 Words
Samuel wasn’t used to chaos.
He was a planner. A spreadsheet-and-calendar kind of man.
His life was orderly. Predictable. Calm.
Then Jenna happened.
And suddenly, he was smiling for no reason, checking his hair in reflections, and saying things like “my fiancée” without stumbling over the lie.
What scared him wasn’t the lie itself.
It was how natural it felt to say it and how it was starting to look and feel normal.
He found himself replaying moments in his head – her nervous laugh, the way she covered her mouth when embarrassed, the tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows hen she was concentrating hard on something.
He noticed E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.
One afternoon, he saw her struggling with a stubborn printer that had jammed again. She kicked it lightly – not enough to damage it, but enough to express deep emotional hatred.
Samuel walked up quietly.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“No,” she said, while still kicking the printer again and again. “Yes. Maybe. Don’t judge me please.” She said with her head down.
He laughed and fixed the printer in thirty seconds.
She stared at him like he had superpowers.
“You’re good at everything,” she muttered.
He shrugged “just printers.”
“And finance. And fixing ruined fake engagements.” He added cheekily.
He smirked. She blushed. He pretended not to notice.
Later that day, during a tea-wide presentation, Jenna grew nervous while presenting a slide. Her hands trembled slightly. He noticed instantly.
Samuel crossed the room, casually stepping closer – close enough that she could see him, close enough that she felt supported without him saying a word.
Her shoulders relaxed.
She finished strong.
He felt proud.
Too proud.
That night, while cooking noodles, his mom called.
“Samuel, Biko (please), explain,” she demanded in Igbo. “Why is your face on the internet with a girl? And why is everyone congratulating you?”
He almost choked on his food.
He hesitated.
He didn’t want to lie to her.
But he also didn’t want to say the truth – that this was fake… and that he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it was fake.
He cleared his throat “it’s… complicated.” He finally said.
“Complicated how?” his mother asked, already feeling angry that her son hid something like this from her.
He pictured Jenna.
Her smile.
Her laugh.
Her quiet strength.
“It’s just… not what people think.” He said, trying to find the best way to explain it to his mother.
His mother hummed suspiciously “hmm. Do you like her?”
Samuel froze.
The obvious answer was no.
But the word didn’t come.
Instead, he said nothing.
And his mother whispered knowingly “okay. I understand.”
But she didn’t.
Not even Samuel understood.
When he hung up, he stared at his phone and exhaled shakily.
This was supposed to be pretend.
So why did it feel like the beginning of something real?
Why did he feel protective over her?
Why did he feel drawn to her?
Why did he feel jealous whenever Lawrence lingered too long near her desk?
Why did he care?
He ran a hand over his face and whispered into the quiet room, “Samuel, you’re falling for her.”
The noodles burned.
But he was too lost in thought to even notice.
- Writer
