The Guy I Never Met

CHAPTER 1: THE BIRTHDAY PICTURE It was a Monday evening. 7:15 PM. Benghazi was quiet. I was in my room, scrolling through w******p status to kill boredom. My sister was far away in Nigeria. In school.Living a whole different life. Then I saw her status. A repost. "Happy Birthday to you, our Church Secretary 🎉" And there he was. I stopped breathing for a second. Tiny glasses. The kind serious people wear. The kind bookworms wear. Sitting neatly on his nose. Plain round-neck T-shirt. Joggers. Adidas sandals. Hair cut low. Clean. Simple. He wasn’t posing. He wasn’t smiling too much. He just looked... responsible. I didn’t know him. I’ve never seen him before. But my sister did. Same school. Same church. He was the Church Secretary there. My heart did something stupid. It jumped. Before I could think, my fingers were typing. I replied to my sister’s status. Me: Is he married? Three dots. Then: Sis:No. Why? I panicked. God, why did I ask that. But I’d already started so... Me:Well... he’s cute. I dropped my phone and covered my face. “kemi what is wrong with you,” I muttered to myself. 30 seconds later. Ping. Screenshot from my sister. My message. “Is he married?” And below it, her forward. She had sent it to him. He replied to my sister:No ma ooo “SIS!! Did you actually send it to him??” She was laughing on the other end. I could hear people in the background.Hostel noise. People talking. Yes now. You said he’s cute. I’m helping you. Helping me?? I was whisper-yelling. “Are you serious? Did he see it?” “He saw it,” she said, still laughing. “And guess what?” “What??” My voice was shaking. “He asked for your picture.” Silence. Even the fan in my room went quiet. “What?” I whispered. He asked for your picture, Kemi. He wants to see the girl that asked if he's married. My brain stopped working. Send him my best one, I blurted. No wait. The one from last weekend. Natural light. Do I look okay? Sis tell me the truth. Do I look presentable?? She was already scrolling. You look fine. Stop stressing. She picked one and sent it. And then we waited. I paced my room in Benghazi while she was in Nigeria. Time difference. Distance. Everything felt far. “What if he doesn’t reply? What if he thinks I’m too forward? What if? Ping. Another screenshot. Him:Can I have her number? I screamed. I covered my mouth and screamed. “SIS!!!” “He asked for my number!!” She was so proud of herself. A gentleman. Did you see? He didn’t ask me to tell you to message him. He asked for YOUR number so HE can reach out himself. I read it over and over. Can I have her number? Proper. Respectful. Mannered. “Send it,” I said. “Send him my number now.” She did. Then her voice got softer. So... which level is he? Level? “Yeah. In school.” “He’s 300 level,” she said. “He’s going to fourth year.” Oh. 300 level. University. Lectures. Friends. Campus life. And me? Here in Benghazi. Not in school yet. Watching my life from the sidelines while everyone else was moving. The excitement dropped in my chest. What if he asks me about school and I have nothing? What if he’s looking for someone who understands his world? “kemi,” my sister said gently. Don’t do that. He asked for your number, not your transcript. Just talk to him first. I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Okay.” 7:20 PM. 7:25 PM. 7:30 PM. No message. No unknown number. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s in fellowship. Maybe he changed his mind. 7:35 PM. Ping. Unknown number. WhatsApp. My heart stopped. I stared at the screen. One deep breath. Shaking hands. And I tapped to open it. --- TO BE CONTINUED... The first message from the guy I never met.