CHAPTER 3 : The boy who saw her
706 Words
CHAPTER THREE
The Boy Who Saw Her
In school, Doris was not invisible.
But she was not known either.
She had two friends… well—
She had two benchmates. Girls she spoke to during class, shared notes with, sometimes laughed with. But when the bell rang and school ended, they walked in different directions.
“Doris, you’re coming for prep later?” one of them asked one afternoon.
She hesitated. “I might.”
She already knew she wouldn’t.
She preferred quiet corners.
Less explanation.
Less questions.
But there was one place where she did not feel small.
Victor.
The first time he walked her home, it had not meant anything.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
He was tall — noticeably so. Fair-skinned, always neatly dressed, and calm in a way that made people listen when he spoke. Five years older than her, already more certain about life than she felt.
He was also a family friend from church.
Which made it safer.
Or so she thought.
“You don’t talk much,” he said one evening as they walked.
“I talk,” she replied softly.
He smiled. “Only when necessary.”
She almost smiled back.
Victor had a way of asking questions that did not feel like interrogation.
“What do you want to become?” he asked one day, stopping beneath a mango tree.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not true.”
She looked at him.
“You think too much not to know.”
She looked away first.
“No one has ever asked me that before,” she admitted.
He didn’t answer immediately. He just watched her — not in a way that made her uncomfortable, but in a way that made her feel… noticed.
“You’re like your mother,” he finally said. “Strong. But you hide it.”
She swallowed.
No one had ever described her like that.
Their conversations became longer.
He would wait for her after classes. Sometimes they sat at the edge of the football field while others played loudly nearby.
“Do you ever get tired?” she asked him one day.
“Of what?”
“Being strong.”
He laughed softly. “All the time.”
That surprised her.
“You?”
“Yes, Doris.” He leaned back on his hands. “Strength is not a personality. It’s survival.”
She stared at him.
In that moment, she felt understood — and it frightened her slightly.
Soon, she began skipping classes occasionally.
Not often. But enough.
On days when home felt heavier than usual, when her chest carried too much, she would meet him instead.
They would talk.
Sometimes about school.
Sometimes about dreams.
Sometimes about nothing.
“You need to focus,” he would tell her. “You are too intelligent to waste it.”
She frowned. “You sound like a teacher.”
“I might be one someday,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“I’m serious.”
And he was.
Victor moved through academics quickly. Faster than most. Teachers spoke of him with admiration. There were whispers that he could become one of the youngest lecturers at the university in Yaya Town.
When he told her he had been accepted, she felt two things at once.
Pride.
And fear.
“You’re happy for me?” he asked carefully.
“Yes,” she answered too quickly.
He tilted his head. “But?”
She looked down at her hands.
“It’s far.”
He stepped closer.
“Distance does not end what is real.”
She searched his face, trying to decide if that was truth or comfort.
“Promise?” she asked quietly.
He held her gaze.
“Promise.”
That was the first time he held her hand.
Not tightly.
Not possessively.
Just enough to say:
I am here.
And for a girl who had always felt like she stood alone in crowded spaces, that small gesture meant everything.
that would be the start to a slow unintentionally commitment between both of them
An unspoken declaration of affection...
that was all that was needed anyway
reassurance
An escape
A home or ...
all of it
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD