CIRCLES ARE EXHAUSTING
1019 Words
The hot sun blew hot air through Madam Chic and Bougie.
The shop was loud.
Hope and Ella were arguing about jollof rice and fried rice — which one was better.
The generator was coughing like an old man.
A lady from across was haggling over ₦200 like it was her life savings.
Madam Chic and Bougie was on a loud call with a customer, pacing.
Jessica watched t****k on high volume.
Babies from the next house were crying.
Liana didn’t say anything.
She just folded.
Shoulders up.
Scissors moving on autopilot.
Eyes on Ankara but not seeing it.
Her phone buzzed.
Not the group.
Private.
*Leo: You quiet.*
Two words.
No “what’s wrong.”
No “talk to me.”
Just observation.
Liana stared at the screen.
How did he know?
She hadn’t posted anything.
Hadn’t gone offline.
*Liana: This noise is—*
*Leo: —a lot today. I know.*
She huffed a laugh.
He wasn’t even here.
But he still pulled the chair anyway.
Virtually.
For ten minutes, they didn’t talk.
She cut fabric.
He was on his laptop across town.
But the 3 dots kept appearing and disappearing.
Like he was sitting beside her.
Not typing.
Just breathing with her.
Then Jessica dropped a meme in the group:
_“When she says ‘just make it fit me’ but her shape is changing every week.”_
Liana snorted.
Covered her mouth.
Her phone buzzed again.
Private.
*Leo: Stress tax. Add it to the bill.*
*Liana: _Listening to your gist - ₦5k_*
*Leo: _Pretending I like your husband’s taste - ₦10k_*
She was typing _“Good thing I found someone”_
Thumb froze.
Deleted it.
Retyped: *Good thing I found someone with sense.*
Sent.
Three dots.
*Leo: Same.*
That was all.
But Liana leaned back on her stool and exhaled.
The shop was still loud.
The chaos was still there.
It just didn’t reach her anymore.
Leo had dragged a chair over w******p and sat in it.
Then her phone buzzed.
Different tone.
A meme.
Private from Leo.
Cat melting into the floor: _“Me after one customer says ‘my sister’s tailor can do it cheaper.’”_
Liana laughed.
Out loud.
*Liana: Sending this to my therapist.*
*Leo: Tell him he’s undercharging you.*
She was still smiling when Alexia’s ringtone cut through.
Softer.
_“Babe”_ tone.
Leo’s “online” switched to “on call with Alexia ❤️”
Liana’s fingers hovered over the next meme.
She didn’t send it.
The screen went dark.
The day closed in a hurry.
Same noise.
Sky growing darker with each shade.
---
6:47pm.
The road home was dusk and noise and the smell of a city trying to feed itself.
Cold breeze pushed through the keke window.
Made her pull her cardigan closer.
Not cold enough to hurt.
Just enough to remind her she was alone in it.
Stores glowed on both sides.
Yellow bulbs fighting the dark.
Generators coughing.
Peak Milk signs buzzing.
Suya smoke rolled from a stand by the junction — onion and pepper and fat dripping on charcoal.
Somewhere a bar leaked Burna Boy, faint and tired.
Cars shouted at each other.
_“Benin driver, na you sabi!”_
Trees by the roadside bent and clapped as cars rushed past.
Leaves hurrying home like people.
The driver pulled over at Small Market.
*Driver: Sorry, my people. My children are waiting for bread. If I don’t buy it now, they’ll sleep hungry. Two minutes. I beg.*
He came back with nylon in his hand.
Two loaves.
Fingers shaking a little.
Not from the weight.
From the weight of being someone’s father at the end of a long day.
One passenger groaned.
*Passenger: Ah, uncle, we’re rushing. Can’t your wife buy it?*
*Woman with baby: Make you rest. Na father matter. I understand. My own husband used to do same before…*
She didn’t finish.
Just looked at her child.
Liana said nothing.
She watched the bread.
Warm nylon.
The smell of yeast and responsibility.
And memory came without permission.
Her father.
Shoes worn thin.
Coming through their door with bread tucked under his arm.
Even when money was small.
Even when his day had beaten him.
_No one brings me bread now,_ she thought.
_I buy my own._
_I am my own father at 6:47pm._
She didn’t cry.
She adjusted her bag and stared out at the moving trees.
Strong outside.
When the driver dropped her, he said:
*Driver: Sorry, my daughter. Na father matter.*
She nodded.
Walked the last street home while darkness settled.
Bread smell in her nose.
Father memory in her chest.
Both heavy.
Both hers.
---
_9:20pm. Liana’s room._
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Wooden floor cool under her socks.
From next door, Zara’s laugh drifted through.
Light.
Easy.
Her eyes landed on the shelf.
Navy thread spool.
Ceramic mug.
And the photo.
Her father.
Mid-laugh.
Eyes crinkled.
Liana touched the glass with her thumb.
Pressure built behind her ribs.
_Shop. Keke. Home. Breathe. Repeat._
_When does the circle break,_ she thought.
_When do I get to be more than just “the strong one”?_
In her heart she said:
_I’m tired._
_I’m tired of being okay._
_I’m tired of holding myself together with no hands to hold me._
Then the tears came.
Quiet.
Into the pillow.
Her phone buzzed.
*Leo [10:12 pm]: You awake?*
Her fingers shook.
*Liana: I’m awake.*
*Liana: Today felt like circles. Shop. Keke. Home. Breathe. Repeat.*
*Liana: My heart is heavy, Leo. Like pressure high and no one to tell.*
*Liana: I’m strong. Everyone says I’m strong. But I’m still a girl. And girls get tired too.*
3 dots.
*Leo: I’m here.*
*Leo: You don’t have to be okay with me.*
*Leo: Circles are exhausting. I see you.*
*Leo: Strong and girl can be true at the same time. Both are you.*
*Leo: Cry if you need to. I’m not going anywhere...Just ears. Just presence.*
Outside, frogs kept singing.
But Liana wasn’t alone in it anymore.
- Writer
