The goodbye that stayed
372 Words
Chapter nine – The Goodbye That Stayed
When he called my name, it wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight — the kind that stays with you long after the sound fades. “Stella,” he said, soft, familiar, yet uncertain. I turned, pretending to be calm, even though my heart had already betrayed me, beating a rhythm that sounded a lot like don’t go.
He smiled lightly, waved, and walked away. Just like that. Nothing dramatic. No lingering look. No promise. Just a wave — the simple kind that somehow felt too brief for what my heart wanted it to mean.
As he left, the church suddenly felt emptier, though it was still full of voices, laughter, and the clattering of chairs. My eyes followed his back till he disappeared into the sunlit path that led out of the gate. It was strange — how someone could walk out of sight yet remain stuck inside your thoughts.
I sat there, thinking about every word we shared. His laughter. The way his voice softened when he said “I wish you success.” The little gestures — guarding my bag, picking my books, calling for the time through his sister. They were ordinary, yet they meant too much to be called just ordinary.
The rest of the day felt suspended. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that maybe it was the last time I’d see him before we both stepped into our different worlds — him to Ife, me to Ogun. Two names, two paths, same Sunday.
But part of me still hoped. That maybe someday, he’d remember the girl from church who talked too much, smiled too often, and somehow made him laugh about being “a gentleman in an exam centre.”
The ride home was quiet. My sister chatted beside me, but my mind replayed that simple moment over and over — the wave, the goodbye, and the sound of my name on his lips.
Sometimes, goodbyes are not loud. They don’t always come with closure. Sometimes, they come in whispers — soft, fleeting, and unforgettable.
That Sunday, he said goodbye. But it didn’t sound like an end. It sounded like the start of something I couldn’t name yet.
- Writer
