Chaptertwo
834 Words
The following Monday, Sheyla wore the silver wristwatch to school. She hesitated before slipping it on that morning, knowing it looked far too expensive for a girl in her last year of secondary school. But her mother had insisted—“Don’t hide it. Your uncle gave it to you with love. Show it proudly.”
As she walked into the classroom, conversations died down for a moment. Eyes shifted to her wrist.
“Ah-ahn, Sheyla,” whispered Mimi Alade, her closest friend. “Where did you get that? It looks like something from a boutique in London!”
Sheyla laughed nervously. “It’s just a gift.”
“From who? Don’t tell me you have a secret admirer o!”
Sheyla rolled her eyes. “Please, Mimi. You know Uncle Derick. He bought it for me.”
Mimi’s eyebrows rose. “That man is too generous, I swear. I wish I had a rich uncle like that.”
Sheyla smiled faintly, but something about Mimi’s tone unsettled her. It was said in admiration, yet the words clung uncomfortably to her. Sheyla didn’t like being singled out. She wasn’t used to envy.
Throughout the day, the watch drew more attention than she wanted. Even teachers noticed. During Literature, Mr. Ogunleye paused mid-sentence.
“Sheyla,” he said, peering over his glasses. “That’s quite a watch you have there. Planning to become a politician’s wife already?”
The class erupted in laughter. Sheyla forced a smile, cheeks burning.
When the final bell rang, she yanked the watch off and shoved it into her bag.
Later that week, Derick came by again. Sheyla sat quietly in the living room as he and her father discussed the upcoming elections.
“Young people don’t read enough,” Derick said, sipping from a glass of malt. “If you want to change the world, you must understand it.”
Sheyla perked up. “I’ve been reading the book you gave me.”
He turned toward her with a smile. “Good girl. That’s what will set you apart. Don’t waste time on frivolous things.”
Her father nodded proudly. “That’s what I keep telling her. I want her to follow the right examples, and who better than you?”
Sheyla lowered her eyes, embarrassed by the attention. Yet a part of her glowed. She wanted Derick’s approval. She wanted him to keep looking at her that way—like she was special.
One Saturday, he offered to drive her to the library. She had an assignment due, and her parents, swamped with marking scripts, were grateful.
The drive was quiet at first. Sheyla focused on the scenery rushing past—the busy streets of Lagos, hawkers weaving between cars, the occasional billboard towering above.
“You’re quiet,” Derick said suddenly.
“I’m just thinking about my assignment.”
He chuckled. “That’s good. Always keep your mind busy. Do you know why I like you, Sheyla?”
Her heart thumped. “Why?”
“Because you’re different. Most girls your age are chasing boys or wasting time on social media. But you—you have focus. That’s rare.”
She looked down, unsure how to respond. Compliments from him felt heavier, more binding, than from anyone else.
At the library, he waited in the car while she worked inside. When she returned hours later, he handed her a takeaway pack. “Eat. You’ve been studying all day.”
It was jollof rice and chicken from a popular restaurant. Sheyla hadn’t even realized she was hungry until the aroma hit her.
“You didn’t have to,” she said between mouthfuls.
“Yes, I did. You need to be cared for. Not everyone will appreciate how hard you work.”
His words stayed with her long after she returned home.
By the end of the month, Derick had become more present in her life than ever. He sent her motivational quotes in the mornings, called in the evenings to ask about her studies, and occasionally dropped off little packages—books, snacks, a new pair of earphones.
Her parents welcomed this with open arms. “You’re lucky to have someone like him,” her mother said one evening as they washed dishes together. “People pray for such blessings.”
Sheyla nodded but said nothing. Deep down, she felt a shift she couldn’t name. His presence warmed her, but at the same time, unsettled her.
One night, as she prepared for bed, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Derick.
Don’t forget to wear your watch tomorrow. You looked beautiful in it.
She stared at the words, her heart pounding. No one had ever called her beautiful before—not in a way that made her feel both flattered and confused. She typed back quickly:
Thank you, Uncle.
Then she turned off her phone and lay in the dark, the glow of the screen still imprinted in her eyes.
Sleep did not come easily that night.
- Writer
