Growing Pains

Growing pains chapter 4

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*GROWING PAIN - CHAPTER 4*

*Title: THE NIGHT IT ALL CRACKED*

_∼5000 words - High Tension Version_

The phone was a weapon.

ADA stared at it on the table like it might explode. 11:02pm.

*0 comments. 4 reads.*

She had refreshed Pahina 47 times today. Forty-seven. She counted.

She had posted the link 12 times. Status. Groups. DMs. Even to her ex.

Nothing.

Her chest was tight. Too tight. Like someone was sitting on it.

"Useless," she hissed at herself. "You’re useless."

The words tasted like acid.

She grabbed the phone. Her thumb hovered over DELETE. One tap and *Growing Pain* would be gone. One tap and the embarrassment would end.

VIBRATE.

The phone jumped in her hand.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

*DAMOLA*

She almost threw the phone.

Why him? Why now?

She swiped with shaking fingers.

> *DAMOLA*: You awake?

> *ADA*: What do you want

> *DAMOLA*: I read your book.

> *ADA*: And?

> *DAMOLA*: It’s a mess.

ADA froze.

A mess?

Her vision blurred. Anger shot up her spine, hot and fast.

> *ADA*: Thanks for the honesty

> *DAMOLA*: No. Not like that. It’s a MESS. Because it’s real. Because it cuts. Page 47, Ada. "I’m tired of growing." That line broke me.

Her anger stuttered.

> *ADA*: Why are you texting me at 11pm

> *DAMOLA*: Because you’re about to do something stupid.

> *ADA*: You don’t know me.

> *DAMOLA*: I know the look. I’ve seen it in the mirror. Come outside. Now.

ADA threw the phone on the bed. "No."

30 seconds later.

VIBRATE.

> *DAMOLA*: I’m at your gate.

What.

ADA ran to the window and yanked the curtain.

There he was. DAMOLA. Under the buzzing streetlight. Hands in pockets. Jaw tight. He looked pissed. Or worried. Or both.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.

She grabbed her hoodie and stormed out.

The night air hit her like a slap. The compound was dead silent except for the streetlight buzzing like an angry bee.

DAMOLA didn’t smile when he saw her. He looked her up and down, then his eyes narrowed.

"You look like hell," he said.

"Thanks," ADA snapped. "You came here to insult me?"

"I came here to stop you from quitting."

ADA laughed. Sharp. Ugly. "You don’t get to decide that."

"I do if you’re my friend."

"We’re not friends!"

The words echoed. Too loud.

DAMOLA stepped closer. "Then what are we, Ada? Because friends don’t watch each other drown."

ADA crossed her arms. "I’m not drowning."

"Really?" DAMOLA pulled out her notebook. HER notebook. The blue one. "Then why is this in my bag? Why did you leave it in LT2 and run out crying?"

ADA’s face burned. "Give that back."

"Not until you hear me." He flipped it open. Page 47.

He read out loud, voice low and furious:

> "I’m tired of growing. Growing hurts. But staying small hurts more. So I keep growing, even when my bones ache. Even when nobody claps."

He slammed the notebook shut.

"That’s you! That’s you right now! You’re growing and it hurts like hell and you want to quit because nobody’s clapping!"

"So what?!" ADA yelled. "You think a speech is gonna fix it?! I posted everywhere, Damola! EVERYWHERE! And nobody cares!"

"I care!"

The words hit her like a punch.

DAMOLA was breathing hard. "I care! I read it three times! I stayed up to finish it! You think 0 comments means nobody’s reading? You think I don’t count?!"

ADA’s throat closed. "One person doesn’t—"

"ONE PERSON IS A START!" DAMOLA shouted. Then he lowered his voice. "You want energy? You want tension? This is it. Right here. You vs you. And you’re losing."

Tears pricked ADA’s eyes. She hated it. "I’m tired."

"I know." DAMOLA’s voice softened, but his eyes were still burning. "So rest. But don’t quit. Not tonight."

He shoved the notebook into her chest.

"Chapter 5," he said. "Write it. Or don’t. But make the choice tomorrow when you’re not angry."

He turned to leave.

"Wait," ADA said.

DAMOLA stopped but didn’t turn.

"Why do you care?" she whispered.

DAMOLA looked over his shoulder. The streetlight cut shadows across his face.

"Because someone should have told me not to quit last year," he said. "And nobody did."

Then he walked away.

ADA stood there, heart racing, notebook clutched to her chest. The streetlight buzzed. The silence was back, but it was different now.

It wasn’t empty.

It was charged. Electric. Full of something dangerous.

Hope. Anger. Fight.

She went inside and didn’t sleep.

She wrote.

*5000 words of rage and fire and "watch me".*

Because Damola was right.

She wasn’t drowning.

She was growing.

And it was gonna hurt.

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*End of Chapter 4