Love Impotence

Time didn’t heal Amara. It didn’t fix anything overnight. It just… moved. And somehow, she moved with it. At first, it was unbearable. Seeing them together. Not in any obvious way—Daniel and Kemi weren’t dramatic, weren’t loud, weren’t the type to draw attention. But that was the problem. It was natural. Effortless. “Amara, can you check this part?” Kemi asked one afternoon, sliding her notebook over. Amara took it. “Your points are fine. Just shorten this paragraph.” Kemi smiled. “Thank you. I knew you’d fix it.” Amara nodded. And just like that— Normal. No one noticed the change. Not really. Except maybe Tolu. “You’re quieter these days,” she said one afternoon, watching Amara closely. “I’ve always been quiet.” “Not like this.” Amara didn’t respond. Because this quiet wasn’t the same. This one had weight. It wasn’t that Amara still wanted him. That feeling— That confusing, irritating pull— It had started to fade. Slowly. Painfully. Like something being peeled away layer by layer. What remained wasn’t love. It was something else. Something softer. Something… empty. One evening, after school, the four of them sat under the mango tree again. The same spot. The same group. But everything felt different. “Exams are in two weeks,” Kemi said, flipping through her notes. “After that… we’re done.” “Finally,” Tolu groaned. “Secondary school don tire me.” Daniel smiled faintly. “You’ll miss it.” “I will miss food, not stress,” Tolu replied. They laughed. Even Amara smiled a little. “Where are you applying?” Daniel asked. “University of Lagos,” Kemi said. “Omo, big girl,” Tolu teased. Kemi laughed. “What about you?” “Still deciding.” Then his eyes shifted— Briefly. To Amara. “What about you?” She met his gaze. Calm. Steady. Different from before. “Anywhere that makes sense.” He nodded. Like that was exactly what he expected. And just like that— The moment passed. No tension. No hidden meaning. No weight. Amara looked down at her hands. And realized something. It didn’t hurt anymore. Not because things worked out. But because she had let it go. Quietly. Without announcement. Without closure. And maybe— That was her way. The last day of school came faster than anyone expected. Uniforms signed. Pictures taken. Promises made that everyone knew might not last. “Don’t forget me o!” Tolu shouted, hugging both Amara and Kemi at the same time. “As if you’ll let us forget,” Kemi laughed. Amara stood slightly aside. Watching. Taking it all in. Then— “Amara.” She turned. Daniel. Of course. For a second, it felt like Episode 1 again. That same stillness. That same quiet presence. “Congrats,” he said. “For what?” “Finishing.” She nodded. “You too.” A pause. Not awkward. Just… unfinished. “You’ll do well,” he added. Amara almost smiled. “You say that like you know me.” “I know enough.” A younger version of her might have held onto that. Overanalyzed it. Felt something. But now? “Take care of yourself,” she said instead. Simple. Final. He looked at her for a moment longer. Then nodded. “You too.” And that was it. No confession. No regret. No dramatic ending. Just two people— Who crossed paths at the wrong time. As Amara walked away, she didn’t look back. Not because she was strong. But because she didn’t need to anymore. Behind her, life continued. Tolu shouting. Kemi laughing. Daniel saying something she didn’t catch. And for once— She didn’t care. That night, in her room, surrounded by half-packed boxes and scattered memories, Amara lay on her bed. Staring at the ceiling. Her rules came back to her. Familiar. Comforting. Don’t fall in love. Don’t depend on anyone. Stay in control. She exhaled slowly. Maybe she hadn’t broken them. But she had come close. Closer than she ever intended. And that alone— Was enough to remind her why they existed. Outside, the world was moving forward. New schools. New people. New stories waiting to begin. And somewhere within all of that— Kemi’s story was just starting. Because while Amara was learning how to let go— Kemi was about to learn what it truly meant to hold on.