WHEN LOVE WAS STILL YOUNG

Chapter 4 — Mama’s Warnings

There’s something about African mothers.

They don’t need CCTV or gossip before they sense something unusual. One glance at your eyes, one pause in your step, one strange smile — and they already know your heart has been hijacked by something you’re not ready to confess.

Mrs. Grace Brooks had been observing her daughter for days.

Amelia, who once sang gospel hymns like “You Are Alpha and Omega” while washing plates, had suddenly switched to soft love songs that made no mention of heaven or angels. Her laughter had become lighter, her eyes brighter, and her phone — always glued to her side like a newborn baby.

A mother doesn’t need a prophet for that kind of revelation. Grace didn’t need any angel to whisper it — she could tell that love had sneaked into her house like evening breeze: quiet but powerful.

That evening after dinner, the house smelled of fried plantain and stew. The sun was setting, painting the sky orange, and Mrs. Brooks sat on the verandah, fanning herself with an old calendar. Her wrapper was tied tightly around her chest, her face calm but calculating.

“Amelia,” she called softly.

From inside, a nervous voice answered, “Yes, Mama?”

“Come and sit here. Let’s talk like women.”

Ah! Those words — “talk like women” — had power.

Amelia’s heart skipped. She wiped her hands on her skirt and walked slowly to her mother like someone heading to a confession booth.

She sat down beside her, pretending to be busy with her nails.

Mrs. Brooks gave a long sigh. “So… who is the boy?”

Amelia blinked rapidly. “Boy? Which boy, Mama?”

Her mother didn’t even blink. That legendary mother’s stare — the one that could melt lies — landed straight on her. “Don’t play with me, Amelia. The boy that makes you smile in your sleep. The one Aunt Brenda has turned into breaking news for the whole neighborhood.”

Amelia groaned loudly. “Aunty Brenda again! That woman won’t let me rest.”

Grace ignored the complaint. “My daughter, listen to me very well. You are my only girl. I have seen love, touched love, and even cried because of love. It starts sweet like honey, but if you’re not careful, it can burn like hot oil.”

Amelia tried not to laugh. “Mama, it’s not like that o. We’re just… talking.”

Her mother raised a brow. “Talking? That’s how it begins. Small talk today, small smile tomorrow — before you know it, your heart will be inside somebody’s pocket without your permission. And when he loses his trousers, your peace goes with it!”

Amelia couldn’t help it — she burst into laughter. “Mama!”

But her mother continued, not smiling. “That’s what your Aunt Brenda said about her first husband — the one who disappeared on their wedding day with the chicken meant for guests.”

Amelia covered her face, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “Mama, stop now! You’ll make me choke.”

Mrs. Brooks allowed a small smile. “Love will make you laugh today and cry tomorrow, my daughter. It is both medicine and sickness. I only pray you taste more of its sweetness than its bitterness.”

Silence filled the air for a while. The crickets outside began their night songs, and a faint breeze danced around them.

Then her mother added softly, “Men are like cats — they come when it’s warm and disappear when the rain starts. Don’t chase them. Let the one who is meant for you find you. If he truly loves you, he won’t need you to run after him.”

Amelia nodded slowly, her heart quiet. “I understand, Mama.”

Grace stood up, stretching her back. “Good. Now, please go and check that rice on the fire. Love won’t save us from eating burnt food tonight.”

Later that night, Amelia lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above her. Her mother’s words echoed in her head — “Men are like cats…”

She giggled softly. “Then Daniel must be a very funny cat,” she whispered, hugging her pillow.

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Daniel:

“Hope you’re smiling before you sleep. If not, let me send one for you.”

She smiled like a thief caught in the act, holding her phone to her chest.

Meanwhile, miles away, Daniel sat outside the bakery, the faint smell of fresh bread in the air. He used his pen to trace Amelia’s name on the back of his palm again and again, afraid that even the ink might forget her.

Both of them — two hearts, two worlds, connected by feelings too new to understand.

Both thinking of each other under the same moon.

And though they didn’t know it yet, love had begun its quiet lesson —

because love doesn’t just make people happy.

It teaches, tests, and transforms.

To be continued… 💞✨

Next Chapter (5): The Bread Boy’s Secret