Between Almost and Always

Lizzy never believed in love that stayed. Not the kind people wrote about in long captions under soft pictures. Not the kind that survived distance, misunderstandings, or the quiet boredom that came when the excitement faded. To her, love was something that felt real in the moment—but never lasted long enough to become permanent. It was temporary. Like harmattan mornings in Jos. Cold. Beautiful. Brief. And then gone before you could fully enjoy it. She had learned that lesson early too early, if she was being honest with herself. Her parents had once been the kind of couple people admired. At least, that’s what she had been told. Smiling pictures. Church together. Family friends who said things like, “They’re perfect for each other.” But perfection, she later realized, was just a performance. Behind closed doors, things had been different. Arguments that started small but never really ended. Silence that stretched for days. Her mother crying quietly at night when she thought no one could hear. Her father becoming a stranger long before he physically left. The day he finally walked out didn’t feel dramatic. No shouting. No begging. Just a quiet closing of the door. And somehow… that made it worse. Because it proved something Lizzy would carry for years: People don’t always fight before they leave. Sometimes, they just stop choosing you. After that, she stopped believing in “forever.” Then came Tobi. Her first love in university. The one who made her laugh too easily. The one who held her hand like it meant something. The one who looked at her and said, “You’re different, Lizzy. You’re not like other girls.” She had believed him. Of course she did. Because every girl wants to believe she’s the exception. Until she found out she wasn’t. The day she walked into his hostel unannounced and saw another girl sitting comfortably on his bed—their bed—it felt like the ground beneath her shifted permanently. The worst part wasn’t even the cheating. It was how normal he acted when he got caught. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like she was the one overreacting. That day, Lizzy learned another lesson: People don’t always betray you with guilt. Sometimes, they do it casually. Like you never mattered. After that, she stopped expecting too much from anyone. “Expect less, hurt less.” It became her rule, Her shield,Her survival strategy. And for a long time… It worked. Tuesday afternoons in Jos had a certain kind of calm to them. The sun wasn’t too harsh, the breeze carried just enough coolness to make sitting outside comfortable, and the usual campus noise softened into something almost peaceful. The café just outside the university gate was one of Lizzy’s favorite spots. Not because it was special—but because it wasn’t. It didn’t demand attention. It didn’t try too hard. It just existed. And that made it the perfect place to think. Or, in Lizzy’s case pretend to work while planning her future. She sat at her usual table near the window, her laptop open in front of her, a half-written assignment staring back at her like a silent accusation. Mass Media Law and Ethics. She should have been focused. But instead, her phone rested beside her laptop, screen lighting up every few seconds as she scrolled through i********: pages filled with thrift collections. Oversized blazers. Vintage denim. Statement pieces that could easily double in price if styled right. Her eyes moved quickly, analyzing, calculating. If I get this supplier, I can increase my stock… This one would sell fast if I market it properly… I need better pictures. Branding matters… Her brand “EverythingLizzy”was still small, but it meant everything to her. It was more than just clothes. It was independence. A future she could build without relying on anyone. “Are you actually working… or just pretending?” The voice came unexpectedly. Calm. Steady. Slightly amused. Lizzy blinked, her attention snapping away from her phone as she looked up. And that’s when she saw him. He wasn’t loud. Didn’t carry himself like someone trying to be noticed. But somehow… he stood out anyway. Maybe it was the notebook in front of him, filled with handwritten notes instead of a glowing screen like everyone else. Or the way he seemed completely comfortable in his own space, like he didn’t need validation from anyone around him. Or maybe it was his eyes. Observant,Intentional Like he noticed details most people ignored like her She straightened slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” He didn’t look embarrassed. Didn’t even hesitate. “You’ve been on the same page for at least ten minutes,” he said simply. Lizzy paused. Then she let out a short laugh. “Wow,” she said, leaning back slightly. “So you’ve been watching me?” “Observing,” he corrected. There was no arrogance in his tone. Just quiet confidence. “And there’s a difference?” she asked, folding her arms. “Yeah,” he said. “Watching is obvious. Observing means you don’t notice.” That made her pause.. Because he was right. She hadn’t noticed him watching. Not until he spoke. “And what else have you observed, Mr…?” she asked. “Daniel.” He said She nodded slowly. “Okay, Mr Daniel What else?” There was a brief silence. But it wasn’t awkward. It felt… deliberate. Like he was choosing his words carefully. “You’re ambitious,” he said finally. Lizzy’s expression didn’t change, but something inside her shifted slightly. “And distracted,” he added. “Like your mind is somewhere else. Somewhere bigger than what you’re doing right now.” Her fingers stilled on the table. That was too accurate. Too precise. For a second, she didn’t like it. Didn’t like how easily he read her. Didn’t like how seen she suddenly felt. So she did what she always did when something got too close to the truth. She deflected. “Or maybe,” she said with a small smirk, “you just like sounding deep.” Daniel smiled. Not defensive. Not offended. Just… calm. “Maybe,” he admitted. And somehow, that made it worse. Because he wasn’t trying to impress her. He wasn’t trying to prove anything. He was just… real. Their conversation didn’t turn into anything dramatic after that. No instant connection. No exchanged numbers. Just small interactions. A comment about the music playing in the café. A joke about how bad the Wi-Fi was. A shared silence that felt strangely comfortable. But something had already started. Something quiet. Something unspoken. As Lizzy packed her things to leave later that afternoon, she felt it again that subtle awareness of his presence. She tried to ignore it. Tried to act like it didn’t matter. Because that was easier. Safer. But as she stepped out of the café, the cool Jos breeze brushing lightly against her skin, she found herself thinking about him. Not intentionally. It just… happened. And that annoyed her. Because she didn’t do this. She didn’t think about strangers. Didn’t get curious. Didn’t feel drawn. But there was something about him. Something she couldn’t quite explain. Across the street, just as she was about to call a bike, she heard laughter. Soft. Feminine. She turned slightly without thinking. And that’s when she saw him again. Daniel. Standing with a girl. The girl was pretty effortlessly so. Long hair, confident posture, the kind of presence that naturally attracted attention. She touched his arm lightly as she spoke, smiling in a way that suggested familiarity. Comfort. Something about the scene made Lizzy’s chest tighten slightly. Not jealousy. At least, that’s what she told herself. Just… observation. Yes. Observation. She looked away quickly. Because whatever that feeling was… It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. She had just met him. And Lizzy didn’t do attachments. But as she rode home that evening, the city lights beginning to flicker to life around her, one thought lingered quietly in her mind: Some people don’t walk into your life loudly. They arrive softly… and still manage to change everything. And she had a strange feeling That meeting Daniel was not going to be as simple as it seemed