A LOVE THAT WAS MEANT TO BE

chapter 6- Almost caught

Chapter 6:

The Space Between Us*

Yemisi’s POV*

Week 2 felt different before it even started.

Yemisi found herself smiling at customers. Actually smiling. Auntie Bola noticed.

“You’re in a good mood,” Auntie said, eyeing her. “Market has been treating you well?”

“Very well, Auntie,” Yemisi said, and meant it.

3:00pm Saturday. She was already at the mango tree, tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick. She’d brought something today. Small. Hidden in her wrapper.

Footsteps.

Monsor appeared, and this time he wasn’t alone. He had a small takeaway nylon in his hand. It was warm.

“You brought food,” Yemisi said, standing.

“I told you I would,” Monsor said, a little proud. “Tuwon shinkafa. And miyan kuka. My mother made it this morning.”

Yemisi’s eyes went wide. “You carried food all the way from Kano?”

“From my cousin’s house in Ibadan,” he corrected, sitting. “But the recipe is from Kano.”

They sat closer today. Not touching. But closer. The space between them was maybe one hand-width.

Monsor opened the nylon carefully. The smell hit her immediately — earthy, rich, comforting.

“Try it,” he said, handing her a small spoon and a wrapped piece of tuwo.

Yemisi took a bite. It was warm. It was home, even though she’d never had it before.

“It’s...” she searched for the word. “Peaceful.”

Monsor laughed. “That’s the best review I’ve ever heard.”

They ate in comfortable silence. For 15 minutes, there was no market, no family, no rumors. Just two people sharing food under a tree.

“You have stew on your lip,” Monsor said suddenly.

Yemisi froze. “Where?”

“Here.” He reached out, and for half a second his thumb hovered near her mouth.

Neither of them moved.

Then a bike horn blared from the road. Both of them jerked back like they’d been burned.

“Sorry,” Monsor muttered. “I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Yemisi said quickly. Her heart was pounding. “Thank you. For the food.”

Monsor nodded, but his ears were red.

The rest of the hour was softer. They talked about small things. Her favorite song. His favorite book. The fact that they both hated onions.

When 4:00pm came, it felt too soon.

“I have something for you too,” Yemisi said. She pulled out the small thing from her wrapper. A bracelet. Simple. Green and gold beads.

“I made it,” she said, embarrassed. “It’s not much. But green... for peace.”

Monsor took it carefully, like it was glass. “Yemisi. It’s perfect.”

He slipped it onto his wrist right there. It looked small on him.

“Now we match,” Yemisi whispered.

Monsor looked at her, and for a moment Yemisi thought he might say something else. Might reach for her hand.

But he just smiled. “Same time next week?”

“Same time,” she said.

Monsor’s POV*

The ride back to his cousin’s house was quiet.

Monsor kept looking at the bracelet on his wrist. Green and gold. _For peace._

He hadn’t meant to almost touch her face. It just... happened. The space between them had felt so small today. One wrong move and—

His phone buzzed.

It was his brother.

> _Baba asked about you again. Said people saw you near the market last Saturday. With a girl. Be careful bro._

Monsor’s stomach dropped.

_People saw us._

He typed back: _It’s nothing. Just a friend._

The reply came fast: _In this country, there’s no such thing as “just a friend” when it’s her._

Monsor put the phone away. The bracelet felt heavy now.

When he got home, his uncle was waiting.

“Monsor. We need to talk.”

Both - That Night*

Yemisi lay on her mat, the taste of kuka still on her tongue. She touched her lip where his thumb almost was.

She replayed the hour 10 times.

Monsor sat on his bed, staring at the bracelet. He could still smell the market on his agbada.

Two people. One hour.

And a secret that was starting to feel too big to keep.

Outside, the wind moved through the mango leaves.

Saturday was 6 days away.

---