Lessons After Class.

Chapter 9

I sat in class but my body was there without my mind. The room smelled like old books and cheap perfume. The fan above us made a weak sound as it turned, like it was tired of doing its job. My notebook was open on my desk, a clean page staring back at me, waiting for something I could not give.

All I could think about was Yemi.

His voice from earlier in the day kept playing in my head. Loud. Sharp. Not like him at all. Yemi never raised his voice. He talked things through. He joked even when he was angry. But today, something in him broke open, and I was standing right in front of it.

The professor was talking. I knew he was because his mouth kept moving and students were writing. Pens scratched paper. Chairs creaked. Someone sneezed behind me. Life was moving normally for everyone else, but I was stuck in one moment that refused to let me go.

At some point, the professor cleared his throat and said something about an assignment. I caught Friday and 9 pm and nothing else. The rest of his words floated past me like smoke. I nodded like I understood. I did not.

I thought of Yemi again.

I had been with him since my first semester. I was young then, scared, new to everything. He had been calm, sure of himself, kind in a way that made me feel safe. He taught me the campus. He showed me where to eat good food not the cheap oily ones. He waited for me after class. He listened when I cried about my grades and my parents and the pressure that lived inside my chest.

He was everything people described as good.

He listened. He fought for us. He was mature even when I was not. He loved deeply. He cooked for me when I was tired. He helped me clean. He rubbed my shoulders when I studied too long. He had money and never made me feel small about it. He desired me and made me feel wanted. I had never once doubted his love.

So why did today feel like the end.

Melissa’s words from earlier days came back to me. She had joked once that I was too angry with Yemi. I didn’t get what she was saying but she said that I acted like he would always be there. That men got tired of waiting to be chosen every day.

I pushed the thought away, but it came back stronger.

Maybe I was taking him for granted.

When class finally ended, I stood up slowly. My legs felt heavy. I packed my books without care, almost dropping my pen twice. Outside, the sun was still bright, too bright for how I felt inside. Students laughed, couples walked hand in hand, life kept showing off.

The walk home felt longer than usual. Every step gave my thoughts more space to grow. By the time I reached our door, my chest felt tight.

I opened the door too fast.

When I opened the door, I walked into heat.

The sitting room felt thicker than usual, like too many breaths had been taken in one place. The curtains were half closed, letting in soft orange light from outside. The TV was on but muted, faces moving without sound, forgotten.

Melissa was on the couch. Not sitting. Kneeling.

Her knees pressed into the cushion, her body leaning forward. Her back was curved slightly, like she had been pulled there and stayed willingly. Her hair was messy, strands sticking to her neck and cheeks. It looked like fingers had been running through it again and again.

Malik was right in front of her.

Too close.

His legs were spread, his body leaning in, his hands holding her waist like he needed something solid to stay upright. His fingers pressed into her skin, not gentle, not rough, just sure. Like he knew exactly where to touch without thinking.

Their mouths were locked together.

Not quick kisses. Not playful ones.

Slow. Deep. The kind where you forget time exists.

Melissa made a soft sound when she breathed out. Not loud. Not fake. Just real. Malik’s breathing was heavy, uneven, like he had been holding it in and could not anymore.

I froze.

For one second, I thought of backing out quietly, pretending I had not seen anything. But the door had already opened too wide.

They noticed me.

Malik pulled back fast. Too fast. His hands dropped from her body like they had been burned. His face changed immediately, eyes wide, jaw tight. He stood up and started fixing his trousers, fingers shaking slightly as he zipped up.

Melissa did not move right away.

Her top was pushed up, forgotten in the moment. Her chest was bare, full, warm looking. Her skin shone softly under the light. Her breathing was still fast. Her lips were swollen. For a second, she stayed like that, not rushing, not panicking.

It was like she was still somewhere else.

Then she lifted one hand and covered herself slowly, not in shame, just because it was needed now.

The couch cushions were pressed in where they had been close. Too close. A throw pillow lay on the floor. Malik’s phone was on the table, face down, ignored like it had not existed for a while.

The smell hit me next.

Perfume. Sweat. Something sweet and human.

Our eyes met for a brief moment.

Melissa’s eyes were dark. Not sorry. Not embarrassed. Just alive. Like she had been pulled out of something good and had not fully returned yet.

I looked away first.

My chest felt tight. My throat felt dry.

I walked past them without saying anything.

“Hey roomie, your man finally stopped calling”, she said casually, like nothing had just happened.

I said nothing. My head hurt. I walked straight past them.

I went into my room and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed in the small space, loud and sharp. I threw my bag on the floor and fell face down on my bed. My sheets smelled like my soap and something else, something familiar. I pressed my face into them and breathed.

The picture came back clearly. The curve of her body. The way Malik held her. The ease between them. The hunger that had filled the room.

It did not make me angry.

It made me sad.

Because once, not long ago, Yemi and I had filled rooms like that too.

For a few seconds, I stayed like that. Then I heard a knock.

I ignored it.

Another knock came, softer.

“Hana darling, are you okay?” Melissa asked through the door.

I sighed. My body felt heavy, but I dragged myself up. I opened the door.

She stood there, concern on her face now, the playful mood gone.

“Hana, are you good?” she asked.

Malik was back on the couch, remote in hand, eyes on the television like nothing mattered.

“I am good”, I said, forcing my lips into a smile.

“You do not look good though”, she said, “not buying it”.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I just want to be alone”, I closed the door again before she could say more.

A moment passed.

“Okay. I am ordering burgers and fries. Do you want some?” she asked through the door.

I wanted to say no. I really did. But my stomach betrayed me. It growled loud and angry.

I opened the door without thinking.

“I want a cheeseburger with a large fry and large Pepsi. Also a strawberry cake and pizza. You know my pizza order”.

The words rushed out of me.

I walked to the fridge and pulled out the last tub of Häagen Dazs vanilla ice cream. I grabbed a spoon and started eating straight from it.

Melissa looked at Malik. He stood up immediately like she passed a secret message that only they know and he understood.

“I will make the order now. What is her usual pizza order again?” he asked but Melissa ignored him and looked at me instead.

“Okay, someone is stress eating again. What did your umma do this time?” she asked.

“Not my umma. I spoke to Yemi today. I think he is breaking up with me”.

My voice cracked at the end. I hated that it did.

“You talked to him today?” she asked, serious now.

“Yes. After my first class”.

“What did you do?” she asked me.

“I did not do anything. I promise”.

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it.

“Then what did you say?”

“I did not say anything bad. I just told him what made me angry in the first place”, I answered her.

“Not that”, she sighed.

“I am lost girls”, Malik said from the side.

He handed his phone to Melissa who starting making my pizza order. I sat down on the couch between them, ice cream in hand. My body felt cold even though the room was warm.

I explained everything to Malik. How Yemi felt unheard. How he said he was tired. How his voice sounded like he had been holding things in for too long.

While I talked, Melissa finally pulled on her cropped top. Her mood had changed. The fun was over.

“To be honest, you are a bad girlfriend”, Malik said.

The words hit me harder than I expected.

“Yemi loves you but there is only so much he can take”, he added.

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang.

Melissa jumped up and grabbed the food. The smell filled the room instantly. My stomach twisted with hunger and sadness.

I took my ice cream, burger, fries, Pepsi, pizza, and strawberry cake and carried everything to my room.

As I walked away, I heard Malik ask if I would really finish all that.

Melissa answered that it would not be enough.

In my room, I locked the door.

I sat on my bed and started eating without tasting anything. My phone lay beside me. After a while, I picked it up and opened my gallery.

Pictures of Yemi and me filled the screen.

Us smiling. Us laughing. Us at the beach. Us in my room, lying side by side, calm and happy.

I ate and scrolled and cried.

I remembered what Malik said about me being a bad girlfriend and I cried more because I kind of believed it to be true.

The room grew quiet except for my chewing and my breathing. Outside, night slowly took over. The sounds of the city came through my window. Cars. Voices. Life.

I wondered when my own life had started slipping through my fingers.

And I wondered if it was already too late to hold on.