Love In New York City

Episode Two

Eliana?” he called, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I stepped inside, and he closed the door. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “David, you don’t love me anymore,” I said, tears welling up. “You’ve been ignoring me. At work, you avoid eye contact. Am I invisible now?”

He sighed. “Babe, stop overthinking. I’m still with you.”

I pushed him away, frustrated. “Stop pretending, David. You know what you’re doing to me!”

I broke down in tears. He moved close, held my waist, and kissed me. I didn’t stop him. Maybe this is why he’s been distant, I thought. Maybe this is what he’s been waiting for. Maybe if I give myself to him, he’ll love me more.

Then, his phone rang.

He pulled away and picked it up. “Hello?”

A woman’s voice came through, soft, feminine, clear.

Without a word to me, he walked out to take the call, leaving me standing there, my heart shattered.

I returned to my room in silence, ashamed and broken. What was I about to do?

My phone rang again. It was my sister, Ella.

“Hello, baby girl!” she said cheerfully.

I forced a smile. “Hi, sis.”

“I’ve missed your trouble,” she laughed.

“I miss you too. I miss Mom, Dad, Elijah, Elaine… I miss us.”

Her tone changed. “Eliana, are you okay?”

I wiped my tears. “Yeah, just… adult life is not for the weak,” I joked. “I just miss everyone, that’s all.”

She sighed. “I was scared for a moment. I miss you too, dearest.”

Talking to her eased something inside me. I slept peacefully—for a little while. Until a knock on my door woke me up.

I opened the door, and there he was, David. Without a word, he walked into my room and shut the door behind him. I instinctively took a step back.

“What do you want? I don’t understand,” I asked, my voice tight as I eyed him with a mixture of confusion and anger.

He stepped closer and gently took my hands in his. “Eliana, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine, and hovering over my body, intense. “I know you said you weren’t ready, and I respected that. But I can’t hold it in anymore. I want us to do this.”

I pulled my hands away, stunned by his words. “What are you saying, David? Stop. We can’t do this.”

He moved away briefly, then sat on my bed with a sigh. “None of my exes ever made a big deal about this. Why are you different?”

“I’m not them, David. I’m Eliana,” I replied, firm but hurt.

He chuckled, a sound that confused me. Then he said, “But we almost did it earlier . A phone call just interrupted us.”

I couldn’t recognize him anymore. This wasn’t the David I fell for—the kind, sweet, and patient man I thought I knew. Was this who he truly was all along?

“Thankfully, that call came,” I said, instinctively covering myself, feeling exposed and uneasy.

He stood up again, facing me, the frustration clear on his face. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired, Eliana. I love you, but why can’t we just be together like normal couples?” His voice rose, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of fear.

He moved toward me, pinning me against the wardrobe. “Let’s end this,” he said coldly.

My heart dropped. End what? Our relationship? just because I wouldn’t sleep with him? I stammered, my voice trembling, “Wha... what do you mean?”

“You heard me. Pack your things. I want you gone by tomorrow morning,” he said, and with that, he walked out.

I stood there, frozen, confused, and shattered. This couldn’t be real. What had I done wrong? I thought he respected my choice to wait until marriage. For three months, he never crossed the line. I thought we were okay. Was sleeping with each other really that important—so important that without it, love wasn’t enough?

But what did i expect? Living with a grown man and I expect him not to want to sleep with me . Maybe these few months together when I couldn’t give him what he wanted he has been getting it from someone else.

I collapsed to the floor, tears pouring uncontrollably. I didn’t want to leave. I needed answers. I needed to understand how he changed so suddenly.

The next morning, I went to his room, hoping we could talk, but he had already left for work. I didn’t have the strength to go to my job, so I called a colleague , Jenny and asked her to tell the head of department I was sick.

I couldn’t call my family. I didn’t want to worry them. I had to handle this on my own.

Back in my room, I picked up my phone and sent him a message: David, I don’t know what went wrong between us, but please tell me you’re not serious about breaking up. Please tell me this is a mistake.

Minutes later, my phone rang. It was him. I answered quickly, my voice trembling. “Hello?”

“Are you still in my house?” he asked flatly.

“Um… yeah, I…” I began, but then I heard a woman’s voice faintly in the background: “Babe, let’s go.”

My stomach twisted.

“Look, I told you it’s over. Just leave,” he said, then hung up.

I was shattered. Heartbroken. I had left everything, my comfort, my family—just to be with him. And now this?

I clutched my chest as the pain washed over me. I dragged myself to the bathroom, trying to find the strength to move, to pack, to leave.

I didn’t even know where to go.

It’s not like I didn’t have the means—my parents are wealthy, both successful medical doctors who own a hospital in Abuja, and also they’re big in real estate. I’d never known poverty. My siblings were thriving Elijah, a doctor in the U.S.; Ella and Ellain, fashion designers running a booming brand in Abuja called E.E. Clothing.

I had every opportunity to just live my best life in Nigeria. But I chose to live with David because I believed in love, because I wanted to get to know him more. Because I thought being with him would bring us closer.

But instead, it left me broken.

I had packed all my things, ready to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to step out I had nowhere to go. I hadn’t even started house hunting. I needed help, so I reached out to Eniola, a friend I’d known since I moved to New York. She worked at a law firm and lived in the city.

She picked up almost immediately.

“Hello, mama,” she said warmly.

I smiled faintly. “Hey, Eni…” I bit my lip a habit of mine whenever things were falling apart.

“How’s your our man?” she asked, referring to David. She usually calls him our man.

That was all it took. The dam broke. I started crying. I couldn’t believe the bossy girl who ordered student around back in high school is weak now.

“Eliana? What’s wrong?” Her voice filled with concern.

But I couldn’t speak. A lump clogged my throat. I hung up.

Moments later, she texted:

“Why are you crying? Please talk to me.”

I replied:

“David broke up with me. He told me to move out this morning. I honestly don’t know where to go. I might just stay in a hotel for now… but please help me look for a house.”

She called me right back.

“Oh Eliana, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry…” she repeated. At the time, I thought she was just sympathizing with me, and I appreciated it. But after that call, she went silent. I didn’t hear from her again. I tried reaching out, but her phone didn’t connect. Something felt off, but I didn’t have the energy to investigate. I just needed somewhere to stay.

I ended up booking a hotel for two nights.