Jealous Gore And The Victim

Stepping InLove

The following morning, I surfaced from a restless sleep on the wrong side of the bed, a familiar ache blooming in my stomach, mirroring the irritation that simmered just beneath my skin. Another message from Yusuf.

“Hello, beautiful. I can’t do much right now, but I will start practicing soon. I want to put up rehearsals so I can write you some good love songs. The book will be written in your name, celebrating the love between us. I plan to drop albums dedicated to every letter of your name. I will write you a love letter and love you even better. We can meet every day if possible, and I will love you until I lose myself in it. It won’t be silent; my wit will shine through it. You can tease me, and I won’t take offense,” he replied.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, fueled by a nascent annoyance. “But can you stop already? This whole bunch of flattery is irritating me. How can you claim to love me like this when you can’t stand up for it? You’re just behind your keyboard, typing what you found in a love novel.”

His response came swiftly, almost as if he anticipated my cynicism. “If this sounds like mere blabbing and my words are mischief, then I deserve no joy. But, dear creature of love, let my heart be sad if all this is a lie. I’m not just behind the keyboard ranting; I’m brave enough to tell your dad. I’ll go to your mom and confess this love. I would tell the whole world if you want me to. I stepped up to you several times, and I hope you remember that. Everything was about reaching you and connecting more with you so I could tell you more, and now I’ve done that.”

A strange thrill, a flicker of something akin to awe, went through me. “What if I said I am not interested anymore?” I typed, testing the boundaries.

“It would be a plague to my health, and the only cure is you. I’m not expecting you to love me the same way; I just want you to give me a chance to show you how much I care for you,” he replied.

A small, unbidden smile touched my lips. “See? You rhyme! ‘How I’m made for your way.’ I guess you should become a rapper or a singer, not just a songwriter, so you can keep delivering those rhymes. Now, if I shut you out, what would you do?”

“Your love. I must pursue it—learning how to love you, how to show you, and make you proud of me,” he declared.

“Your language is a bit too fancy,” I typed, feigning an air of superiority. “You sound like you watch a lot of love movies and read a lot of love poems.”

Then, a sudden curiosity struck me. “You sound and behave very maturely. How old are you?”

“Thank you for the compliment! I’m 23, and I’ll turn 24 on August 25,” he replied.

“Wow, you look younger than your age! But too young to be feeling that way. Where are you studying, and what level are you at?” I pressed, a new line of inquiry opening.

“I’m at the Federal University of Technology, Minna, Niger State (FUT Minna). I’m in my final year, studying Computer Engineering, and I’ll be graduating in a few months,” he answered, his words brimming with accomplishment.

“That’s interesting! My eldest sister goes there too; she should be in her 400 level by now. What are your plans after school?” I asked, imagining his future taking shape.

“To serve the nation, focus on my job, get married, and start a new life,” he replied, his words direct and unwavering.

A ripple of disbelief, then a laugh, escaped me. “Seriously? Are you kidding me? Marriage?! What do you know about marriage at your age? Do you have a place to keep her? Do you have a job already? This sounds funny.”

“Yes, I have a place to keep my wife. My dad has several houses in the city, and I believe he will give me one when the time comes. I have a job; I work as a software engineer in my dad’s company, and I’m also building my own brand, developing mini-computers for small companies, wholesalers, and retailers to simplify record-keeping,” he explained, his words painting a picture of ambition and readiness.

“Wow, nice! That means you are productive, well-trained, and focused. What are your relationship goals? What type of woman do you want to marry? How would you raise your family? How many kids do you want, and how would you like a woman to treat you?” The questions tumbled out, a cascade of curiosity.

“The goal is to be happy in the relationship. The type of woman I want to marry is someone like you: intelligent, educated, disciplined, religious, ambitious, well-mannered, respectful, communicative, friendly, kind, honest, presentable, and straightforward,” he said.

My heart gave a strange lurch. “But is that who I am? You listed all those qualities like you know me that much.”

“Yes, that’s what I noticed and believe you are, based on the few moments we’ve spent together,” he replied, his conviction unwavering.

“You answer questions like you know everything. Have you found a woman with all the qualities you mentioned?” I asked, a playful challenge in my words.

“Not yet, but I’m talking to her,” he replied, a subtle hint in his tone.

“Who is she, and what is her name?” I pressed, a sudden breathlessness in my chest.

“You, Salma. It’s you,” he said.

My jaw dropped. “You must be joking. Let’s talk later. I have some things to do right now. Bye,” I stammered, and ended the call, my mind reeling.

Later that night, the weight of life’s challenges pressed down on me. Even the elements seemed to conspire, the quiet darkness of the night wrapping around me, transforming me into a reluctant victim of love, caught in an emotional storm. I tried to confine myself within the familiar boundaries of my feelings, but the truth, undeniable and insistent, broke through. I listened to my heart; I wore it, exposed and vulnerable, on my sleeve. This love, I knew, was genuine.

“Grab me a place in your heart, and I promise to nurture it,” I thought, the words a silent plea to the universe. “If the world despises it, let them choke on their own negativity. I will be your love, not exaggerating, but as truthfully as I can. Trust me with your light, and the night will always remain bright. If I’m a wooer, then let me be the one to quench your thirst for love with honesty and sincerity. Beautiful Salma, they say you are the embodiment of peace. So please don’t leave; imbibe in the serenity I wish to offer.”

His messages kept pouring into my DMs, a relentless, captivating stream. “I heart talking to myself all by myself and now I want you to listen to it and save me from this mad hatter and be mine. I will keep on dropping these notes on your DM till you finally set me free.”

Finally, I typed a response, a hesitant step forward. “Yusuf, stop it, please. It is okay, and I understand your feelings, and I will see what I can do to create that space for you. Whenever I’m free, we’ll see; you can come with your siblings ‘cause I want to see them again.”

His reply was immediate, overflowing with gratitude. “Thank you, dear, you are a good gift to nature, and this will not scoundrel. I will appreciate you honestly as long there is a passage in my veins and the blood still flows. I’m assuming your braveness with no control over this, and I will see y’all soon alongside my siblings. Thank you once more.”

As the night deepened, I sat in silence, letting his words wash over me like a gentle tide. The warmth of his affection seeped into my thoughts, igniting an unfamiliar spark within me. Could it be that love was standing at my door, quietly waiting for me to acknowledge it? I took a deep breath, trying to sort through the chaos in my mind. My life had been a series of challenges, and the notion of love felt both exhilarating and terrifying. What if I opened my heart only to find it shattered? Yet, there was something different about him. His sincerity felt palpable, like a soft whisper in the dark, urging me to let my guard down.

The next morning, as the sun pierced through my curtains, painting the room in golden hues, the thoughts from the previous night still swirled. I grabbed my phone, hesitating before opening our chat. Should I reach out? Would it be wise to engage with someone who professed their love so fervently?

I decided to type a message. “Hey,” I wrote tentatively. “Can we talk? I think we need to discuss what happened last night.” A few moments passed, and my heart raced as I awaited his response. Finally, my phone chimed. “Of course, Salma! I’ve been waiting for you to reach out. What’s on your mind?”

I took a moment, gathering my thoughts, then poured them out. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. I appreciate your feelings, but I’m hesitant. Love isn’t something that can be rushed into. We barely know each other.”

“I understand, and I respect that. But I believe in taking chances, especially when it comes to something as beautiful as love. We can take our time to understand each other better. Let’s start with honesty and friendship, and see where it leads us,” he replied.

His words resonated. I found comfort in the idea of nurturing a friendship as a foundation for something deeper. “Alright then,” I typed back. “Let’s start fresh. How about we meet for coffee this weekend? Just to talk and get to know each other better.”

“I’d love that! Saturday at 3 PM?” he suggested, and I quickly agreed.

As the week progressed, anticipation built within me. I found myself daydreaming about our meeting, imagining what it would be like to sit across from him, to share laughter and stories, and perhaps to unravel the layers of our lives.

Finally, the day arrived. I chose a cozy café, one that was vibrant yet intimate. I arrived a few minutes early, my heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nervousness. When he walked in, I felt a rush of emotions. He looked even more charming in person, his smile reaching his eyes as he spotted me.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, pulling out the chair across from me.

“Hi,” I replied, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

As we sipped our coffees, the conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about our families, dreams, and passions. I learned about his love for music and how he spent his nights composing melodies that spoke to his soul. I shared my own aspirations, revealing my hidden dreams and the struggles that had shaped me. With each passing moment, I felt the walls I had built around my heart begin to crumble. He listened intently, his gaze never wavering, and I could see genuine interest reflected in his eyes. There was something about his presence that made me feel safe.

“So, what do you think about love now?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Love is complicated. It can be beautiful, but it can also be painful. I’ve seen both sides, and I’m cautious.”

He nodded, understanding the weight of my words. “That’s fair. But what if love is also about risk? About taking a leap of faith? I’m here, ready to show you that love doesn’t have to be scary.”

I looked at him, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all I found was hope. “You make it sound so easy,” I said softly.

“Maybe it can be, if we let it. Let’s enjoy this journey together, no pressure, just two people exploring what could be,” he suggested.

As the afternoon sun began to set, casting a warm glow around us, I felt a stirring within me. Perhaps it was time to embrace the possibility of love, to allow myself to feel and to trust again.

“Alright,” I said, a smile breaking across my face. “Let’s see where this goes.” The moment felt pivotal, like a door had opened to a new chapter in my life. And as we continued to talk, I couldn’t help but wonder what adventures awaited us on this path we were beginning to tread together.