If only

chapter 11

I wasn’t expecting anything.

Not from Tunde.

Not after the drift, the silence, Tomi’s nonsense, and everything in between.

I had quietly accepted the ending.

Until he came back.

Valentine’s Day.

The school buzzed with flowers, cards, cheap chocolates, and dramatic surprises.

I told myself I didn’t care.

But a small part of me still looked up whenever someone walked toward me with a red envelope.

Then, out of nowhere Tunde showed up.

With a wristwatch box. A flower. And a red card in his hand.

My chest froze.

He smiled.

Then in front of everyone he knelt.

My breath caught.

The girls around gasped.

Some screamed.

The boys laughed.

He handed me the flower, the card, and the box.

I opened the gift a wristwatch. Silver. Beautiful.

My heart started stitching itself back together.

Maybe… he chose me after all.

That whole afternoon, I walked like I was floating.

Everyone noticed.

We talked again. Laughed again.

It felt like the story was rewriting itself.

Until reality crept in slowly, cruelly.

“Did you open the card?”

“Who gave it to you?”

“You know that’s not from him, right?”

I ignored it at first.

Then I checked the card again, curious.

The name inside.

Wasn’t mine.

It was for my friend.

And just like that

the whole fantasy crumbled.

Tunde hadn’t told me anything.

Hadn’t explained. Hadn’t warned.

Just handed it all over like it was meant for me.

Later, I heard the truth:

The card and flower weren’t his.

They were from his friend a boy who liked my friend but couldn’t approach her.

So he sent Tunde as the middleman.

And Tunde, without a word, used me to pass the message.

No explanation.

No apology.

Just silence.

I felt like a fool.

I wasn’t even angry.

Just… hollow.

Tomi started acting up after that for reasons only God knows.

Getting irritated over everything I did.

Breathing loud when I walked in.

Watching me like I was guilty of something.

But I didn’t say a word.

I stopped explaining myself.

I stopped trying.

I buried it like I buried everything else.

Walked past them all with my head held high.

Because even though the watch was real, the moment wasn’t.

And I’ve learned…

The cruelest kind of heartbreak is the one that dresses up like hope first.