Walking Away
1071 Words
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Walking Away
For the first time since Amara and Daniel had met, there was no message waiting on her phone in the morning.
Usually, Daniel would send something simple.
Good morning.
Or:
Have you eaten?
Sometimes it was something ridiculous that made her laugh before she had even gotten out of bed.
That morning, there was nothing.
Amara stared at her phone for several seconds.
She knew why.
She had asked for space.
Daniel was respecting it.
She should have been relieved.
Instead, the silence hurt.
She got out of bed and prepared for work.
The city outside was already awake. Lagos traffic was beginning to build, buses moved through crowded streets, and the sound of horns filled the morning.
Everything was normal.
Except Amara.
At the office, she tried to concentrate.
She opened her laptop.
She reviewed a design.
She answered emails.
She attended a meeting.
But her mind kept returning to Daniel.
His face when he had admitted that he loved her.
The way he had said it without expecting anything in return.
The way he had walked away because she asked him to.
Amara leaned back in her chair.
“What am I doing?”
Her colleague looked over.
“Did you say something?”
“No.”
“You've been staring at the same screen for ten minutes.”
Amara smiled weakly.
“Just thinking.”
“About work?”
“Something like that.”
When lunch arrived, she barely ate.
Tolu called.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“That was the fastest lie you've ever told.”
Amara sighed.
“I miss him.”
“I know.”
“I asked him for space.”
“I know.”
“I thought space would make things easier.”
“And?”
“It didn't.”
Tolu was quiet.
“Amara, maybe space isn't supposed to make you stop caring.”
“Then what is it supposed to do?”
“Give you room to understand what you want.”
Amara looked through the office window.
“What if I want him?”
“Then you have your answer.”
“But I'm still afraid.”
“You can be afraid and still choose someone.”
Amara closed her eyes.
That was exactly what she had been struggling to understand.
She had spent so much time believing that courage meant not being afraid.
Maybe courage meant being afraid and moving forward anyway.
Across town, Daniel was struggling too.
He sat at his desk, staring at a set of architectural plans.
Michael walked into the office.
“You've been looking at that page for twenty minutes.”
Daniel didn't look up.
“I know.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I slept.”
“Did you?”
Daniel finally looked at him.
“Barely.”
Michael sat down.
“Have you spoken to her?”
“No.”
“Because she asked for space?”
“Yes.”
Michael nodded.
“That was the right thing.”
“I know.”
“But?”
Daniel looked toward the window.
“I don't know how long to give her.”
“You can't decide that for her.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know.”
Michael was quiet for a moment.
Then he said,
“You really love her.”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
“Then don't turn love into a countdown.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Don't sit there thinking, ‘If she doesn't come back by Friday, I'll move on.’”
Daniel shook his head.
“I wouldn't.”
“Good.”
Michael stood.
“Give her what she asked for.”
Daniel nodded.
“I will.”
That evening, Amara drove home alone.
She passed the café where she and Daniel had first gone for coffee.
She almost stopped.
Instead, she kept driving.
Then she passed the restaurant where they had first met.
Table 23.
The thought made her chest tighten.
She remembered that first night.
She had arrived expecting another terrible date.
Instead, she had met Daniel.
She remembered laughing with him.
She remembered thinking that perhaps the night hadn't been such a disaster after all.
She remembered how easy it had been.
And now, months later, she was driving away from him.
Amara parked outside her apartment and sat in the car.
She whispered,
“I don't know how to do this.”
Her phone remained silent.
She wanted to call Daniel.
She wanted to hear his voice.
But she knew what she had asked for.
So she went upstairs.
That night, she opened the black leather notebook she had bought for Daniel's birthday.
She had bought herself a similar one afterward.
On the first page, she had written a list of things she wanted to remember.
One sentence stood out.
Sometimes the person who scares you isn't the person who will hurt you.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she closed the notebook.
Days passed.
Amara and Daniel continued with their lives.
They worked.
They saw friends.
They answered calls.
They laughed with other people.
But underneath everything was an absence.
They missed each other.
Daniel missed the way Amara would argue about small things.
Amara missed Daniel's voice.
Daniel missed receiving random messages from her.
Amara missed knowing someone was there.
Neither reached out.
Not because they didn't care.
Because they cared enough to respect the distance.
And slowly, Amara began to understand something.
Walking away had protected her from immediate pain.
But it hadn't protected her heart.
It had simply created a different kind of pain.
The pain of missing someone who was still alive, still nearby, still caring—and yet no longer part of her everyday life.
One Friday evening, Amara received a message from Tolu.
Tolu: Are you coming with me tomorrow?
Amara: Where?
Tolu: You'll see.
Amara frowned.
Amara: That sounds suspicious.
Tolu replied:
Tolu: Trust me.
Amara stared at the message.
Trust.
The word felt different now.
She finally replied.
Amara: Okay.
She didn't know it yet, but tomorrow would bring her back to the place where everything had started.
The place with the wrong table.
The place where a mistake had become a friendship.
The place where friendship had become love.
The place where she would finally have to decide whether walking away was really what she wanted.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD