16
1064 Words
Aida
I left early. You were sleeping.
I hope you’re okay.
Text me when you’re up.
I stared at the message for a long moment.
I woke up before I meant to. The ac was too cold and I couldn’t bear it again so I woke up to turn it off and noticed he was not there.
He was gone
Light leaked through the gap in the curtains, pale and quiet, settling on the wall opposite the bed. For a second, I didn’t move. I stayed exactly how I was, eyes open, body still, waiting for the familiar tightening in my chest.
The bed felt larger than it should have. Cooler on one side.
Today being Sunday made everything easier for me, at least I didn’t have to get up to prepare for work today.
I reached up and touched my cheek carefully. The tenderness hadn’t disappeared overnight. It was muted, but present, I still felt the pain.
I dropped my hand back onto the mattress.
The events of the night replayed in fragments in my head as I walked to the bathroom and caught my reflection in the mirror.
I looked… normal.
My eyes were a little dull, yes. My cheek faintly discolored, but easily missed if you weren’t looking for it. My lips were dry. My hair flattened on one side.
I brushed my teeth slowly,did the same while I bathe, I wanted the water to wash off everything relating to Caleb if it was possible.
I wrapped myself tighter in the robe and stepped back into the room.
My phone sat on the bedside table where I’d left it.
Face down.
I picked it up and turned it over.
Fifteen missed calls.
10 messages.
All from Caleb.
I didn’t open them.
My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, muscle memory begging me to tap, to read, to respond, to manage. To soften whatever rage was surely waiting on the other side of those words.
I locked the screen instead.
The silence that followed wasn’t loud. It was almost gentle.
I sat back on the bed and pulled my knees up, hugging them loosely. My mind drifted, uninvited, to the night before—specifically to the contrast I hadn’t allowed myself to think about yet.
The way Mike had pulled up for me. Very intentional.
The way he hadn’t asked questions when I couldn’t answer them.
How he cared for me, the way he’d joked.
I’d watched him then, really watched him, and for the first time it struck me how unfamiliar calm had become to me.
With Caleb, everything was intense. Loud love. Loud apologies. Loud anger. Loud promises. Even happiness with him felt sharp around the edges, like it could cut if I held it wrong.
I used to think that meant passion.
Now, sitting alone in a quiet hotel room with sunlight on the walls, it just felt exhausting.
There was a knock at the door.
I flinched before I could stop myself.
My heart jumped, sharp and immediate, before logic caught up. I stood slowly, my body already preparing for confrontation that hadn’t happened yet.
Another knock. Lighter this time.
“Housekeeping,” a woman’s voice called.
I exhaled.
“I’m awake,” I said. “You can come back later.”
“Alright, ma’am.”
Her footsteps faded down the corridor.
I checked the time.
8:12 a.m.
I wondered when Mike had left. Whether he’d waited to make sure I was fully asleep. Whether he’d stood for a moment, debating whether to wake me. Whether he’d decided—correctly—that leaving quietly was the better kindness.
I picked up my phone again.
This time, I opened one of Caleb’s messages.
Shey you know you’re very mad, leaving me to go out with someone else, I always knew you were a w***e, following any and every man you see, better pick up your call o cause when we meet it won’t be funny for you. I promise you
I didn’t read the rest.
I deleted the notification preview and locked the screen again.
Downstairs, the hotel restaurant was quiet. A few guests scattered across tables, murmured conversations, clinking cutlery. I chose a table near the window and sat with my back to the wall without thinking about it.
I saw someone eating akara and pap and wondered if it was normal to be served that type of food in this type of hotel. It didn’t fit their aesthetic but this is Nigeria.
The waiter approached.
“What would you like?”
I paused.
“Breakfast,” I said, then corrected myself. “Tea. And toast. Please.”
The food arrived quickly. I didn’t notice how hungry I was until I tasted it and within a few minutes everything was gone and I still felt hungry but ordering another round would make me look like a glutton so decided not to order again, maybe when I go back to my room I’d get room service to do that for me.
I was halfway up the stairs when my phone buzzed.
Mike.
I’m outside.
I stopped walking.
Outside where?
Before I could type anything, another message came in.
The hotel. Don’t panic.
I smiled despite myself. Small. Brief.
When I got back to the room, there was a soft knock almost immediately.
I uttered “come in” but it seemed like he didnt hear me, so I stood up and went to the door, checking myself one last time in the mirror, to make sure I was dressed appropriately, and then I opened the door.
Mike stood in the hallway with two brown paper bags in his hands and a carton of juice tucked under his arm. He looked freshly showered, T-shirt clean, hair slightly damp like he’d rushed without really rushing.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” he said. “So I bought options.”
“You know I already ate, right?” I said, stepping aside to let him in.
“I figured,” he replied easily. “This isn’t about hunger.”
He placed the bags on the small table near the window and started unpacking like he owned the space. Bread rolls. Eggs. Fruits. Yogurt. Tea. Even takeaway akara wrapped carefully in foil.
I raised an eyebrow. “You went all out.”
He shrugged. “You deserve it”
- Writer
