With Love, Dieko

Five

Resumption day came so fast.

Early morning rush. Bags thumping. Last-minute panic.

Tife didn’t say much in the car, earphones plugged in like she was blocking out the entire planet. Tola kept humming something from t****k while Mom kept repeating, “Don’t forget to call me if you need anything. I hope you're not with your phones. I'm not bribing anyone to get your phones back this term o” she said, giving Tola a side eye.

We laughed and promised that we weren't with our phones.

We got to school around 9:14 AM.

The gates looked exactly the same. Tall. Unsmiling. Like they knew who belonged inside and who didn’t.

A woman in front of us was shouting at a gateman, something about her daughter’s clothes going missing last term. Same chaos, same noise. A strange sense of familiarity sank in my chest.

Home, but not quite.

As we dragged our boxes out of the boot, I noticed a few familiar faces—girls from my class when I was in JSS 3. One of them waved. I waved back.

Tola was beaming beside me. “I hope my roommates are fun.”

“You’ll be fine,” I muttered, still watching the gate like something might change.

After registration, I got assigned to SSS 3A—Science class.

Tola, meanwhile, was bouncing with excitement as she collected her timetable for Arts.

“You should’ve picked Arts too,” she said, nudging me. “We could’ve shared notes.”

I scoffed. “And spend the rest of our lives broke? Please.”

She rolled her eyes. “Artists are not broke. They’re just… emotionally funded. Everything doesn't have to be financial.”

I laughed, but it came out a little too tired. The sun was hot. The school compound was loud. And I already felt like I didn’t know where I fit anymore.

Someone said, “Dieko?”

Ruqayyah. One of the few friends I actually missed. Her hijab was tucked loosely over one shoulder, and she gave me the kind of smile that made my chest unclench.

“You’re back,” she said, grinning.

I nodded. “Yeah. You look taller.”

She laughed. “And you look… different. Good different.”

That could’ve meant anything. But for once, I let it mean something kind.

We said our goodbyes, and just as I was about to take my things out of the car, I heard Daddy’s voice.

The one-man thunderstorm himself.

From the way the leaves and flowers in the car park vibrated with his shouting, you’d think someone stole his car. I walked back and saw him standing in the middle of the lot, arms flailing like a traffic warden on steroids.

I don’t even remember half of what he said, just that we moved like soldiers, dragging our luggage before he exploded further.

By the time Mummy finished sorting registration and dragged us to the back of the car to pray, Daddy was already sitting inside with the engine running, arms folded.

The prayer ended, Daddy drove off without waiting a second, and just like that, the car was gone.

Tife grabbed her box and walked away without a single word. Typical.

Tola muttered, “Well. That was dramatic.”

I just exhaled. Loudly.

The sun blazed hotter, pressing sweat down my back.

And that was when it hit me.

This was it.

I was back.