Episode 4: The Things People Don’t Say Out Loud
For the next few days, Daniel became unusually attentive.
Good morning texts.
Long calls.
Random food deliveries.
Even flowers.
Actual flowers.
Chioma nearly fainted when the delivery guy arrived at our hostel with roses and a handwritten note.
“What kind of soft life is this?” she whispered dramatically while inspecting the flowers like police evidence.
I rolled my eyes, but secretly, my heart melted a little.
The note was simple:
I hate misunderstanding between us. Please don’t shut me out.
— Daniel
That was the problem with him.
Even when I wanted to stay angry, he kept giving me reasons not to.
Still, something inside me remained cautious.
Because trust is strange.
Once doubt enters, even love starts moving carefully.
That weekend, Daniel asked if we could go somewhere quiet to talk properly.
We ended up at a small riverside restaurant far from campus noise.
The evening breeze carried the smell of grilled fish and rain.
For a while, we just ate quietly.
Then Daniel finally dropped his fork.
“I miss us.”
I looked up slowly.
“We’re still us.”
“Not really.”
His voice was calm, but I could hear the sadness inside it.
“You don’t relax around me anymore.”
I looked away because he was right.
Everything now felt analyzed.
Measured.
Questioned.
Daniel sighed softly.
“I don’t know how to convince you that I’m serious about you.”
“That’s not fair,” I replied quietly. “I’m trying.”
“I know.”
Silence again.
Then he asked carefully:
“Did Vanessa scare you that much?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“I understand.”
I studied his face for a moment.
“You really loved her?”
Daniel laughed faintly.
“At the time? Very much.”
That answer pinched my chest unexpectedly.
Maybe because no woman likes hearing that another woman once held that much importance.
He continued quietly:
“I thought we’d get married.”
I swallowed hard.
“But life happened.”
“What exactly happened?”
Daniel leaned back slightly, staring toward the river.
“My business crashed during COVID. Things got bad for almost a year.”
I listened quietly.
“She changed slowly after that. Calls reduced. Complaints increased. Suddenly everything about me became disappointing.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Then one day she told me love wasn’t enough.”
The sadness in his voice felt too real to fake.
For the first time, I started seeing Daniel differently.
Not just as this composed, stable man who always had answers.
But as someone who had once been deeply wounded too.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
He smiled weakly.
“It taught me something important.”
“What?”
“That people become honest when comfort disappears.”
That line stayed in my head.
Because honestly…
Wasn’t that exactly what my friends feared too?
That comfort could change everything?
Daniel looked at me carefully.
“I don’t want you moving in because of money or convenience.”
“Then why do you want it so badly?”
He answered almost immediately.
“Because I’m happiest when you’re around.”
My stupid heart reacted again.
I hated how easily he affected me.
Then he added softly:
“But if it makes you uncomfortable, we won’t do it.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I mean it.”
“You’re just dropping the idea?”
“I care more about your peace of mind than the apartment.”
That response confused me badly.
Because manipulative men usually pressure.
Daniel didn’t.
If anything, he looked prepared to sacrifice what he wanted just to make me comfortable.
And somehow that made me trust him more.
Dangerously more.
After dinner, we sat inside his car listening to music quietly.
Then suddenly he said:
“My mum wants to meet you.”
I turned sharply.
“What?”
“She’s visiting next weekend.”
My heart skipped instantly.
“You told your mum about me?”
Daniel looked amused.
“Of course.”
“No, I mean seriously seriously?”
He laughed softly.
“Yes, Ada. Seriously seriously.”
I tried hiding my smile, but it was impossible.
Meeting a Nigerian man’s mother meant something.
Especially a man like Daniel.
Then he reached into the backseat and brought out a small nylon bag.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Inside was a brand-new laptop.
I froze immediately.
“Daniel…”
“You said your project work has been stressing you because your laptop hangs.”
I stared at him speechless.
This wasn’t a small gift.
At all.
“I can’t accept this.”
“Yes, you can.”
“It’s too expensive.”
“You need it.”
I shook my head immediately.
“No.”
Daniel looked at me calmly.
“Why are you fighting kindness?”
“Because I don’t want to feel indebted.”
That answer changed the atmosphere instantly.
His expression softened.
“Ada,” he said quietly, “love is not debt.”
My throat tightened.
Nobody had ever treated me this intentionally before.
Not once.
And that scared me almost as much as it comforted me.
Because now the possibility of losing him felt real too.
When I returned to school that night, I found Amaka waiting outside the hostel.
The moment she saw me smiling slightly, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“You people have settled?”
I laughed.
“Maybe.”
She sighed deeply.
“Ada…”
The seriousness in her tone made my smile fade.
“What?”
Amaka hesitated.
Then she spoke carefully.
“There’s something I think you should know.”
My stomach tightened immediately.
“What happened?”
She looked uncomfortable now.
“I wasn’t going to say anything because it’s not fully my business…”
“Amaka, what is it?”
She exhaled slowly.
“Daniel almost got married before.”
I froze.
“What?”
“It was serious serious.”
My heartbeat started rising again.
“She even stayed with him for some time.”
Everything inside me suddenly became still.
“What happened?”
Amaka looked away briefly.
“That relationship ended badly.”
A cold feeling spread slowly through my chest.
Because suddenly…
This situation no longer felt hypothetical anymore.
Another woman had once stood exactly where I was standing now.
Loved him.
Moved in.
Planned forever.
And somehow…
It still ended.
