repogirl:
The start of Ona's third year at university was nothing like she had imagined it would be. Instead of feeling excited for a fresh start, she was followed by the painful memories from the year before. She still hadn’t escaped the hurt that Jorel had caused her.
Every step she took still felt difficult, as if she was carrying a heavy weight of sadness from their breakup. The sharp, stabbing pain had faded, but a dull ache remained. It was a constant, quiet presence inside her, reminding her how much she could be hurt. She was now determined to never let herself be that vulnerable again.
Ona could still remember that night at Option Four as clearly as if it were yesterday. The moment Jorel ended their relationship felt like her entire world was shattering into pieces. She had stumbled out of the restaurant and back to her car, the sound of other people's happy laughter now feeling like a cruel joke. Once she was inside, the tears had come even harder. She cried uncontrollably, each sob releasing the deep humiliation and hopelessness she felt. It felt like she was crying out for help to a world that didn't care.
It was in this broken, vulnerable state that Benson found her. His arrival was like a light cutting through her darkness. He didn't ask a lot of questions or force her to explain. He just got into the passenger seat and stayed with her. He was a steady, calm friend who handed her tissues, spoke gentle words, and simply listened. His quiet strength gave her a safe place to fall apart, anchoring her when she felt completely lost.
During those difficult weeks while she was trying to heal, Ona's Aunt Zikora was always there for her. Her aunt constantly reminded her that she deserved real love and should never accept anything less.
Ona made the hard decision to cut off all communication with her father. She saw him as the main cause of her pain. She blamed him, at least partly, for Jorel leaving her. She was tired of his constant demands and criticisms. She just wanted to live her life in peace. Maybe if she’d cut him off a long time ago, she might have salvaged her relationship … or maybe not.
She was disappointed in Jorel, and she was disappointed in herself for misjudging their relationship. She had truly believed their love was strong enough to survive any problem. The truth, that it wasn't, was a hard thing to accept.
When Benson's comforting friendship slowly turned into romantic interest, Ona did not stop it. She knew this wasn't completely fair to him. In her mind, she was "damaged," her heart still trapped in the wreckage of her old relationship. After what Jorel had done, she found it hard to trust any man; it felt like he had broken her for everyone else.
But Benson, who she now playfully called "Benny", was a pleasant distraction. It felt good, even exciting, to have a man so completely devoted to her. And he wasn't just anyone. He was Benson Shonibare, the most wanted bachelor at the university. He was in his final year, came from a rich Lagos family, was the Student Union President. And he was crazy about her.
For a while, the relationship worked. The warmth of his attention helped cover up the pain she still felt inside. But when the holidays came, they were apart, she was on an internship, and he’d graduated and was away for his mandatory National Youth Service. The physical distance gave her time to think clearly.
She realized she was being selfish. She was using him for comfort while her heart still longed for Jorel. It wasn't right to treat such a good man that way. So, with a sad heart, she ended the relationship a few weeks before resumption.
This left her completely alone as she started her third year. But her conscience was clearer, even though the loneliness was harder to bear. Deep down, a small part of Ona believed Jorel wasn't over her either. His behavior on the last day of the previous semester proved it. A man who had truly moved on, wouldn't punch someone so hard they passed out, not over a woman he didn't care about.
When Benson had regained consciousness, he’d been furious and threatened to report Jorel to the school. Ona knew this would get Jorel expelled immediately. So, despite her own hurt and pride, she had begged Benson to drop the matter. She protected Jorel, even after he had broken her heart.
She had told him she wouldn’t chase after him, but had finally decided to. She returned to campus after her mandatory six-month industrial training internship with a new sense of determination. She was set on finally talking to Jorel. His reasons for the breakup had been vague and never made sense to her. She held onto a stubborn hope that she could break down his walls and make him love her again. She felt sure it wouldn't be difficult; she believed the sparks of their love were still alive.
After dropping her bags in her hostel room and quickly unpacking, her heart beating fast with nervous excitement, she went straight to Jorel's hostel. She found his door and was about to knock when his roommate opened it. Her hopeful smile disappeared when he told her Jorel wasn't returning for the semester. The news hit her like a physical blow. Just as the disappointment began to crush her, the roommate added, "But he left a letter for you."
Her hands shook as she took the sealed envelope. She walked to a quiet corner of the hallway, leaned against the cool wall, and tore it open.
My Dearest Ona, my love,
Just seeing his familiar scrawl was a gentle healing touch and a sharp pain, all at once. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. She kept reading, her breath catching in her throat.
I couldn't send this directly to you, since you've blocked me everywhere. I don’t blame you. I broke your heart, and I am so truly sorry. I wish with everything in me that I didn't have to. But it was the most difficult choice I have ever made, a choice I believed I had to make for our futures.
I know you don't understand right now. I pray that one day you will look back and it will all make sense. For now, we have to walk through this fire. I believe that if we do, we will come out stronger, like iron. I am starting a new part of my journey now, and I need you to start yours. Live fully, Ona. Pour yourself into your life. Follow every dream. Don't you dare let anyone tell you that you can't do something. Please, always put yourself first.
Tears filled her eyes, making the ink swim and blur. It was all so unclear, so frustrating, wrapped up in what he thought was a noble sacrifice.
Then, her teary eyes found the last words.
You're a writer, Ona. So you know this isn't the end of our story. This is just the intermission. You and I… to be continued.
Jorel's letter didn't bring peace. It left a confusion that buzzed under her skin. Those words, "to be continued," didn't feel like a promise. They felt like a trap. They asked her to have faith in a future he wouldn't explain, to just sit and wait in the dark for him.
The next morning, a raw, desperate need for real answers took over. She didn't go to the class. Instead, she drove straight to Ajegunle. The busy, noisy streets felt like stepping into a ghost of her own past. Every corner held a memory, walking there with him, laughing right there, the warm, safe feeling of his hand in hers.
But when she finally reached the small compound, her heart sank. The house was empty, a shell. The windows were closed. On the gate, a heavy padlock she had never seen before was already rusting in the damp air. A cold knot tightened in her stomach. A neighbor, recognizing the well-dressed girl from past visits, called out, "You dey find dem Jorel and Sister Fejiro? Dem don pack since! Since last two months."
The dread she’d been feeling turned to a full-blown, icy panic. Fejiro. She would still be there. Her salon was her life. Ona practically ran the short distance, the bell on the salon door jangling a harsh, discordant sound as she burst in.
But the woman twisting a client’s hair was a stranger. "I'm looking for Fejiro," Ona demanded, her voice thin and strained.
The new stylist smiled brightly. "Oh, Aunty Fejiro? She don travel o! Her brother, Jorel, win scholarship for America. She follow am go. Very good thing for their family."
America. Scholarship. Gone.
Suddenly, the world shifted. The stylist's cheerful voice faded into a meaningless buzz. She couldn't breathe. The room spun. His beautiful, hopeful letter, all that talk of "going through the fire" and his "new journey", it wasn't romantic. It was a lie. The lie of a coward.
He had been planning this escape the whole time. He had gotten his golden ticket out, and all he left for her was a pretty, self-important note. It asked her to wait forever, without giving her a single real reason why.
Standing there on the cracked, sun-drenched pavement, the full, devastating truth descended upon her like an avalanche, each revelation heavier than the last, threatening to bury her under its weight. The fury erupted instantly, a white-hot blaze igniting within her, consuming the remnants of confusion and heartbreak. It wasn't merely that he had walked away; it was the brutal manner in which he had done so, the deceit that wrapped around his actions like a shroud, the utter lack of regard for her feelings. He had looked straight into her eyes, when she knelt down on that grimy floor, and shattered her spirit, all while plotting his escape to a foreign land. He had reduced her to begging for affection he had no intention of maintaining, turning her love into a discarded garment he could easily shed.
Questions howled in her mind like a furious storm, each one feeding the flames of her anger. Was she now expected to hit pause on her life? To remain frozen in a painful tableau, a loyal sentinel to a love he had callously thrown aside, while he crafted a new existence an ocean away? For how long was she to linger in this emotional limbo? A year? Five? An eternity? And for what reason could he justify keeping her in the dark? Why hadn’t he trusted her enough to share the truth? Why did he treat her like a child, incapable of facing the reality of their love, a reality he deemed unworthy of her dreams and aspirations?
In that moment, a clean, sharp hatred bloomed inside her. It wasn't a quiet sadness. It was a fierce, strong wall she built around her heart. This hatred was better than the crushing pain. It was the only thing powerful enough to stop the bleeding.
With a rough, angry hand, she wiped the hot tears from her face, smudging her makeup. Right then, she made a decision. She would not cry for him ever again. She would not waste one more second trying to solve his puzzles or waiting for an ending that would never come.
She took a deep, shaky breath that felt like new strength. And she made a promise to herself, a vow as hard and solid as iron: She would tear Jorel out of her heart. She would forget the feel of his touch, the sound of his laugh, the comfort of his voice. She would close the book of their love forever. She would burn its pages and set herself free from the past.
Never again would she allow herself to be so naive, so foolish as to hand someone the strings to her heart, allowing them to puppet her emotions as Jorel had done. His “to be continued” wasn’t a promise, it was an affront. As far as she was concerned, their narrative had reached its end, a final chapter she would write herself, one filled with power, resilience, and the unwavering belief that she was worthy of a love that did not waver or escape when the going got tough. She took a step forward, lightening her burden with each stride, ready to claim her life back and transform her narrative into one of strength and renewal.
END OF PART 1 O boy, let me come and learn how to write romance and suspense from one of the best writing guru. Ride on 👍 1 Like |
, thanks for hanging in there.