CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN: THE LINE WE COULDN'T CROSS
The rumour followed me for the rest of the day.
I tried to ignore it.
I told myself it was probably nonsense.
People in school talked.
They talked about teachers, prefects, students, relationships, punishments, examinations and practically anything that gave them something interesting to discuss.
So perhaps this was nothing.
Perhaps someone had misunderstood something.
Perhaps the girls had simply wanted to create trouble.
But no matter how many explanations I gave myself, the question remained.
Was Samuel really thinking about leaving me?
I hated the question.
More importantly, I hated that I was beginning to believe it was possible.
On Monday morning, Samuel and I were unusually quiet.
We sat beside each other during Mathematics, both pretending to concentrate.
I solved questions.
He solved questions.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, he leaned towards me.
"Are you still thinking about what those girls said?"
I looked at him.
"A little."
"They were lying."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know myself."
I looked back at my book.
"I want to believe you."
"You should."
"I do."
He sighed.
"Then why are you still worried?"
I closed my book.
"Because everything has been strange lately."
He looked away.
"I told you I'm under pressure."
"I know."
"I haven't stopped caring about you."
"I know."
"Then what is the problem?"
I hesitated.
"I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of losing you."
He became quiet.
I expected him to reassure me.
Instead, he said, "You can't be scared of losing me every day."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because it's exhausting."
The words hurt.
"I never said I wanted to make you feel exhausted."
"I know."
"Then why are you saying it like it's my fault?"
"I didn't say it was your fault."
"But that's how it sounds."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Floral, please. Not now."
I closed my book.
"Fine."
The teacher walked into the classroom.
Neither of us spoke again.
During break, I sat with Gift.
She watched me push my food around my plate.
"You're not eating."
"I'll eat later."
"You always say that."
I sighed.
"Samuel said something."
"What?"
"He said my worrying about losing him is exhausting."
Gift was silent for a moment.
"Maybe he didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"Maybe."
"You know Samuel."
"I thought I did."
She looked at me carefully.
"What does that mean?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know anymore."
Gift reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
"You're both stressed."
I nodded.
"But stress doesn't make people stop caring."
"I know."
"Then don't assume the worst."
I looked at her.
"I'll try."
That afternoon, the class teacher announced that the major assessment would begin the following morning.
The classroom erupted.
Everyone started complaining.
"Sir, tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Sir, we are not ready!"
"You've had weeks to prepare."
"Sir!"
The teacher ignored the complaints.
"You will all be seated according to the arrangement I give you."
He began calling out names.
Samuel looked at me.
"At least we'll survive this together."
I smiled.
"Hopefully."
But the assessment pressure changed everything.
Everyone became more serious.
Students stayed behind after lessons.
Books filled desks.
Groups formed around difficult questions.
Even the noisiest students became unusually quiet.
Samuel and I studied together for a while.
Then he became frustrated with a Chemistry question.
"I don't understand this."
I looked at his notebook.
"You need to balance the equation first."
"I know."
"Then do that."
"I am trying."
I pointed at the equation.
"Look."
He stared at it.
"I can't concentrate."
"Take a break."
"I don't have time."
"You've been studying for hours."
"I said I don't have time."
His voice was louder than necessary.
I went quiet.
He immediately looked sorry.
"Sorry."
I nodded.
"It is fine."
But I had heard that phrase so many times that it had almost become meaningless.
That evening, Samuel did something that hurt more than I expected.
He left the classroom without telling me.
Normally, he would at least say goodbye.
This time, he simply picked up his books and left.
I watched him go.
Daniel was standing at the other end of the classroom with Gift.
He noticed me staring.
He did not say anything.
He only gave me a brief look that seemed to ask whether I was all right.
I looked away.
I did not want pity.
I did not want questions.
I wanted Samuel.
And I hated that he was becoming the person I wanted comfort from and the person causing the pain at the same time.
The assessment began the next morning.
The classroom was silent.
Everyone had their papers in front of them.
The teacher stood at the front.
"You may begin."
I turned the paper over.
My heart raced.
The first few questions were manageable.
I answered them carefully.
Then I reached one I had struggled with during revision.
I paused.
Across the room, I saw Samuel looking down at his paper.
For a brief second, our eyes met.
He smiled faintly.
I smiled back.
That small moment gave me confidence.
I returned to my paper.
For the next hour, I forgot about everything else.
The assessment ended.
Everyone sighed with relief.
Students immediately began comparing answers.
Samuel approached me.
"How was it?"
"Not too bad."
"You?"
"I think I survived."
I laughed.
"Good."
For the first time in days, we were smiling together.
I thought perhaps the pressure would finally ease.
Perhaps things would return to normal.
But the assessment had only removed one problem.
It had not removed the problems between us.
That afternoon, I found Samuel outside the classroom.
He was talking to Abigail.
She looked upset.
Samuel was listening.
I stopped.
I did not want to interrupt.
After a few minutes, Abigail walked away.
Samuel noticed me.
"You've been standing there?"
"Yes."
He approached.
"She needed help."
I nodded.
"I know."
He looked at me.
"Are you angry?"
"No."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you don't trust me."
I looked away.
"I do trust you."
"Then stop doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Watching me every time I'm with Abigail."
My heart sank.
"I wasn't watching you."
"You were."
"I was just there."
He sighed.
"Floral, I'm tired."
"So am I."
"Then please stop making everything harder."
I stared at him.
"I'm making everything harder?"
"That isn't what I meant."
"It is what you said."
He looked frustrated.
"I don't know what you want from me anymore."
"I want you to talk to me!"
"I have talked to you!"
"Not enough!"
He stared at me.
People were beginning to glance in our direction.
I lowered my voice.
"I don't know where I stand with you."
"You're my girlfriend."
"Then why don't I feel like it?"
Silence.
His face changed.
I knew immediately that I had gone too far.
He looked away.
"I don't know what to say."
"That is the problem."
He shook his head.
"I need space."
My heart stopped.
"Space?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
I stared at him.
"You want space from me?"
"I want space from everything."
I swallowed.
"Does that include me?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation broke something inside me.
"Samuel?"
He looked at me.
"I don't know."
I felt tears burning my eyes.
I refused to let them fall.
"Okay."
"Floral…"
"No."
I stepped back.
"If you don't know, then I can't force you."
He looked at me.
"I didn't say I wanted to end things."
"You didn't have to."
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
I walked away.
I went straight to the hostel.
Gift was sitting on her bed.
The moment she saw my face, she stood.
"What happened?"
I shook my head.
"Nothing."
"Floral."
I sat down.
"He wants space."
Gift's expression changed.
"What?"
"He says he doesn't know how long."
She sat beside me.
"What did you say?"
"I told him I couldn't force him."
Gift wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
I finally let the tears fall.
"I don't understand."
She said nothing.
"I tried, Gift."
"I know."
"I tried to trust him."
"I know."
"I tried to give him space."
"I know."
"So why does it feel like I'm the one being punished?"
Gift hugged me tighter.
"You're not being punished."
"Then why does it hurt so much?"
She did not answer.
Because there was no answer that could make it hurt less.
The next day, Samuel did not sit beside me.
He came into the classroom and took a seat elsewhere.
Nobody announced a new seating arrangement.
Nobody told him to move.
He simply chose another seat.
I stared at the empty space beside me.
For months, that chair had been his.
Now it looked strange.
Too empty.
Too quiet.
Victoria sat beside me for part of the lesson.
Morayo kept checking on me.
Daniel did not approach me immediately.
He stayed at the far end of the classroom with Gift, giving me the space I clearly needed.
I appreciated that.
At lunch, Samuel finally approached me.
"Can we talk?"
I looked at him.
"About what?"
"Us."
I nodded.
We stood away from the others.
"I don't want you thinking I don't care about you."
I swallowed.
"Then what should I think?"
"I don't know."
"You keep saying that."
"I know."
He looked exhausted.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Then don't."
"I don't know how to fix everything."
"Neither do I."
He looked at me.
"Maybe we need time."
I nodded.
"Maybe."
"I still care about you."
I looked away.
"Caring isn't the same as being sure."
He was silent.
I knew he understood.
We stood there for several seconds.
Then he said quietly, "I'm sorry."
I nodded.
"So am I."
We walked away from each other.
And that was the moment I realised something terrifying.
We were still together.
Technically.
But whatever we had been before was slipping away.
The distance between us was no longer something I imagined.
It was something we had both acknowledged.
And once two people finally admitted that something was broken, pretending it wasn't became almost impossible.
That night, I lay beneath my mosquito net and stared into the darkness.
I thought about our first conversations.
Our jokes.
The notes.
The sweets.
The way he had asked me to be his girlfriend.
The happiness I had felt when I finally knew that the boy I had wondered about for years truly loved me.
I had thought becoming his girlfriend was the beginning of our story.
Maybe it was.
But perhaps I had never understood that some beginnings also carried endings inside them.
I wiped my eyes.
I still loved Samuel.
That was the worst part.
Even after everything, I still loved him.