The writing job saved me.
Not from the heartbreak, you don't get saved from that..Tchh.
But it saved me from thinking about it every second of every day.
Monday morning, I got the email.
'Congratulations. You've been accepted for a one-month trial. First assignment attached. Deadline: 72 hours.'
I opened the attachment.
"10 Benefits of Health Insurance for Young Professionals."
Omorr, it was so boring and soulless.. Everything I never wanted to write.
I started typing.
Seventy-two hours later, I submitted it.
They approved it the same day, and sent me three more assignments.
I did those too.
By Friday, I'd made ₦12,000, wasn't much tho, but it was something.
Something that didn't require me to wait on anybody...just me, a laptop, and words I didn't care about... sigh
Perfect still.
Dayo noticed the change.
"You're different," he said.
We were at his place, he was editing some footage. I was on my borrowed laptop, writing an article about cryptocurrency investment strategies.
"Different how?" I asked.
"Quieter, more... I don't know, Mechanical."
"I'm focused."
"You're hiding."
I stopped typing and looked at him.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing, just making an observation."
He went back to his editing.
I went back to writing.
But his words stayed with me.
'Mechanical' well, maybe I was, but mechanical worked, mechanical pay, mechanical didn't hurt.. mtchew, what else do I need!?
I saw Zainab twice that week. First time was on tesday, she was in the library, I walked past her table.
She looked up.
I looked away, kept walking.
Heard her say my name.
Ignored her totally.
Second time was on thursday, I was at the cafeteria buying food and she was in line behind me. Couldn't avoid her without making it obvious.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"You sure?"
I paid for my food and collected it.
"I'm sure." started to leave.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
"About what?"
"About... everything."
People were listening, they always are.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Please—"
"I have work to do."
I left.
Felt her eyes on my back the whole way out.
Didn't turn around anyway.
That night, she texted.
'I'm sorry.'
I read it buh didn't reply.
She texted again.
'I know you're mad, you have every right to be, but can we at least talk?*
I turned off my phone.
I finished the article I was writing, submitted it at 2am.
Stared at the ceiling until sunrise.
...sigh.
Kunle tried to talk to me about it Friday morning.
"You can't avoid her forever."
"I'm not avoiding her, i'm moving on."
"By pretending she doesn't exist?"
"By focusing on what matters."
"And she doesn't matter?"
I didn't answer.
He sighed, "Man, I get it, she hurt you but shutting down completely isn't the answer."
"What is the answer then?"
"I don't know, but this—" he gestured at me "—this isn't it."
"I'm fine, Kunle."
"No, you're not, you're just functional, there's a difference."
He left for class.
I stayed in the room.
Opened my laptop.
Started another article.
The money kept coming bro.
By the end of week two, I'd made ₦25,000.
Paid Kunle back the ₦10,000 I owed him. He tried to refuse, I forced it on him.
Sent ₦8,000 home, my mom called to say thank you... I kept the conversation short.
Used the rest to fix my laptop screen, ₦7,000. The repair guy said I was lucky it wasn't worse.
For the first time in months, I wasn't drowning, wasn't swimming either.
Just... floating.
and floating was enough, I guess
Tunde saw it too.
We were outside the lodge Saturday night. He was smoking, i was just sitting.
"You've changed," he said.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true." He took a drag. "You're becoming like me."
"What do you mean?"
"Hard, closed off, all business, no feeling."
"Is that a bad thing?"
He looked at me, really looked.
"It's a survival thing, not good, not bad...just necessary."
"Then why do you sound sad about it?"
He flicked ash onto the ground.
"Because I remember when I wasn't like this. When I actually believed love could work, when I thought softness was strength, not weakness."
"What changed?"
"Reality." He stubbed out the cigarette. "Reality changes everyone eventually."
He went inside.
I stayed outside.
Thought about what he said throughout the night.
Sunday afternoon, my phone rang, an unknown number.
I almost didn't answer, but I did.
"Hello?"
"Is this—" A woman's voice, older. "Is this Zainab's friend?"
My chest tightened.
"Who's asking?"
"I'm her mother, she gave me your number, said to call you if... if something happened."
"What happened?"
"She's in the hospital."
Everything stopped.
"What!?"
"She collapsed yesterday, at home. We brought her here, she's stable now tho but—"
"Which hospital?"
She told me.
I was already grabbing my shoes.
"I'm coming."
I quickly carried a bike to campus, another one from campus to the hospital. Spent money I couldn't afford to spend... didn't care.
I got to the hospital and asked for her at the desk.
The nurse checked. "Are you family?"
"I'm—" I hesitated. "I'm her friend."
"Only family is allowed right now."
"Please, her mother called me, she told me to come."
The nurse looked at me, aaw something in my face.
"Wait here."
She disappeared,
Came back five minutes later.
"Room 7, second floor, Ten minutes only."
I found the room.
Kocked softly.
Her mother opened the door. She looked exhausted.. her eyes were red.
"You're the one I called?"
"Yes ma."
She stepped aside.
Zainab was on the bed, IV in her arm. Her face pale.
She looked small.
Her mother touched my shoulder. "I'll give you two some privacy."
She left, and closed the door.
I walked closer.
Zainab opened her eyes, saw me.
Tears immediately.
"You came," she whispered.
I sat in the chair beside the bed.
Didn't know what to say.
"What happened?" I finally asked.
"Stress, exhaustion... My blood pressure spiked, and I passed out."
"How long have you been feeling like this?"
She looked away. "A while."
Silence.
"Is this why you were distant?" I asked.
"Partly."
"What's the other part?"
She closed her eyes. "I was scared, of being a burden, of you seeing me weak, of needing help I couldn't afford to need."
"So you pushed me away."
"I thought I was protecting both of us."
"From what?"
"From this." She gestured at herself, and at the hospital room. "From you having to deal with this."
I felt anger rising again, but different this time, it was a cold feeling.
"You don't get to decide that," I said.
"What?"
"You don't get to decide what I can handle, what I'm willing to deal with. You just... you just made the choice for both of us."
"I was trying to make it easier—"
"For who? Because it wasn't easier for me, you shutting me out, Ignoring me, making me feel crazy for caring."
She was crying now. Full tears.
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are, but sorry doesn't fix it."
"Then what does?"
I looked at her, really looked at her.
Lying there, vulnerable, breaking.
Part of me wanted to reach out, hold her hand, and tell her it was okay.
But another part—the part that had learned to survive—held back.
"I don't know if anything does," I said quietly.
Her face crumpled.
"So that's it? We're just... done?"
"I don't know, Zainab. I really don't know."
A knock on the door.
Her mother came back in.
"Time's up," she said gently.
I stood up.
Looked at Zainab one more time.
"Get better," I said.
"Wait—"
But I was already leaving.
Outside the hospital, I stood in the parking lot. My hands were shaking, had a tight chest. I called Kunle.
"Come get me."
"Where are you?"
I told him.
"I'll be there in twenty."
I sat on the curb.
Watched people come and go, visiting family, bringing flowers, crying and praying.
Life happening in fast forward while mine felt frozen.
Kunle showed up on a bike.
I climbed on behind him.
We rode back in silence.
That night, I opened my laptop.
Didn't write an article.
Decided to write something, real. About love in a hard city, about survival winning small battles, about how caring for someone doesn't mean you have to destroy yourself for them.
I wrote for two hours straight, when I finished, I saved it.
Titled it: "Things I'm Learning to Unlearn."
Closed the laptop.
I lay down.
And for the first time since everything fell apart, I felt something other than anger.
Clarity.
I was learning that love and survival could coexist.
But not the way I thought, not by sacrificing one for the other, but by understanding that sometimes, survival means walking away even when you don't want to, even when it hurts.
Especially then.