I didn't notice it at first.
The change.
It happened in small moments, tiny shifts.
Like the day a beggar approached me outside the cafeteria and I walked past without even looking at him.
Used to be I'd at least say sorry, make eye contact, acknowledge him.. Now, I just walked. He wasn't my problem, I had my own problems.
Or the time my coursemate, a guy named Emeka, asked to borrow ₦500 for transport.
I had it, my account had ₦8,000.
I said no.
"Sorry man, I'm tight right now."
He nodded and walked away..
I felt nothing.
Six months ago, I would've given it to him. Would've remembered what it felt like to be stranded, to need just a little help.
Now?
Now I protected what was mine.
The writing work increased.
They promoted me from trial to permanent after three weeks. Said my work was clean, professional, and exactly what they needed.
Gave me a raise, ₦55,000 a month if I hit my targets.
I hit my targets.
Every single one.
I stopped going to most of my classes. What was the point? Lecturers who showed up late, taught badly, and still expected excellence!??.
I taught myself more online than I ever learned in a lecture hall.
Besides, I was making money now. Real money, more than some of my lecturers probably made.
Education was supposed to be the way out, but I was finding my own way.
Kunle came back on Saturday.
He looked way worse than when he left.
I was at the table, working on an article about investment portfolios for millennials. Didn't look up when he came in.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey, how's your dad?"
"Not good, they're still trying to raise money for the surgery."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Yeah."
He dropped his bag and sat on his bed.
I kept typing.
Felt him watching me.
"You've been working a lot," he said.
"Bills don't pay themselves, do they?."
"I know, just... you haven't left this room in days."
"I left yesterday tho, went to buy food."
"That doesn't count."
I stopped typing, and looked at him.
"What do you want me to say, Kunle?"
"Nothing, just... you're different."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
I turned back to my laptop.
"Different how?"
"Colder... more... I don't know, you're distant."
"I'm just staying focused, Kunle... Is that a crime now?."
"You're shutting down brr."
"What's the difference?"
He didn't answer.
I went back to typing.
He eventually showered and left. Said he was going to see some friends and asked if I wanted to come.. I said no.
He left without arguing.
I saw Zainab again on Tuesday.
She was out of the hospital and back on campus.
She looked thinner, tired... but still walking around somehow..
She was at the junction with some girls from her department. They were eating roasted plantain from a street vendor.
I was walking to return a book to the library.
Our eyes met.
She smiled, small, uncertain.
I nodded, kept walking.
One of the girls said something. Zainab looked away.
I made it five steps before she called out.
"Wait."
I stopped but didn't turn around.. heard her footsteps.
"Can we talk?" she asked. "Just for a minute."
"I'm busy."
"It'll be quick, please."
I turned around.
She looked nervous, her hands were fidgeting.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Silence.
She looked down. "I've been wanting to reach out. To explain—"
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
"Zainab, it's fine, we're good, you're good, I'm good. We can just... move on."
"But I don't want to just move on—"
"What do you want then?"
She opened her mouth then closed it.
I waited.
"I don't know," she finally said. "I just... I don't want us to be strangers."
"We're not strangers, we're just not... whatever we were before."
"And what were we?"
I looked at her, really looked.
"I don't know, does it matter?"
Her face fell.
"It matters to me."
"Why? So you can have closure? So you can feel better about how things ended?"
"That's not fair—"
"None of this is fair, Zainab. You pushed me away, you shut me out, you made your choice, now I'm making mine."
"Which is what? To act like I don't exist?"
"To protect myself, something I should've done earlier."
She looked like I'd slapped her.
"I never wanted to hurt you," she said quietly.
"But you did, and now I'm dealing with it the only way I know how.
"By becoming someone else?"
That stopped me.
"What?"
"You heard me. You're becoming someone else, someone harder, colder, and I hate that I'm part of the reason why."
"You don't get to feel bad about that, you don't get to be sad about the consequences of your own actions."
"I know I hurt you—"
"You don't know, you think you know, but you don't..coz if you knew, you wouldn't be standing here asking for a conversation we both know won't fix anything."
Tears started forming in her eyes.
I felt nothing.
That scared me more than anything else.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I know but sorry doesn't rewind time, It doesn't undo damage, It just makes the person saying it feel better."
I turned to leave.
"I miss you," she said.
I stopped... didn't turn around.
"You miss who I was, not who I am now."
I walked away.
This time she didn't follow.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Kept replaying the conversation.
The look on her face.
The tears.
The part of me that would've cared six months ago was silent now.
Replaced by something else, something practical, protective, cold.
I got up, and opened my laptop.
Started writing..
"When did I become this?
When did I learn to walk past pain without flinching?
When did other people's problems stop being my concern?
When did survival become more important than softness?"
I wrote for an hour, then deleted everything.
Coz knowing you're changing doesn't mean you know how to stop it.
On Wednesday, at noon, I got a message from Dayo.
"I'm leaving next week, want to see you before I go brother"
I stared at the message.
Typed: When?
Dayo: Friday evening? That spot near campus we used to go to?
Me: Okay.
Friday came.
I met him at the buka, the one with the metal tables and benches. Where we used to plan gigs and dream about blowing up.
He was already there when I arrived.
Ordered food for both of us, rice and stew.
We ate in silence for a while.
"So," he said eventually. "Next week.
"Yeah."
"You still mad at me?"
"I was never mad."
"You were hurt." he said.
"Same thing."
He smiled, sad smile..
"I'm going to miss this, gonna miss you man."
"You'll be fine, stop acting like a gay, lol. You'll make new friends in Abuja and forget about all of us here."
"That's not true—"
"It is, and it's okay. That's how life works."
He put down his spoon.
"When did you become this cynical, guy?"
"I'm not cynical, I'm just being realistic."
"There's a difference."
"Not really."
We finished eating.
Sat there watching people pass.
"You remember when we first met?" he asked.
"Yeah, first year... Orientation week."
"You were trying to figure out where the faculty block was, I was pretending I knew."
I smiled. "..and we got lost for two hours, hahaha."
"Best two hours, we talked about everything, about what we wanted to do, who we wanted to become."
"We were so naive."
"We were hopeful.
"Same thing."
He looked at me.
"What happened to you?" he asked.
"I grew up."
"No, you gave up."
"There's a difference?"
"Yeah, growing up means you adapt. Giving up means you stop trying."
"I'm still trying, I'm making money, surviving. That's trying."
"You're existing, not living."
"What's the difference?"
"Living means you still feel things, still hope, still let people in."
"And where does that get you? Hurt, Disappointed and left alone."
"Or loved, connected, human."
I didn't answer.
He stood up.
"I'm leaving, but I hope you find your way back, to whoever you were before the city convinced you that being hard was the same as being strong."
He dropped some cash on the table.
Extended his hand.
I shook it.
"Take care of yourself," he said.
"You too."
He left.
I sat there alone.
Finished my drink.
Paid and left.
Walking back to the lodge, I passed a group of first-year students.
They were laughing loud and carefree.
Still believed campus would be fun, still believed hard work guaranteed success, lol. They young minions still believed love was simple. I wanted to warn them and tell them the truth. That the city would break them.
That survival would matter more than dreams, that they'd become people they didn't recognize.
But I didn't.
Some lessons you have to learn yourself.
When I got to the lodge, Kunle was there.
He looked at me.
"You good?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
I sat on my bed, took off my shoes.
"Kunle, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"Do you think people can change? Like really change? Or do we just become more of what we always were?"
He thought about it.
"I think the city reveals who you are. It doesn't change you, It just strips away the things you used to hide behind."
"So this is who I really am?"
"I don't know, is it?"
I lay back.
Stared at the ceiling.
"I don't know anymore."
He didn't say anything else.
Just let me sit with the question.
The question I was too afraid to answer.
Coz if this was who I really was—
Cold, distant and mechanical. Then maybe I'd never been soft at all.
Maybe I'd just been pretending.
And the city simply stopped letting me lie.