The bell rang, signaling the end of the day, but I didn't move immediately. I kept my head down, my books clutched tightly in my hands. I wasn't ready to face the world just yet. Not today.
The hallway buzzed with the chatter of students heading out for lunch or making plans for the evening. I felt like an outsider in my own school, watching everyone interact, laugh, and be carefree. I envied them, wishing I could somehow disappear and not feel so... disconnected.
I didn't notice Chuka at first, but then his voice cut through the noise like a knife.
"Chinonso!" he called.
I winced but didn't turn around. I hoped he would just leave me alone. I had enough to deal with—no need to add him to the list. But his voice grew closer, and before I knew it, he was standing right in front of me. His friends snickered behind him.
"You think you're too good for me?" Chuka smirked, blocking my path. His eyes roamed over me, and I felt uncomfortable under his gaze.
I tried to step around him, but he moved to block me again. "I don't have time for this," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
"You're just gonna walk away from me like that?" Chuka sneered, grabbing my arm.
I jerked my arm away, but the sudden movement sent me off balance, and I stumbled back, my hand pressing against the cold wall to catch myself.
"Leave me alone," I said firmly, but my voice shook with the fear I couldn't hide.
Before he could say anything more, a voice interrupted. "Chuka, leave her alone."
I turned to see Tobi, Emeka, and Ada standing there. Tobi was the first to step forward, his calm demeanor cutting through the tension.
Chuka looked at them both, his smirk faltering for a moment. He was sizing them up, but when he saw the resoluteness in Tobi's eyes, he backed off. "Whatever," he muttered, before shoving past me. "Na wah for you, Chinonso," he added with a sneer, and his friends followed him, laughing as they disappeared down the hall.
I stood there for a moment, frozen, before I looked up at Tobi, my heart still racing. He gave me a reassuring smile.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently.
I nodded, my throat tight. I couldn't speak. The panic that had gripped me seemed to ease, replaced by a sense of safety I hadn't known in a long time. Tobi, Emeka, and Ada had stepped in, and for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel completely alone.
When I got home later that evening, the house felt quieter than usual. I hung my bag on the hook by the door and walked into the living room, where my mother sat on the couch, staring at her phone. She glanced up when I entered, her face softening, though the distance between us was palpable.
"Chinonso," she began, her voice tentative, like she wasn't sure how to reach me anymore. "How was school today?"
I didn't answer immediately. I was so used to avoiding her attempts at conversation that I didn't even think about it. My gaze shifted to the window, where I could see the soft glow of the evening sun.
"Chinonso?" Her voice was a little firmer now. She put her phone down and looked at me with those eyes—eyes that seemed to carry the weight of her own unspoken pain.
I sighed and turned away, not wanting to get into it. "It was fine," I muttered, though I knew she could tell I wasn't being truthful.
She didn't push further. She never did, though I could see the longing in her eyes. The longing for a connection. The longing for us to be close again.
But I couldn't—no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't open up. Not to her. Not to anyone. The walls I'd built around myself were too high, too thick. I didn't know how to let anyone in. Not even my mother.
She sighed softly, and I could feel the disappointment in her breath. But she didn't say anything more. Instead, she just got up and started cooking in the kitchen, the silence between us growing thicker with each passing moment.
Later that evening, after I'd eaten in silence, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I could hear my mother moving around in the kitchen, but I didn't feel like going to her. She always tried so hard, and yet I couldn't let her in. How could I? How could I explain the things I'd been through?
She had no idea what I'd been through with my father—how he had taken everything from me, leaving me broken, unable to trust anyone. How could I possibly tell her that?
I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. But the truth was, I didn't know how to be who they wanted me to be—the daughter she dreamed of, the person I used to be before everything fell apart.
The next day at school, I found myself walking alone again, lost in my thoughts. The encounter with Chuka still lingered in my mind, but I couldn't help but think about the people who had stepped in for me. Tobi, Emeka, Ada—they didn't have to help me, but they did. They made me feel safe when I was certain I'd have to face everything on my own.
It was strange, though, feeling that sense of safety. I wasn't used to it, not from people I barely knew. But they had shown me kindness, something I hadn't felt in a long time.
That afternoon, as I sat alone during lunch, I couldn't shake the thought of Tobi's smile, the way he had been there when I needed help. Maybe, just maybe, I could start trusting them. I wasn't sure yet, but something in me was beginning to hope that maybe not everyone wanted to hurt me.