Amaka stood before the mirror, her reflection both foreign and familiar. The wedding dress clung to her frame like a second skin, beautiful but suffocating. The woman staring back at her wasn't sure if she was on the brink of fulfilment or catastrophe. Her fingers trailed over the intricate lace at her waist, her mind racing. Kunle was a good man. A kind man. But as her heart twisted painfully in her chest, she knew "good" didn't mean "enough."
Behind her, the door creaked open.
"You're stunning." Kunle's voice was warm and sure, his eyes full of trust as they met hers in the mirror.
Amaka smiled faintly. "Thank you."
He moved closer, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "In a few minutes, everything changes," he said softly, his tone laced with reverence. "I can't wait to start forever with you."
Amaka nodded but didn't speak. If she opened her mouth, the weight in her chest might tumble out and swallow them both.
Kunle kissed her temple and left the room, the click of the door louder than it should have been. Alone again, Amaka gripped the edge of the vanity, her breathing shallow. Her eyes drifted to the drawer. She hesitated before pulling it open. Inside lay the locket a small, silver oval engraved with "A.D." She picked it up, her hands trembling.
Amaka wasn't sure why she had brought it today of all days. Perhaps it was a kind of ritual goodbye she never truly had with David. Her thumb brushed over the smooth surface as memories surged back, unbidden and raw. The laughter, the stolen kisses, the way his voice wrapped around her name like a song.
She swallowed hard and snapped the locket shut, shoving it deep into her bag. Today was about Kunle. It had to be.
Miles away, David adjusted his tie, glancing at his reflection in the window. The city skyline stretched behind him, glittering and distant. His fiancée, Sade, had insisted on a grand venue for their wedding—a symbol of their power as a couple. Power. Not love.
The thought rattled through him like a bitter wind.
David's phone buzzed on the counter, breaking his train of thought. He reached for it, expecting a message from Sade or one of her relentless wedding planners. Instead, his heart stuttered.
Unknown Number.
For a second, he considered ignoring it. But something tugged at him—a whisper in the back of his mind. He answered.
"Hello?"
A pause. Then: "David."
His heart plunged to his stomach. He knew that voice was soft yet steady, like the calm before a storm.
"Amaka?"
Another pause. A breath. "I shouldn't have called."
David's throat tightened. "Why did you?"
The silence stretched thin. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. "I don't know."
Something in him snapped. "Amaka, if you're"
"I'm getting married today."
The words hit him like a punch. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. "Married," he repeated, the word foreign and jagged in his mouth.
"Yes."
"Then why are you calling me?" His voice was sharper now, the edge cutting through the thick tension.
"I don't know," she whispered again, but this time the words sounded like a confession.
David gripped the phone tighter. "Do you love him?"
The question lingered between them—a fragile thing on the verge of breaking.
"I have to go," she said instead, her voice trembling.
Before he could respond, the line went dead.
David stared at the phone, his chest heaving. His reflection in the window was no longer composed—it was raw, angry, desperate.
Amaka was getting married.
But why had she called him?
The ceremony began with all the pomp and grandeur Sade had orchestrated. David stood at the altar, his jaw clenched, his mind a battlefield. The echoes of Amaka's voice lingered, haunting him. He should have erased her from his thoughts long ago, but now she was everywhere—woven into the air, the flowers, the music.
Sade walked toward him, radiant and poised, her smile triumphant. But as she reached for his hands, he felt the weight of the lie pressing down on him.
Somewhere across the city, Amaka stood in a similar room, facing a similar altar. The air was heavy, her heart racing as Kunle's vows flowed like honey, sweet and sincere. She wanted to believe in them, to wrap herself in his love and let it heal her. But when it was her turn to speak, the words caught in her throat.
"Amaka?" Kunle's voice was gentle, his eyes questioning.
She blinked back the tears threatening to spill and forced the words out, each one a knife in her chest. "I do."
The crowd erupted in cheers—a symphony of joy that felt like nails on a chalkboard to her. As Kunle kissed her, the locket in her bag seemed to burn, its weight pulling her down, down, down.
That night, after the celebrations had ended, Amaka stood on her balcony, staring at the city lights. She clutched the locket in her hand, her knuckles white. Somewhere out there, David was starting a new life, just as she was. But the question lingered, unanswered and unrelenting:
Why had she called him?
Miles away, David stood alone in his apartment, a glass of whisky in his hand. His tie was undone, his jacket discarded. The wedding had gone off without a hitch. Sade was asleep in their bedroom, her dreams undoubtedly filled with the future she had so carefully planned.
But David couldn't sleep.
On the other hand, he held his phone. The call from earlier replayed in his mind like a broken record. He had let Amaka go once, believing it was for the best. But now, the gnawing emptiness told him he might have made a mistake.
He typed a message, his thumbs hesitating over the screen.
Amaka. Do you ever wonder if we chose the wrong lives?
He stared at the words, his heart hammering in his chest. Then, before he could lose his nerve, he hit send.
The message disappeared into the ether, a digital thread connecting two hearts still tethered by what-ifs.
And in the quiet of the night, both Amaka and David waited—for answers, for closure, for something neither of them could name.