CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TEN: WHEN THINGS FEEL DIFFERENT
The next morning, I woke up with a strange heaviness in my chest.
Nothing had happened overnight.
There had been no argument.
No rumour.
No dramatic incident.
Yet, somehow, I felt as though something had shifted.
Perhaps it was because of the previous evening.
Perhaps it was because of the way Samuel had released my hand before we reached the hostel.
Or perhaps I was simply beginning to notice the things I had previously ignored.
I sat quietly on my bed while the hostel slowly came alive around me.
Girls were pulling off their mosquito nets.
Someone complained that her uniform was missing.
Another girl was already arguing with her roommate over a bucket.
Gift was dressing beside me.
She glanced at my face.
"You didn't sleep well."
"I did."
"You're lying."
I sighed.
"Maybe a little."
She continued buttoning her shirt.
"Samuel?"
I nodded.
She did not say anything immediately.
Then she asked, "Did he say something?"
"No."
"Then what is wrong?"
"I don't know."
That was the truth.
I did not know.
Samuel had not said he wanted to end our relationship.
He had not told me he stopped caring.
He had not done anything that I could point to and say, This is the reason.
It was just the feeling.
The horrible feeling that something was changing.
I picked up my bag.
"Let's go."
Gift nodded.
Neither of us said anything else.
By the time we reached the classroom, Samuel was already seated.
I smiled when I saw him.
He looked at me.
"Morning."
"Morning."
I sat beside him.
For a few seconds, everything was normal.
Then I noticed his notebook.
He had written several pages.
"You were studying?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"After prep."
"You studied after prep?"
He nodded.
"I couldn't sleep."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He shrugged.
"Too much on my mind."
I wanted to ask what.
Instead, I said, "You should rest sometimes."
"I know."
His response was gentle.
But distant.
I opened my textbook.
"Did you finish the revision?"
"Yes."
"Good."
There was another silence.
I looked at him again.
He was staring at the board.
I wondered if he noticed how strange things had become.
Perhaps he did.
Perhaps he simply didn't know what to do about it either.
The first lesson was English.
Our teacher entered with a stack of books and placed them on the desk.
"Good morning, class."
"Good morning, sir."
"Today, we are discussing argumentative writing."
He began explaining the topic.
I tried to concentrate.
But my mind kept drifting.
Samuel was beside me, yet I felt as though he was far away.
At one point, the teacher asked us to work in pairs.
Naturally, I turned towards Samuel.
"Should we work together?"
He hesitated.
"I'm already doing something."
I looked at his book.
"What?"
"I'm revising."
"Oh."
I turned towards him again.
"We're supposed to work in pairs."
"I know."
"So…"
He sighed.
"Fine."
I did not understand why he sounded irritated.
We began the exercise.
For the first few minutes, we worked quietly.
Then I made a suggestion.
"What if we use this point?"
Samuel shook his head.
"It doesn't fit."
"It does."
"No, it doesn't."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because it doesn't."
I stared at him.
"You could explain instead of just saying no."
He looked at me.
"I don't want to argue."
"I'm not arguing."
"You sound like you are."
I immediately stopped talking.
The teacher walked past our desk.
"Everything all right here?"
"Yes, sir," Samuel answered.
I nodded.
"Yes."
The teacher moved on.
I looked at my book.
My heart was beating faster.
It was such a small disagreement.
But why did it feel so big?
During break, I stayed in the classroom.
I was not hungry.
Victoria and Morayo came over.
Victoria dropped her books on the desk.
"You're not coming?"
"No."
"Again?"
"I'll eat later."
Morayo sat down.
"You and Samuel are having problems."
I looked at her.
"We are not."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Okay."
I hated that response.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Say it."
Morayo shrugged.
"You don't have to defend him every time somebody notices something."
I looked away.
Victoria touched my arm.
"We aren't against him."
"I know."
"We're just worried about you."
I sighed.
"Things have been strange."
"Since when?"
"I don't know."
Morayo leaned forward.
"Do you think he doesn't like you anymore?"
The question hit me harder than it should have.
I immediately shook my head.
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
But my voice lacked confidence.
Victoria noticed.
She did not push further.
Instead, she said, "Maybe you both just need to talk."
"I have tried."
"Then try again."
I nodded slowly.
Maybe she was right.
After break, Samuel returned.
He sat down.
"You didn't eat?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Not hungry."
He stared at me.
"You need to eat."
"I know."
"Then why didn't you?"
I shrugged.
He looked annoyed.
"Floral."
"What?"
"You can't keep doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Pretending everything is fine when it isn't."
I stared at him.
The irony almost made me laugh.
"You're telling me that?"
He went quiet.
I immediately regretted saying it.
"Sorry."
"No."
He looked down.
"You're right."
I was surprised.
He continued, "I haven't been honest about how stressed I am."
"I know."
"I don't know what to do."
I softened.
"You can talk to me."
He looked at me.
"I know."
"Then talk."
He shook his head.
"It's not that simple."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to put everything on you."
"You're not."
"I feel like I am."
I reached for his hand.
"You're not."
He looked at our hands.
Then he squeezed mine.
For a moment, the distance disappeared.
Or at least I thought it had.
After classes, we had another study period.
I was revising Chemistry when Samuel suddenly spoke.
"Floral."
"Yes?"
"Do you ever feel like everything is happening too quickly?"
I closed my book.
"What do you mean?"
"School. Exams. Future. Everything."
I nodded.
"Sometimes."
"I don't know what I'm doing after secondary school."
"You don't have to know everything now."
"I know."
He stared at his notes.
"Everyone expects me to know."
"Who?"
"My family."
I waited.
He did not elaborate.
I realised that there were parts of his life I knew almost nothing about.
We had known each other for years.
Yet there were still doors he kept closed.
I understood that.
But sometimes understanding something did not make it hurt less.
I said quietly, "You can tell me things."
"I know."
"You don't have to protect me from everything."
He looked at me.
"I just don't want you to see me differently."
My heart softened.
"I wouldn't."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
He gave a small smile.
"You always sound so sure."
"Because I am."
For a moment, he looked like the Samuel I knew.
The one who teased me.
The one who smiled when I was annoyed.
The one who had once sat beside me in junior school and almost told me how he felt.
I smiled.
He smiled back.
Then the bell rang.
The moment ended.
That evening, something happened that I had not expected.
Samuel did not come to the dining hall with me.
He said he needed to meet Abigail.
I froze.
"Again?"
He looked at me.
"She needs help."
"With what?"
"I can't tell you."
I stared at him.
"Samuel…"
"I promised."
I looked away.
I knew he was trying to keep his promise.
But I was tired.
Tired of hearing the same explanation.
Tired of feeling guilty for asking questions.
Tired of pretending that I wasn't bothered.
"Fine."
He frowned.
"You're angry."
"No."
"You are."
"I said I'm fine."
He sighed.
"Floral…"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know."
"Exactly."
He looked at me for a few seconds.
Then he walked away.
I stood there, watching him leave.
For the first time, I did not call him back.
At dinner, I barely touched my food.
Gift sat opposite me.
"You haven't eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"You said that this morning."
I looked at her.
"I know."
She sighed.
"What happened?"
"Abigail."
Her expression changed.
"Again?"
I nodded.
"I know he's helping her with something serious. I know he promised not to tell me. But I don't know how long I'm supposed to keep pretending it doesn't affect me."
Gift was quiet.
Then she said, "You don't have to pretend."
"I don't want to become jealous."
"Being uncomfortable doesn't automatically mean you're jealous."
I looked down.
"What if I don't trust him anymore?"
"Do you?"
I thought about it.
"Yes."
Then I added quietly, "But I don't trust the situation."
Gift nodded.
"That is different."
Those words stayed with me.
That night, during prep, Samuel came back.
He sat beside me.
I did not look at him.
After several minutes, he whispered, "Are you angry?"
"No."
"Floral."
I continued writing.
"What?"
"Look at me."
I slowly turned.
He looked tired.
"I don't want us to fight."
"Neither do I."
"I care about you."
"I care about you too."
"Then why does everything feel so difficult?"
I had no answer.
Neither did he.
We sat silently.
Eventually, he reached across the desk and took my hand.
This time, I let him.
But something had changed.
The gesture no longer made all my worries disappear.
It only reminded me of how much I wanted things to return to the way they used to be.
When we had laughed without thinking.
When silence did not feel awkward.
When I did not have to wonder whether a simple question would become an argument.
When I did not feel as though I was slowly losing someone who was still sitting right beside me.
The bell rang.
Everyone began packing their books.
Samuel released my hand.
I watched him stand.
He looked at me.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
He walked away.
I remained seated for a few more seconds.
And as I watched his back disappear among the other students.