Chapter 1: The kind of Girl who leaves

I’ve never been the kind of girl people stay for.

Not because I’m difficult.

Not because I don’t try.

But because I’ve always known when to leave.

It’s a strange thing to be proud of, I guess. Most people fight for things—fight for love, for connection, for that feeling of being needed by someone else.

I don’t.

I notice things early. The shift in tone. The delayed replies. The way someone who used to look at you like you mattered suddenly starts looking through you instead.

And when that happens, I go.

No drama. No confrontation. No begging.

I just… leave.

It’s cleaner that way.

Less painful.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

That morning started like every other one.

My alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., and I stared at the ceiling for a while before moving. There was nothing special waiting for me that day—just classes, people I barely spoke to, and the usual routine I had mastered over time.

I got up slowly, dragging myself into the bathroom, letting the cold water wake me up in ways sleep never could.

By the time I left my apartment, the streets were already alive.

Abuja mornings had a rhythm to them. Cars moving too fast. People rushing like they were already late for something important. The smell of roadside food mixing with dust and fuel.

It was chaotic.

But familiar.

And I liked familiar.

Familiar didn’t surprise you.

Familiar didn’t hurt you.

I didn’t plan to stop at the café.

In fact, I had walked past it twice before finally turning back.

Something about it had caught my attention the first time I saw it a few days ago. It wasn’t flashy or loud. Just a quiet space tucked between two busy shops, almost like it didn’t belong there.

Maybe that’s why I noticed it.

It reminded me of myself.

So I went in.

The bell above the door chimed softly as I stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was how calm it felt.

Not silent—but calm.

Soft music played in the background, something slow and almost forgettable, but in a comforting way. The air smelled like coffee and something sweet, like vanilla or caramel.

It felt… safe.

I don’t know why that word came to mind.

Safe.

I ordered something simple—coffee I didn’t really need—and chose a seat by the window. From there, I could see outside without really being part of it.

Perfect.

I pulled out my phone, pretending to be busy.

But the truth was, I just didn’t want anyone to talk to me.

I liked being alone.

Or at least, I had convinced myself that I did.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I felt it.

That feeling.

The one you get when someone is looking at you.

It wasn’t strong. Just… there.

Subtle.

But enough to make me look up.

And that’s when I saw him.

He wasn’t doing anything dramatic.

No intense staring. No obvious attempt to get my attention.

He was just… there.

Sitting across the room, his fingers wrapped loosely around a cup, his posture relaxed but not careless.

But his eyes—

They were on me.

And when our gazes met, he didn’t look away.

That was unusual.

Most people do.

They get caught staring and quickly pretend they weren’t.

But he didn’t.

He just held my gaze.

Calm. Steady. Unbothered.

Like he had nothing to hide.

And for some reason… that unsettled me.

I was the first to look away.

Of course I was.

I picked up my cup, taking a sip I didn’t taste, trying to ignore the strange awareness settling in my chest.

It was nothing.

Just a random stranger.

It didn’t mean anything.

Still… I could feel it.

That quiet tension.

That invisible thread that hadn’t been there before.

“Is this seat taken?”

His voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I looked up too quickly.

He was standing there now.

Closer.

Too close.

I blinked once, trying to gather myself. “Um… no.”

He nodded and sat down without hesitation.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like we had done this before.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said.

I did.

A little.

But I didn’t say that.

Instead, I shrugged. “It’s a free country.”

That made him smile.

Not a big smile.

Just enough to soften his face.

“Good to know.”

There was a pause after that.

Short, but noticeable.

I expected him to start talking—people like him usually do. Confident, comfortable, the kind who don’t think twice about approaching strangers.

But he didn’t.

He just sat there.

Quiet.

Like he was waiting.

And somehow… that made me more aware of him than if he had said anything at all.

“I’ve seen you here before,” he said eventually.

I frowned slightly. “No, you haven’t.”

His eyebrow lifted. “You’re sure?”

“I would remember.”

Something about that made him smile again.

“Maybe you just didn’t notice.”

That irritated me more than it should have.

“I notice things.”

“Do you?” he asked gently.

I held his gaze.

“Yes.”

Another pause.

Then he nodded slowly, like he believed me—but not completely.

“Then maybe,” he said, “you just didn’t want to notice me.”

The words hung in the air between us.

And for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

Because the truth was…

I didn’t know if he was wrong.

I looked away first.

Again.

That was becoming a pattern I didn’t like.

“I should go,” I said, even though I had barely been there long.

He didn’t stop me.

Didn’t try to convince me to stay.

He just nodded.

“Alright.”

Simple.

Easy.

Like it didn’t matter.

But as I stood up and picked up my bag, I felt it again.

That strange pull.

That quiet awareness.

And just before I walked away, I turned slightly.

He was watching me.

Not intensely.

Not desperately.

Just… watching.

That should have been the end of it.

A random meeting.

A stranger in a café.

Something forgettable.

But later that night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling…

I realized something.

I had been thinking about him.

More than I should.

More than made sense.

And that was the problem.

Because I don’t hold onto things like that.

I don’t let people stay in my head.

I don’t—

I stopped myself.

Exhaled slowly.

Turned to the side.

Closed my eyes.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I whispered to myself.

And for a moment…

I believed it.

The next day, I told myself I wouldn’t go back.

But somehow…

I did.

Await chapter 2.