Ozon?u Chronicles: Why we shouldn’t cry over situationships (Part III)
FICTION
I got home in silence. My hands were shaking, my head pounding, but mostly, I just felt... silly.
Like wow. The one time I try to dip my toes back into the streets, they show me flames.
I sat on my couch for a few minutes, just staring at the wall, then started laughing.
The kind of laugh that’s half pain, half disbelief. Like, did this man really just pull a whole telenovela twist on me?
At first, I thought maybe Kerri made a mistake.
Maybe it was someone who just looked like him. So I zoomed in, hoping to find some difference, maybe the shape of his beard or something.
Nope. It was him. My Shanika. The same man who said he didn’t want to rush into sex because we needed to “align”.
The same man who showed up at my workplace with lunch, saying he just wanted to make me smile.
Yoh.
My phone started buzzing nonstop. Shanika calling.
I ignored it. Then again. Then again. Ten missed calls in a row.
“Relax, Romeo,” I muttered.
He texted: “Please, just talk to me. It’s not what it looks like.”
That line alone made me laugh out loud. The audacity.
And then, I hear a pip, it’s him.
Yes. The same man. Outside my flat. Like we’re in some Nollywood-Netflix hybrid episode.
I opened the door, stood there with my arms crossed.
He looked... desperate. Like a man who’d rehearsed a speech but didn’t know where to start.
“I was going to tell you,” he began.
I rolled my eyes so hard, I swear I saw my brain.
He went on: “She and I were over... I just didn’t know how to end it properly. I needed to be sure about you first.”
“Sure about me?” I asked. “So I was your trial run?”
He looked down. Didn’t say anything. That silence said enough.
I laughed for real this time. The kind of laugh that comes when you’ve hit your emotional limit.
“Well played, player,” I said. “You almost had me.”
I closed the door, switched off my phone and sat on my bed.
The tears didn’t come this time. Just peace.
I opened my school books because, honestly, I still had an assignment due.
As I flipped a page, I caught myself smiling.
Maybe this is what growth looks like: realising you can be heartbroken and still stand on business.
So no, Shanika. I will not waste a single tear on you anymore.
**This story is based on real experiences told through reflective storytelling. Names and identifying details have been changed. Each story explores the raw edges of love, identity and the messy middle where growth often hides.
*Ozon?u Chronicles uncovers the secrets that never see daylight. Each story is fiction. Yet, as you read, you may sense that reality has already whispered its own version. For readers 18 and older.
Like wow. The one time I try to dip my toes back into the streets, they show me flames.
I sat on my couch for a few minutes, just staring at the wall, then started laughing.
The kind of laugh that’s half pain, half disbelief. Like, did this man really just pull a whole telenovela twist on me?
At first, I thought maybe Kerri made a mistake.
Maybe it was someone who just looked like him. So I zoomed in, hoping to find some difference, maybe the shape of his beard or something.
Nope. It was him. My Shanika. The same man who said he didn’t want to rush into sex because we needed to “align”.
The same man who showed up at my workplace with lunch, saying he just wanted to make me smile.
Yoh.
My phone started buzzing nonstop. Shanika calling.
I ignored it. Then again. Then again. Ten missed calls in a row.
“Relax, Romeo,” I muttered.
He texted: “Please, just talk to me. It’s not what it looks like.”
That line alone made me laugh out loud. The audacity.
And then, I hear a pip, it’s him.
Yes. The same man. Outside my flat. Like we’re in some Nollywood-Netflix hybrid episode.
I opened the door, stood there with my arms crossed.
He looked... desperate. Like a man who’d rehearsed a speech but didn’t know where to start.
“I was going to tell you,” he began.
I rolled my eyes so hard, I swear I saw my brain.
He went on: “She and I were over... I just didn’t know how to end it properly. I needed to be sure about you first.”
“Sure about me?” I asked. “So I was your trial run?”
He looked down. Didn’t say anything. That silence said enough.
I laughed for real this time. The kind of laugh that comes when you’ve hit your emotional limit.
“Well played, player,” I said. “You almost had me.”
I closed the door, switched off my phone and sat on my bed.
The tears didn’t come this time. Just peace.
I opened my school books because, honestly, I still had an assignment due.
As I flipped a page, I caught myself smiling.
Maybe this is what growth looks like: realising you can be heartbroken and still stand on business.
So no, Shanika. I will not waste a single tear on you anymore.
**This story is based on real experiences told through reflective storytelling. Names and identifying details have been changed. Each story explores the raw edges of love, identity and the messy middle where growth often hides.
*Ozon?u Chronicles uncovers the secrets that never see daylight. Each story is fiction. Yet, as you read, you may sense that reality has already whispered its own version. For readers 18 and older.
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