The night swallowed Amara whole.
Back in her room, she didn't turn on the lights. She simply sat on the edge of her bed, her bag still hanging on her shoulder, her breath sharp and uneven. The darkness around her felt safer than facing the truth she had witnessed.
She had seen it with her own eyes.
The chemistry.
The ease.
The laughter.
What hurt wasn't just that Dapo was with another girl…
It was that he seemed happy.
Happy in a way he no longer looked with her.
Amara pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart throb like it was trying to escape her ribcage.
She wanted to cry.
God knows she wanted to break down… but nothing came out.
Sometimes the pain is so deep that even tears refuse to fall.
Her phone buzzed.
Dapo: "Amara, please let's talk."
She stared at the message until the screen went dark again. She didn't reply.
Minutes passed—maybe hours, she wasn't sure—before the phone vibrated again.
Dapo: "I'm outside your gate."
Her breath caught.
She stood up slowly, her heart telling her to go, her pride begging her to stay. But something inside her needed answers, needed closure, needed… something.
So she stepped outside her compound.
Dapo stood under the dim streetlight, his shoulders tense, his hands shoved into his pockets. When he saw her, his eyes softened with guilt and a kind of fear she had never seen in him.
"Amara," he breathed.
She didn't move closer.
She didn't smile.
She didn't look away.
She simply waited.
He stepped forward hesitantly. "You left before I could explain."
"There was nothing to explain," she said quietly. "I saw enough."
He ran a hand through his hair. "That wasn't what it looked like."
Her jaw tightened. "Then tell me what it was. Because you didn't even introduce me properly. You called me your friend."
He winced at the word. "I panicked."
"Panicked?" Her voice sharpened. "Or you didn't want her to know about me?"
He swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes.
Amara felt her throat tighten. "Dapo… how long has this been happening?"
"Nothing is happening," he insisted. "Teni and I grew up together. She just came to—"
"Dapo." Her voice broke slightly. "Please. Stop lying."
He froze.
And that was all the answer she needed.
Amara's chest tightened painfully. "I trusted you," she whispered. "I believed every word you said."
He took a step closer. "I still care about you."
She shook her head. "Caring is not enough. Care doesn't hide messages. Care doesn't laugh like that with someone else. Care doesn't make me feel like I'm fighting for a place in your life."
He shut his eyes, as though her words pierced something deep inside him.
Amara continued, her voice trembling. "Do you know the worst part? I kept telling myself I was overthinking. That I was imagining things. That maybe I was the problem. But turns out… my instincts were right."
He opened his eyes slowly. "I didn't cheat."
Her heart twisted.
"No," she said. "But you were halfway there. And honestly, sometimes emotional betrayal hurts more."
Silence fell between them—heavy, thick, unkind.
Dapo reached for her hand, but she stepped back.
That small movement killed something inside him.
"Amara, I don't want to lose you."
She swallowed the ache in her throat. "Then why didn't you choose me?"
His lips parted, but no sound came.
He had no answer.
And that silence…
That silence broke her.
She breathed in shakily. "Dapo, I need space. I need time. I need… truth. And right now, I don't think you even know what you want."
"Amara—"
She put up a hand. "Please. Don't follow me."
And then, with a kind of strength she didn't know she had, she turned around and walked back toward the gate.
She didn't look back.
If she did, she wasn't sure she'd be able to leave.
Inside her room again, she finally collapsed onto her bed.
And this time, the tears came.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just soft, steady tears of heartbreak, disappointment, and the painful acceptance that she had loved someone who didn't love her the same way anymore.
But somewhere beneath the pain, a small stubborn voice whispered:
I will forgive…
but I will never forget.