CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINE: THE FIRST CRACKS
The following Monday morning, the school felt different.
Perhaps it was because the major assessment was only a few days away. Everywhere I looked, students were carrying textbooks, revising notes and discussing questions they thought might appear in the examination.
Even the usual noise in the hostel seemed slightly reduced.
Nobody wanted to waste too much time.
I sat on the edge of my bed while tying my shoelaces, trying to remember the Physics formula I had revised before sleeping.
Gift was already dressed.
She stood beside our corner, arranging her books inside her bag.
"You're still thinking about that assessment?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You have been thinking about it since yesterday."
"I know."
She looked at me for a few seconds.
Then she asked, "Or are you thinking about Samuel?"
I stopped tying my shoelace.
"Why does everybody think I'm always thinking about Samuel?"
"Because you are."
I rolled my eyes.
"I am not."
Gift laughed softly.
"Floral, please."
I picked up my bag.
"I just want everything to be fine."
Her smile disappeared.
"With the assessment?"
I hesitated.
"With everything."
Gift understood.
She did not tease me this time.
Instead, she nodded.
"You and Samuel have been strange lately."
I looked at her.
"Strange how?"
"You are together, but sometimes it feels like you are both standing in different places."
Her words stayed with me.
I did not know what to say.
Before I could answer, the hostel bell rang.
"Come on," Gift said. "Before they start shouting at us."
We hurried out.
By the time we reached the classroom, most of the students were already seated.
I immediately looked towards my seat.
Samuel was there.
He had his Physics textbook open in front of him.
For a moment, I felt relieved.
Then I noticed his expression.
He looked exhausted.
His eyes were fixed on the page, but he did not appear to be reading.
I dropped my bag beside my chair.
"Good morning."
He looked up.
"Morning."
That was it.
No smile.
No teasing.
No little comment.
I sat down.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
The answer came too quickly.
I turned towards him.
"You don't look okay."
"I said I'm fine."
His voice was not loud.
But it was sharp.
I stared at him.
He immediately sighed.
"Sorry."
I looked away.
"It is fine."
"No, it isn't."
He rubbed his forehead.
"I just didn't sleep well."
"Because of the assessment?"
"Among other things."
I wanted to ask what the other things were.
But I remembered everything we had discussed over the past few weeks.
I had promised myself that I would not keep forcing him to explain things he was not ready to discuss.
So I nodded.
"Okay."
He looked at me.
"You're not angry?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
He gave a small nod.
"Thank you."
The teacher entered before I could say anything else.
The first lesson was Mathematics.
Usually, Samuel and I found a way to whisper to each other without getting caught.
That morning, we barely spoke.
The teacher wrote a complicated question on the board.
"Who wants to solve this?"
Nobody raised a hand.
The class remained silent.
The teacher looked around.
"Samuel?"
Samuel looked up.
"Yes, sir?"
"Come and solve it."
He stood.
I watched him walk towards the board.
He picked up the marker and stared at the question.
For several seconds, he did nothing.
The class began murmuring.
Samuel finally started solving it.
His first step was correct.
The second was correct.
Then he made a mistake.
The teacher pointed at it.
"You have made an error here."
Samuel looked at the board.
"Oh."
He corrected it.
But the next line was wrong too.
The teacher frowned.
"Samuel, what is happening?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Then concentrate."
"Yes, sir."
He finished the question somehow and returned to his seat.
As soon as he sat down, I whispered, "Are you sure you're okay?"
He exhaled.
"Floral, please."
I stopped.
There was something in his voice that made me uncomfortable.
Not anger exactly.
Frustration.
And somehow, I felt as though I was the person receiving the frustration.
I looked down at my notebook.
For the rest of the lesson, I said nothing.
At break time, the classroom became noisy.
Students rushed outside, talking about food, lessons and the coming assessment.
Victoria came towards me.
"Floral!"
I looked up.
"What?"
"Come and eat."
"I'll come later."
Morayo stood beside her.
"You've been saying that for five minutes."
"I am not hungry."
Victoria narrowed her eyes.
"Is this about Samuel?"
I sighed.
"Why does everyone know when something is wrong with me?"
"Because your face announces it before your mouth does," Morayo replied.
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Samuel packed his books.
"I'll be back."
I looked at him.
"Where are you going?"
"Somewhere."
The answer surprised me.
"Somewhere?"
He looked at me.
"I need to speak to somebody."
"Who?"
He hesitated.
"Abigail."
Something inside me tightened.
I tried not to show it.
"Okay."
He nodded and left.
Victoria watched him go.
Then she looked at me.
"You're bothered."
"I said I'm fine."
"You don't have to lie to us."
"I am not lying."
Morayo sat on the edge of the desk.
"Do you trust him?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Then breathe."
I looked towards the doorway.
"I do trust him."
"But?"
I swallowed.
"But I'm tired of feeling like there's always something I don't know."
Neither of them answered.
Because they knew exactly what I meant.
Samuel returned several minutes later.
He sat down beside me.
I looked at him.
"Everything okay?"
"Yes."
"Did Abigail need help?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
I wanted to ask what kind of help.
I wanted to ask what they had discussed.
I wanted to ask why every conversation involving Abigail seemed to leave me feeling as though I was standing outside a locked door.
But I said nothing.
Samuel opened his notebook.
"Did you understand the Mathematics question?"
"Yes."
"Can you explain it to me later?"
I looked at him.
"Of course."
He smiled faintly.
"Thank you."
For a moment, everything felt normal again.
But it did not last.
During afternoon prep, the class teacher announced that everyone would submit their revision exercises before the next lesson.
The room immediately filled with complaints.
"I haven't finished!"
"Sir, please!"
"I left mine in the hostel!"
The teacher raised his hand.
"Enough."
Everyone became quiet.
"You have had enough time. Those who do not submit will receive punishment."
Samuel leaned towards me.
"I haven't completed mine."
"You can copy the last two examples from my notebook."
He looked at me.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Thank you."
He took my notebook.
I continued working from my textbook.
A few minutes later, he returned it.
"I don't understand this part."
I looked at the question.
"Which part?"
"This."
He pointed to the calculation.
I explained it.
He frowned.
"I still don't understand."
I explained again.
This time, more slowly.
He sighed.
"Forget it."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"I said forget it."
"Samuel, I'm only trying to help."
"I know."
"Then why are you angry?"
"I'm not angry."
"You sound angry."
He closed his book.
"Floral, I said I'm fine."
I stared at him.
"And I said I'm trying to help you."
The words came out more sharply than I intended.
Several students around us glanced in our direction.
Samuel lowered his voice.
"Can we not do this here?"
"Do what?"
"This."
I felt my chest tighten.
"I don't even know what 'this' is."
He looked away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, "I'm sorry."
I nodded.
But this time, I did not say it was fine.
Because it wasn't.
That evening, I returned to the hostel with Gift.
The room was as noisy as ever.
Girls were bathing, dressing, sweeping and searching for books.
Someone was arguing over a bucket.
Another girl was calling for her missing soap.
Life continued normally around me.
But my mind was somewhere else.
Gift noticed.
"You fought?"
"No."
"Then what happened?"
I sat on my bed.
"We argued."
"About?"
"Nothing."
Gift gave me a look.
"People don't argue about nothing."
I sighed.
"Samuel is stressed."
"I know."
"He keeps saying he is fine, but he isn't."
Gift sat beside me.
"Maybe he needs space."
"I've given him space."
"Then maybe he needs time."
"How much time?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know."
I looked down at my hands.
"I just don't want us to become strangers."
Gift was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "Being in a relationship doesn't mean you have to solve every problem for the other person."
I looked at her.
"But what if the problem becomes our problem?"
She had no answer.
And neither did I.
That night during prep, Samuel barely spoke to me.
I tried to concentrate on my notes.
I really did.
But every few minutes, I found myself looking at him.
He was writing quickly.
His face was tense.
His books were spread across the desk.
For the first time since we became a couple, I wondered whether being together was making his life harder.
The thought frightened me.
When prep ended, students began packing their books.
Samuel finally turned towards me.
"Floral."
"Yes?"
"About earlier…"
I waited.
"I didn't mean to speak to you like that."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"I've just been under pressure."
"I know."
He looked at me.
"I'm sorry."
"I forgive you."
He smiled weakly.
Then he reached for my hand beneath the desk.
His fingers wrapped around mine.
For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.
I wanted to believe that everything was going to be all right.
I wanted to believe that one difficult day did not mean anything.
But as we walked back towards the hostel, I noticed something.
Samuel let go of my hand before we reached the staircase.
Not because someone had seen us.
Not because a teacher was nearby.
He simply let go.
I stared at him.
He continued walking.
"Samuel?"
He turned.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He nodded and continued.
I followed behind him.