December 23, 2029 | 6:47 AM
A lodge in hilltop Off - campus.
Hope was crying again.
It's not the baby hungry cry, or the wet diaper cry, it's the other one.
The one that tightened Paul's chest every single time because he still didn't know how to fix it.
He stood in their cramped room, swaying gently with her in his arms. Her tiny ribs rose and fell in uneven, shallow breaths.
She is now three weeks old, weighing seven pounds, two ounces. And somehow already the center of his entire world.
"Shh…" His voice cracked before he could steady it. Exhaustion dragged out the Cameroonian accent he usually kept buried. "I got you, small one. I got you."
On the bed, Precious stirred. Her eyes blinked open slowly, still heavy from the night's struggle. The moment she heard Hope's breathing, her face sharpened, worry sliding in before she even sat up.
"Is she ?"
"Breathing's rough again." Paul adjusted the baby slightly, watching his wife push herself upright. She moved carefully, like every muscle still remembered the surgery.
Thirteen weeks since the C–section. Three weeks since Hope arrived. Twenty-one days since Paul had slept more than two hours in a row.
Precious reached for their daughter, her fingers trembling from sleep. Paul handed Hope over, and immediately the baby's breathing eased against her mother's chest. Some of the tension in his shoulders released, but not all.
"The appointment is at nine," Precious murmured. Her British accent made her sound calm even when she wasn't. "I should start getting ready."
Paul checked his watch. 6:52 AM.
The UNN Medical Center was four kilometers away. A straightforward walk, except nothing in Nsukka ever felt straightforward during morning rush.
You will walk pass the thinning crowds , most students are yet to wake up for lectures, then you will have to pass vendors who might appear or disappear at random,then the sections of road no woman carrying a three-week-old child should walk alone.
Without looking at her, he said quietly, "I'm coming with you."
"Paul." Precious shifted Hope to her other arm. "You have that meet-up. The one with your friends."
"I can skip it."
"No." She exhaled slowly. "You need this. You've barely left this room except for class."
He didn't answer. The truth sat heavy in his throat. Leaving meant not being there if something went wrong. It meant trusting the world with the two people he couldn't lose. But he can't bother his wife with his paranoia.
"Call me when you get there," he said instead.
"I will."
"And during the appointment."
A tiny smile tugged her lips. "Paul "
"And when you're heading back," he finished, knowing he sounded ridiculous but unable to stop. "Please."
Her expression softened. She reached up and touched his face, gentle,reassuring, painfully tired. "We'll be fine."
The words didn't ease him. If anything, they just reminded him how dangerous the world could be, and how inexperienced she still was at navigating it with a newborn.
He kissed her forehead, then Hope's. The baby made a soft "wu…wu" sound that melted him instantly. Precious adjusted her hold instinctively.
Three weeks, and she already moved like a mother who'd done this for years.
Meanwhile, Paul still felt like he was one wrong move away from breaking something irreplaceable.
He grabbed his workout clothes. "I'll be back by noon. Earlier if you need me to."
"No need, just go. Exercise and see your friends. Try to feel normal again okay?"
Normal.?
Paul have forgotten what that word even meant. Somewhere between "we're losing her pulse!" and "congratulations, it's a girl!" the world had shifted permanently.
He stepped outside before he changed his mind.
The heat hit him immediately, December, but the kind that pretended it was August.
His shirt stuck to his back within seconds. Students drifted across campus, heading to morning lectures or sports or anything that didn't involve sleepless nights and infant respiratory worries.
He started toward the old gym. His body needed to burn, something that can be a distraction,or just anything to quiet the fear that lived in his chest like a second heartbeat.
His mind drifted to Chika and Abuchi, the meet-up later. Four years since they'd stumbled into becoming brothers, it's been four years since a random seating arrangement had tied their lives together.
"Was it random, though?"
Paul shook his head. Destiny had a strange sense of humor sometimes.
And today… it felt like something was shifting again.
Something he couldn't point out..
....
December 23, 2029 | 7:23 AM
Somewhere in the boys hostel.
Abuchi was standing in front of his mirror and trying to arrange a simple normal smile.
The first attempt felt wrong and forced. Like his face didn't understand what he wanted it to do, it was simply looking crooked.
He tried again. This time, it looked a little better. A little more like the kind of smile people gave when theydidn't give a fuck about the world.
"Yoo," he said to the mirror, practicing his usual greeting style. "Yoo, wetin dey happen?" ( Hey, what's happening? )
Even his voice sounded off, it is seriously sounding very cheerful and too practiced. The type of voice someone used when they were trying too hard to sound okay.
Maduabuchi Nwosu. Twenty-one. Mass Communication student, always joking, known for being loud and always looking like life is easy.
His mid-length afro arranged properly, fair skin, slim build,all paired with his Lady - killer look.His handsome self will always stand out.
If you add his fake designer clothes that passed at a distance and small jewelry pieces that made him look like he had money he didn't actually have...
Everything about him was an act.
And the act was wearing him out.
His phone displayed 7:23 AM. There were still hours before meeting Paul and Chika, yet his stomach was already tightening,not because of the meet up though, it was because today was Friday!.
Just the thought of it drives him insane, he yelps excitedly and completed the happy energy with a well timed moon walk across his room... adding a perfect swerve that will have audience dance in jubilation too.
Friday.
Film Practicals day, and Film Practicals meant Chimdi.
Chimdi Eze,a big bust, five-foot-five, athletic, confident, and beautiful in a way that didn't need effort lady. A theater and Film studies student in her final year. When she walks into a room, people notices without her asking for attention.
For three months, he had been planning to talk to her properly...his super crush. He promised himself that this time, it's not the small greetings or the nervous jokes he always use. It will be a real conversation, to discuss the story of Romeo and Juliet.
Today is supposed to be that day.
But his hands were shaking again. His breaths becoming uneven, and his mind kept pulling him back to that evening at the fuel station two months ago.
The sudden heavy command,
the sound of the gunshots,
the thud!! Of his manager falling heavily on the concrete floor,
And him hiding in the storage room, too scared to move.
He looked at the mirror and didn't see the confident boy everyone else saw.
All that was there was someone who froze when it he is supposed to do something.
"Stop," he whispered, holding his head. "Calm down."
But the fear never really left. It stuck with him, constantly ringing and waiting for the next moment to remind him of who he had been that day.
His village had believed in him,he is the first person they sent to university. They raised small contributions, encouraged him, told him to make them proud.
He can still remember the old Chief's smiling face and the looks of expectations when he entered the bus that took him to UNN.
Yet all he could think of was how he hid while someone died.
He forced another smile. This one looked a little more natural....a tired one.
"You go dey alright," (you will be fine ) he told himself. "Just hold yourself. One step at a time."
He picked up his bag and headed to the door.
Paul and Chika, his brothers will be waiting later. They are the only ones who didn't leave when he broke down.
They sat outside his room until he opened the door. They saw him weep but were just there to ensure that he was fine. They made sure he was still alive...
They carried him through it without even realizing.
And now, he just had to keep himself together long enough so they wouldn't see that the cracks were still there...
....
October 2025
Four Years Earlier
The matriculation ceremony is scheduled for 10 AM, which means Chika arrived at 9:30, anxious as usual about being late despite having forty-five minutes to spare.
The Main Auditorium can hold three thousand students if you packed them in right. Today, they were definitely packing them in.
New students are everywhere, wearing their finest clothes, carrying orientation booklets, looking lost and excited and afraid.
Chika finds his assigned seat through pure determination and the alphabetical list posted at the entrance. Row 14, Seat 9. Right in the middle section where he could see without being too visible.
Perfect.
He sat down, opened his orientation booklet, and immediately buried his face in it to avoid having to make small talk with whoever ended up sitting next to him.
Five minutes later, someone drops into Seat 8 like they'd been running. Which, based on the way they were breathing, they probably had been.
"Ah, bro, this thing go long o." ( ah, bro ,this activity will surely take time )
The voice was male, young, speaking pidgin English with the kind of casual confidence Chika envied.
"You go carry snacks?" ( do you have snacks )
Chika looked up. The guy in Seat 8 was about his height, fair-skinned, with an easy smile that made him immediately likable. He had a meat pie in one hand and was looking at Chika like they were already friends.
"Uh. No. Sorry. I didn't think "
"No wahala." ( no problem )
The guy broke his meat pie in half and offered it to Chika. "Take, we be neighbors now. Gotta look out for each other." He said grinning.
Chika stared at the offered food like it might be a trick. Who just share food with strangers?
"I'm Maduabuchi," the guy said in his loud voice when Chika didn't make any attempt to collect the meat pie.
"But na Abuchi everybody dey call me. You na?" (But everybody calls me Abuchi)
"Chika, Chika Offor."
He took the offered meat pie half because refusing will feel ruder than accepting. "Philosophy." as he munched on his share .
"Mass Communication." Abuchi grinned. "You sabi where we fit dodge after this boring thing?"
Before Chika could answer, someone else sat down in Seat 10.
This one was different. He is tall, really tall.He looks to be over six feet. With a set of broad shoulders, coupled with dark skinand a kind of presence that made you sit up straighter without meaning to.
He wore a simple shirt and jeans, nothing fancy, but considering the way he carried himself, he didn't need fancy clothes to be noticed.
He sat down, opened his own booklet, and started reading without acknowledging either of them.
Abuchi leaned toward him and whispered, "Guy, wetin? You be our third musketeer?"
(Guy,what? Are you the third musketeer?)
The tall guy looked up, his expression was carefully neutral. "Paul. Pharmacy."
Two words. That is it, then he brought his attention back to his booklet.
Abuchi tried again after failing first "This matriculation thing, you think e go long?" (Do you think it will take time?)
"Probably."
Silence.......
Chika ate his meat pie half and wished he could disappear," this is not the plan ."
Already, he could feel the social dynamics forming. Abuchi is a friendly one. Paul is the serious one. And he is the awkward one who didn't know how to talk to people.
This is going to be a long four years....
....
The chubby Provost's speech was exactly as boring as everyone expected. Something about UNN's proud history and commitment to excellence and the future of Nigeria resting on their shoulders.
Chika was taking notes because he took notes on everything, even things that didn't matter. Abuchi was clearly dying of boredom, shifting uncomfortably in his sitting position.Paul's expression hadn't changed since he sat down.
Then the microphone screeched...
The sound was painful, like nails on a chalkboard but amplified through speakers. Three thousand students flinched in unison, some sleeping students awoken instantly while the active ones protected their ear drum.
The chubby Provost kept talking, apparently not noticing his microphone had died.
"and remember, students, mediocrity is the enemy of ...."
Nothing.
Just his mouth moving while everyone was busy talking about the noise pollution.
Someone in the back laughed. Then more people. Pretty soon half the auditorium was trying not to laugh at the Provost lecturing in silence.
"Even the microphone don tire," Abuchi whispered.(Even the microphone is tired)
The comment was so perfectly timed that Chika almost spat out the last bite of his pie,actually he did but it was subtle.... In the middle of matriculation.
The Provost's tiny eyes swept toward their section. Everyone immediately tried to look innocent.
Chika felt his face burning, as he sat up his back straight .Paul's mouth twitched, actually barely, the tiniest almost-smile.
Abuchi put on a very innocent clean look, making the protest doubt wether the remark really came from there.
And somehow, in that moment of shared absurdity, they grew closer.
When the ceremony finally ended and three thousand students tried to leave through four exits, chaos erupted.
Bodies pressed together,people pushing some taking advantage of the opposite gender, screams about being trampled filled the air.
"Ah ah, this one na death trap," (This is a death trap )Abuchi said. "Make we find back door." ( let's look for the emergency door)
"There isn't a back door," Chika started to say, but Paul cut him off.
"Maintenance exit. Near the stage. I saw it earlier."
He started moving, and somehow both Chika and Abuchi followed. They slipped through the crowd, dodging between people, until they found the maintenance door Paul had mentioned, luckily it wasn't locked.
They pushed through and emerged into Freedom Square, which was ironically empty and peaceful.
"Freedom," Abuchi said, breathing in air greedily with his arms spread wide.
"Literally."
Chika adjusted his glasses and looked at the other two with a face that was reprimanding "That is unauthorized."
"We should do this again," Paul said, his face still deadpan.
It took Chika a second to realize he was joking. When he did, he laughed, a real laugh, not his anxious kind where his is trying to fit in, but the real kind that comes from genuine amusement.
Abuchi grinned. "The three musketeers, Wetin we go do next?"( The three musketeers,what are we doing next ? )
And just like that, accidentally, through nothing but alphabetical seating and a broken microphone, they became friends.
Brothers....