By four in the afternoon, Obosi in Anambra State still held the day's heat hostage.
The sun had lowered, but the warmth clung stubbornly to the air. Okadas buzzed past in uneven bursts. A generator across the street rattled with metallic insistence. Somewhere nearby, a hawker dragged out the price of roasted corn in a tired rhythm.
His head throbbed.
Not a mild ache.
A migraine.
It began behind his right eye — sharp, drilling, relentless. Each pulse felt measured, deliberate. The light reflecting off zinc roofs stabbed at him. Every sound pressed directly into his skull.
He pressed his fingers briefly to his temple.
It didn't help.
He should have gone home.
Instead, he turned toward her gate.
She was standing outside, phone loosely in hand.
Even from a distance, he could see it.
Something was wrong.
Her shoulders were stiff.
Her jaw slightly set.
Her expression heavy.
A foul mood.
He slowed his steps but didn't stop.
Before reaching her, he arranged his face.
A small smile.
Careful. Controlled.
He stepped closer.
"Hey."
She looked at him.
No smile.
No greeting.
Just that same closed expression.
The migraine pulsed harder.
He kept the smile.
"What's wrong?"
She didn't answer.
Her eyes shifted briefly, then settled somewhere past him.
The silence made the pounding in his head louder.
He forced the smile again — wider this time.
"You okay?"
For a second, she looked directly at him.
Then away.
Like the question had been unnecessary.
The generator hummed.
An okada sped past.
The late sun burned against his eyes.
And the pain in his head tightened.
But he kept smiling.The migraine had sharpened.
Not just pulsing now — tightening.
Like something was coiling behind his right eye.
He kept the smile.
But irritation — thin and unfamiliar — slipped through.
He exhaled.
"Gloria… I'm asking what's wrong. You look annoyed. What happened?"
This time, there was an edge.
Small.
But present.
She finally looked at him fully.
Before she could answer—
"Ah, see this one."
A voice from the side.
They both turned.
It was Chinedu — someone they both knew well. Not a stranger. Not random. Familiar enough to remove suspicion.
He didn't even acknowledge him properly.
He stepped closer, tilted his head slightly at her.
"Gloria… this your face. Why you dey frown like this? Everything alright?"
And it happened instantly.
Her shoulders loosened.
Her expression softened.
She smiled.
Not forced.
Not thin.
A real one.
"Oh, I'm fine," she said lightly. "Just small stress. That's all."
Her tone shifted — warmer.
Alive.
Chinedu laughed. "Na lie. You and stress?"
And they began talking.
Casual things.
Neighborhood updates. Someone's new job. A joke about fuel prices.
Easy.
Flowing.
The generator hummed in the background. An okada sped past. The sun reflected sharply off a zinc roof.
His migraine spiked so suddenly he almost winced.
But he didn't.
He stood there.
Still smiling.
Watching.
Not jealousy.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
He studied the difference.
The immediacy. The ease. The warmth.
Then something in him adjusted.
Not visibly.
Just internally.
He stepped back once.
Neither of them noticed.
He stepped back again.
Still unnoticed.
And then he turned.
once more.
Neither of them noticed.
Chinedu said something else — something light — and she laughed.
Not forced.
Not thin.
A real laugh.
The kind that loosened her shoulders and softened her face.
His smile stayed in place for a second longer.
Then he saw it clearly.
How easy it was.
How natural.
The warmth in her eyes.
He stopped smiling.
She didn't notice.
He stepped back again.
The migraine pulsed — sharp, blinding — forcing his eyes shut for a brief second.
He inhaled slowly.
When he opened them, he wasn't angry.
He wasn't resolved.
Just… quieter.
Colder.
He looked at them one last time.
Then, for the first time, the question formed properly.
Not about her.
About himself.
Where did he stand?
The laughter behind him continued.
He turned.
And the migraine followed him down the street.