What My Heart Wants.

I stood there, gazing at the waves as they moved with the same rhythm as my heart rate. I was staring at the water and closing my eyes to resonate deeply with this beauty called nature. Knowing somebody also resonates with my soul. Only this time, I’m nature.

I’ve never loved like this in a while. After Kunle served me breakfast, one which I ate with a golden spoon. I finally met someone to search for those pieces of my heart, return them and place them back together, using his kisses to seal my heart. As his hands touched my shoulders, I tilted my head, and my eyes locked with Chima’s.

Madam, madam. How much is your bread?

(I jolted back to reality).

Sorry sir, which one do you want?

This one is brown and soft, just like you.

Surprised* Sir?

I said I liked the brown one.

(What’s wrong? What am I hearing?)

Sorry. Here is your bread. I said stretching my arms to give him the nylon.

Thank you. You look beautiful; what is the name of the pretty lady that sold this bread to me?

There’s no need for that. I snapped back. Take your bread and go. I tried to say politely to the old cargo in my front.

He probably got annoyed as he entered his Highlander after transferring my money. Before he zoomed off, I took a look inside the car. Behold, there sat a young handsome guy. The older man drove off before I could even process my thoughts. A feeling struck me that the man would return to play his games again, all in the name of purchasing bread.

I don't blame him. I am just a hustling Lagos baby who would rather sell bread with my mum than my body. Honestly, though, I do not enjoy my life, but since Dad died, my mum and I have had to cater for ourselves and Ikem, my younger brother. My manners, my name is Nkechi, the perfect example of a beautiful daydreamer.

I live in two worlds, one which brews pain and misery into a bitter drink I have to bear and the other which my soul curates from my imagination into beauty. I love love.

I experienced it firsthand when Dad was alive. He showered Mum with love, and I always hoped for that. But amid my hustles, I can only focus on the future ahead. One day, my dreams will swap with my reality. For now, I have just those dreams to myself.

It was already 9:00 pm, and Mama and I packed our bread into the black container shop at the end of the street. It was a distance from home, but it was the hub of the town. Almost anybody coming back from work will take the route and purchase bread.

As I packed the bread into the store, I couldn't help but remember there was a Kunle in my life, and yes, he did shatter my heart, with Cruelty as the theme of his heartbreak.

He was a tall, dark, handsome man; we were together for three years. We made plans to get married. We discussed what our future would look like. I remember the day he presented me with the silver printed invitation card and told me, "All is set but the bride" .

I felt my heart jump out of my body. That had to be the most romantic proposal ever. Or would have, because it turned out all was set but indeed the bride. I prepared for a wedding thinking it was mine. Meanwhile, the bride was to return from the UK to get married.

Kunle put me in my place when I told him to follow me to choose my wedding dress; he laughed with the words escaping from his mouth without guilt. "Do you think I am getting married to you"? These words still whisper in my ears when I sleep. I was shattered.

It had to be the ones who value Respect like they would die if they didn't get it but don't have an iota of Respect for anyone, especially ladies. Kunle once again added his name to the list of Yoruba demons. That heartbreak was my cue to stay clear of Yoruba men.

There is no Chima, but if I enter a relationship, I'll try my Eastern brothers; I hope they don't trade me and take me like a business. You can never predict men.

Mum placed the last two loaves of bread on the shelf while I squatted, tapping Ikem lightly and waking him up from his slumber. "Ikem, wake up. It’s time to go home." Sister Nkechi, stop nooow. Your hand is paining me, the lad shouted. Stand up; I said one last time.

My baby brother got up from the mat, and with heavy eyes, he staggered with me out of the shop with Mum. We strolled back home together. During the walk, Mama said her usual night prayers to herself. If Mama is praying on the road, she’s more than tired.

I was right; on getting to our self-contained flat after a fifteen-minute walk, she just got to the bed and slept off. Ikem followed suit, leaving me to arrange the house alone.

NEPA always has a way of pissing me off because what is the reason there is no light? Who am I kidding? I am in Nigeria, of course. I picked a candle from the cabinet and lit a match stick, illuminating the kitchen. I reached for the tomatoes on the cabinet and began making stew. At least we will have something to eat with white rice the following morning.

In my chef zone, enjoying what I love doing most, I realized there was no salt. I'm not too fond of the habit of knocking on my neighbor's door to collect salt. I just stepped out of the house two buildings away; luckily, mama Amaka's kiosk was still open.

As I was purchasing my salt, I heard a voice. I'm sure those were not my imagination. As I looked back, my eyes locked with a fair young guy

Good evening, I said.

Yh, I said you are the bread girl, right?

Yes, I am. Trying to keep a smile.

Ok, I know you have quite the temper. I experienced it indirectly today.

Hmn

Yh, my dad was the one in this black Highlander that bought bread. He got pissed for some reasons I just attributed to you.

So, you have not met me; you just decided to call me Angry Bird.

I do not mean to offend you. He said chuckling. It’s late, by the way; I stay around. We can talk when you are in a better mood.

Bye. I said.

Bold of him to think, I’ll talk to him. I opened our gate, and the creaking noise reminded me how my love life doesn’t even exist; how much more is it crooked enough to sound like the gate? I don’t know his name. But what if he is my Chima? He seems Igbo; I am sure of that. The way he pronounced his words, I can bet he would call the youth’s presidential candidate Pitobi if I asked him to.

What if he is Chima? Am I ready to take the route of love? I’ve been here before, and I ended up in a ditch, but what if, this time around, I end up in a beach. The one I always fantasize about? I can only know if I try. Let me continue this stew I was cooking. Hopefully, I don’t burn it and earn the nickname Burna Girl from Ikem. I’ll think about love tomorrow; for now, let me round up in the kitchen. Me self don try. I need to sleep.

Hi Guys

Long time no medium post.

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I also need a little help from you. I plan to continue this story, but from where I stopped, I've had three different scenarios in my head. Just leave a comment in the comment section.

Good ending if you want a happily ever after

Or

Bad ending if you want things to go wrong.

The majority wins.

Thank you.