CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN: THE SPACE BETWEEN US
I thought giving Samuel space would make things easier.
For a while, it did.
Or at least, I thought it did.
I stopped asking him too many questions.
When he was quiet, I let him be.
When he wanted to spend time with his friends, I didn't complain.
When he said he was tired, I believed him.
I told myself that this was what trust looked like.
I had always thought relationships were supposed to make two people closer.
But I was beginning to understand that being close to someone did not mean being involved in every part of their life.
Samuel had his own problems.
I had mine.
We could not expect each other to solve everything.
So I tried to be understanding.
The problem was that Samuel seemed to misunderstand my silence.
One Thursday morning, I entered class and greeted him.
"Morning."
He looked up.
"Morning."
I sat beside him.
"How are you?"
"Fine."
I nodded.
I opened my notebook.
He glanced at me.
"You're not going to ask anything else?"
I looked at him.
"What?"
"You usually ask me if I'm okay."
I laughed softly.
"You told me to give you space."
"I didn't say you should stop talking to me."
I frowned.
"I don't understand you."
He sighed.
"Neither do I."
I stared at him.
He smiled slightly.
"Sorry."
I shook my head.
"You're confusing."
"I'm trying."
"I know."
He looked down.
For a moment, we were quiet.
Then he reached for my hand beneath the desk.
I smiled.
It was a small gesture.
But it reminded me that he was still there.
The lesson began.
Everything went smoothly until our English teacher announced a group assignment.
"We will be working in groups of four."
The class immediately became noisy.
Everyone started looking around for people to work with.
The teacher began calling out names.
When he reached mine, he placed me with Victoria, Morayo and Daniel.
I glanced towards Samuel.
He had been placed in another group.
He looked at me.
I shrugged.
It wasn't our fault.
We had no choice.
During the assignment, Daniel sat at the far end of the group while Victoria and Morayo worked on their part.
Daniel was surprisingly quiet.
"You're not contributing," Morayo told him.
"I am thinking."
"Thinking is not contribution."
He laughed.
I smiled.
We eventually finished the task.
When I returned to my seat, Samuel looked at me.
"How was the group?"
"Fine."
"Who was in it?"
"Victoria, Morayo and Daniel."
He nodded.
I expected him to say something.
He didn't.
So I opened my book.
After a few minutes, he asked, "Did Daniel help?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
I looked at him.
"A lot."
He nodded.
"Okay."
There was something strange about his tone.
I turned towards him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You sound upset."
"I'm not."
I stared at him.
He continued writing.
I sighed.
I didn't understand what was happening anymore.
That afternoon, during break, I went to the canteen with Victoria and Morayo.
Samuel went with his friends.
I did not think much of it.
Until I returned to class.
Abigail was there.
She was standing near Samuel's desk.
They were talking.
Again.
I stopped for a second.
Not because I thought anything was happening.
But because I remembered our conversation.
She is my friend.
I trusted him.
I reminded myself of that.
So I walked to my seat.
Abigail looked at me.
"Hi."
"Hi."
She smiled.
Then she left.
I sat down.
Samuel looked at me.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
He frowned.
"You're quiet."
"I am fine."
He sighed.
"Floral."
"What?"
"Don't start."
I stared at him.
"Don't start what?"
"This."
"What exactly is this?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"Nothing."
I looked away.
I didn't want another argument.
I had promised myself that I would trust him.
So I stayed quiet.
That evening, however, something happened that made it difficult.
After classes, I was walking towards the hostel when I saw Samuel and Abigail talking again.
This time, they were farther away from the classroom.
They looked serious.
I slowed down.
I could not hear what they were saying.
Then Abigail handed something to Samuel.
He took it.
They continued talking.
I immediately felt uneasy.
I wanted to walk over.
I didn't.
I wanted to ask what she had given him.
I didn't.
Instead, I continued towards the hostel.
I told myself there was probably a simple explanation.
There always was.
But my mind had already begun creating possibilities.
By the time I reached the hostel, I was annoyed with myself.
Why was I allowing something so small to affect me?
Gift was on her lower bunk.
She looked up when I entered.
"You look angry."
"I am not angry."
She smiled.
"You're doing the thing again."
"What thing?"
"Pretending."
I sighed.
I sat on my bunk.
"I saw Samuel with Abigail."
Gift's expression became serious.
"Again?"
I nodded.
"She gave him something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Then ask him."
I looked at her.
"I'm tired of asking."
She shook her head.
"That's not better."
"I know."
She folded her clothes.
"You're going to keep thinking about it if you don't ask."
I sighed.
"Maybe."
Gift looked at me.
"Floral."
"Yes?"
"Don't punish yourself because you're afraid of looking jealous."
I was quiet.
She continued.
"You have a right to know what is happening in your own relationship."
I nodded slowly.
She was right.
Again.
That evening during prep, I waited.
Samuel arrived late.
He sat beside me.
"You're quiet."
I looked at him.
"I saw you with Abigail."
He froze.
"What?"
"After class."
He looked away.
"She needed something."
"What did she give you?"
He became silent.
My heart began beating faster.
"Samuel?"
"It's nothing."
"What is it?"
He sighed.
"She gave me a letter."
"A letter?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Did you read it?"
"Yes."
"What did it say?"
He looked at me.
"Why does it matter?"
I stared at him.
"Because you are my boyfriend."
He sighed.
"It's personal."
I felt something inside me drop.
"Personal?"
"Yes."
"So you can't tell me?"
"It's not my story to tell."
I looked away.
"Okay."
He touched my arm.
"Floral."
I moved slightly.
"I said okay."
He frowned.
"Don't be like this."
"Like what?"
"You're angry."
"I'm not angry."
"You are."
I turned towards him.
"You keep telling me I'm imagining things, and now you're telling me you have a letter you can't explain."
"I never said you were imagining things."
"You didn't have to."
He sighed.
"I can't tell you everything."
I stared at him.
"Fine."
The teacher entered before he could respond.
We both faced forward.
But I couldn't concentrate.
A letter.
From Abigail.
A private letter.
Samuel refusing to tell me what it said.
I knew I should trust him.
But I also knew that secrecy had a way of creating suspicion.
And the worst part was that I didn't know whether he was keeping the letter private because he was protecting Abigail's confidence or because he was hiding something from me.
I hated not knowing.
After prep, Samuel tried to speak to me.
"Floral."
I kept packing my books.
"What?"
"Are you really angry?"
I looked at him.
"I don't know."
He sighed.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For making you feel uncomfortable."
I looked at him.
"Then explain."
He was silent.
"I can't."
My heart sank.
"Then there's nothing else to say."
I walked away.
I knew he watched me leave.
That night, I barely slept.
The hostel was unusually noisy.
Someone was laughing loudly.
Someone else was complaining about the heat.
A few girls were still moving around.
But I barely noticed.
I kept thinking about the letter.
I kept thinking about Abigail.
And most of all, I kept thinking about Samuel's face when I asked him about it.
There had been something in his expression.
Not guilt.
Not exactly.
Something closer to fear.
I didn't know what he was afraid of.
And that frightened me.
The next morning, Samuel was already waiting for me outside the classroom.
"Floral."
I stopped.
"What?"
"I don't want us to fight."
"We're not fighting."
"I know."
He looked tired.
"I just want you to know that I haven't done anything wrong."
I stared at him.
"Then why does it feel like something is wrong?"
He had no answer.
We stood there quietly.
Then he said, "I care about you."
I looked at him.
"I care about you too."
"But?"
I swallowed.
"I don't want secrets between us."
He looked away.
"I know."
"Then don't keep things from me."
"I'll try."
I nodded.
"Okay."
He walked into class.
I followed.
But as I sat beside him, I realised something.
We had started saying I'll try a lot.
I'll try to communicate.
I'll try to understand.
I'll try to trust.
I'll try to be better.
But a relationship could not survive on promises to try forever.
Eventually, something had to change.
And neither of us knew which one of us would change first.
That afternoon, Daniel noticed I was quiet.
He waited until Gift and the others had gone.
"You okay?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
He looked at me.
"Are you sure?"
I smiled.
"I'm sure."
He didn't believe me.
But, as always, he didn't force me to explain.
"Okay," he said.
Then he walked away.
I watched him.
There was comfort in knowing that someone could notice I was struggling without demanding an explanation.
But I didn't think much about it.
My mind was still on Samuel.
That evening, Samuel and I sat beside each other during prep.
We barely spoke.
Our shoulders almost touched.
Our books were open.
Our pens moved across our notebooks.
We were physically close.
But somehow, there seemed to be an entire world between us.