CHAPTER 13 - University Days & Ben
University wasn't what Adaeze imagined.
She thought it would be noise, parties, and girls with loud lip gloss.
Instead, her days began with the slow creak of the hostel door, Kayla's hair bonnet slipping halfway off her head, and the sweet but annoying smell of someone frying eggs downstairs at 6 a.m.
Adaeze was still new to everything.
New to cooking for herself, new to sleeping with the lights on because Kayla was scared of the dark, and new to reading past midnight because lecturers didn't send reminders, they sent threats.
But in all the chaos, one constant steadied her:
Ben.
The boy who had been an anchor before admission.
The boy who somehow still remained one, even across the distance.
Every evening, her phone buzzed.
Ben: "Hey, Freshman. You survive today?"
Adaeze: "Barely. I think calculus wants to kill me."
Then came the video calls.
Ben's face lit up her cracked Infinix screen, his wide shoulders wrapped in a Brigham University hoodie, the logo bold behind him.
He teased her gently, corrected her assignments, and explained courses he wasn't even taking anymore.
He was already in 200 level and fully understood the rhythm of university life.
He told her about his campus life, not in a bragging way, just enough to let her into his world.
"Hostel life is still the ghetto," he'd say.
"Lecturers act like their course is the only course. I swear, Adaeze, if not for headphones, I would have run mad."
She would laugh, and he'd smile at the sound, the kind of smile that held something unspoken.
And yes, she hoped.
She hoped the way young girls do, quietly, stubbornly, foolishly.
She hoped it would soon become a relationship.
But Ben never asked.
He wasn't too forward.
He gave her space.
He spoke gently.
He let affection slip only through tiny cracks, the way he stared too long before ending a video call and the way he remembered her test dates even when she forgot them herself.
Meanwhile, Kayla, her roommate, was living a completely different movie.
Two months into school and two boyfriends already gone.
Breakup number one:
She cried dramatically, flung her wig across the room, and declared, "Men are trash."
Breakup number two:
She sighed and said, "Please, relationship is a trial and error something."
Adaeze just watched.
A little amused.
A little scared.
A little impressed.
..............
Sunday arrived like a long awaited prophecy.
Lilian's heart had been doing tiny somersaults since Saturday night.
Her clothes had been picked hours ahead.
Her perfume tested twice.
Her hair laid neatly, stress free.
She wasn't going to church for anything serious, or so she told herself.
But when she walked in and the choir lifted their voices:
"All to Jesus I surrender…"
Her spirit responded.
Unfortunately, so did her heart, but not for the right person.
Because that was when Emmanuel walked in.
The hymn for the morning was All to Jesus I Surrender.
But Lilian wasn't surrendering anything.
At least not to Jesus.
Not when Emmanuel looked like that.
The sun hit his skin in warm patches as they stepped out of church. His cream-coloured native wear, embroidered neatly across the chest, sat on him like it had been tailored specifically for his height, his build, and his quietly confident gait.
His haircut was fresh, outlining his face in sharp, deliberate strokes. He smelled like mint and something faintly woody.
Something dangerously pleasant.
And Lilian, against her better judgment, smiled.
They walked side by side, the Sunday crowd humming around them, women gossiping loudly in wrappers, children running around, and a group of older men gathered under the mango tree carrying out their usual political analysis.
Lilian leaned closer.
"I heard the wildest gist today," she said.
Emmanuel raised a brow. "Oh?"
"It's about my secondary school Government teacher, Mr. Eze."
"What happened?"
"Apparently, his wife left him and confessed that none of their three children were actually his."
Emmanuel blinked.
"So you're saying," he said slowly, "she confessed in front of the whole family?"
Lilian nodded quickly.
"I swear. Three children. None of them his. And she just laid everything out like it was normal. No remorse. No fear. I'm still shocked."
"Chai," he muttered, half amused, half disturbed. "Marriage is… complicated."
"Understatement of the century."
They walked a little farther, nearing the church gate.
And then, just as Lilian was beginning to relax, her heart dropped.
Standing beside the statue of St. Michael, flipping his car keys lazily in circles…
Levi.
Why. Why today?
Clean white shirt.
Dark trousers that fit a little too well for her peace of mind.
Sleeves rolled slightly, revealing toned forearms.
Calm expression.
That irritating air of unbothered spirituality.
She immediately stiffened.
Jesus. Not him. Anyone but him.
Emmanuel followed her gaze.
She could practically feel the smile disappearing from her face.
Levi lifted his head and their eyes locked.
No escaping now.
He walked toward them slowly, like someone who already knew he would get to her eventually.
"Good afternoon, Lilian," he said, his voice deep but warm.
She forced a stiff smile.
"Afternoon."
He turned to Emmanuel.
They shook hands, firm, masculine, effortless. Two men bonding without needing a full conversation.
"I didn't know you attended Catholic church," Levi said, looking back at her.
"I do," she replied bluntly. "Occasionally."
He didn't flinch at the tone.
He never did.
"I actually came to drop something off for a friend," he explained. "One of the young priests here. He's hosting a youth program next month, so I brought the invitation personally."
Then he looked at Emmanuel.
"You should come."
Lilian blinked.
"So you won't ask me?" she muttered under her breath. "Okay then."
Levi finally turned back to her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You too," he added. "If you want."
Then he held her gaze for a second longer than necessary.
"I guess I'll be seeing you again soon."
She gave him a smile so fake it could be used in a toothpaste advert.
"Sure."
He nodded at both of them and walked away.
The moment he disappeared, Emmanuel inhaled sharply and turned to her with a smirk.
"So…"
he dragged the word out,
"what exactly is going on between you two?"
Lilian nearly choked on her own breath.
"Absolutely nothing. That man is my enemy. Full stop."
"Enemy?" Emmanuel chuckled. "He didn't look like your enemy."
"He is. His type is everywhere, full of scripture and confidence. I don't like him."
"So passionate," Emmanuel teased. "Reminds me of those enemies to lovers movies."
"Don't even start," she snapped. "Never. Not possible."
He kept smiling, amused by the fire in her eyes.
She shook her head, trying to regain composure.
"My heart is for someone else," she murmured, then realized too late what she had just said.
Emmanuel stopped walking.
"Someone else?"
Her brain screamed.
Her mouth scrambled.
"I meant God!"
He didn't look convinced.
Not even a little.
The silence between them softened, thickened, deepened.
And for one brief suspended moment, the world around them blurred away, the church crowd, the heat, the noise.
Just them.
Then Emmanuel exhaled softly and said, almost too gently:
"Before God assumes I'm competing with Him, can I take you out next Sunday? Properly."
Her throat tightened.
Her heart answered first.
"Yes," she whispered.
A real smile spread across Emmanuel's face, slow, warm, deliberate.
"Good," he said softly. "Then it's a date."