Lagos was moving mad. That’s how Ada could describe it. Not because Lagos did anything new, but because the tension became overwhelming. The hustle, traffic and busyness of how everybody seemed to be in an unseen competition. Ada had had enough.
She decided to take a quick break. Nothing dramatic. Just a space for her to breathe. She would go to Ilorin, spend time with Ify, her NYSC bestie, learn new styles from the tailoring school over there and rest her head.
“Sometimes, to find yourself, you need to leave the place where everyone thinks they know you,” she said. “I just want to breathe small,” she said to herself as she packed her overnight bag.
Ada wasn’t the type to run. Anyone who knew her would describe her as a focused, sharp, and goal-driven type. She had dreams of becoming a full-blown fashionpreneur, with her own luxury African brand. She wanted to make clothes that would touch the bodies of queens, CEOs, and celebrity brides. Her daily motivations were the styles of dresses she saw on BellaNaija brides.
But Lagos was pressing her like a tailor’s iron. She couldn’t afford the tailoring class she tried to join before NYSC. Chuks, her boyfriend? Too clingy. Her family? Too involved in her matter. “Maybe I just need a small space,” she said.
Ada met Chuks two years earlier, in a typical type of Igbo family business connection. Her dad sent her to the store. He came around to check some goods at his father’s warehouse. Their eyes met across cartons of electrical appliances, and just like that, love happened.
He’s an MBA graduate from Lagos Business School and is already helping with his father’s business. The type of guy who replies to your texts with full punctuation and still calls you “sunshine” on WhatsApp. Every auntie called him “husband material.”
What they had at first was cute, sweet. Then slowly, a little too much. Because while Chuks was perfect on paper, Ada started feeling like a character in someone else’s love story.
When NYSC posted her to Kwara, she saw it as a sign, a way to learn independence. But her family, and Chuks especially, moved heaven and earth to get her redeployed back to Lagos.
“Babe, you know I just don’t want to lose you,” he said as they chewed on chicken wings in a restaurant. “You won’t,” she replied with a smile.
“Baby, please. That place is far. I don’t want you getting too comfortable there,” he said.
“You can’t love me and still try to hold me back,” she calmly replied.
But deep inside, she already felt like something was slipping away, not from him, but from herself.
The bus ride from Lagos was uneventful, except for one part where the police stopped them for routine checks. One officer knocked on her window like they were friends from secondary school.
“Madam, you too dey sleep o. Wetin be your name?”
“My name is Adaeze. I’m going to Ilorin.”
“I say make I just confirm say dem no kidnap you. Safe journey.”
Ada smiled.
Ilorin was quiet when she arrived. Ify was already at General Park, in front of Queens School, waiting for her, in her leggings and an oversized top.
“Ada, baby! See fine girl! I thought you’d cancel again!” Ify screamed, dragging her into a hug.
“You know how Lagos is now…”
Ada replied, dragging her box with small shame.
“Lagos no dey let person think, my dear. Here, we even get peace of mind and steady fried fish,” Ify said, grinning.
The next few days were soft. She wasn’t running to beat Alausa’s morning logbook. No honking. No Danfo conductor screaming “Ojuelegba last chance.”
She was just existing. Sleeping, Eating. Gisting with Ify. Learning how to cut fabric. And slowly, remembering the version of herself she had started to forget.
She didn’t know then that Ilorin was not just a stopover, that it would change everything. The friends she’d meet. The love she didn’t plan for. The moment that would test her values. The rain that would fall. But for now, she was just a girl standing by the window of a quiet apartment, watching trees sway, and wondering if this was the beginning of something good.
***
Feature Image by Karolina Grabowska for Pexels
