This is a purely fictional work. Any resemblance to real persons, organizations or events is merely coincidental. This story is not appropriate for children and the mentally unstable. Parental guidance is advised for children under 16.
Copyright © Ufuomaee
VOLUME ONE - CHAPTER FIVE
"Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ..." (2 Cor 10:5).
I took my daughter to the park near our home today. She loves it there. She gets to play with the other small children and tries to be the leader! She just turned five, but looking at her, you'd think she's six years old.
Anyway, as I looked about the park, I remembered that last night we were together in London, when we visited the park near my University. Do you remember it? The memory of that night is dull now, but I remember the pain of letting go that I was feeling at the time, because I was still trying to hold on to you, when God had told me to forsake you.
That's sort of how I feel now... Just you coming back into my life has taken me back and given me a glimpse of how deeply I once loved and felt loved. And even though I know it's all a mirage, I don't want to let go of that feeling...
I remember also, one of the last things you said to me; that if I ever need you, I can call on you. Why did you say that? Since you said it, it's been an open door, a lifeline to reconnect when I find myself missing you.
But it doesn't comfort me...it torments me. Because I know that if I ever take you up on that offer, you really can't provide the help I need... You can't be who I want you to be. You can't even be my friend.
"Mummy, why are you crying?" I hear Lara say. I quickly wipe the tears off my eyes and cheeks. I forgot that she was there, and that she's so observant these days.
I smile and pull her close for a hug. "I'm fine dear... Are you ready for your dinner?" I ask, as I arise from the sofa.
"Yes, please. I want Indomie and egg." I smile at her predictable response, nod and respond in the affirmative.
I appreciate the space in the kitchen, as I prepare her meal. There's beans in the fridge, and enough plantain to fry for Temi, if and when he returns home to eat. I make enough noodles to share with my baby girl, as I am also cutting down on what I eat these days.
While cooking, I do what I have become accustomed to, I browse my social media accounts, particularly Instagram. And right there, as I open the app, I see a recent picture of you! OMG! That was so unexpected.
I quickly click the name on the account bearing your picture, before Instagram does that annoying thing of reloading the page with new posts so that you lose the one you are interested in. The account holder is indeed one of your close friends. He is celebrating you for your birthday. But that was about a week ago.
Yes, I still remember your birthday. I don't light a candle for you or anything. A few of my friends and even family members have birthdays and anniversaries around the same time, so don't let it get to your head.
Anyway, you're looking good. Not drop dead gorgeous, not like you've ever been. But attractive, regal and sexy, as standard.
I look through the comments, hoping to spot your handle as you say thanks for the greetings. There are quite a few of our mutual friends who have commented, but I don't see any handle that looks like yours. I decide to drop a comment anyway. I know I shouldn't. I should just move on..."waka pass" as they say. But the pull to get your attention is strong.
I write: "Happy belated Birthday, Lade! Hope it was awesome 🙂" and send it before I change my mind.
It was harmless... You'll probably never see it. But I know I shouldn't have. I feel the urge in my spirit to delete it, but before I do, I get a notification that our mutual friend, Ola, who posted the picture, liked my greeting.
It doesn't mean anything, I decide. And I leave that imprint, that reminder that we still share the same world...
To be continued…
Photo credit: www.pixabay.com
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