At Brightwood University, Simi is a football player who knows that every game might be her last. Her illness is the unwelcome guest at her every kick and sprint, casting shadows over her dreams.
Then Alex shows up-a new football student with a smil...
As the shrill sound of the final whistle echoed across the field, the noise faded into a disorienting blur. Simi's heart, still pounding from the practice, was now racing for a different reason—because of Alex. It was like her heart had taken up a new rhythm, one that was syncopated to the uneven beats of their budding connection.
She gathered her things with mechanical efficiency, her hands moving on autopilot as her mind wandered. The lively conversations and laughter of her teammates seemed like a distant hum, as if she were viewing them through a fogged glass. The world's colors bled into a surreal watercolor of sound and movement, while her internal dialogue grew heavier with every breath she took.
"Hey, Simi!" Alex called, his voice cutting through her daze. She turned, meeting his gaze, that spark of charisma always igniting a flicker of warmth within her.
He jogged over, hair covered with a bandana, brows slightly sweaty, and his expression a mosaic of earnest curiosity and playful challenge. His eyes, bright and intense, sent a shiver up her spine—both exhilarating and intimidating.
"You up for a few extra drills tomorrow? I could definitely use the help. Plus, I'd like to learn more of those 'caffeine tips'!"
"Sure, I mean, I guess," she said, her voice betraying the nervous edge she felt. She tried to hold his gaze, but the heat in her cheeks was a giveaway of her inner turmoil. "I could show you a few moves—if you're up for the challenge."
The flirty banter was effortless, yet within it surged an underlying fear; her heart questioned its own motives, prompting a defense mechanism to rear its head. It was one thing to chat with him, another to think about what it might mean to actually connect.
"Challenge accepted," he said with a playful grin.
Coach Danjuma's voice cut through the lingering buzz of conversation, calling everyone to keep moving. The team began to scatter, but Alex lingered, his presence hovering like an unspoken question.
"Maybe we could grab KFC after practice sometime?" His casual offer felt like a secret invitation, and Simi's heart surged with a blend of excitement and apprehension.
"Yeah, sure," Simi answered, the words escaping her with a mixture of eagerness and hesitation. She mentally kicked herself for not sounding more confident, for not embodying the ease she wished she had.
As Alex walked away, a rush of exhilaration mingled with the familiar sting of her reality. In that fleeting moment, maybe—just maybe—the idea of connection felt both terrifying and promising. Simi took a deep breath, collecting her things, replaying their conversation like a favorite song. This was all so new, an adrenaline-infused rhythm she hadn't anticipated.
The evening sun cast long shadows on the field, and she walked away with a flicker of hope that this semester might hold something unexpected. Each step felt lighter, as if the weight of her insecurities had shifted just slightly. Her heart whispered that, amid the chaos, there might be room for something new, something real.
As Simi walked toward the bus stop, she couldn't help but notice the chaotic ballet of life playing out around her. Lagos was like that—an ever-moving, ever-breathing city with its own rhythm, a rhythm that was sometimes exhilarating, sometimes exhausting. The BRT bus loomed ahead like a giant mechanical savior, promising a brief relief from the heat and noise.
She pulled out her phone, checking the time and noting that she was running late. Again. "Shit," she muttered to herself, dodging a particularly aggressive hawker who seemed determined to sell her a plastic toy she neither wanted nor needed.
Climbing onto the bus, Simi scanned for an empty seat, finally spotting one next to an elderly woman with a floral headscarf. As she sat down, the bus jolted forward, throwing her into the seat with a graceless thud. The woman beside her chuckled softly, and Simi managed a sheepish smile in return.
"Rough day?" the woman asked kindly, her voice warm like a grandmother's hug.
"More like a rough year," Simi replied, leaning back and closing her eyes. The bus smelled like a mixture of stale sweat, engine oil, and something sweet—probably the fried plantain someone had snuck on board in their lunch bag. It wasn't exactly the scent of comfort, but it was familiar, almost reassuring in its consistency.
Her thoughts drifted back to her family, a ragtag group that was as dysfunctional as they were loving. Her younger brother, Tunde, had recently decided he was going to be a rapper. Simi snorted at the thought of his "studio" sessions in their bedroom, where he would blast beats on his cheap speakers and mumble lyrics that didn't quite rhyme but had plenty of heart. The kid had passion, she'd give him that.
Her mother, ever the pragmatist, had declared that Tunde's rap career would last as long as it took for the next JAMB results to be released. If he didn't pass his exams, no more studio time. Simi could still hear her mother's voice in her head, a perfect blend of exasperation and affection. "You think you're the next Wizkid? Better be the next doctor, abeg!"
And then there was her dad—stoic, quiet, the kind of man who expressed his love in actions rather than words. He'd probably be home already, tinkering with his old radio in the corner of the living room, lost in a world of static and signals. Simi loved that about him, his ability to find peace in the midst of the chaos that was their household.
The bus hit a bump, jerking Simi out of her thoughts. She glanced out the window, watching the city blur by in a haze of colors and motion. The streets were alive with activity—children playing, vendors shouting, cars honking in an endless symphony of life.
She thought about the ridiculousness of it all, about how life kept moving forward no matter what. It was funny, really, how you could be sitting on a bus, headed home after a long day, and suddenly feel like the weight of the world was both crushing and strangely bearable. Maybe that was the trick—finding humor in the chaos, letting yourself laugh at the absurdity of it all.
As the bus approached her stop, Simi gathered her things, feeling a mix of reluctance and relief. Home was chaotic, sure, but it was her chaos. And as much as she sometimes wished for an escape, she knew she wouldn't trade it for anything.
As she stood up to leave, she turned to the elderly woman beside her and smiled. "Thanks for the company."
The woman nodded, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "Take care, dear."
Stepping off the bus, Simi took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of the city—exhaust fumes, fried food, and something she couldn't quite place but felt like home. She smiled to herself, the weight on her shoulders feeling just a little bit lighter.
Because in the end, maybe that was all anyone could ask for—finding a moment of lightness in the middle of the chaos, a reason to smile even when everything seemed to be spinning out of control.
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