Chapter 1: Crossed Paths

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Abeke and Akanji's paths crossed on their way to fetch water. She noticed how the magnet on his bicycle caught her pot, repeatedly, at the river. This simple act of kindness sparked a flutter in her chest.

Bravely, she confessed her feelings, "Akanji, I like you." He affirmed his interest, but with a caveat - he loved girls, plural. Abeke's heart skipped a beat, but she couldn't resist his charm. She knew her tendency to dive deep, too soon, but couldn't help the rush of emotions.

Under moonlit nights, they'd stroll hand-in-hand, gazing at the stars. Akanji would weave tales of Yoruba folklore, his voice mesmerizing. Abeke's eyes sparkled with wonder, her laughter echoing through the night. She'd ask incessant questions, and Akanji's love grew fonder, captivated by her curiosity.

"Tell me, Akanji, about the Orishas," Abeke would say, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Ah, my love," he'd respond, "Eledua's wisdom is boundless." And he'd share stories of the gods, their struggles and triumphs.

As they walked, the stars above, their laughter and whispers intertwined. Abeke felt seen, heard, and cherished. Akanji's heart swelled with affection, his eyes locking onto hers.

Initially, their love blossomed like the Osun Osogbo sacred grove. Akanji's eyes lit up when Abeke walked in, her beauty shining like Eledua's golden crown. But Abeke's mind whispered doubts: "Is he truly invested?" "Does he see me?" She pushed aside her concerns, focusing on the highs.

Abeke whispered her deepest feelings, "Akanji, oko mi, you're my true love." But he responded with a detached "Mo mo" (I know), leaving her uncertain and craving more. She recognized the familiar ache - her anxious heart, racing to fill the void.

Akanji's charm masked a self-absorption that slowly suffocated Abeke's love. He prioritized his own desires, often dismissing her needs and feelings. His words, laced with insincerity, promised forever but delivered only fleeting attention. Abeke's self-awareness kicked in: "I know better than to chase someone who doesn't chase me."

Yet, she struggled to let go. His ego fed on her admiration, leaving her drained and uncertain. When confronted, Akanji shifted blame, highlighting Abeke's flaws and deflecting responsibility. Her inner voice whispered, "You deserve better." But fear of abandonment and rejection kept her anchored.

As time passed, Akanji began to withdraw, becoming increasingly unavailable. He would come around less often, and when he did, his visits were brief and lacking in warmth. Abeke's heart craved more, but Akanji's distance grew.

The last straw came when Abeke confronted him, her voice laced with frustration and sincerity. "Akanji, why do you pull away? Why can't you meet me halfway?" She sought answers, hoping to revive their dwindling connection.

Akanji deflected, his expression unreadable. "You're being too clingy, Abeke. You need to relax." His tone dismissed her concerns, invalidating her emotions.

Abeke's anger simmered, a pot about to boil over. She felt belittled, unimportant, and unheard. His indifference slowly extinguished the flame of her love. She began to withdraw, hesitant to ask questions or seek reassurance.

Akanji's responses grew shallow, devaluing her thoughts and feelings. "You're too sensitive," or "You overthink things." His words eroded her confidence. Even occasional compliments felt insincere, like a manipulative tactic to keep her invested.

When Abeke extended an olive branch, seeking to mend their relationship, Akanji turned harsh. "You need to fix yourself, Abeke. Work on your insecurities." His criticism stung, implying she was broken and needed repair.

Abeke felt the weight of his disdain. Why did she strive to make things work when he didn't meet her halfway? His lack of empathy and understanding slowly freed her from the chains of love.

With each passing day, Abeke's interest in Akanji's love waned. She recognized the toxic dynamic and began to let go. The girl who once yearned for his attention now stood taller, her voice whispering, "Enough."

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