Tiara’s POV
The ride to Abuja felt like a dream I couldn’t wake up from.
Aunty Valerie held my hand the whole way, quiet most of the time. But every now and then, she looked at me with that soft worry in her eyes—the kind people have when they don’t know how to fix things but want to be there anyway.
I was told my mum had been in a terrible accident. Now, she was lying unconscious in the hospital.
We barely spoke on the flight. I kept staring out the window, hoping I’d see some kind of sign in the clouds. Something to tell me this wasn’t real.
But it was.
When we got to the hospital, Uncle Henry was already there. He looked tired—more tired than I’d ever seen him—like the weight of the world was pressing on him. But when he saw me, his face softened.
He opened his arms, and I collapsed into them, crying quietly against his chest.
“She’s stable, Tiara,” he whispered into my hair. “She’s in good hands. The doctors say it’s a coma, not brain death. She’s holding on. She’s fighting.”
“Uncle, she’s been in there for a week,” I mumbled, my voice hoarse. “What if she doesn’t wake up?”
“She will. Your mother is the strongest woman I know. But even strong people need time to heal.”
I wanted to believe him.
I needed to believe him.
---
The next few days passed in a blur.
Hospital. Home. Hospital again.
I barely ate. I only slept when exhaustion took over.
And Jason kept calling.
Every day.
Sometimes ten times in a row.
I’d see his name on the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? “Hey, my whole world is falling apart, but how are you doing?”
I didn’t want him to hear me like this. Broken. Raw.
So, I ignored him.
---
A month passed.
Mum was still unconscious.
At first, the doctors said it was a “medically induced coma.” Later, they started using words like “non-responsive” and “prolonged.” I hated all of them.
Aunty Valerie stayed as long as she could, God bless her. She was like a second mother in those long weeks. She cooked for me, reminded me to bathe, forced me to rest—even when I didn’t want to.
But eventually, she had to go back to work. Her own family needed her.
The morning she was leaving, she sat on the edge of my bed and brushed my hair back gently.
“Tiara,” she said softly, “I’m so sorry I have to leave now, but your uncle is here. He’ll take care of you. I’m sorry you’ve had to go through so much. But remember, you have me, your uncle, your cousins—we’ll always be here for you. And you have friends. Jason has been blowing up my phone since we got here. Have you talked to him at all?”
I looked away.
“I haven’t,” I whispered. “I just… can’t.”
She sighed and took my hand. “Sweetheart, I know you’re hurting. Everything feels heavy right now. But that boy loves you. He’s been calling me, asking if you’re okay. He’s worried sick.”
“I don’t know what to tell him.”
“Tell him the truth. Don’t shut him out, Tiara. You don’t have to carry all this alone.”
I nodded slowly, but even as she hugged me goodbye, I wasn’t sure I could do it.
---
After she left, it was just me and Uncle Henry.
He tried his best—truly. He took over the family business and worked long hours. Poor uncle. But he still found time for me. He drove me to school meetings and sat with me at the hospital when I couldn’t go alone. I hadn’t realized how kind and dependable he was until now.
When it became clear we’d be in Abuja for a while, Uncle suggested I transfer back to my old school.
It felt strange going back. Familiar hallways, familiar uniforms—but I wasn’t the same girl who left. I wasn’t bubbly or carefree anymore. I was quiet. Careful. Always carrying that ache in my chest.
Uncle helped with everything—the paperwork, the meetings, even buying my new school supplies. And after it was all sorted, I sat in my room one night, staring at my phone.
Jason had sent another voice note.
“Tiara, I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to hear from you. Please. Just… tell me you’re okay. I don’t care about anything else.”
I played it over and over. Each time, his voice made my heart crack a little more.
Finally, I recorded one back.
My hand trembled as I held the phone close.
---
“Hey, Jason,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry I ignored your calls. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just… I haven’t been in a good place.”
I paused to wipe the tears that started to fall.
“My mum… she’s still in the hospital. Still unconscious. It’s been a month, and every day feels like another part of me is breaking. I’m scared, Jason. I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
My voice cracked. I stopped the recording, took a deep breath, and hit resume.
“I’m trying to be strong, really. But sometimes it feels like I’m drowning. And I know you’re dealing with your own stuff—your dad, your move, everything… I just don’t know how to be in a relationship right now. Not like this.”
There was a long silence before I continued.
“I’m transferring back to Abuja. I start school next week. Uncle helped arrange everything.”
“So, Jason… I think we should break up. Not because I don’t care—God, I care so much—but because we both need to figure our lives out. Everything’s a mess right now. You have to focus on you. And I need to be here—for my mum. For myself.”
I sniffled, trying to gather the strength for the last part.
“Thank you for loving me the way you did. I miss you so much. I’ll never forget it. I hope someday, when things are better, maybe we’ll find our way back.”
I paused.
“Bye, Jason.”
Then I hit send.
And just like that, it was done.
---
I stared at the screen for a while, half-hoping he wouldn’t reply.
My heart hurt in ways I didn’t even know were possible. But I also felt… a strange kind of peace. Like I finally said the truth out loud.
My life had become a rollercoaster I never bought a ticket for—twists, drops, turns I never saw coming.
But I was holding on.
And somehow… I’d survive the ride.
