DANIELLA✔

Chapter forty-two

Peter just broke up with me.

I was finding it so hard to believe. After all the endless promises and the, I will always be there for you, I have no future without you, you're my home, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and every other mushy crap he had said to me. He still bailed out of our relationship just like that—without a second thought. He didn't even give me a chance to explain myself.

I thought love was supposed to fill you up and always leave room for the other person, I guess that was wrong then. Or maybe I was the one with a problem. I mean, how could everyone I love so much be leaving me like that? Am I in this world to just be alone? To be unloved? To suffer?

Maybe I am just a mistake.

I tried so hard to stifle the tears of hurt that rolled down my cheeks in ghostly trails as I walked back home with Peter's breakup letter in hand. You know, that feeling when you're somewhere physically but your mind is just completely out of it and you can't seem to focus on anything tangible? That was the exact state I was in as my feet dragged me along the streets, that I didn't notice the bike rider speeding towards me while I crossed the road to the other side.

It was when the bike screeched to a halt, brakes applied so abruptly that the man riding almost toppled over so close to me, that I realized I had just been in an almost-accident. My mindless state dissipated, the haze on my mind lifting as my eyes grew wide in comprehension.

"Wetin dey worry you?! You no dey look road before you cross ni? If person hit you now, you go dey fault the bike rider. People no go see sey na una no dey look road o!" The bike rider lamented angrily, groaning as he twisted the bike handle to correct the swerve the sudden brake had caused.

"I'm so sorry, Sir." I apologized, genuinely sorry as guilt and the fear of what had almost happened ate me up.

The little ruckus had attracted a few nosy onlookers.

"Na you sabi o. Just thank God sey the bike no hit you." That said, the bike rider kick-started his bike and zoomed off, leaving no room for apology or further deliberation. Crisis averted. Thank God.

As I watched the bike rider leave, I didn't know when tears started streaming down my face until I tasted salt. That was the last thing I wanted though—to cry on the street. I didn't want anyone to see me and start asking false sympathetic questions.

I was already wiping the tears off my face, eyes darting around at the crowd of onlookers that were slowly dispersing, when a passerby stopped in front of me.

"Hey, young girl are you okay?" He asked. He was a tall, slender man who looked to be in his forties. In his hand was a big Bible and some pamphlets. He could easily pass for an itinerant preacher, but who knows, maybe he was just a regular Christian who was on his way to church.

I wanted to ignore him and just walk past, but he stood in my way.

"Young girl, why are you crying? Were you flogged in school or...are you hungry?" The man prodded, unrelenting as his face took on a concerned look. What does he care!

"Old man, can't you mind your business?!" I snapped at him in pent up anger and regretted it almost immediately as I watched disappointment flash in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you. I'm just...I'm sorry sir."

"It's okay. I'm here if you need a sympathetic ear." His voice was calm and I looked at him, wondering who he was and why he was doing this for a stranger. Most people would have eyed me scornfully and left me alone after my rude remark, but he was still standing there, his voice holding no grudge.