The break eventually came to an end, and I found myself riding a tide of mixed emotions. I was happy—excited, even—to be returning to campus, to see my friends again, to fall back into the rhythm of routine. To see my boyfriend. But beneath that happiness lurked the things I hadn't missed: the pressure, the sleepless nights, the relentless demands, and silent comparisons. And somewhere deeper still, nestled in the corners of my chest, was the ache of leaving behind home—the soothing lilt of my mother's voice from the kitchen, the aroma of her cooking, the comfort of meals I didn't have to plan or prepare.
It would be just me again.
Me against the world.
The journey back felt different this time. The roads hadn't changed, but the weight in my chest had. It was a low, steady heaviness I couldn't quite name. Maybe it was the memory of Marcel's hug still clinging to my skin. Or maybe it was the way Weston's texts had started to fade—shorter, drier, less like him. Like someone slowly dialling down the volume on a song I used to dance to.
By the time I arrived at the dorm, the building was already thrumming with life. Doors banged open and shut. Laughter ricocheted down the halls like music. Zinny and Lizzy were already in the room, luggage half-unpacked, clothes spilling from open suitcases, snacks thrown about like confetti. The chaos felt like home.
Zinny looked up, squealed, and bounded across the room. "ALORA!"
She crushed me in a hug. "Girl, you look good. Break treated you like royalty."
Lizzy chimed in, eyes twinkling. "Seriously, your skin is glowing. What's that scent—inner peace and good decisions?"
I smiled, letting their joy wrap around me like sunshine. "Something like that. You two look like you came from heaven. I love this glow."
Minutes later, Nadia burst in like a storm with hips. She tossed her bag onto Zinny's bed dramatically. "I'm back, babies! And I come bearing tea. So much tea."
"Let's grab lunch. Or dinner. Or both," Zinny announced, already reaching for her heels. "We need a proper hangout. Like, now."
I laughed and flopped onto my bed, letting their voices carry me. But then a thought struck me upright.
"Wait—before we do anything, let's go get my bags from downstairs before someone 'mistakenly' adopts them," I said, springing to my feet.
They groaned but followed me, teasing as we walked.
"Alora and her royal cargo," Lizzy mocked. "Heaven forbid someone touches her precious snacks."
We giggled all the way down, but inside, my mind was elsewhere.
Weston hadn't texted to ask if I'd arrived safely.
And I hadn't messaged him either.
But the silence between us was heavier than it should have been.
Later that evening, once the room settled and my friends dispersed—to gossip, to eat, to reconnect—I sat alone on my bed, staring at my phone. I opened our chat and scrolled—past heart emojis, lazy good mornings, and memories typed in shorthand only we understood.
Then I typed: Hey, I'm back on campus.
Paused.
Stared at it.
Deleted it.
Typed it again.
This time, I sent it.
The reply didn't come for hours.
Hey babe. I've been busy, but I trust your trip was smooth.
That was all.
No, I missed you.
No, can I come see you?
Not even a voice note.
I placed the phone face down and lay back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as though it could give me answers.
Maybe I was overthinking. Maybe he really was exhausted.
But deep down, I knew better.
This wasn't absence.
It was distance.
Not the kind caused by miles or missed calls—but the quiet, invisible kind. The kind that creeps in slowly. The kind that grows in silence.
That night, too tired to wrestle with emotions I couldn't name, I texted my mom to say I was back safely, wished her goodnight, and let the dark fold over me like a blanket.
The next morning came gently. No alarms. No lectures. Just sunlight bleeding through our dusty blinds and the familiar rustle of hostel life rising again.
We spent the morning tidying—Zinny vacuumed with dramatic vengeance, Lizzy rearranged her shelf like a perfectionist under stress, and I unpacked in silence, folding each item as though I were stitching myself back together.
There was something healing about it. Making order. Reclaiming space.
By afternoon, we were sprawled across the room, freshly showered, skin warm from soap and sun, hair tucked in towels. Laughter floated through the air again, effortless and alive.
"So," Nadia said, digging into chin-chin smuggled from home, "are we still on for tonight? The reunion hangout?"
"Absolutely," Zinny grinned, tossing a pillow at her. "We need updates. I want to know who dated, who broke up, who glowed up, and who really should've stayed hidden."
Lizzy snorted. "Translation: Zinny wants to judge everyone and rate their growth."
"Not silently," Zinny added with a mischievous grin.
I laughed, trying to let their joy anchor me.
Still, something inside me tugged. A quiet unease. A whisper I couldn't quite silence.
I wanted tonight. The noise, the music, the ease of being just another girl in the crowd. I wanted to forget.
Forget the cold reply. Forget Weston's silence.
Forget that I wasn't sure what we were anymore.
By six pm, our room transformed into a dressing studio. The air was thick with perfume, laughter, and the metallic click of curling irons. We dressed like we had something to prove—whether to old flings, secret admirers, or our own reflections.
Zinny was first to emerge, draped in a rust-orange bodycon dress that kissed every curve and ended just below her knees. The plunging neckline and daring side slit screamed confidence, and her gold hoops danced with every toss of her braids.
Lizzy turned heads in a sleek black mini with thin straps and a scandalously low back that stopped just above the curve of her waist. Paired with silver heels and red lipstick, she looked like trouble wrapped in elegance.
Nadia was a vision in deep emerald silk, her wrap dress hugging her like it was made for her. The fabric shimmered under the light, catching the curve of her waist, the height of her puffed curls adding to her goddess aura.
I wore a sultry wine-red satin slip dress with a plunging neckline, thigh-high slit, and backless criss-cross straps. Nude stilettos, soft side-swept curls, a bold berry lip and a fairy necklace -the one from Marcel- completed the look. It wasn't loud. It was mine.
"You look like a whole music video," Zinny said, letting out a low whistle.
"And you look like the climax of a Nollywood scandal," I teased.
We all burst into laughter, a beautiful, familiar chorus.
By the time we stepped into the restaurant—an upscale spot in town strung with fairy lights and humming with soft jazz—we were a parade of perfume and confidence.
We claimed a corner table by the window, perfect for gossip and glamour. The aroma of grilled spices and baked sweetness lingered in the air.
After orders were placed and initial giggles died down, Lizzy turned to me.
"So. Alora. You went to see Marcel over the break, right?"
I had updated the groupchat during the break about surprising Marcel but I never gave details of it.
I smiled. "I did. And I found out something… surprising about Stephanie."
They leaned in like detectives at a stakeout.
"What happened?" Nadia asked, her eyes sharp.
"She's seeing someone new," I said. "Like, seriously seeing someone. And the funny part? She didn't tell me herself. Her man did."
Zinny's jaw dropped. "Wait—what? How do you even know her man if she never told you?"
"Well," I began, grinning, "I wanted to surprise Marcel and called his best friend for help—"
Nadia cut me off, gasping. "Hold up. You, Marcel, and this best friend... are we talking bestie triangle here?"
Everyone laughed.
"It's not like that!" I protested. "Kelvin and Marcel go way back before I even entered the picture. Call it whatever you want. Just know he's trustworthy."
"So you called Kelvin," Lizzy said, piecing it together.
"Yeah. And that's when he mentioned it casually—told me Stephanie and himself were serious now. I was floored. She never said a word."
"She has some serious explaining to do," Nadia muttered.
Zinny leaned back, sipping her drink with a smirk. "Speaking of moving on…"
We turned to her.
She grinned. "I met someone."
A collective gasp followed.
"Zinny!" Lizzy exclaimed. "Didn't you just end things with Matt five minutes ago?"
"First of all, it was five days ago," Zinny said, placing a hand over her heart. "And secondly, Matt was a placeholder. This new guy—Kay—is giving butterflies and premium vibes."
"Zinny," I groaned, laughing. "You don't even give your heart a breather."
"It's not my heart involved," she replied with a wink, and we all collapsed into giggles.
"We need a whole documentary for Zinny's love life," Lizzy said. "Keeping Up With Zinny—season four in the works."
"Shut up," Zinny said, laughing. "I just believe in exploring God's creations."
"That's not exploring," Nadia said dryly. "That's tourism."
Still laughing, Nadia pulled out her phone. "Okay, we're too fine to go unposted. It's time for pictures. For the gram."
We took turns posing, shifting angles and frames like seasoned influencers. Zinny worked the camera. Lizzy fixed the lighting. Nadia directed every shot.
"Last one," she said. "Alora, give us a solo."
I posed beside a fairy-lit pillar. Nadia captured it—my hair catching the breeze, my dress dancing just enough to tease, the city's glow behind me.
It was perfect.
I posted it with other pictures of my girls with a simple caption: Date with the loves of my life!
Nadia tagged me: My baddie is backkkk.
The likes started pouring in.
But I wasn't watching for Weston's name.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I was here.
With my girls.
Glowing.
Laughing.
Untouchable.