He was there. I thought he would become a distant memory. One that will be washed away with time. Never to be seen again. But here he was. Hands intertwined with his now bride, seated at the alter of the reception as they laughed at the jokes of the MC. Here, I was, stuck before I could properly enter the door. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want to be here in the first place, if it wasn’t for my mother who dragged me because weddings are the best places to meet future husbands.

One step back, I say to myself as I attempt to walk out the entrance. Just before I can, the groom’s mother walks in, and we meet face to face.

‘Damilola, is that you?’ she says with a mixture of shock and excitement. Her gele is beautifully tied with her wearing probably the most detailed and expensive aso ebi. She has his eyes. Panic fills my heart when she grabs my arm and takes me farther from the exit. My attempted escape gone. Afro beats fill the air with songs ranging from Davido to Wizkid. Food decorated all around the white reception with people going for seconds. Normally at weddings, food is the only reason it is worth it going but that is far from my mind as I stand between his mother and my mother as they reminisce about old times and me.

‘I always thought you would marry my son, the way the two of you were so close from childhood,’ she shares a laughter with my mother as I fake a smile to hide my discomfort. Only if they knew how really close Chike and I were. Like a lot of Nigerian teens and young adults, we dated in secret. When we broke up, my mother was sick with worry and thought I had contacted a serious illness because of how weak and depressed I looked. I tried to hide the tears from her because I knew she would scold me if she found out. No boyfriends before marriage and no sex until children she said. I don’t know how she thinks that’s possible.

‘The two of you were attached to hip when you were young. What happened?’ Chike’s mother queried.

‘We just grew apart,’ I say through gritted teeth.

As time passes, all that I can think about is him. All the happy times we shared, sad times especially after his father passed away. We were always there for each other. We were each other’s first everything. I really thought we would get married when he told me. How foolish and naive I was. They say you never quite get over your first and I guess that saying is true for me. Jealousy mixed with Regret and topped off with what could have been fills me as the bride to be plays the MC games with her bride maids.

‘We will soon be going,’ my mum says when I asked her when we can leave. But minutes turned into hours. I continue tapping my feet nervously as every moment passes. The couple’s first dance. I cannot take this anymore, I tell myself and gather the courage to ask my mum if I can leave. At least she can’t say that I have not tried. As I tell her that I will call an Uber. With one hand tugging on the other arm, my eyes search for his.

My chest grows tighter when he is no longer on the alter. Did he see me? The thought captures all that I can possibly think of. With the hundreds of guests here, I doubt he has noticed me.

I quickly grab my bag when my mum gives me the green light and I rush to the door despite the number of people I bump into. I need to get out of here. My Uber messages me that he has arrived when I am finally out the door. I breathe a sigh of relief when the fresh air hits me.

We did not entirely end on bad terms but the fear of feeling the way I did for him scared me. I still cared about him and want him to be happy but I don’t have to be there for it. It is better if we both out of each other’s lives.

‘Leaving so soon,’ the all familiar voice says when I turn to face him. ‘Hey’.

‘Hey’.