Chapter 5: Lagos Hustle and Heartbreak

After the breakup, I no fit stop to dey check Halima WhatsApp status, dey find sign say she still send me. Nothing. I check, check again.

Sometimes, I go dey refresh page like mumu, dey hope say she go post something wey go give me hope. But na silence I dey see.

One day, she post short video, tag me.

As I click, my body dey hot. I dey expect say maybe na apology or old memory, but na lie.

She and one girl dey waka for sun, hand in hand. I click am, hear her mama voice: “Perfect match—make una stand close!”

For background, I dey hear laughter. I dey see their shadow join for ground. E pain me reach bone.

This relationship na public, everybody dey happy for them, no be like my own.

The video short, but the meaning long. I dey see clear say she don move, her people dey support am.

Caption read: [Stop dey hide like rat for gutter, dey peep another person happiness.]

Na there I know say wahala nor dey end for WhatsApp. I just weak.

I no cry again. My hand shake sotay, I try many times before I delete Halima number.

My finger heavy for screen, as if I dey press delete for all the years wey pass. Tears no fit come out again. I just dey press delete, dey wish say pain get off-switch for this life.

After break up, my mama start again: “You don break up, wetin you still dey do for there?”

She go dey call every market day, dey list names of eligible bachelors for village. Sometimes, she go pray for phone say, “God go bring your own o!”

My aunty join: “Come back quick! I don get better men for you, but now dem say you don old…”

Her own wahala na follow-up. She dey remind me say beauty nor dey last. "Morayo, if you like dey do big girl, na your eye e go clear!"

As usual, I refuse. But this time, no be because of Halima.

I don dey see life for Lagos. No be say I dey stay for heartbreak, but my eye don open to bigger things.

I don work for that tech company six years. My experience and skill don reach the top for there. But as single woman with no pikin, promotion always hard.

Office politics na real wahala. If you no get ring for finger, dem fit look you finish. Even dem go yarn anyhow for back. Oga at the top go just dey show face, some colleagues dey wash am with praise just to collect promotion.

After break up, I dive inside work, almost dey live for office. Year end, I get best KPI for team. But last last, na only praise and empty promise I get. Promotion go to married male colleague.

Dem give me small plaque, but na Femi—wey get wife and two pikin—collect manager role. My hand just dey shake as I dey clap for am.

For group chat, he say make he buy coffee for all. Everybody reply with “Thank you, boss” emoji, some dey joke: “If I hammer, I go carry all of una along.”

All na cruise for office WhatsApp. Me, I just dey type congratulations, dey wonder if my own turn go ever reach.

I look outside big window—see tall buildings, plenty cars. People for this town dey change, batch by batch, some be like me, some no be like me.

Lagos na city wey dey swallow hope and spit ambition. Some people dey hammer, some dey fall. I dey among the dreamers, dey wonder my own chapter.

Maybe na time to try another road.

I look mirror, tell myself say maybe e time to relocate, find new spark. My heart dey beat, but my mind dey ready.

That day, I drop resignation letter.

I drop am for HR desk, sign with bold biro. Everybody shock—dem no believe. Me sef nor believe. Na freedom I dey feel, mixed with small fear.

Years later, I still remember that day. The biggest decisions for life dey happen on ordinary day.

E fit be Monday, e fit be rainy morning, but na that moment life dey turn.