FRIDAY
AKANNI POV
By the time Friday rolled around, I found myself more eager than usual to see Bukky.
The week had been long, emotionally heavier than I admitted to myself, and when I picked her up that evening, the sight of her smiling at the door instantly loosened something in my chest.
"You look tired," she said as she slid into the passenger seat.
"I am," I admitted. "But seeing you helps."
She laughed softly. "Flatterer. You seem to miss Mira more than expected"
"You can say that. But thanks to you, you are helping me to cope"
We didn't rush the night. Dinner first. Long conversations. A drive through familiar streets with music playing low in the background. When we finally got to her place, neither of us was ready for the night to end.
One thing led to another—not forced, not planned.
Her couch became too close. Her laughter faded into quiet breaths. My hands found her waist, her fingers gripping my shirt as if grounding herself.
The moment grew heated.
Intense.
Steaming.
Until she gently placed her hand on my chest.
"Akanni," she whispered.
I stopped immediately.
She took a breath. "I want us. I really do. But I want to do this the right way."
I searched her eyes—not frustration, not fear, just conviction.
"I want to keep my virginity till marriage," she said softly. "Not because of pressure. Because of choice."
I nodded without hesitation. "Then we wait."
"You're sure?"
"I'm not here to rush what's meant to last," I replied. "I'll wait for you. As long as it takes."
Her smile then was different—deeper. Certain.
We laughed afterward, joked about how close we'd come, teased each other until sleep found us naturally. I left early the next morning, lighter than I'd felt in weeks.
Sunday
TIME PASSES
Weeks turned into a month.
The rhythm of my life shifted.
Bukky became part of my routine—not consuming, not overwhelming, but present. Calls during lunch breaks. Late-night conversations. Random visits. Shared silence that felt just as meaningful as shared laughter.
We attended events together. Hosted friends. Built memories without rushing milestones.
And somewhere in that time, I realized something undeniable.
I wasn't just dating Bukky.
I was building a future with her.
One quiet Sunday afternoon, while watching her help my mother in the kitchen during a family visit, it hit me fully.
The ease.
The respect.
The way she fit into spaces without trying to own them.
Bukky didn't arrive with entitlement or comparison. She didn't try to replace anyone or demand a place that wasn't offered. Instead, she flowed gently into the family, greeting everyone with warmth, listening more than she spoke, offering help without being asked. It was as though she understood—instinctively—that acceptance is not claimed, it is earned.
My parents had come to terms with Mira and me no longer being a thing quicker than I expected. Perhaps it was because, deep down, they had always sensed that what Mira and I shared was not rooted in permanence. They welcomed Bukky cautiously at first, observant but open-minded, and with each visit, their reservations softened into genuine fondness.
Busayo, however, was different.
She tried—at least on the surface—but I could see it in the way her smiles lingered too long when Mira's name came up, or how she would occasionally sigh and say, "Mira would have loved this," as if reminding herself—and everyone else—that
someone was missing. She hated the fact that all of it were fake from the beginning. She wasn't hostile toward Bukky, just… reluctant to let go of the version of the family she had grown comfortable with.
What Busayo didn't know—what only one person in that house had always known—was that Mira had never truly been my fiancée.
My Brother - Charles.
From the very beginning, He had seen through it. The careful distance, the lack of intimacy, the way Mira moved more like a maid than a woman in love. He confronted me outright, left with no choice, I had to explain why I put on a act like this. Mira, never exposed the truth. She simply watched, waited, and trusted that time would untangle what was never meant to be bound.
That afternoon, as Bukky laughed softly at something my mum said, I caught my mother's eyes on me from across the room. There was no surprise there. Only understanding.
And approval.
That was when I knew—this wasn't just about love. This was alignment. Timing. Truth finally settling where it belonged.
That night, lying alone in bed, I stared at the ceiling and admitted the truth to myself.
I don't want anyone else.