I was sixteen when I first met him.
I had just finished secondary school, the final papers were barely a memory, and I was still adjusting to the strange freedom that came after wearing uniforms for years. No more morning assemblies. No more strict teachers. Just long afternoons and endless thoughts about the future.
That was when he came into my life.
He lived in Abuja but always came to Ilorin during holidays and festive seasons. Everyone seemed to know him the "Abuja boy." There was something about him that felt different. Maybe it was the way he dressed, or the confidence in the way he spoke. Or maybe it was simply because he wasn't always around. He was temporary. And temporary things often feel more exciting.
I used to see him around before we ever spoke.
He was very handsome — the kind of guy every girl would secretly admire. Confident. Attractive. The type that naturally drew attention without even trying. I had started crushing on him from the very first time I noticed him, but I never imagined someone like him could ever be mine. In my head, he belonged to a different league.
Then one night, everything changed.
I was running an errand for my mum, walking quickly because it was already getting dark. The streetlights were dim, and the evening felt quiet. Suddenly, I heard my name from the darkness.
I froze.
It was him.
He stepped forward and asked for my number like it was the most normal thing in the world. My heart was beating so fast I could barely hear myself think. I was excited, too excited, but at the same time confused. Why me? Of all the girls, why was he asking for my number?
I gave him my number with shaky fingers.
That night, I went home with a smile I couldn't control.
We started talking almost immediately. At first, it was simple conversations "Have you eaten?" "What are you doing?" "Did you miss me today?" But slowly, it became deeper. He would tell me about life in Abuja the big roads, the lifestyle, how different everything felt. I would tell him about my dreams, about wanting something bigger than what I had always known.
Being sixteen, everything felt intense. When he didn't call, I would overthink. When he complimented me, I would replay his words in my head before sleeping. He made me feel special. Chosen.
And for a girl who had just stepped out of childhood, feeling chosen felt like love.
By the time the holidays were ending, we were already something more than friends. It wasn't official in the way adults would define it, but in my heart, it was real.
When he left for Abuja, I cried quietly that night.
I told myself it was just because I would miss him.
But deep down, I think I knew something else that my life had shifted the moment he called my name from the dark.
And I had no idea how much of myself I was about to give away.