Chapter 1
I stepped into the quiet hallway, my bare feet brushing against the cold tiles as I watched him approach, slowly, deliberately, one step at a time. Each footfall echoed louder than the last, pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat. The hallway seemed to stretch with every breath I took, and the air grew thick with anticipation.
Even though his figure was blurred by distance and moonlight, I knew exactly who it was. My chest tightened with longing, my fingers twitching with the desperate need to touch him. Impatience crept in like a slow flame as he took his time, dragging each step as though he knew it was driving me mad. I was nervous, so nervous, but all I wanted was to close the distance, to feel his presence against mine.
Then he was there. Standing tall. Steady. So close I could see the moonlight kiss the curves of his brown skin, casting soft highlights across his jawline. The urge to reach out overwhelmed me, to let my fingers trace the bridge of his nose, to memorize every detail until I reached his plump, waiting lips.
Without a word, he leaned in. Closer. Just enough to send a shiver down my spine. Too close for comfort, but I didn’t move.
Then I felt it, his breath, soft, warm, and featherlight, brushing my ear.
“I love you, Segi…”
And just like that, his voice dissolved, swallowed by a noise. A noise so familiar it snapped me out of the dream in an instant. Loud. Persistent. Annoying.
“Aunty Segi! Aunty Segi!! Mummy say I should wake you up, that won’t you go to work?”
The shrill voice burst through my dream like a siren, pulling me back to reality with a jolt.
“Ooooh,”I shouted, the frustration raw in my voice as I sat up, dazed and slightly disoriented. The beautiful warmth of my dream slipped from my fingers like mist, replaced by the glaring sunlight spilling into my room.
I rubbed my eyes, still clinging to the lingering heat of that almost-kiss.“Why did you wake me up?”I asked sharply, my tone sharp with leftover irritation.
Standing there, by the door, was my seven-year-old brother, the very picture of innocence. His oversized school uniform hung awkwardly on his small frame, the collar nearly swallowing his neck as he fidgeted with the hem.
“Mummy say I should wake you up,”he repeated, eyes wide and sincere, struggling to tuck his shirt into his trousers.
I sighed, exasperated but a little softened by the sight. “Mummy said,” I corrected gently, trying to shake off the last threads of sleep.
“Mummy said I should wake you up,”he echoed dutifully, adjusting his belt with tiny, determined hands.
“Ok, tell her that I have woken up,”I muttered, waving him off. Without another word, he turned and dashed out of the room, his feet pattering against the floor as he went to deliver my message, mission proudly accomplished.
I sat up on my bed, my eyes fixed on nothing in particular—just the pale wall in front of me. It had become a quiet routine, this empty stare into space, every morning for the past few months. A hollow kind of stillness. A heaviness that sat on my chest like unwelcome company.
I had dreamt of him again.
Same hallway. Same slow steps. Same soft voice.
Just like I’d been dreaming for weeks now.
For years, I hated my job. The 300k salary that once felt like a miracle had become a joke in this country where everything doubled in price by the day. I still remember the day I got the offer three years ago. I was screaming, twirling around the house like a madwoman. Sure, it was a contract position, but 300,000 naira? In this economy? It felt like I had won the lottery.
But that feeling didn’t last.
After years of grinding through the same motions and watching my paycheck stretch thinner each month, I started to dread everything about work, until recently.
Until he walked in.
The new boss.
Something changed the moment he joined. It wasn’t just his presence or the way he carried himself. It was the way my heart decided to beat again, at least at work. Since then, waking up didn’t feel so pointless anymore.
I reached over to my table and grabbed my laptop. The familiar glow of the screen brought me a strange kind of comfort as I opened a document titled“Dear Boss”A secret letter I’d been writing to him. A letter I’d never send. A journal of unspoken thoughts and fragile daydreams.
Why do I do this? Maybe because I once heard someone say that if you write down your desires, they might come true someday. It sounded silly. Naive even. But in a world like this, holding onto a thread of impossible hope felt better than letting go entirely.
I placed my fingers on the keyboard and whispered the words as I typed:
“Today is May 2nd. I dreamt of you again. You were in the hallway, walking towards me, and just before the noise took you away, you said you love me.”
I read the sentence twice, my lips forming the words silently, like a prayer. Then I closed the laptop gently, sealing my secret back into digital shadows.
A smile tugged at my lips. I stood up quickly, my bare feet touching the cool floor tiles, and headed to the bathroom with a spring in my step.
I was excited to go to work.
