6 Dates till Forever

I have always believed that some people are born for gatherings, and some of us are born to survive them.

I fall into the second category, don’t get me wrong ; I stay in Lagos , the heart of the nation basically deep-rooted here is pop culture , afrobeat’s and the life of the party and I live for the parties but this particular outing got my heart in a knot

The mirror in my bedroom reflected a version of me that looked put together in a way that felt slightly dishonest. Hair sleek, skin behaving, outfit expensive enough to look effortless but uncomfortable enough to remind me that effort was definitely involved.

Rielle was behind me, sitting on the edge of my bed like she owned the room more than I did. Which, honestly, she sometimes did.

“You are overthinking your face again,” she said, watching me through the mirror.

“I am not overthinking my face.”

“You’ve checked your eyeliner three times in thirty seconds.”

“That is called quality control.”

She laughed and leaned back on her palms. “Eloise, you are going to a simple outing. Not a board meeting for your fashion empire.”

That made me pause just slightly, because she was wrong. My life had trained me to treat everything like a board meeting, even breathing sometimes. Especially breathing.

I picked up my perfume and sprayed once, then twice, then stopped myself before I turned the entire room into a scented disaster.

“Who exactly is going again?” I asked, even though I already knew.

Rielle started counting on her fingers like she enjoyed watching me suffer slowly.

“Me. You. Victor. And Rowan.”

My hand froze mid-motion.

Of course.

There it was.

The name that always entered a room before the person did.

Ibiso Rowan Ebidawei.

I recovered quickly, because I have had years of practice pretending certain names do not affect my internal weather.

“Oh,” I said casually. “That should be fine.”

Rielle squinted at me. “You just said ‘oh’ like someone stepped on your foot.”

“I said oh the way a normal person says oh.”

She smiled in that annoying way she gets when she knows something but is pretending she does not. “You are very committed to denial.”

I ignored her and turned back to the mirror.

My life at Magodo had taught me how to perform normalcy very well. People see the fashion brand owner, the confident girl, the loud presence in rooms she enters like she owns oxygen itself. What they do not see is the small list of names that can still rearrange my entire nervous system without permission.

Rowan happens to be one of such names.

The driver was waiting downstairs when we finally left. Lagos traffic was already doing what Lagos traffic does best, which is remind everyone that patience is not a virtue here, it is a requirement for survival. Rielle and I come from way back; which also means rowan and I have known ourselves for years now

Rielle sat in the front seat scrolling through her phone like she was preparing for war. I sat in the back with my thoughts, which is always a bad idea, because my thoughts tend to talk too much when I give them space.

We drove through streets that looked like a contradiction of chaos and beauty. Loud horns. Street vendors balancing entire economies on trays. Then suddenly gated estates that made the world feel like it had two versions of itself.

Magodo always felt like a different breathing pattern of Lagos. Controlled luxury. Quiet wealth. The kind of place where people pretend life is simple because everything important is hidden behind walls.

My phone buzzed once.

I did not check it.

Then again.

I still did not check it.

Because I already knew who it was not.

And that, somehow, was louder than any notification.

We arrived at the place before I was emotionally prepared to be there. It was one of those upscale lounges that tries very hard not to look like it is trying too hard. Soft lighting. Clean architecture. People who laugh carefully so it does not mess up their image.

Victor was already inside when we walked in. He stood up immediately when he saw Rielle, like some part of him had been waiting for her arrival specifically.

“ Baby, you are late,” he said, but there was no real complaint in it.

Rielle kissed his cheek without hesitation. “I’m sorry my love” she dragged the phrase as she allowed him smother her with kisses then she continued “ it was though traffic was personally attacking us.”

Victor smiled at her like he believed her, I knew he did ;I rolled my eyes in amusement and exasperation ;

That was their language. Easy. Familiar. Built on something stable enough that they did not have to perform it. They made love seem easy

for some reason I chose that very second to look for our reservation seat , I needed to sit ; I guess ;and it happened thatI saw him.

He was sitting slightly apart from the rest, like distance was something he naturally negotiated with space itself. Not isolated. Just… positioned differently. Calm in a way that did not demand attention but somehow always received it anyway.

He looked up.

And for a second, I forgot how to behave like a normal human being with functional emotional responses.

It is irritating how quickly that still happens.

His eyes met mine briefly. Not long enough to be obvious. Long enough to be dangerous.

Then he nodded.

That was it.

Just a nod.

It seemed as though every time he looked at me; he went for my eyes ; he could see through them and it made me feel as though I was stripped bare before him every time; No performance. No extra meaning. No visible effort.

And somehow that made it worse.

Because people like Rowan do not need to try. They just exist and somehow rearrange the atmosphere around them without asking permission.

I looked away first.

Of course I did.

Soon We sat; Conversation started around me like background noise in a world I was technically participating in but not fully inhabiting. Rielle was talking about something Victor had done at work. Victor was laughing. Someone mentioned a new project in the city. Someone else mentioned a launch event. I contributed where necessary. Smiled when required. Nodded when socially appropriate.

But I was aware of him.

Not constantly.

Worse than that.

In intervals.

Like my mind kept checking for his presence the way people check the weather even when they are indoors.

At one point, I felt him stand before I saw him move. He walked past our table to get something from the counter. Water, maybe. Or maybe he just needed to move.

I do not know.

What I do know is that my breathing adjusted slightly without my permission.

That is the kind of betrayal the body commits when it refuses to consult the mind.

Rielle leaned closer to me at some point and whispered, “You are doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you pretend you are not aware of a whole person existing two meters away from you.”

“I am not aware of anything,” I replied instantly.

She hummed and smiled like she did not believe me. She didn’t ; “Sure.”

I wanted to argue further, but Victor interrupted by asking me something about my fashion brand. I answered automatically. My mouth knows how to function even when my thoughts are elsewhere.

Rowan returned to his seat eventually.

And when he did, I made the mistake of looking up again.

Just briefly.

Just enough.

Our eyes met again.

This time, he did not look away immediately.

Neither did I.

It was not dramatic. There were no fireworks. No sudden music shift. No cinematic pause where the world stops spinning.

It was worse than that.

It was familiar.

Like a conversation we have been having for years without speaking it out loud.

Then I looked away first again.

Because I always do.

Hours passed in fragments. Food arrived. Drinks were poured. People laughed at things I did not fully register. At some point, Victor stood to take a call. Rielle followed him a little later.

That left me and Rowan in the same space without the buffer of conversation.

I hated that.

Not because it was uncomfortable in an obvious way.

Because it was not.

It should have been.

But it was not.

He finally spoke.

“You have been quiet today.”

His voice was calm. Not intrusive. Not probing. Just observant.

I shrugged slightly. “I am always quiet.”

That was a lie.

He knows it.

I know he knows it.

But we both allow it to exist anyway.

He leaned back slightly in his chair. “That is also a lie.”

I frowned “Are you keeping notes on me now?”

“Only the important things.”

That should have sounded like a joke.

It did not feel like one.

I picked up my drink just to have something to do with my hands. “And what makes something important to you?”

He looked at me properly then.

Not casually.

Not briefly.

Properly.

Like he was choosing words before speaking them and still deciding against half of them.

“You,” he said simply.

And the problem is, he said it like it was normal.

Like it was not something heavy.

Like it was not something that should have consequences.

I laughed once, because that is what I do when my emotions do not have safe exits.

“Rowan,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “You always talk like that. It is not normal.”

“I have never been good at pretending otherwise.”

That silenced me for a moment.

Because the truth is, he never has.

He has never been good at pretending I am just another person in his environment.

Which is exactly why I keep pretending he is.

Victor and Rielle eventually returned, breaking whatever invisible tension had formed between us without knowing they were doing it.

The conversation resumed. The world rebalanced itself. The moment got buried under normality again.

But I carried it with me anyway.

Because that is what I do with things like that.

I store them.

I pretend I do not.

But I do.

When we finally stood to leave, the air outside felt heavier than when we arrived. Lagos night had settled properly now. Lights everywhere. Movement everywhere. Life continuing without caring about the small emotional storms happening inside people like me.

Rielle was laughing at something Victor said as they walked ahead of us.

Rowan walked slightly behind them.

And I walked beside a silence that felt too aware of me.

As I reached the car, I finally understood something I have always known but never said out loud.

It is not outings I hate.

It is not people.

It is not noise.

It is him. He frustrates me ; looking int my eyes like that , destabilizing me, I hate him.

Ibiso Rowan Ebidawei.

And the way he exists too close to me for someone I am supposed to be able to ignore.