The Very First Day...

It was one of those Saturdays that both of us desperately needed. He came a little after eleven, wearing the grey hoodie I secretly think of as mine because I’ve stolen it more times than he’s worn it. I could tell from the way he exhaled when he sat down, the way his shoulders dropped an inch the moment the door closed behind him, that the week had taken more out of him than he’d admit if I asked.

By the time we settled onto the couch with our plates with the food he brought over and the pastries he watched me bake, it was afternoon already. Mind you, his way of assisting was reaching over to taste cake batter before it hit the pan, and I'd swat his hand away, and he'd just smile, unbothered, and do it again ten minutes later.

So we settled as we watched some old Nollywood come playing. His arm found its way around me somewhere between scenes, and I curled into his side, my legs tucked under me, his fingers absently tracing slow, unhurried patterns against my shoulder.

I don’t remember what we were laughing at when my phone buzzed. I only remember glancing at the screen and seeing Tinu’s name (Olamide’s younger sister), and smiling before I’d even opened the message.

‘‘Guess who’s in your area? I have a few minutes before my event starts, can I stop by and say hi??’’

I turned my head toward Olamide, who hadn’t moved, his eyes still on the TV, unbothered as ever. “Your sister’s close by,” I said. “She wants to say hi.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, “She has a way of finding us on our quiet days.”

I laughed softly. “You’re complaining?”

He glanced at me, something warm and amused flickering behind his eyes. “No,” he said. “Just an observation.” one could tell he acknowledged his time with me and held it dear to his heart and didn’t love sharing but he never made a scene out of it

“She’ll only stay a few minutes,” I said, already typing back a reply.

He nodded, unbothered, and let it go. Tinu arrived not long after, breezing in with that jovial kind energy of hers. She had a big basket, full of fruits. God knew, I had had in my mind to restock. It came just at the right time and it was so nice of her. o

“For you,” she said handing it over to me. “Because I refuse to visit anyone empty-handed, it’s against my wish.” She turned to her brother, who had risen slightly from the couch, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before dropping onto the armchair across from us, tucking her legs beneath her like she planned on staying much longer than the few minutes she’d promised. “Relax, relax, I’m not staying to third-wheel your whole Saturday. I have an event nearby, and my Bolt is already on its way. I just couldn’t be in the area and not come see my favourite people.’’ yes, i told her Olamide was here with me

“You always say that,” Olamide said, his voice mild, but there was a softness in it.

“Because it’s always true,” she shot back, grinning, before turning her attention fully to me. “How’s he been treating you? Be honest, I won’t tell him.”

“I’m right here,” Olamide said quietly.

“I know,” Tinu said, not even looking at him, “that’s the fun part.”

I laughed, shaking my head, watching the two of them fall into the easy rhythm they always did, her teasing, him letting her, both of them so clearly fond of each other that even their bickering felt like affection.

We settled into an easy conversation, Tinu recounting some chaos from the event she was organizing, complete with impressions of a difficult client that had Olamide’s mouth twitching into the smallest smile.

It was somewhere in the middlr of the conversation, the three of us nursing our zobo, sunlight slanting lower through the window, that Tinu tilted her head at us with a look I knew meant she was about to ask something she’d clearly been sitting on.

“Okay, sooo,” she said, drawing the words out slowly, “I know the version of how you two met. I know you two met at the Tech Conference I part organised which you voluntarily led the media team for, blah blah blah, I’ve heard it recited like scripture a hundred times.” She waved a hand. “But nobody’s ever actually told me the story. Like, what happened? What was the moment? who saw who first or talked to who first, like i need the teaaa, you know”

I smiled, feeling that familiar warmth rise in my chest the day i met Olamide,. “ So, I lost my bag,” I said. “I put it down somewhere and completely forgot where. I was in a full-blown panic when I saw this random tall guy holding it, patiently waiting for the owner to come get it.” I glanced toward Olamide, who was watching me with quiet attention, the way he always did when I told this story, like he was hearing it for the first time even though he’d lived it. “That was it. That was the first time I saw him.”

I expected the small, familiar nod he always gave at this part. Instead, he was quiet for a moment longer than usual, his gaze steady, thoughtful.

“ Actually babe, That wasn’t the first time,” he said finally, his voice even, unhurried, the way it always was, but there was something careful underneath it now, something he’d clearly been holding onto.

I blinked. “hm, What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t the first time I saw you,” he said. “It was the first time you saw me.”

Tinu sat up slightly, her drink forgotten in her hand. “Wait. What?”

I turned fully toward him, something in my chest tightening with a curiosity I didn’t have words for yet. “Olamide.”

He held my gaze, calm as ever, though something behind his eyes had softened, gone somewhere private. “The week before the event,” he said slowly. “The volunteer onboarding, the training sessions… yh, those times” He paused, “I was there. I mean, I supported Tinu by sponsoring the event she was part of, so i just had to be there for moral support and all. I saw you during that week. You didn’t notice me, there was no reason you would have anyways, but I did.”

The room had gone still. Even Tinu, who rarely stayed quiet for long, seemed to be holding her breath.

“I watched you the whole week,” he continued, his voice was quiet, you could beg for him to not stop talking. it was so subtle. “The way you led that team, and the way you always tied and retied your lanyard when thinking. How you laughed with your whole face. it was so admirable and the way you made sure everyone did their part, even when you were clearly exhausted yourself. babe, i could go on and on. I admired you long before you ever knew I existed.”

I sat there, stunned, my mouth slightly open, trying to fold this new information into a story I thought I’d known by heart for years. Tinu let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head at her brother like she couldn’t quite believe he’d been sitting on this for so long without saying a word.

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Her phone buzzed then, breaking the moment. She glanced down at it and groaned. “That’s my Bolt. Of course. Of course this happens right when it’s getting good.” She stood, gathering her things quickly, but paused to press a kiss to my forehead and squeeze Olamide’s shoulder on her way past. “You better finish telling her everything,” she said to him, pointing a warning finger. “I mean it.” Then, to me, softer, “Love you, babe. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, and the apartment folded back into its familiar quiet with just Olamide and I.

I settled beside him again, angled so we were facing each other, my knees against his. The words he’d said were still sitting somewhere in my chest, unfinished.

“babeee, So all that week,” I said , “you just... watched. You never said anything to me? why” I asked excitedly wanting to hear the tea too

He was quiet for a moment, the way he always was before he answered anything that mattered. “I almost did. A few times.”

“Almost.”

“I told myself I was being shy.” A small pause. “But that wasn’t really it.”

“What was it, then?”

“I didn’t want our first conversation to happen because I forced it into existence,” he said. “If I walked up to you that week, it would have been because I made it happen, not because it was supposed to happen. I wanted to wait for something real.”

I stared at him with full admiration “So you just... waited.”

“I did.”

“Until I lost my bag.”

He smiled then, that small, contained thing that never quite reached full size but always meant everything. “I wouldn’t say I waited for you to lose your bag.”

I burst out laughing. “That sounds even worse.”

He laughed too, low and quiet, shaking his head at himself. “I know.”

The laughter settled between us slowly.

“But when I found your bag, and figured it was you who own it” he said, “I remember thinking, this is probably the only opportunity I’ll get.”

“So you were not going to waste it,” I finished for him, quietly.

He nodded.

I sat with that for a moment. He continued.

‘‘and babe, I don’t know if it’s okay to bring it up now but anytime i think about it, it still gets me bothered,” he said

Something in the way he said it made me go still.

“What do you mean?”

He looked at me for a long moment before he answered, like he was deciding, even now, whether this was his to say. “There was a day during that week” He paused. “I saw you crying.”

My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

“In the sponsors boardroom,” he continued. “You were alone. The door was cracked open. I was wondering who was in there and I didn’t mean to see it but I did.”

“You never told me this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know if it was mine to bring up,” he said. “No. It wasn’t my place. You didn’t know I was there, and whatever it was, it wasn’t something I wanted to make about myself by mentioning it.

I sat there, letting the memory rise slowly.

“That was the day Toke called me,” I said slowly, the pieces settling. Toke was my best friend. she had also been living abroad with her husband.

He nodded, waiting, letting me get there on my own.

“ She was six months pregnant. We were all so excited, planning little things, imagining what the baby would look like, arguing over name, you know just being joyous” My voice thinned. “She called me that morning. I could barely understand her at first, she was crying so hard and then she told me. They’d lost the baby.” I was so scared.

Olamide reached for my hand.

“I didn’t know what to do with myself,” I continued. “I went into that boardroom because I didn’t want anyone to see me like that in the middle of training. I didn’t even know how i got there. i was just panicking trying to find myself a quiet place and just went there.’’ he looked so worried why I talked.

‘‘I kept apologizing to her on the phone, over and over, for something that wasn’t even mine to apologize for. I just didn’t know what else to say. My chest hurt so much I thought something was physically wrong with me.” tears lingered in my eyes

“I remember,” he said softly. “I remember thinking I’d never seen anyone cry like that. Like it was coming from somewhere much deeper than whatever had just happened.”

I wiped at my eyes, the memory still tender even now, almost two years now. “I tried to hold myself together for the rest of the week. I thought I was doing okay. Looking back, I wasn’t really present most of those days.” I let out a small laugh. “That’s probably why I lost my bag at the actual event. I was still somewhere else in my head, even weeks later. I was fine but not exactly. You came into my life, just when i needed the most”

His thumb moved slowly over my knuckles, grounding, the way it always did. ‘‘but now you know why calls with Toke sometimes always take forever and I clearly don’t joke with my godson’’

‘‘Chum chum’’ Olamide joked.

‘‘Chum chum’’ i repeated chortlingly. That’s the pet name we call Toke’s baby when we’re on a call with her or trying to play with him onscreen and he is not even a year yet but you can tell, he loves to play alot.

“Babe, there’s something else too, something i find funny” I said, a memory surfacing slowly, “After I got off the phone, when I left the boardroom, someone stopped me in the hallway and handed me a small gift. I wasn’t in any state to even register what it was. I just put it in my bag and never looked at it again.” My eyes widened as the thought fully arrived. “It’s still in my room. I never opened it.”

He half smiled.

“That was me,” he said

I stared at him. “What?”

“That was me,” he repeated, calm as ever, “I didn’t know what had happened. I only knew what I’d seen, and I couldn’t just walk away and pretend I hadn’t. So I found something small, and I made sure it reached you before you left for the day”

I got up without another word, walking quickly to my room, pulling open drawers I hadn’t touched in what felt like years, until my fingers finally closed around a small box tucked at the very back. I brought it to the couch and sat beside him, my hands unsteady as I opened it.

Inside was a small keyholder, a single word engraved across the front.

Breathe. Beside it was a folded note that read

I hope this finds you on a better day. If it doesn’t, I hope it reminds you that better days still come. Take care.

“Babe,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“I didn’t know your name yet,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know anything about you, really. I only knew you looked like someone who needed reminding that things get better. So I found a way to get it to you before you left for the day.”

I laughed, tears slipping down my face, shaking my head slowly at him, at everything he’d carried without a word for so long until now.

“Thank you, Olamide” I said. “For that day. For every day since.”

He pulled me into him without answering, his arms settling around me the way they always did. I stayed there for a while, my cheek against his chest, letting myself be held, thinking about a keyholder that had sat in the back of a drawer for years, waiting for me to be ready to open it.

God, how I love being loved by Olamide. I never hesitate to thank God for this man, always.

The moment felt so little, yet felt like everything.