Our laugh echoed throughout the restaurant. We made heads turn every few seconds with every random joke we made about ourselves. We had not seen each other for almost two years yet it felt like we just got off a flight from Paris giggling.

Nancy, Nina, Khadija, and I (Amaka) have been friends from university. We got talking In the queue while waiting to be assigned rooms, Khadijah, though quiet, knew how to get her way with everything, and that was how we spent four years living together till graduation. After graduation, we kept in touch and even went on a yearly girl’s trip until Nancy got married. Nancy took in a few months for her first girl’s trip as a married woman, putting a dent in our plans. This year we decided to catch up again at least now Nancy's kid was older, Khadijah was getting married and Nina just got promoted. Even though I was on my way to becoming one of the greatest chefs in Nigeria, I felt an emptiness, a feeling of no achievement in comparison to my friend's.

Mrs Ugwu looks up from her dairy, crosses her legs, and asks. “Why do you think you feel this way?”

Nancy’s husband, Tobechukwu was in tech and making all that money so Nancy could want for nothing, Khadija met an American prince who would do anything for his ebony Nigerian princess. Nina on the other hand had made up her mind to finish her PhD before she thought of marriage and coming from a liberal family, there was no pressure on that front. As for me, I come from a very cultural family, I have been questioned at a few family gatherings and I swore not to attend the next. I shake my head and smile, today is not about me alone but how my support systems stop talking to me. We stopped being friends because of the simple reason of going by train for Khadijah’s wedding.

Mrs Ugwu stops writing, and then asks, " What about trains that scares you so much?” Even though I had never been shot before I felt a pain in my chest.

“What happened to going by bus or better still higher a car and going on a road trip?” I said becoming more frantic.

Mrs Ugwu looks up from her writing pad, takes off her glasses, bites on one of the handles, and says “Would you like a glass of what?”

I nodded. She leans over and pours me a glass of water. I take a sip and look into my glass for a while.

“Miss Amaka Okoye I am curious, what is it about trains that scare you?

I looked up at her and the words fell right out “It was on my first train trip that I knew I was never going to marry Ephraim, the man I have come to love for so long.”