“Just go home.” Those weren’t the last words Grace said, but they were the last I heard her say.

It had become a tad bit complicated, some words in Igbo I realize now, as I write this letter hoping she won’t read it, even though I had read hers. It didn’t take long before I devoured the whole thing.

It was our love story all in a book, but why were writers like this? Grace was a goddess, I went back to the good part, a mesmerized piece of art. Like most goddesses, her beauty at night shone brighter than dawn, whenever I made breakfast, she was that beautiful. But beauty hadn’t drawn me to Eniola, her second name unlike my past relationships, it had taken just one of her books- or the two others that I consumed three days after the first one. I didn’t understand it at first, how one could be so good at crafting pretty words like this? Like an artist with her canvass, she pulled me away. Casually from the edge of my office seat, into this new world that she had weaved herself into. I wasn’t one of those fanatics who believed in a happy ending, far from that, I never found that possibility of finding a lover, who was meant just for you, especially in a place like Nigeria where over two hundred million people lived in and the phrase “I love you,” used as much as oxygen itself.

“This Pain Called Love, it’s a lovely read.” The lady behind me said. My mind suddenly took me to the first time that we met, It was the first time I was buying a book the only books I read apart from law textbooks were the free eBooks that I could lay my hands on and most of those were Grace Anyanwu’s The Woman in Medoline. My favourite book.

“And how would you know that?” I looked at the young lady probably in her mid-twenties, she was in a flower gown, and somehow that made the room prettier. “I wrote the goddamn book.” She said. It was Grace!

“It’s pretty read,” I replied, keeping it cool, the lady gaped her mouth wide open in a way to tell me, that I had made a big mistake but that wasn’t my business, she didn’t put food on my table, I reiterated.

“Pretty? I see you can’t even see a good work even with those four eyes of yours.” Grace said. This was Grace Anyanwu, my favourite Author, I didn’t care, I realized.

She is proud!

The words rang in my head as I watched her brag about her best-selling books, it was similar to what I did in my classes, at least, I made room for questions and answers. She was much different from the protagonist characters that I had envisioned her to be, like the ones in her stories. I was a dreamer, a loverboy in the year 2023, a mumu, Kayode and Seni had always teased. My best friend right from childhood, till I had turned uncle and god-father to Seni’s only son-Tolu, Kayode on the other hand, short for Kay, was an Ot lord who had made it his life mission to break all the hearts that he could find.

The results of a twisted heartbreak, hence you might realize the bitter truth by now, this story isn’t mine but Kay’s, well you can call it a shared one.

Right from kindergarten, Kay and I had promised each other that we’d both get married on the same day and be each other’s best men. A promise made by two ignorant five-year-olds seemed to have a lot of promise, till he met Bridget Anyanwu, a thirty-three-old Kay believed he had found his better half. By then I had just finished my Masters at UI. Women were more complicated than books, I realized. It had started like a joke when Kay told me, he could be getting married at the end of the year 2023.

Impossible, why would the player want to retire at such a young age? Right from small, Kay had a better of most things than me, so far it wasn’t a Piano or a mathematics textbook, Kay would beat me hands down, I didn’t notice it at first, but there was this steeze and smile that Kay had whenever he was in front of a woman, be it, girls our age, or ladies way older than us, he had a way of making them giggle which in turn compelled them to do his bidding, he was an artist and with the ladies, he found his Canvas and boy could he paint. “Bye Lisa, I’ll call you” Kay said as he waved goodbye. I stared in confusion, “Who’s that?” I muttered to Kay like his girlfriend Linda would. “That’s Lisa.” He said, while waving at the girls in mini-skirts, I couldn’t help but notice his sagged jeans and belts that dangled in between. “That is Lisa.” he repeated again and winked, I sighed almost immediately. “She’s the fifth girl that has been here since Monday, I snarled at him, Today’s Wednesday!” I yelled.

“And that’s the fifth girl that has been here since Mom and Dad travelled.” I continued,

“Dude chill na, adun nii.” he giggled. His favourite words to say whenever he found himself in a sticky situation. Hehad a smile that lit up any room, and his words did the rest, so it was difficult to stay mad at Kay. The only time that I hadn’t found Kay smiling, was when he lost both parents in a ghastly accident, we were barely eight at the time. It was hard to console a friend, I just didn’t know how to. So as an only child, I cried to Mom and Dad to take in the only friend I had at the time, not as a friend but as my brother. It had taken three days of hunger strike pleading for Dad and Mum to know how serious I was before they agreed to take on a second son. And since then, Kay became my blood and I, his, Brothers for life, we both yelled that night.

“Hey Dude!” I picked up the call reluctantly, given it was a private number. It was Kay, I knew his voice like the palm of my hand. “Why are you calling me with a private number?” I probed him - my escape route from the loads of scripts that had piled up on my desk.

“I’m getting married, guy!” He yelled. “What!” I yelled at the top of my voice and double-checked my phone for today’s date. It was Feb 14th. So it wasn’t April fool. “I’m getting married, guy!”

“What? Dude, you’re old enough, but….. ” I said to him, “Age is just a number.” He said. we were just on the phone, but I could hear the excitement in his words, as he tried to convince me about his newfound love. “Her name is Bridget,” He began.

“So when are you telling me about yours?” He brought me out of my head, “My what?” I tried to understand him. Unlike Kay, I couldn’t approach a lady, and even when I mustered up the courage to talk to one, they were always below my spec, and still they proved hard to get, I didn’t get it. Are ugly girls supposed to be difficult? Too?

“You have to make her feel beautiful, guy, make her smile.” Kay’s voice stood strongly in my head. “In how many weeks guy?” I watched Kay search for his fingers, counting each one after the other. “Well, you have approximately ten weeks.” He said.

“And if I can’t pull this off?” I asked him, “You break the very essence of our friendship,” He was being dramatic, “and lose 50,000 dollars.” “What!” I yelled out and spilt whatever champagne that stayed on my lips.

“Why are you getting married to Bridget?” We were at Seni’s lounge, the most responsible one among us, Seni ran one of the busiest bars in Lagos, and we, his two friends, made sure that we never missed any of the fun. “He still hasn’t told you?” Seni said after instructing a bartender to serve us more drinks. “I was getting to that.” Kay said, wiping his lips as he tried to say something, “Getting to what?” I asked, like an abandoned sheep separated from the fold.

“I love Bridget, I do, guy, but her papa get bastard money guys, na him get K.T railways guys,” He said,

‘So that’s why you’re in love?” I half-laughed, “Yes, and why I want you to be.”

“What.” I choked on my drink, “What are you talking about, what’s my own in all of these? “ I said, I caught the smirk on Seni’s face like they’d discussed all these before I got here.

“Seni, what are two of you, not telling me,” I asked. Suddenly, I found myself doubting Seni- of all people, the most responsible one in our group.

“Well, the thing is, I can’t get married to Bridget until her elder sister Eniola does.”

“Okay.” I said, for a while, “Why are you telling me this?” I asked the obvious question,

“Because you’re my best friend.” I concurred, “And?” I waited for it, like a bomb ready to land, beep, beep, beep.

“I want you to get married to Eniola for my sake,” He said. I smiled, holding back whatever I had to say.

“And what gives you the belief that Eniola would want to get married to me?”

“Because she’s the girl you met at the bookstore today,” I sighed.