The Hands I Trusted [Episode 6]

Which Tunde was real?

The boy who held my hand while we trekked from UNILAG gate because neither of us had enough money for a cab?

The one who bought roasted corn for us to share and joked that one day we'd laugh about being broke?

Or the man who watched me cry in the passenger seat at Maryland, turned up the music, and drove as if my tears were background noise?

Mrs. Adebayo listened quietly before saying something I'll never forget.

"Both versions can be true, Amara."

At first, I hated those words.

I wanted one answer. One villain. One mistake that explained everything.

Instead, she helped me understand something painful.

People can genuinely love you for a season and still become people who hurt you later.

The memories weren't fake.

But neither was the pain.

That was the day I stopped trying to save the relationship.

Instead, I decided to bury it.

Back in my tiny room in Yaba, I emptied a cardboard box onto the floor.

His oversized hoodies.

Movie tickets we'd saved for no reason.

Birthday cards.

Printed photographs.

The tiny keychain he bought me outside Shoprite because I said it looked cute.

One by one, I thanked each memory for what it had been before placing it inside the box.

Then I buried something much heavier than clothes or photographs.

I buried the future I had imagined.

The Lekki apartment we'd decorate together.

The car dealership he dreamed of opening—T&B Autos.

The golden retriever we'd already decided to name Bolt.

The children we'd secretly named after our parents.

None of it had ever existed outside our conversations.