Chapter 6: Holding On Through the Storm

After the accident, everything changed. Dami's car the very thing he'd worked so hard for was damaged beyond repair. Seeing it in that state was like watching his dreams fold right before our eyes. But strangely, the accident seemed to soften him.

He was calm and sweet in a way I had not seen in a long time. The temper that had always been so quick to flare up was replaced by gentleness. Maybe it was the reality of almost losing everything his life, his car, his pride that humbled him. Whatever it was, I held on to that version of him, hoping it would last.

At the time, I was in the middle of my semester exams, and the stress of balancing my studies with the fear of what was happening with Dami was almost too much to bear. But he was patient. He stayed with me in my small apartment near campus, offering the support I desperately needed. It felt like we were finally getting back on track like maybe the worst was behind us.

"I'll wait for you," Dami told me one evening as I buried my head in my books. "Once your exams are done, we'll go home together."

His words filled me with a warmth I had not felt in a while. After everything we'd been through, knowing he was willing to wait, to stand by me, meant more than I could express.

But life has a funny way of humbling you when you least expect it.

When my exams were finally over, reality hit us hard. We had arrived in Dami's car, but we were leaving with public transportation. It felt symbolic a quiet reminder of how quickly things could change. I saw the frustration and shame in Dami's eyes as we boarded the bus. He didn't say much, but his silence spoke volumes.

The journey was long and heavy. I wanted to comfort him, to remind him that this was just a setback, but I knew Dami too well. His pride had taken a hit, and my words wouldn't fix that. So I held his hand and hoped my presence was enough.

When we finally reached our hometown, we went our separate ways, me to my family's house and Dami to his. It felt strange after spending so much time together, but we made sure to see each other twice a week. Those moments became the glue holding us together. We'd meet up, talk about our plans, and dream about better days.

But dreams don't pay the bills.

After a few weeks, Dami hit rock bottom. Whatever little money he had left was gone, and the weight of starting over pressed heavily on both of us. I saw the frustration creeping back in the anger, the restlessness.

"Why is life like this?" he asked one night, his voice filled with bitterness. "I work so hard, but nothing ever works out."

I didn't have answers, but I had faith. And I had love.

"We'll figure it out," I whispered, holding his hand. "We always do."

But the truth was, I was scared. Scared of what this setback would do to him and to us. Still, I stayed. I prayed I encouraged him, and I did what little I could to support him. Sometimes that meant giving him my last bit of money, and other times it meant just listening when he needed to vent.

The hustle started again from scratch. Dami took whatever jobs he could find, and I watched him fight to rebuild. Slowly, the money started coming in but not a lot, but enough to give us hope.

Some nights, when I was alone, I cried. I cried for Dami, for myself, for the weight we were both carrying. I wanted so badly for things to get better, but it felt like every step forward came with two steps back.

And yet, I stayed.

Because love makes you stay. Even when it hurts.

As the weeks passed, the tension between us began to ease at least on the surface. Dami was still struggling financially, but there were moments of calm, moments where we found comfort in each other's company. I clung to those moments, hoping they meant we were moving toward something better.

We fell into a routine. Dami would come over to my family house sometimes, and when I could, I'd visit him at his. Our bond grew stronger in those moments of shared struggle. We would sit for hours, talking about the future our dreams, our plans, and the life we hoped to build.

But beneath those conversations, I could feel the weight of his frustration. The money wasn't coming in often, and when it did, it disappeared just as quickly. Dami hated feeling helpless, and I could see the anger simmering beneath his calm facade. I did my best to reassure him, but I knew my words only went so far.

One evening, as we sat on the porch of his family house, Dami's phone rang. I watched his face tighten as he looked at the screen.

"It's my boss," he muttered, his voice filled with tension.

I felt a chill run down my spine. Ever since the accident, I'd hoped Dami was done with that man. But I knew it wasn't that simple. The grip his boss had on him went deeper than just work it was control and power.

"Don't answer it," I said softly, but Dami shook his head.

"I have to."

He stepped away to take the call, and I watched from a distance as his body language shifted. His shoulders tensed, his free hand clenched into a fist. By the time he came back, his face was dark with anger.

"What did he want?" I asked cautiously.

"He wants me back," Dami said, his voice tight. "Says there's money to be made. But I don't trust him."

"Then don't go back," I pleaded. "We'll find another way."

But I could see the conflict in his eyes. Dami wanted out, but he also wanted the life his boss promised money, success, and security. And I knew how hard it was for him to walk away from that, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

Over the next few days, the tension grew. Dami became more distant, his mood swinging from calm to explosive without warning. I tried to be patient, but the fear of what was coming kept me on edge.

One night, after another heated argument over money, Dami stormed out. I sat on my bed, tears streaming down my face, wondering how much more I could take. But the love I felt for him kept me rooted.

He came back hours later, his face drawn and tired. Without a word, he pulled me into his arms, and I felt the weight of his sorrow in the way he held me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against my hair. "I just… I hate feeling like this. Like I'm failing you."

"You're not failing me," I whispered back. "We'll get through this. Together."

But even as I said the words, I wondered how much longer I could keep believing them.

The next morning, Dami told me he was going to meet his boss. My heart sank, but I didn't argue. I knew once his mind was made up, there was no changing it.

"Just be careful," I said, my voice trembling.

"I will," he promised, kissing my forehead.

But that promise felt hollow. And as he walked out the door, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were heading toward another storm one we might not survive.

Days turned into weeks, and Dami's frustration only grew. The money wasn't coming in like it used to, and the pressure of starting over was taking its toll. I did my best to stay supportive praying, encouraging, and giving him what little I could but I was wearing thin too.

Dami eventually went back to working under his boss, despite my fears. Things seemed okay at first, but soon the late-night calls and his mood swings returned. I knew something wasn't right, but every time I asked, he brushed it off.

One evening, after another long day of waiting for him, my phone finally rang. It was Dami. His voice was shaky.

"My car…it's gone finally. The mechanic said it was damaged beyond repair. I'm finally back to nothing," he said

The defeat in his voice broke me. I wanted to rush to him, to make things better, but I knew I couldn't fix this for him. Still, I stayed, offering whatever comfort I could.

When he finally started making some money again, it was never enough. The stress made him more volatile, and the sweet, calm Dami I'd seen after the accident began to slip away. But I held on to the love, to the hope even when it hurt.