Chapter 4: The Space Between Us
Tobi sat on the edge of his narrow hostel bed, staring at the peeling walls of his new room. Outside, the hostel buzzed with life—students laughing, shouting, settling into their routines—but inside, a strange quiet wrapped around him.
His phone rested beside him, the screen dark except for one name at the top of his chat list.
Dayo.
He had typed a reply an hour ago. Different, but I'll be fine. But he hadn't sent it. Because was that really true?
A sharp knock at the door jolted him out of his thoughts.
"Omo, open up!"
It was Chike. Of course.
Tobi opened the door to find his self-appointed guide holding two plates of steaming rice and stew, grinning like he had just won a jackpot.
"I figured you haven't eaten," Chike said, pushing past him into the room. "And since you're too fresh to know where to buy food without getting scammed, I got you."
Tobi blinked. "You didn't have to—"
Chike shot him a look. "You're new. I'm nice. Just take it."
A small, reluctant smile tugged at Tobi's lips as he accepted the plate. They sat on the bed, eating in comfortable silence.
"So," Chike said between mouthfuls. "Tell me something about you."
Tobi hesitated. "Like what?"
"Anything. Where you grew up, your worst subject in secondary school, the last person you texted—"
At that, Tobi stiffened. He pushed rice around his plate. "Lagos. Chemistry. And… a friend."
Chike raised a brow but didn't press. Instead, he grinned. "See? Now I know something about you."
Tobi exhaled. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could leave everything behind and start over.
But then, his phone vibrated.
Dayo: I miss you.
Tobi's breath caught. His fingers curled around the device.
"Who is it?" Chike asked casually.
Tobi quickly locked his screen. "Nobody."
Chike smirked, but he didn't push. Instead, he leaned back. "You know, university is a chance to be whoever you want to be. Nobody here cares about your past."
Tobi swallowed hard. That was the problem. His past wasn't the issue—it was his present.
He nodded but didn't reply.
Later that night, long after Chike had left and the hostel had settled into a dull hum of whispers and distant music, Tobi unlocked his phone again.
His thumb hovered over Dayo's message. His heart ached with something he couldn't put into words.
I miss you too.
He didn't send it. Instead, he sighed, locked his phone, and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
No matter how far he ran, no matter how much he tried to start over—
Some things refused to be left behind.