Adunni, My First Love (PT. 2).

Adunni, My First Love (PT. 2).

If you haven’t read Adunni, My First Love, please click here first to read and then quickly return back to this page and continue the story. If you need a refresher about Adunni as well, please click here. If you just want to read the story again, kindly also click here. LOL. It’s all one and the same link. Let’s get down to it…


 

I watch my daughter as she sits down aloof on the Italian leathered cream sofa, her eyes so distant and cold and apparently not internalizing a word of her father’s tirade. My heart cringes in my chest and I let out a silent moan of despair to God for her. What became of my sweet little angel, I knew not. Her father and I had done everything within our powers to get her back on track but things just got worse especially these days. The aloofness was killing. She literarily didn’t care about what we said or did any longer and that was just terrible.

Shortly after Adunni left, life was a living hell and my parents were terribly worried for my sanity. They tried everything from prayers to counselling to over pampering and every antic they could think of and friends could bring up.  Still I remained bitter, and depressed and refused to give myself a chance to even heal and move on with life. My turning point came one day at a pizza galleria in town where my best friend had dragged me to eat my first meal in two days.  This fine looking gentleman had come in after us and had the guts to jump the queue standing directly in front of us. And when I mentioned this to him, he gave us his most dashing smile as his response. I was nauseated. And then pulled back in right into the smiles and perfect dentition that was Adunni’s. You see, the young man remotely looked like him when he flashed his teeth at us. And something as trivial as this were things I had gotten used to when I came back to Lagos and didn’t give much thought to. Long story short, there was an eventful scene there that evening and we had to leave the building. When we both got in the car, I wept like a child. I had never done something like this in my life, ever and here I was acting like a demented young lady without manners in public over some guy! Yet a part of me felt relief. By heaping the frustrations of my personal loss on that poor stranger whose smile remotely looked like Adunni’s, I had achieved some level of cleansing and peace and appeasement even, for my pain. I had finally got to a point where i realized there was life after Adunni. Yes, there was. The next day I woke up ready to face the world.

And face the world I did. I got a new job, started on paths to things that I always wanted to do, took my parents up on their vacation offer to Greece and generally just started to move ahead with life. It wasn’t all rosy. I still thought about Adunni a lot. I wondered if he was okay, I wondered if he was still in London and what he was doing with his life now. I wondered if I was ever going to find the kind of love we had with someone else. I wondered if I was ever going to be able to get into another relationship with such depth and vulnerability. On days like those, I remember the pizza incident like my bestie termed it, and move on with my day’s activities.

10 BEST LOCATIONSFOR A (1)Suffice it to say that I found love again in the weirdest place (life is just one big surprise). Ken and I had been friends from childhood. We grew up in the same neighborhood, had the same circle of friends, our parents knew themselves, you know, sort of a family friends kind of arrangement. We had even gone to the same schools. I mean from nursery all the way till university! You know how Nigerian parents are – you register at a good school and you tell your friend to take their children there as well and vice versa.  We parted ways when I went away for my masters.  He stayed back in Nigeria to make money and it did pan out well for him. We were really close back then. When we were toddlers, they called him my little husband. We were inseparable and were mostly everywhere together. Like soul mates. We shared our dreams and ambitions and debating activities, school competitions, gossip, lecturer mishaps, unfortunate family times – like when he lost his mother, great times- like my sister’s marriage and everything in between. He even knew tit bits of my relationship with Adunni, but we had grown apart at that time to get him really involved with all of it.

Where did we reconnect? So my new job had me attending a lot of events during some period of time and I met him at one of them. He was the keynote speaker and I had to look again at the name to be sure it was one and the same Kenechukwu Agbazuendu. After the event, I quickly rushed up to him to say hi and he was surprised and elated to see me. We chatted and talked and he teased me about being with Adunni and forgetting my little husband. He was shocked to hear we were no longer together and insisted we hang out somewhere so we could talk and catch up because he really wanted to know how I was doing. So we did that day and then some days after. And soon we were seeing a lot of each other, going to movies, spending a lot of time on calls and getting back to the kind of openness and friendship we shared when we were younger. Long story short, it was a year and about six months down the line before we got married and a year later before my daughter was born. Kachinyerem was a bundle of cuteness and calmness when she was born. She barely cried, smiled a lot and grew quite quickly too. At 1, she was happily chatting away after us (not as legibly) and was used to recognizing faces, colours and all what not. Watching her grow daily was a constant source of joy to me and Ken. She just had a way of spreading laughter and smiles whenever she was awake.

But life just has to test you in some very tough way to know if you are worth keeping, right?


 

The story continues in the next part. Thanks for reading! Please sign up for our newsletters so you have first hand info once a new article is published!

                                                                                                                           Love, The Quiet One.

 

 

 



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