The Man Behind Nass💵
# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
### The Man Behind Nass💵
I stared at his message for longer than I should have. What do you want to know? It was such a simple question.Yet somehow, it felt like an invitation. An invitation into a part of his life he had deliberately kept behind a locked door.
I smiled. Then typed. Everything.
The reply came almost immediately. “That's a lot”.
“You asked.”
he replied “I regret asking.” I laughed.
Too late. He sent a laughing emoji.
Then: “Start with something specific.” I thought for a moment. “Your real name.” There was a pause.Longer than before. Then his reply appeared. “Nass.” I stared at the screen thr typed “Nass what?” “Just Nass.” it came instantly
I laughed. “You're impossible.”
him: “You asked for my name. I gave it to you”
“That's not a full name” he replied “It is enough for now.” I rolled my eyes. Of course everything with this boy had a for now. I decided not to push. Instead, I asked: “How old are you?”
He replied with “Old enough.”
That is not an age. “It answers your question.”
“No, it doesn't.”
“You'll survive.” I laughed. “Ya Allah.”
He replied: “You wanted to know mee Then you'll have to be patient.”
I stared at those words. For some reason, they made me smile.
---
That night, we spoke for almost two hours. Not continuously. Sometimes there were long pauses between messages. Sometimes he disappeared and returned ten minutes later as though nothing had happened.
I began learning his rhythm. He wasn't the type who flooded a conversation with messages.
He gave you pieces. A sentence, a joke, a question or a photograph. Then silence.
And strangely, the silence never felt empty. It felt like there was always something he wasn't saying. I asked about his work. He told me enough to know that he was already established in whatever field he was involved in, but he never gave me the full picture.
I asked whether he worked for someone. He laughed. “Why are you interrogating me?”
“I'm trying to know you.”
“You're doing a poor job.”
“Because you don't answer properly.”
“Maybe I don't want you to know everything.”
I stared at that.
Then typed:
Why?
His response took longer. “Mystery is more interesting.” my face beaming with smile “You're enjoying this.” he replied “Maybe”
I shook my head. He was impossible.
---
Over the next few weeks, the little pieces continued. I discovered that he loved late-night drives.
That he could spend ridiculous amounts of money on food but would complain when someone wasted it, had an inexplicable hatred for badly made coffee. That he liked quiet places. That he could be extremely stubborn.
And he was surprisingly sentimental about certain things but would rather die than admit it. And that Spider-Man was not merely a hobby.
It was a lifestyle.
One afternoon, he sent me a photograph of a Spider-Man hoodie. “This is ugly.”
I replied immediately. “Blasphemy.”
Him: It's horrible. then “You have no taste.”
He aske: You like it?”
Yes. I'll buy it for you. I stopped and reread the message.
Then: “What?”Why?”
Because you like it. It was simply but made my heart beat heavily I smiled. “You don't have to.”
“I know.” another simple message
“Then why” He didn't answer. Instead, another message appeared. Gorgeous likes Spider-Man. Sugar gets Spider-Man.
I covered my face. The nickname had somehow become his favourite weapon.
“You're ridiculous.” And yet you're smiling.
I looked at the phone. He was right.
Again.
---
The first time he sent me a photograph that included part of himself, I almost didn't notice. It was a picture taken inside a car. I could see the steering wheel. His hand rested casually against it.A silver watch sat around his wrist. The sleeve of his shirt was rolled slightly above his forearm.
Nothing else. I stared at the picture. Then zoomed in laughing at myself.
What exactly was I looking for? A face? clue? A reflection?
He had been careful. Too careful.
I sent: “You're hiding.”
His reply: “From what?”
Me.
he sent “Maybe.”
I asked Why? “Because you're curious.”
I smiled. I am.
he replied: “I know.”
---
One evening, curiosity finally won. I asked:
“what do you actually do?” There was a long pause. Then: “Why do you ask?”
Because of your snaps.
“What about them?”
The cars. The places. The restaurants. The travelling He sent a laughing emoji. “So you've been investigating me?” I'm observing.
“Same thing.” I didn’t reply that instead I sent “Answer me.” Another pause.
Him: “I'm comfortable.” I laughed. Comfortable?
Yes.
“Nass, I have seen the kind of cars you post.”
And?
“You don't look comfortable. You look suspiciously wealthy.” He laughed. “Suspiciously?”
Yes. “Maybe I am” I smiled. “Tycoon?”
he replied: “Maybe.”
se’ad: “Oligarch?”
“Now you're being dramatic.” 😂
I laughed. I knew it! You know nothing.
And somehow, that was exactly what made me want to know more.
---
One afternoon, I finally asked the question that had been sitting at the back of my mind. Can I see you? The typing indicator appeared Disappeared. Appeared again.
Then: “You've never seen me?” he asked as though he didn’t intentionally avoided that
I laughed. “Not properly.”
Interesting.
“What's interesting?”
“That you're asking now.”
“Because I'm curious.”
You were always curious.
Yes, but now I want to know. He didn't answer.
Instead, he sent a snap. I opened it. A building.
Large glass windows. A beautiful entrance.
Palm trees lined the driveway.There were two cars parked outside. One was a dark Mercedes-Benz.
The other looked like a Land cruiser Prada. Of course every rich Abuja guy had that.
No people. No face. Just another fragment.
I typed: “That doesn't answer my question.”
His response: “I know
Allah ya isa.” I sent laughing to myself
Then another message came.
Maybe one day. I stared at those two words.
“Maybe one day.” It should have been frustrating.
Instead, it made my stomach flutter.
---
Meanwhile, life at GSU continued. Fati was busy with her own life. Hauwa had somehow managed to acquire another admirer who was apparently convinced she was his girlfriend. And Se’ad was slowly becoming herself again. Not the same girl she had been before Ridhwan.
Something about heartbreak had changed her.
She was still soft. Still forgiving. Still capable of loving deeply. But there was a small part of her now that watched people more carefully.
A part that no longer believed every promise simply because it sounded beautiful. She didn't know whether that was growth or damage.
Perhaps it was both. And somewhere in the middle of all that rebuilding was Nass.
A man she had never met. A voice she had begun recognizing instantly, whose face remained hidden. A mystery she had somehow become emotionally attached to.
But she wasn't in love.At least, she told herself she wasn't. She had learned her lesson.
She would not allow herself to fall blindly again.
Not for a voice. Not for a few sweet words.
Nor for expensive cars and mysterious snaps.
Not for anyone.That was what she told herself.
And she believed it.
Until one night, Nass sent a message that made her sit upright in bed. “Do you want to know something about me?” She smiled. “Finally.”
“I don't usually get close to people.” Her smile faded. “Why?”
The typing indicator appeared then disappeared.
Finally: “Because once I let someone in, I don't know how to let them out.”
Se’ad stared at the screen. For once, she had no clever reply.Her heart gave one slow, strange beat. Then another. She typed carefully:
“Maybe some people aren't meant to be let out.”
This time, his response took almost a minute. Maybe. Then: “Maybe some people are meant to stay.” Se’ad stared at the words.
Something about them felt different.Too intimate.
Too honest. Too close She put her phone down.
Picked it up again and reread the message.
And somewhere on the other side of the screen, the mysterious man behind Nass💵 was probably smiling. Because he had finally given her something more valuable than a photograph.
A piece of himself.
And she had no idea how much that tiny piece was going to cost her.