The Things He left Behind
SE’AD
The Mercedes disappeared beyond the gate. Yet Se’ad remained standing there. The phone was still in her hand. Don’t believe everything you hear about me.
Those words refused to leave her mind. There was something unsettling about them. Not because she believed Nasib was a bad person. Quite the opposite. That was what made it worse. He had been gentle with her. Patient and Funny. He noticed when her mood changed. He remembered insignificant things she had told him months ago. He had somehow learned when to tease her and when to leave her alone. And now that she had finally met him, nothing about him had felt false. Except perhaps the parts he had deliberately kept hidden. “Se’ad?” She turned. Hauwa stood behind her. “Why are you standing here like someone just proposed to you?” Se’ad blinked. “Nothing.” Hauwa looked toward the gate. Then back at her. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” “Hauwa.”. “I said nothing.” Se’ad walked past her with an exaggerated shrug. Then stopped. “By the way…” Se’ad looked at her. “He’s handsome.” A blush immediately climbed into Se’ad’s cheeks. “Hauwa!” “What? Am I lying?”
“You’re so annoying.” Hauwa laughed “Very handsome.” “Please.” “And tall.”
“Enough.”
“And that voice—” “Hauwa!” She burst into laughter. “Okay! I’m done.” But the teasing slowly faded. Hauwa looked at her carefully. “You like him.” Se’ad’s smile disappeared. There was no joke in the way Hauwa said it this time. “I don’t know.” Hauwa sighed. “That’s exactly what worries me.” Se’ad looked down. “I’ve been careful.” “I know, I didn’t plan any of this.”
“I know.” “And I’m not trying to replace anyone.” Hauwa’s expression softened “Then don’t.” Se’ad looked up. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to make him become something he’s not just because you’re afraid of losing him.” The words struck deeper than Hauwa probably intended. Because somewhere inside, Se’ad knew that lesson already. She had once loved someone and spent too much time believing that love could convince him to choose her. She couldn’t do that again. Not even for Nasib. Especially not for Nasib.
NASIB
The road to the airport was unusually quiet. His father sat in the passenger seat. Neither spoke for several minutes.
Then— “You like her.”
Nasib’s hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel. “Dad.”
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me.” He smiled faintly “I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to.” his dad replied Silence. His father looked out through the window. “She’s Abubakar’s daughter.” “I know.” “She’s young And you’re not a boy anymore.” Nasib glanced at him. “I know that too.” His father finally looked at him.
“Then act like it.” The smile disappeared. There was no anger in the older man’s voice. Only warning.
Nasib looked back at the road. “I haven’t promised her anything.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what?” His father remained silent.
That silence told Nasib more than an answer could have. Finally, he said: “Some doors shouldn’t be opened twice.” Nasib’s jaw tightened. “I’m not reopening anything.”
“Are you sure?” “Yes.”
“Because if you aren’t…” A pause. “…walk away now.” The car fell silent again. Nasib looked through the windshield. For the first time that morning, the excitement of seeing Se’ad was replaced by something heavier.
Regret. Not for meeting her. But for the possibility that she might eventually learn why his father had warned him. Why Abba had looked at him the way he did. Why certain names from the past were still spoken carefully. And why, despite everything, Nasib had still driven to her house.
SE’AD
Three days later, life returned to normal. Or at least, it pretended to. The examination was over. There were no more frantic revision sessions. No more waking up at 4 a.m. to memorize drug classifications.
No more Hauwa threatening to drop out every time a lecturer announced another test. Home felt peaceful. Mama spent most mornings attending to her businesses. Abba was busy with work. The younger children filled the house with noise. Labeeb followed Se’ad everywhere. “Bibi,” she called. “Hmm?” “Are you going back to school?” “Not yet.” “Good.” “Why?”
“Because I want you here.” Her heart softened. “Come here.” He climbed onto her lap. You’ll leave me when you’re married.” Se’ad laughed. “Who told you that?” “Abdullah.”
Abdullah talks too much.” From somewhere down the hallway came a voice. “I heard that!” Labeeb giggled. For a while, everything was ordinary. Beautifully ordinary. Then Se’ad’s phone vibrated.
Nass💵 sent you a snap. She opened it. A photograph of an airport lounge. No caption. Then another. A plane. Then a message: Back in Abuja soon. Her fingers moved automatically. Se’ad: Again?
Nass💵: Work.
Se’ad: You travel too much.
Nass💵: You complain too much. She smiled.
Se’ad: My gentleman is becoming rude. Nass💵: Your gentleman was never gentle. She laughed. Then another message arrived.
Nass💵: Did you miss me? Her fingers froze. A smile slowly spread across her face.
Se’ad: Maybe. His response:
Nass💵: Liar. She shook her head. But before she could answer, another notification appeared. Not from Nassib. From an unknown number. One message.
Unknown: Stay away from Nasib Wali.
Her heart began beating faster. She read it again. And again. Then another message arrived. Unknown: You don’t know who he is. Her fingers went cold. She looked around the room. Nobody was watching. A third message appeared.
Unknown: And you don’t know what happened before you.
Se’ad’s breathing became shallow. Before what? She didn’t know. Her thumb hovered over the reply box.
Then— the number disappeared. Blocked.
No profile picture. No name. Nothing. Just a warning. She sat completely still. For the first time since meeting Nasib in person, the butterflies were gone. And beneath the fear was a much more dangerous feeling.
Curiosity. Because now there was someone else who knew something. Someone who clearly wanted her away from Nasib. But why?
And more importantly—
what exactly had happened before Se’ad entered the picture?
That night, she didn’t tell anyone Instead, she opened Snapchat.
Nass💵 was online. Her fingers hovered.
Then she typed: Se’ad: Are you awake? The reply came almost instantly.
Nass💵: For you? Always. Her heart skipped. Then typed the question she had been afraid to ask. Se’ad: Nasib…
Nass💵: Hmm? She swallowed. Se’ad: Is there something you’re not telling me?
The typing indicator appeared
Nass💵: Yes. Se’ad’s heart dropped. Before she could type another word, another message arrived. Nass💵: But not because I don’t trust you. She stared at the screen.
Then: Nass💵: Because I’m trying to protect you from something you don’t understand yet. The room suddenly felt colder. And for the first time, Se’ad wondered whether falling in love with a mystery was romantic…
or simply another way of walking willingly into danger.