This story was inspired by Dave Santans song- Both sides of a smile, telling a story from two perspectives and it has elements of a true story in it, and so here it goes.
I really used to think love was enough and that if two people truly cared for each other, everything else would somehow fall into place. But this country has a way of teaching you the hard truths and the harsh realities of life, almost nothing ever goes to plan.Mina and I met during NYSC , a post graduate mandatory 12 month service in my country . We were both broke, but happy eating roadside suya and talking about our dreams like they were already real. The potential was there, the optimism was there and it radiated through it all. She wanted to start a clothing brand, I wanted to get into software engineering. We promised we’d build together. Then service year ended and then reality set in, looked at my bank account and sighed. Started job hunting and I actually got one, I looked at my wages and I couldn’t believe it, it was soo bad, but at that time I told myself that what I needed was the experience. The calls with Mina started getting shorter, Rent, Data, Transportation. Everything was dragging us apart She would say, “Babe, when are we going to settle down?” and I’d smile, but deep down I knew I didn’t even have enough to take care of myself, how was I gonna take care of her. Every time I thought about her, my chest tightened, my heart beat faster, I was depressed How do you marry someone you can’t provide for? I loved her, truly. But love doesn’t buy fuel or food. It doesn’t fix inflation or pay for medicine. Last month, she asked me plainly, “So what is wrong?” I looked at her, really looked, I was silent for sometime, I just stared for minutes, my mouth heavy, I told her the truth. That I love her too much to drag her into a life of lack. That maybe it’s better she finds peace somewhere stability exists, even if it’s not beside me. She cried. I did too. Not because love died, but because the harsh reality of life won. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice.
B
I met Ibrahim during NYSC service , it felt like God had finally remembered me. He had this calmness, this gentleness that made life lighter, made him easy to talk to, made him easy to be around. We’d sit under that mango tree by the Mami market, sharing one plate of rice, we were the camp couple, but NYSC ended. Reality moved in without knocking. Everything became about money, we always used to say life isn’t all about money but the reality of life is different. I started working in a boutique, it exhausting, had almost no time for myself. My relationship with Ibrahim was heavier but anytime I talked to him was the one bright moment of my day. But then, he started withdrawing, little by little. Always tired, always worried. I knew he was struggling, but I was too. I sell clothes online now, but the profit barely holds. Sometimes I stay awake at night, wondering if loving him means accepting a life of struggle. I Could feel the heaviness of his words and sighs, the more we talked. When I finally asked, “So what is wrong?” he went quiet for so Then he said, “Mina, I can’t give you the life you deserve.” That was the moment something broke, not between us, but inside me. We didn’t fight, we didn’t shout, just a long silence. The truth? I never cared about money that way. I wanted laughter, peace, honesty, not marble floors or fancy rings. I wanted someone to stand beside me, even when life got loud and uncertain. He didn’t understand that. Maybe he never will. Now I see his name sometimes when I scroll through old messages. I still smile. I still pray for him. But I’ve learned something, in a place where survival itself is a full-time job, love becomes a luxury, one you pay for with dreams you can’t afford to keep.
