WHEN FEELINGS BECOME DANGEROUS

If someone had asked me then whether I was in love with Daniel, I would have laughed.

“No,” I would have said.

“We’re just friends.”

And I would have believed it.

That’s the funny thing about feelings.

Sometimes they’ve already entered the house before they knock on the door.

It started with little things.

He became the first person I wanted to tell whenever something good happened.

When I scored 27 out of 30 in my first test, I texted him before I even called my mum.

When one lecturer embarrassed me in class for coming in late because of Lagos traffic, he was the one who made me laugh about it.

Even on days when we didn’t see each other, we’d chat until midnight.

Nothing inappropriate.

Just conversations.

Or so I kept telling myself.

One Saturday afternoon, Daniel invited me to the library.

“I found a textbook that will help with your assignment,” he said.

I got there expecting to study for an hour.

We stayed for almost five.

Half of the time, we weren’t even reading.

We were talking.

About childhood.

About dreams.

About family.

About faith.

“I wanted to study Medicine,” Daniel confessed.

“Really?”

“Yeah. But my JAMB score wasn’t enough.”

“So Engineering wasn’t your first choice?”

He shook his head.

“It took me a long time to stop feeling like I had failed.”

I looked at him differently.

“You’ve never told me that.”

“I don’t tell many people.”

“Why?”

He smiled.

“Because most people only like hearing success stories.”

That sentence stayed with me.

For someone who always looked confident, Daniel carried a lot inside him.

As we walked out of the library that evening, rain suddenly started falling.

Heavy rain.

Students ran in different directions, trying to avoid getting soaked.

We found shelter under the roof of an abandoned lecture hall.

The rain wasn’t stopping.

Daniel laughed.

“Lagos weather has no respect.”

I laughed too.

“This wasn’t in today’s forecast.”

We stood there watching the rain.

For the first time since I’d met him, there was silence between us.

Not awkward silence.

Comfortable silence.

The kind where you don’t feel pressured to speak.

Then he looked at me.

“You know…”

“What?”

“I’m really glad I met you.”

My heart skipped.

“I’ve met plenty of people in this school.”

He continued.

“But very few make me feel peaceful.”

I looked away.

Nobody had ever said something like that to me before.

I didn’t know how to respond.

So I smiled.

When I got back to the hostel that evening, Teni took one look at my face.

“You were with him.”

“Who?”

She folded her arms.

“Amara.”

“What?”

“You smile differently these days.”

I laughed nervously.

“You’ve started again.”

“I’m serious.”

She sat beside me.

“Can I ask you one question?”

“Okay.”

“If Daniel asks you out today, what will you say?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because I didn’t know.

Teni noticed my silence.

She sighed.

“That’s your answer.”

That night, sleep refused to come.

I kept replaying the day in my head.

His smile.

The rain.

The conversation.

The way he looked at me.

I reached for my Bible on the bedside table.

I opened it randomly.

My eyes landed on Proverbs 4:23.

“Guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

I read it again.

And again.

Then I closed the Bible.

“God,” I whispered, “please don’t let me make a mistake.”

The next week, fellowship organized an outreach to an orphanage.

Daniel and I were assigned to the same team.

Watching him play football with the children, carry little kids on his shoulders and make them laugh made my heart soften even more.

He didn’t look like someone pretending.

He looked genuine.

On the bus back to campus, he sat beside me.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m just tired.”

He smiled.

“I don’t believe you.”

I laughed.

“You always think you know what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t.”

“Then?”

“I just know something is bothering you.”

I looked out the window.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he answered.

“Because you deserve it.”

I felt my cheeks grow warm.

Before I could respond, he added softly,

“And because I don’t want to lose someone like you.”

I turned to look at him.

There was something in his eyes I’d never seen before.

Something deeper than friendship.

Something that made my heart beat faster.

When we got back to campus, we walked toward the female hostel together.

The gate was just a few metres away when he stopped.

“Amara.”

“Hmm?”

“I need to ask you something.”

I looked at him.

He took a slow breath.

“Do you trust me?”

The question caught me off guard.

I blinked.

“Why are you asking me that?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

He simply looked at me with an expression I couldn’t understand.

And somehow…

I knew my answer would change something between us forever.

If someone asked you, “Do you trust me?” would your answer be based on feelings or on what you’ve truly observed about them?

To be continued…