“I didn’t think you would,” the woman said. “But you will do the right thing.”
That night, Ada did not sleep.
She thought about Okafor’s tired face. His failed interviews. His hunger. His pride breaking quietly day by day.
He never blamed her.
So she blamed herself.
By morning, her decision was made.
She packed the few things she owned, including one of his shirts that she had washed and folded after a rainy night. She held it for a long time, almost changing her mind.
Then his mother’s words returned.
You are the reason he is suffering.
Ada left without a note.
Because if she explained, she knew she would not have the strength to go.
Okafor knew something was wrong before he reached her door.
It was unlocked.
Inside, the room was empty.
Her things were gone.
“Ada?” he called.
Silence answered.
He searched the restaurant. The streets they had walked. The shops she liked. Every place that held a trace of her.
Nothing.
Days passed.
No message.
No goodbye.
Only absence.
He stopped eating properly. Stopped sleeping. Stopped working. His world shrank to one purpose: finding her and failing.
Then his mother came.
“She’s gone,” she said calmly.
“I know.”
“Stop looking.”
He looked up sharply. “No.”
“She left you.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“She did. She saw reality and made the right choice.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “You don’t know her.”
“I know enough. Come home.”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Why?”
“Because I chose her.”
His mother’s voice softened. “And she did not choose you.”
That broke something in him.
The fear he had been fighting suddenly sounded like truth.
