That was when I first saw her.
She stood by the roadside, holding a nylon bag that looked like it was filled with groceries. She wasn’t doing anything extraordinary, just waiting for a bike to stop, but something about her presence caught my eyes. Her skin glowed under the mild afternoon sun, a smooth chocolate shade that looked like it had been painted by the gods themselves. Her natural hair was packed neatly, and her round, bright eyes sparkled with life. She wore a simple brown top and a pair of jeans, yet she carried herself with the grace of someone who could turn heads in any room.
Her name, as I would later come to know, was Pelumi. And her birthday though I would not discover it until much later was the 17th of October, can you imagine, 2 days after my birthday, a date I would learn to circle on my calendar and look forward to like a festival.
I had never been the type to easily approach strangers, but something inside me pushed me forward that day. Maybe it was the way her lips curved slightly as though she was about to smile, or maybe it was fate nudging me to take a chance. As she waved down a bike, I walked closer and greeted her.
“Excuse me, hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to say hello,” I said, trying not to sound like one of those typical Lagos boys who stopped every pretty girl they saw.
She turned to me with that almost-smile on her lips, her voice soft but confident. “Hello. Good afternoon.”
Her tone wasn’t dismissive, but it wasn’t overly welcoming either. She was cautious, and I respected that.
“You look familiar,” I lied, just to spark a conversation. “Do you stay around this area?”
She chuckled lightly, a small laugh that revealed dimples on her cheeks. “That’s the oldest line in the book. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Her playful response gave me confidence. I quickly introduced myself, told her where i was heading to and after a few exchanges, I asked for her number. She hesitated for a second, glanced at me like she was weighing her options, then finally called it out. I typed it quickly into my phone, promising myself I would not let this chance go to waste.
That was how Pelumi entered my life.
That evening, I sent her a WhatsApp message. “Hi, it’s me, the roadside guy from earlier today.” She replied with a laughing emoji and wrote, “I remember. Hope you got home safe.” That small message was the spark that lit a flame which would burn steadily for the next 15 months of my life.
At first, we were just casual friends. We would chat late into the night, sometimes arguing about movies, other times sharing music and memes. I learned she was passionate about education, hardworking, and deeply attached to her family. I also learned her favorite color was maroon, she loved amala with gbegiri and ewedu, and that she had a quiet dream of owning her own fashion line someday.
Gradually, our chats grew deeper. She started telling me about her childhood, her struggles in school, and her ambitions. I found myself opening up to her in ways I rarely did with anyone else. She was more than just a WhatsApp contact, she was becoming my safe space.
The first time we met again after that roadside encounter was a Saturday. We decided to hang out at a small eatery not far from Efizie. She wore a simple white dress, her hair flowing down her shoulders, and I couldn’t help but stare. Over plates of fried rice and chicken, our conversations flowed as though we had known each other for years. I noticed how she laughed at my jokes, sometimes covering her mouth shyly, and how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about things she loved.
After that meeting, things escalated naturally. We started seeing each other more often, at cafes, cinemas, and sometimes just walking along the quiet streets of Dada Asaila in the evening. There was an unspoken connection between us, something warm and exciting which made me definitely come home late.
The first time we kissed was under a mango tree near her house. We had just returned from a long walk, the night was calm, and the moon lit her face in the most enchanting way. She was talking about something, I don’t even remember what anymore when I leaned closer, searching her eyes. She paused, her lips parting slightly, and in that suspended moment, I knew she wanted it as much as I did. Our lips met softly, tenderly, and then more passionately. That kiss was electric, like a promise of something beautiful to come.
From that day forward, romance became a natural rhythm in our relationship. We would sit close in restaurants, her hand resting gently on mine. We shared kisses in quiet corners, hugs that lingered a little longer than necessary, and late-night calls filled with whispers of affection. Pelumi wasn’t just my girlfriend; she was becoming my confidant, my partner and my peace. Till date her tender soul still gives me goosebumps whenever I remember her.
The months rolled by, and every memory with her became a treasure. I remember surprising her on her birthday with a small cake, balloons, and a necklace. The look on her face when she saw me at her doorstep with the cake will forever be imprinted in my heart. She hugged me so tightly and whispered, “You really know how to make me feel special.” That evening, we celebrated quietly, cutting the cake together, taking pictures, and sharing another one of those kisses that felt like time had stopped.
Our love was not without its challenges. There were moments of misunderstanding, times when her busy schedule clashed with mine, and days when we argued about little things that didn’t matter in the long run. But through it all, we never broke up. We always found our way back to each other, holding on tighter after every storm.
The suspense came during the twelveth month of our relationship. Pelumi got an admission opportunity from our neighboring nation, Benin Republic. It was something she had dreamed of for years, and though I was proud of her, I was afraid of what it meant for us. I remember the night she told me. We were on a WhatsApp video call.
“I don’t know how to say this without crying,” she began, her voice trembling. “But I got admitted to continue my studies outside Nigeria.”
My heart sank, but I smiled. “That’s amazing, Pelumi. You deserve it.”
“But it means I’ll have to leave soon,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.
The last three months of our 15-month journey were filled with both joy and sadness. We tried to make every moment count, movie dates, walks, endless conversations. We kissed more, held each other more, laughed more. Every time I looked at her, I thought about how lucky I was to have met her by that roadside.
When the day finally came for her to leave, we didn’t call it a breakup. We simply knew our paths were diverging. At the bus park, she hugged me tightly, her tears soaking into my shirt. “Fifteen months,” she whispered. “The best fifteen months of my life.”
I kissed her one last time, softly, lingeringly, my heart heavy yet full. “Me too, Pelumi. Me too.”
And just like that, she was gone.
Our love story didn’t end with bitterness or anger. It ended with gratitude, for the memories, the kisses, the laughter, and the love we shared. Even now, whenever I think back, I see her smile, her chocolate skin glowing in the afternoon sun, and I remember the roadside meeting that turned a stranger into a lover.
Fifteen months. No breakup. Just two hearts that loved deeply and then went their separate ways.
And sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I still whisper her name—Pelumi—knowing that wherever she is, a part of me will always belong to her. Always
- Pelumi Adeyemo
