07/04/2026
Chapter 1: The Good Days
Fred, Gina, and Amaka moved through secondary school like three parts of the same rhythm.
Most mornings began the same way. Fred would arrive just before classes started, stepping out of whatever car brought him that day, always clean, always composed, like he didn’t have to rush for anything. His uniform sat perfectly on him, shoes polished, bag carried more for appearance than necessity. He wasn’t the type to worry about missing notes or assignments. There was always someone to remind him, always someone to sort things out if he forgot.
Gina and Amaka were already there before him.
They usually sat together, going over notes or quietly discussing assignments. Gina talked more, always animated, always quick with a comment or a joke about something that happened the day before. Amaka, on the other hand, listened first before speaking. When she did, it was measured, thoughtful, the kind of response that made people pause and think a little deeper.
Fred would join them, dropping his bag on the bench like he had been there all along.
“Una don start without me again?” he’d say, half complaining, half amused.
Gina would look up and smile. “Start what? You wey no dey serious.”
Fred would laugh it off. He rarely took such remarks to heart. For him, school was something to pass through, not something to build a future around. His confidence came from the life he already had, not the one he was preparing for.
Amaka would sometimes shake her head slightly, not in judgment, but in quiet concern.
“Not everything will stay easy forever,” she once told him after a particularly careless comment he made about exams.
Fred had only shrugged. “Life dey favour some people.”
Gina had laughed at that, but Amaka didn’t. She just looked at him for a moment, as if trying to understand how someone could be so certain about something that was still unfolding.
Outside the classroom, their friendship felt lighter. They shared food sometimes, walked home together on certain days, or lingered after school just talking about nothing in particular. Small things, everyday things, the kind that don’t seem important while they are happening.
Gina would often talk about the future in fragments. What she might become. What she might try. Amaka would add structure to those thoughts, turning ideas into something more grounded. Fred would listen, occasionally adding his own version of a future where things simply worked out without much effort.
In those moments, the differences between them didn’t create distance. If anything, they balanced each other out.
To them, it felt like there was enough time. Enough space to figure things out later. Enough certainty that whatever they had built would remain the same.
At that point in their lives, nothing suggested otherwise.
And so they continued, moving through their days with ease, unaware that the quiet stability they shared was not as permanent as it seemed.
