Chapter 2
The next day, being Saturday, was a general cleaning day for Abioye and Mercy. They both took turns cleaning the house, and by the time they were done, they were exhausted.
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They were eating when Mercy suddenly remembered something.
"Least I forget, Abioye—about that guy you were staring at..."
"You mean Bamidele?"
"Yes, I meant him.
What about him?"
"I would advise you to stay far away from him. He’s a distraction, and your parents have high hopes for you."
"I’ve heard you, Madam!"
"Okay ooo."
They continued gisting.
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The following week, Abioye and Mercy were on their way to morning lectures when they came across Bamidele.
"Excuse me, Miss, I think we’ve met before! At the library, right?"
"Yes! Hi," Abioye greeted cheerfully.
Mercy only managed a flat, "Hi," to him.
"So, how are you doing?" he asked.
"Fine, thank you."
Just as they were about to continue the conversation, Mercy interrupted.
"Excuse me, we have class to attend!
She dragged Abioye off to class.
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Later, while they were talking, Abioye spoke up.
"Mercy, why did you drag me off like that?"
"Abioye, don’t you see you’re slowly giving in to distractions?"
"I am not! It’s just a friendly talk."
"I’ve heard you," Mercy muttered.
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But Abioye kept noticing Bamidele more—on campus, during classes, and at seminars.
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One day, they clashed again at the library while she was reading for an assignment.
"Hi pretty," Bamidele said with a smile.
"Hello!" Abioye replied with a small smile.
"Can I sit next to you?"
"Yes, sure." She adjusted her seat, and he sat next to her.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, I’m trying to figure out a format for an assignment. I’m confused on how to write it."
He chuckled. "It’s so simple. Can I help you then?" he asked softly.
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Abioye was caught off guard but managed to compose herself.
"Sure. I’ll be so grateful."
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He picked up a pen and paper and helped her draft the format.
"Wow, thank you so much!"
"It’s nothing, beautiful."
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He checked his wristwatch.
"Ohh, I have to go. I’ll see you later."
He winked and gave her a smile, then left.
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As he walked away, Abioye’s heart fluttered. She smiled to herself.
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She submitted the assignment so well that even Mercy was surprised.
"How were you able to draft the format?" she asked.
"I studied hard for it," Abioye replied, not wanting Mercy to nag her if she found out it was Bamidele’s help.
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Finally, it was the school’s cultural fest. So many activities were happening.
Mercy was dressed in Igbo traditional attire, while Abioye wore a Yoruba outfit. Both looked stunning, proudly representing their tribes.
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Mercy went to get some snacks when Abioye felt a tap on her shoulder.
She turned—it was Bamidele, wearing a cocky smile.
"Hello pretty, what are you doing here alone?"
"Ohh, I’m actually waiting for my friend. She went to get snacks."
"Okay, looks like we’re destined to meet every time," he said.
"Maybe."
"Without wasting your time, can I get your number so I can call you sometime?"
"Ohhh… okay. 09164561372."
"And your name?"
"Abioye."
"That’s such a beautiful name. Mine’s Bamidele."
"Okay. See you around," she said.
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He smiled and walked off to meet his friends. Her heart was pounding. She kept smiling.
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Suddenly, Mercy screamed, "Abioye!"
"What is it? You scared me!"
"What were you thinking?"
"Nothing."
"Okay, here are your snacks."
"Thank you."
They continued munching and enjoying the festival.
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Days kept passing, but Abioye was slowly getting consumed by a distraction—Bamidele.
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He would call her, and they would gist, talk about life, laugh together. He professed love to her many times until she began daydreaming—and Mercy noticed.
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One night, Mercy eavesdropped on their conversation. When the call ended, she walked into the room.
"So, he’s the reason you’ve been acting different."
"Mercy, what is it?"
"So Bamidele is the reason you’ve been losing focus and daydreaming, right?"
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Before Abioye could respond, Mercy said,
"Don’t you know he’s a notorious playboy? He’ll use and dump you like he did to other girls."
"No, Mercy. You’re wrong. Bamidele is different. He’s kind, loving, and sweet."
Mercy shook her head.
"I pity you. I just hope you realize the truth before it’s too late."
She walked out.
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But Abioye was stubborn. At every given opportunity, she would hang out with Bamidele—even during test and assignment periods.
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He gave her topics to study specifically for tests. Sometimes, he brought her gifts.
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One evening at the school garden, Bamidele spoke up.
"Abioye!"
"Yes?"
"You know I really cherish and love you. I want to be part of your life—your goals, your dreams. Will you let me?"
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She blushed slightly.
"Yes, I will."
"You’ll be my girlfriend?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes," she responded.
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He hugged her and pecked her forehead.
"I love you so much."
"Me too."
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When she got home, she was in the shower when her mind drifted to her parents’ warning: “Boys are a distraction. Make good use of your time and school.”
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Abioye felt a pang of guilt and whispered a silent prayer,
"So help me God."
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When she got out of the shower, her phone beeped. It was a message from Bamidele:
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> Good night and sweet dreams to the bone of my bone.
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She smiled while clutching her phone tight.
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She knew she should run...
But the way he said her name made everything else disappear.
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