BN Prose: Love Doesn’t Always Have to Feel Like a Burden by Toyosi Onikosi

Yara always assumed that when a relationship ended, she would know right away. The emotions that follow will tell. Her first serious relationship ended three years ago, after months of trying to fix something neither of them could name. At work, she cried in the bathroom with the tap running, and went to her desk to answer messages as if nothing had happened. She cried in taxis, and many times in the shower, with water running down her braids and onto the floor.

So when things ended with Samie, she waited for some version of that.

They had been seeing each other for six months. It was not for a very long time, but the relationship had quickly become part of her life. Sammie sent her photos of things he thought she would find funny. She saved small stories for him during the day. When they went out for dinner, they ordered burrata to share, even when the menu made it clear it was meant for one person. Samie always moved the plate closer to the middle of the table, then gave her the better half without making a point of it. The relationship did not have any semblance of being temporary at the time.

But for a week or two, Samie suddenly became quieter. Yara tried not to read much into it, either. When they met for drinks after work, he said he had been thinking.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t think I’m in the right place for this.”

Yara looked at him for a moment. “For what, exactly?”

“For… us becoming more serious.”

He seemed embarrassed saying it, as if he knew it was vague. She waited for him to add something more useful, but he didn’t. She asked whether she had done anything. He said no, not at all. He said she deserved someone who was more certain. She almost laughed at that, but she didn’t.

When they left the restaurant, they hugged.

“Take care of yourself,” Samie said.

“You too.”

At home, Yara took off her shoes, sat on the bed, and waited.

She checked her phone several times even though she knew he would not text. She went through their conversation, far enough to see the recent things: plans they had made and then changed, a picture of the burrata from the last place they went, him asking if she got home safely.

She put the phone down.

She thought perhaps she was still in shock. The next day, she expected the emotions to catch her in her Uber, or while brushing her teeth, or when somebody at work asked an ordinary question, and she could not answer without crying. But she went to work. She replied to emails. She had lunch with a coworker. She caught herself genuinely laughing at her colleague’s funny bus ride story. At some point in the afternoon, she realised she had not thought about Samie for almost two hours.

That bothered her more than it should have.

She did miss him. She noticed it when she saw something he would have liked, or when she wanted to tell him about a difficult client at work. Once, while walking home, she passed the restaurant where they had eaten burrata more than once. Where they had their last drinks and conversation. She looked through the parking lot, all the way to the entrance, then kept walking.

But the feeling and emotions did not grow. They did not take over the rest of her day.

A few nights later, she bought groceries on the way home. Without thinking, she picked up a burrata from the refrigerated shelf. It was only when she got back to her apartment and saw it in the bag that she remembered why she had bought it. For a second, she considered throwing it away. Instead, she put it in the fridge.

One evening, she found herself sitting at her desk with nothing left to finish, just staying there a little longer than necessary. Her phone was beside her laptop. She unlocked it, opened her messages, and saw Samie’s name down the list than it had been a few days ago. She wondered for a second what he was up to. She did not open the conversation.

In the kitchen, the burrata was still in the fridge. She made pasta, took it out, and ate it by herself at the counter. It was good, though she had bought too much bread and had no one to finish it with. She washed the plate and left the rest of the bread on the counter for the morning.