Unteachable.

That’s what he called me before he banged the door and left for work.

We haven’t spoken in three days. Well, I haven’t spoken to him. He’s done a lot of speaking. The voice notes, the texts, the DMs, the emails, and when none of those worked – the flowers. He could always get me back with flowers. You know those green and white ones with purple streaks. I forget what they’re called. I wasn’t a flower person until I met him. Anyway, it’s not going to work this time. I have to let him know what being unteachable really means because I’m not that. Far from it.

I won’t lie to you – the house feels empty without him and not just because I’m the only one in it right now. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep. I miss his hands around my waist when I sleep; his very light snoring in my ear when he comes back too tired from work. More than all that, I miss waking up to the smell of freshly made breakfast and my favourite hot chocolate. He makes great food. Ugh, I try to pick my battles wisely and I’m not sure I picked the right one this time.

***

I hear the doorbell as I’m frantically trying to make breakfast. I don’t know what cabinet anything is in. Don’t start with the judgement. It was Tade’s idea for the kitchen to be off limits to me.

My heart skips a beat. Has he come back to beg for forgiveness? To tell me that he regrets calling me unteachable; that he hasn’t slept well since he left and I’m the only person he can think about all day? Maybe he’ll pull me out the rain and kiss me while holding my head with his two hands. It’s only drizzling a little right now but that would work too. Or maybe he’ll play the guitar and sing me back to him. Who am I kidding? His guitar is right where he left it – by the mirror.

It’s not him. Cifor our gateman is holding a box with a card stuck on the side.

Madam, dem say make I give you. Dem say Na from oga. Oga romantic oh. See as the box dey scent. Chai, see love. Madam when oga go come back sef?

Cifor doesn’t miss a beat.

Irritated and a little disappointed, I snatch the box from him and shut the door on his face. Back in the kitchen, I meet my eggs burning.

Cifor is right. The box smells beautiful. Tade sprays his Tom Ford oud perfume on everything he gifts me. There’s a note on the box asking me to read the card first so I yank it open. A part of me feels guilty but a bigger part feels happy. He really does love me.

The excitement doesn’t last long as I read the letter. You know those moments when you sit back and think “damn, I’m a shitty person?” This is one of them. I pick up my keys and head to the hotel Tade booked.

***

Is this for me or were you expecting someone else?

I’m trying not to blush. I’m in the most beautifully decorated hotel room ever. My favourite colours and best song playing in the background.

I – Tade looks very uncomfortable and anxious.

My eye catches a glimpse of the bed. It has love shaped rose petals. Surely, this man is not going to propose to me in the middle of a conflict. I look a hot mess. Hair scarfed and in my granny pjs.

He is. The man is already on his knees speaking.

It’s 15 minutes later. Tade is cooking us food. I’m excited. Three days of pizzas and burgers make a girl desperate.

I said no. But it’s okay; we’re okay. I told him to ask me another time. When I’m in the right state of mind and we’re on good terms. He understands.

I watch him come to the bed area – shirt off and pants teasing low.

It gets hot in the kitchen.

I’m not complaining.

He gives me a plate of homemade cinnamon French toast and eggs.

Thank you, baby.