~ SEVENTY-NINE ~

~ SEVENTY-NINE ~
The sun was already beginning to set when the field behind the faculty of engineering started to buzz with students. It wasn’t just any regular evening hangout—tonight, the Natural Science boys were facing off against Engineering in a long-anticipated football match. The rivalry had started years ago, but ever since the epic game back in 200 level, where Natural Science had narrowly clinched victory 3-2 under Aiden’s unexpected brilliance, the heat between the two faculties had only intensified.

Now in final year, with barely months to graduation, everyone came with full spirits—not just for the thrill of the game, but for nostalgia’s sake.

The field was a wash of bodies, sneakers kicking up dust, loud cheers echoing from clustered groups, and the mixed scent of roasted corn and fried akara from nearby hawkers trailing into the air. The bleachers were packed, and even the grass patches had been claimed by students, all gathered to watch the match unfold.

The Natural Science boys, kitted in their striking deep blue jerseys, were already dominating the pitch. Aiden, as always, wore jersey number 10 like he was born for it. His lean build moved like a shadow over the grass—quick, fluid, unpredictable. It wasn’t just football anymore. It was art.

Kaima sat under the old mango tree with Chelsea, Zahra, and Chuma. A small mat spread out beneath them, their snacks long forgotten in favor of the electrifying match before them.

“I swear, this match feels more intense than the last,” Chuma muttered, eyes trained on the ball as if the outcome personally affected his GPA.

“It is,” Kaima replied, arms crossed loosely over her chest. “The Engineering boys are coming for blood.”

“They’re still mad Aiden embarrassed them three years ago,” Chelsea added, chuckling. “I mean, that third goal he scored back then? Legendary.”

Zahra stayed mostly quiet beside them, her eyes following Aiden as he jogged back into position after an assist. The edge of her lip twitched each time he brushed his damp curls out of his eyes. His focus, his confidence—it stirred something unexpected inside her. But she said nothing. Not with the others watching.

Kaima noticed, though. She always did.

“Zee,” she teased under her breath, nudging her lightly. “You might want to stop staring before the guy starts levitating from ego inflation.”

“I’m not—shut up,” Zahra said too fast, her ears coloring.

“Uh-huh.”

Then came the moment.

Aiden dribbled past two defenders near the penalty line—deft footwork, sharp turns. The Engineering goalie rushed out a bit too soon, and with a faint flick of his foot, Aiden curved the ball around him.

The crowd erupted.

It was a beautiful, clean goal.

Students jumped to their feet, screaming his name. Even the guys on the Engineering bench grudgingly clapped. But Aiden didn’t join the others in their celebratory shuffle.

Instead, he turned slowly toward the sidelines, toward where Kaima and the others sat.

Toward Zahra.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. He raised both hands and tapped his chest once, then pointed directly at her—clear, calm, confident.

Zahra blinked.

There was a moment of stunned silence around them, followed by a collective “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Kaima lost it. She grabbed Zahra’s arm and started laughing. “Oh my God, Zahra! That was for you! He literally just dedicated that goal to you!”

Chelsea clapped in giddy disbelief. “Girl! You better say something to this man today, or I will.”

Chuma joined the banter with a mock-serious tone. “We’re witnessing history. Someone better carve this into a tree.”

Zahra, mortified and glowing all at once, covered her face with both hands. “He’s insane. He’s absolutely crazy.”

“But he likes you,” Kaima said softly, her laughter fading into a more honest smile. “You know that, right?”

Zahra lowered her hands and looked at the field again, catching Aiden looking away just as their eyes met.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I do.”

The rest of the match played on with less anxiety and more excitement. The Natural Science boys held their lead, eventually winning 2–1. As the crowd began to thin out, the floodlights overhead buzzed to life, casting a warm glow over the field and the people who hadn’t yet had enough of the evening.

Kaima leaned back on her hands, sighing contentedly. “That was fun.”

Chelsea, now half in Chuma’s lap, added, “We needed this. Final year is already stressing my soul.”

“Same,” Kaima agreed, glancing at Zahra, who was still staring out at the field, looking like a girl halfway between confusion and something terrifyingly close to hope.

It wasn’t official. Not yet.

But tonight had changed something.

Something small.

Something worth watching.

\----

The crowd had thinned into little groups—some heading back to their hostels in clusters of excited banter, others lingering on the field, rehashing the best moments of the match like analysts on a sports channel. The sky above was now a deep indigo, studded with early stars and washed gently in the golden hue of the campus floodlights.

Kaima, Chelsea, Chuma, and Zahra remained by the sidelines, their laughter more relaxed now, their earlier energy simmering into that satisfying stillness that followed a good evening. Zahra’s face was flushed with something she couldn’t quite name—excitement, disbelief, or maybe the weight of how easily her name had rolled off Aiden’s lips when he jogged past the line.

“Babe has refused to stop blushing since that goal,” Chelsea teased, nudging Zahra who rolled her eyes, trying—and failing—to fight the small smile creeping back onto her face.

“She didn’t even clap,” Kaima chimed in. “I watched you. You froze like a statue.”

“I was processing!” Zahra protested, but they all knew her tone had no bite.

“Uh-huh,” Chuma snorted, “You were processing your new surname, Mrs. Chester?”

Kaima doubled over with laughter, and even Zahra gave in, hiding her face in her palms again. “You all are unserious.”

It was just then that Aiden approached, still damp with sweat, his curls now messier from the after-match excitement. A bottle of water hung from one hand, and the sheen of triumph hadn’t yet left his face. But when he reached them, his eyes didn’t sweep the group—his gaze went straight to her.

“Good game,” Kaima offered first, grinning.

Chuma threw a playful arm around Aiden’s shoulder. “You had us standing, man. That assist in the first half? Cold.”

“Thanks,” Aiden chuckled. “But the real win was Zahra not running away after that goal.”

Zahra opened her mouth to respond, but Aiden had already shifted beside her, brushing his fingers lightly against hers before interlocking their hands. There was no drama in the motion. No overthinking. Just quiet confidence. And Zahra didn’t pull away.

Chelsea squealed. “Okay, okay, you know what? I’m done. I’m actually done. Can you two get married already?”

Kaima snorted. “Let’s not forget they refused to admit they liked each other like, five minutes ago.”

Aiden just smiled, his thumb brushing the back of Zahra’s hand gently, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

With everyone beaming, the five began walking back toward the hostel road—Kaima in the middle, Chuma and Chelsea a step ahead, and Aiden and Zahra just behind. The evening breeze had grown cooler, wrapping around them like a quiet balm. Conversations buzzed from other returning groups, some still analyzing the match, others already talking about assignments and test schedules.

Kaima listened to it all, letting their words drift over her like the background hum of a familiar movie. She glanced ahead at Chelsea and Chuma—her best friend now walking hand-in-hand with the boy who’d once been just the annoying course rep. And behind, she could hear the subtle, private laughter between Aiden and Zahra.

It didn’t sting.

Not tonight.

Tonight, there was peace.

There was joy in seeing people you cared about happy, even if your own heart hadn’t figured itself out yet.

Chelsea glanced back over her shoulder and winked. “Kaima, hurry up na. Or should we leave you behind for Obinna to come find you?”

Kaima rolled her eyes, chuckling. “You people will not kill me.”

“I mean it o,” Chuma added with a grin. “You’re looking too fine these days to be walking alone.”

“Then stop leaving me,” Kaima called back playfully. “This third-wheeling life is not for the weak.”

The streetlamps lit their path with a steady golden glow, shadows dancing as they walked. The road was familiar, yet something about it felt different. Like maybe life was shifting again—subtly, gently—into new rhythms.

As they neared the gate that split the hostel zone from the main road, Zahra leaned into Aiden and whispered something that made him laugh quietly, the sound so easy it stirred something soft inside Kaima.

She let the moment sit in her chest a while longer.

Peace.

Love.

Friendship.

She didn’t need to chase anything tonight.

Not closure.

Not answers.

Not even him.

She had her people.

And somehow, that was enough.