Rekindled Flames

When Sophia is asked to work with her cheating ex, she schemes ways to make him pay but the unexpected happens.

I now sat a few metres away, right across him, staring into his big eyes. I felt the urge to unplug them, right out of their sockets. His face, his smile, his voice, his actions, they all irritated me; they stunk, everything reeked of disgust. I could have never imagined that he, Emeka, could do such a thing. I was oblivious of how fragile my heart could be but he knew; he was older, more experienced. I didn't know he was a shredder, I left my heart right in his hands and watched him rip it from piece to piece, cutting it into bits.

I was naive maybe I still am, Mom had warned me about the exploits of men.

“Anyone that says he loves you is lying to you. You are too young to fall in love”

 I am sure she had said something like that. I can’t remember; I was never one to listen. She was wrong, her concept was faulty. If I was younger than he was, and could fall in love, surely age was the least important criteria for being ensnared in the sharp claws of love.

I longed for his presence, yearned for his stare; everything about him amazed me, and every word from his lips amused me. That was then, I no longer feel that love. I have learned my lesson.

And right when I thought the pain couldn’t get worse, a pinch of salt was sprinkled all over my injury. Emeka and I had been handpicked to represent the school in the National Debate qualifiers, but I couldn’t stand him. I, however, now sat but a few metres away from him, scheming and plotting, building and refining plans, plans to make him pay.

 In my five years of high school, I had never been a contestant in a competition and not emerge with the first price. I was faced with deciding whether my hate for him outdid my love for victory.

“Can you just get over yourself?” He said as he clenched my one thousand ‘I Hate You’s in his fist.

 I had spent the whole of the previous night writing it in my note. I tried writing about the topic but scribbling ‘I Hate You’ in red ink made me feel a lot better, so I did.

“This is a lot bigger than you, it is bigger than me. It is about the school; we need to make it to Abuja for the grand finale”

“And then you can find more Aisha’s to sleep with right?”

“See, I am done apologizing to you. I have been saying ‘I am Sorry’ for over three months now. What else do you expect me to do?”

I took the pen in my hand aimed it for his eyeball, I missed. I picked up another pen, this time pointing it directly in front of his left eye.

“I am going to pluck out your eyeball and then tell you sorry for three months, maybe you would forgive me then too”

I could see the reflection of the fire in my eyes through his.

“Cut this out…” He said, raising up the crumpled piece of paper in his fist.

He lowered his voice and then said “You’ve made your point. OK! I know you hate me. This piece of paper tells me the full story...”

He dispossessed me of my weaponized stationery and then continued “...but please, can we put our differences aside? Can you forget how much you hate me, for this few days?  The whole school is counting on us.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, so much truth in his eyes. He really believed that I hated him, and it pained him- his eyes were dewy. This didn’t make me feel better, there was still so much pain in my heart, but I knew I had to listen to the voice of reason. I had to let sleeping dogs get back to bed.

He thought I hated him, I thought I hated him but then at this moment, in this small room, I knew it wasn’t true.

I tried, I just couldn’t. I’d told this lie so many times, I believed it but now his eyes had lit the supposedly blown out candle and I knew in that space and time that I still loved Emeka.

Author's Note

Have you ever thought you hated someone but found out later you actually didn't?

Why do you think we sometimes mistake these feelings (love and hate)?