Celeste

It’s Monday morning, and Miss Harlow's voice rings out, "Please hand over the list of your university choices by next week Monday."

We echo a collective, "Yes, Ma," as Owen distributes our assignment scripts. It's an essay we had to write on “My Future Ambitions.” The students in front of me are practically glowing, blushing over their scores.

"Isn't Miss Harlow cute?" a boy murmurs behind me. "I think she has this... nice aura."

His seatmate tilts his head, eyes dreamy. "And I heard she’s Mr. Dominic’s high school sweetheart and that she’s now his substitute? How sweet!"

I glance up at Miss Harlow just in time to catch a faint blush on her face. She pretends she didn’t hear, hiding a little smile. As I flip open my assignment, my heart sinks—50% again. Harvard feels farther away than ever. I wonder why Mr. Dominic isn’t here. He always explained things in a way that stuck. It’s almost like he knew my thoughts were elsewhere sometimes. I wonder if he's fine. Too bad, I'm yet to own a mobile phone. Mum promised to get me one when I gain an admission into university.

Just as Miss Harlow is about to leave, she pauses, her gaze locking onto me, like she’s recognized something. Or maybe she remembers me from that day in the storeroom, in the hallway. Her eyes light up, but I hold her gaze with a blank expression, slipping my papers into my bag without a second glance.

School ends, and as I step out of the classroom, a hand pulls me to one side. My heart skips—I expect to see Kyomi, but my eyes met Miss Harlow.

“Are you... Celeste Fayeni?” she whispers, her voice almost playful. Her eyes dart around, making sure no one else is nearby. “Sorry for stopping you like this. I just wanted a private word.”

I clutch my bag, staring down instead of meeting her eyes. She takes a slow breath. “I know you must be wondering about Ro—I mean, Mr. Dominic,” she says, correcting herself with a tense smile that looks forced. “I also know about the... connection you have—I mean the storeroom kiss.

My heart freeze to her word and she grabbed my hand. “Please feel comfortable around me. I notice you seem tense in class.”

I flench my hand and look up just briefly, my eyebrows knitting together in a deep frown. “Okay, ma. Thanks for your... consideration.” I mutter, then walk away, letting her stand there with whatever unspoken words she has.

At home, I distract myself with a different kind of project—a rat experiment. This time, I sprinkle pesticide on a piece of leftover cake, setting it in a cage for my test rat to nibble. Slowly, I watch it succumb, fighting down the nauseating smell. Uncle Kunle watches silently as I go through the steps. Burning off its fur, I place the rat in the old oven until only dry bones and muscles remain. Sketching its anatomy feels strangely therapeutic, even as thoughts of Miss Harlow and her strange sympathy flicker through my mind. I'm not bothered that she knows, I wonder how long she'll keep quiet.

The next day at school, I’m wandering the corridors during break when I spot them—Mrs. Harlow and Mr. Dominic. He’s finally back. I can’t help but linger, watching as she sits beside him with an almost... affectionate smile.

“They’re surprisingly well-behaved, unlike our set,” Miss Harlow says, glancing at me as if knowing I’m watching. She nudges his arm, her smile bright. Mr. Dominic doesn’t react, his face distant, eyes lost in thought.

Two girls walking by whisper in awe, their giggles floating through the hallway. They were obviously, junior students. “Did you know they were sweethearts in this school years back?” one of them gushes. “They look so cute together!”

Miss Harlow leans into him, giving him a light side hug, her hand resting on his shoulder as if claiming him.

“Why’d you do that?” Mr. Dominic mutters, eyebrow raised.

She just grins, unbothered. “I just felt like it.”

My stomach twists, and I slip back into class before anyone notices.

As the final bell rings, a heavy rain begins to fall. Perfect. I head straight to the biology lab, deciding to wait out the storm here instead of getting drenched on my way home. Settling into a corner, I pull out one of the books I borrowed from Uncle Kunle’s drawer—Founding the African Women's Practice by Dr. Nawal Nour.

Dr. Nawal Nour from Khartoum, an expert in obstetrics and gynecology—her work inspires me more than I can explain. Same with Dr. Joan Reese. There's something powerful about the way they blend science with empathy, courage with skill. It feels like a blueprint, a path I want to follow someday. As I step outside again, I spot him—Mr. Dominic—standing near his bike in the parking lot, drenched but steady.

“Celeste, what are you doing here?” he asks, and there’s something raw in his voice that makes me grip my bag a little tighter. I don’t want to hold back anymore.

“You told me to be more open with my emotions,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “You told me emotions shape everything. Well, here I am. I can’t stop thinking about you, Mr. Dominic. I... I’m in love with you. I can’t read or sleep or do anything without thinking of you.”

He blinks, raindrops trailing down his face, eyes darkening like the storm above us. Then he turns away. “Just... forget about that day, please.”

My throat tightens, but I can’t keep quiet. “I can’t...”

He turns back, grabbing my hands, holding them tight, almost desperately. “Celeste, this could just be... infatuation. You’re young. You have so much ahead of you—college, work and a decent life. I don’t want this to end badly for you.”

His words sink in like stones, but I hold his gaze, my own filling with hurt. “Mr. Dominic... I hate you!” The words spill out as I push him away and run, letting the rain hide my tears as I dash past the school gates.

The storm beats down harder as I stand on the roadside, watching cars splash past. I thought I could escape it all—the hurt, the confusion, but the rain doesn’t stop.

I look back, scanning the empty school grounds. Not a single student in sight. I wonder where everyone went, but my thoughts spiral back to his words, echoing painfully in my mind.

It was just a kiss.

Just. That one small word pierces deeper than I thought possible, like a splinter lodged in my chest. My legs feel rooted to the spot, and before I know it, I’m standing there, letting the rain soak through every layer. I don’t even care. The cold drops mix with the warmth of tears I can’t stop.

I close my eyes, surrendering to the storm, letting it wash over me, each drop a reminder of the hurt pressing down on me, the ache I can’t shake.

Why did I even leave the lab? Why did I let myself fall this hard? My heart aches, and just when I think I’m alone, headlights flash across the wet pavement.

It’s him. Mr. Dominic, on his power bike, watching me in the rain.

“Hop on,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle.

Every part of me wants to say no, but I climb onto the bike, helmet in place. As we speed through the rain, my arms wrapped around him, questions pound in my head like the rain against my skin.

Why did he come back for me? What does he really feel? And what’s going to happen to us now?