I woke up late the next morning, blinking at the clock—10:00 a.m. already. I remembered my grandparents celebrating something, their voices floating into my half-sleep, but I hadn’t been awake enough to catch the details. As I walked to the living room, I noticed two strangers sitting with my grandparents. Their faces were strangely familiar, like ghosts from my grandmother’s old photos. "No, it couldn’t be," I thought, dismissing the possibility.

I greeted my grandparents, then gave the strangers a polite nod. My grandparents beamed, and without hesitation, introduced them as my parents. The word “parents” hit like a fairytale come to life. I tried to hide my shock with sarcasm, “Good morning...parents,” I said, almost mocking. My mom’s eyes filled with tears, and my dad followed suit. They knelt in front of me, begging for forgiveness.

“Son, I’m so sorry we left you. After the war, we had nothing, so we thought leaving you with your grandparents was the best way to start over. We didn’t want you to suffer with us.” His voice shook, and I could hear the weight in his words. I wasn’t angry, just numb. I had built my life without them, and now...what could I do? I hugged them both, managing, “I missed you, too.”

Later, I returned to my room to get ready for my date, digging through my closet until I found a designer white shirt and trousers. Perfect. By now, it was already 11 a.m., and I was eager to get out. As I dressed, Janet’s face flashed through my mind, and grief hit me again. “Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to die?” I whispered, feeling my chest tighten. “May her soul rest in peace,” I said softly. My mom’s voice interrupted, “Amen.”

She had come into my room, looking young and vibrant, her angelic eyes watching me with concern. “I saw you on the news; I was worried about you,” she said. I looked away, unwilling to let her see the pain. “A friend of mine...she passed away yesterday,” I mumbled. She reached for me, “I’m so sorry to hear that.” I forced a small smile. “It’s fine, but I need to go.” And with that, I left.

When I reached Charles’ house for the date, Bliss looked disappointed. “We’ve been waiting so long,” she said. I apologized, explaining about my parents. “Your parents are back? That’s huge!” Julie said, excited. But before I could respond, Bliss abruptly said, “Enjoy your celebration. I’m leaving.” We were all shocked. “Bliss! Wait!” I called, chasing after her.

Finally catching up, I stopped her, “Bliss, what’s wrong? If it’s about being late, I’m sorry.” She shook her head, her eyes full of tears. “It’s not that,” she whispered, almost broken. “Then what?” I pressed, desperate to understand. Suddenly, her face hardened. “I just don’t love you, Sam. I don’t even like you,” she said. Her words were cold, cutting into me like knives. “Leave me alone, or I’ll call the cops.” She turned and left, leaving me paralyzed in shock. Her words echoed in my head. I don’t love you...

“No, it can’t be. We were fine. Something’s wrong; she’s hiding something, and I need to know what.” I walked back to my house, numb and lost. Inside, I found my bags packed by the door. “What’s going on?” I demanded. My dad put a hand on my shoulder, “We need to leave for Nigeria, son. Urgently.”

“Go without me. Just like you did all those years ago,” I snapped. My grandma intervened, “Sammy, please. Your father knows what’s best for you.” I clenched my jaw, feeling like a stranger in my own life. Defeated, I went to my room, hoping for some peace, but my mom was waiting for me. “I know this feels sudden, but your father’s business is in trouble. We can’t leave without you. Please, let us try to make up for all those years,” she pleaded, hugging me close.

I pulled away. “I don’t want to go, Mom.” She sighed, stroking my hair. “I know, but we leave tomorrow morning.” She left me alone with my thoughts. I thought about my friends—Bliss, Julie, Charles. I grabbed my phone to let them know. I tried calling Bliss, but she didn’t pick up. With a heavy heart, I sent her a text, feeling like I was speaking to a ghost.

That night, I drifted in and out of sleep until my phone vibrated with missed calls. I checked the time—10 p.m. Julie had called five times. I called her back, and she picked up instantly, her voice frantic. “Sam, you’re really leaving? Think about Bliss! Don’t you care how she’d feel?”

I fought to hold back tears. “I tried calling her, Julie. She wouldn’t answer. I don’t know what’s going on.” She paused. “Let me try adding her to the call,” she said, dialing Bliss’s number. After a few rings, she sighed, frustrated. “Bliss, answer the damn phone!”

“It’s okay, Julie. Maybe she’ll come in the morning,” I said, though the hope felt thin. She hesitated. “And if she doesn’t?” I swallowed hard, my voice cracking, “Then I guess...I’ll just go.”

We said our goodbyes, and the line went silent. That night, I lay awake, each memory flashing before my eyes, as if my life had become one final movie playing just for me.