Preordained #ProjectNigeria

48- It Is Written

Nwanyieze's POV~

I can't stop shaking. Neither can he.

What about Tasha?

I decide to forget her, to enjoy whatever moment I have left with Maduka because I'm sure, a hundred percent sure, that this beautiful thing we have, won't live long.

And after that, Tasha can have him. Even if the baby isn't his, Tasha still wants him.

I just want him to get through this successfully- reconnecting with his people. And upon getting back to Lagos...

I'll have to break his heart. And mine. But most importantly, his.

It's terrible, really, that I have to be making these resolutions while Maduka cradles me. His heart is still beating fast under my palm, he is still struggling to control his breathing. I can feel him shake. His hands had been cold when he'd touched me.

"Hey." I wipe the last of my tears and hold his face between my palms. "Are you okay?"

Maduka nods. He has that lost boy look again; this man, all six feet and five inches of him, is shaking so badly I'm deeply concerned. I sense his vulnerability- and see it, too because his eyes are open, not bothering to hide it from me.

"Just subsiding panic, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to, I just wanted to go somewhere because I was hurting and I couldn't keep still."

Maduka nods. "It's alright. You're safe, you're here with me. It'll stop. You are unpredictable. And I love you. It's quite...interesting."

He said it.

I blink rapidly, utterly speechless. My mouth moves, but I don't have the air to make sounds. He watches me silently for a few seconds before saying, "You don't have to reply."

"Mad-"

He shakes his head vigorously. "No. Because I said it doesn't mean you must reply."

I love you. But I'm going to leave you, anyways. I'm just a terrible person. Look what I've done.

I place my head back on his shoulder, my nose touching his neck. Cologne, dust and sweat. He rises from the floor, with me in his arms, and places me on the bed before joining me. I turn to face him, seeking his warmth as he seeks mine. The way we fit so well, it's like we were made for each other.

"You're still shaking," I observe.

"It'll be gone in a few minutes," he assures me.

I stroke the side of his face, run my fingers over his stubble. "Panic attacks."

"I haven't had them in years. This whole situation has been one huge trigger."

"I'm sorry. Look what I've caused."

He takes my hand, kisses it, and smiles. Warmth has returned to his hands. His smile disappears suddenly and he tells me, "I'm scared for you because I don't know what killed my family in this house, in this village. You went away, and I kept thinking of all the terrible things that could happen to you."

"I was just three compounds away, helping the people there to fry garri."

"That explains the firewood scent."

"Firewood. Eau de toilette by Nwanyieze," I joke.

We laugh for a few moments.

"I know the fear was irrational. I know my mind exaggerated it, blew it out of proportion- but you have to understand where my fear is coming from," Maduka says.