Preordained #ProjectNigeria

68- Opportunities

Maduka's POV~

Lost Treasure.

Lost Treasure is an anonymous blogger who has been on the Lagos scene for a while now, showcasing vibrant and realistic photographs of everyday Lagos life, from the watery slums of Makoko to the bustling, crammed streets of Balogun Market, and the writhing bodies of dancers in flashing neon lights during night parties in numerous clubs.

Her write ups have a way of striking a chord in me each time I read them, because I see honesty in them. Agatha had introduced me to the blog, and after reading one of her humorous pieces on living in Abuja, I was hooked. She was witty, with a hint of sarcasm and a way of exaggerating things in a very interesting way.

But it is her latest piece, Memoirs of the Men Who Loved Me, that blows me away. She writes about three men, who loved her in three different ways, and how these different shades of love almost ruined her but also strengthened her.

It reminded me, of the night Nwanyieze had revealed to me that she had been victimized in such a horrible manner, it had scarred her.

"You're not done reading that piece?"

"I am," I say, looking up from my phone to where Agatha perches on my desk, her legs dangling a few inches from the floor.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She asks.

"Yes. And sad, too. It's almost like you can feel her pain."

"Something must have hurt her real bad. You can't create such beauty without pain, Maduka. At least not like this."

I enjoy analysing with Agatha; she has a sharp mind and can provide so much insight. The piece we are talking about is the latest post by Lost Treasure about lost trust, descent into darkness, love, and destruction of the last shred of morality in a bid to stop feeling. At the end, the author wonders if there is any hope for her.

Why does it sound familiar?

Agatha adjusts her spectacles, the same gold-rimmed ones from last year. "If you're not busy, we could have lunch at The Place. You know how delicious their food is."

"I don't feel like having lunch outside today."

"Then we'll order lunch. Choose your vendor."

"You know, I'm not hungry."

Agatha raises her brows at me, a sign that her patience is running out. "Maduka, you just signed a multimillion Naira deal and you have the effort to say you're not hungry? At least celebrate with some snacks."

"Small chops, then. Let me order for them."

She smiles sweetly. "That's the spirit, Farmer."

I move closer to the desk so I can pick up my wallet which contains my cards. Agatha reaches for the wallet at that moment and our hands touch.

"My bad," she says softly, withdrawing her hand immediately like I've burned her.

"That's fine," I tell her with a smile.

"Maduka, could you please do me a favour?"

"What's that, Agatha?"

"A kiss," is what she says after a long pause.

Oh, wow.

I know that after our kiss last year, she's been walking on eggshells around me, trying not to initiate any type of intimate contact. It makes me guilty that I am unable to reciprocate her feelings, and I have been dreading the day we might stop being friends because of this.