A NEW SKY, SAME SCAR (episode 3)

I woke up differently that Monday morning, pinned to the mattress by Simi who was fast asleep beside me. I stayed perfectly still, careful not to make a single sudden movement that would wake her. For the past years, Sundays had felt like a slow-motion car crash, a countdown to a job that drained every bit of color from my life. But today, the usual heavy pit in my stomach was gone. For the first time in forever, I actually felt light. It was really my mom’s call the night before that turned everything <a class="tc-blue external-link external-link" href="https://around.It" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">around. It </a> was four days after Christmas, the year had been a long, exhausting blur since a close friend committed suicide back in March. Even though months had passed, the grief hadn't gotten smaller; I had just gotten better at hiding it.I could hear the hesitation in her voice during the call, the way she was carefully choosing her words because she didn’t want to overstep. But then she just said it: "Come home. Stay for a few months. Just breathe."It wasn't an easy thing for her to ask, but we both knew I was spiraling. Losing him had broken something inside me that I couldn't fix on my own. The mystery of it still haunted me, just a week before his death in March, we were all in the boys' group chat on Instagram, hyped about a new spot we wanted to check out. We were making plans for a future he didn't stay for. I think the sheer weight of trying to "make it" in this world just became too much for him to carry. But looking back, those hangouts weren't just social, they were expensive. They were part of a cycle of bad financial decisions and mistakes i was making just to keep up appearances. Because I couldn’t fall apart at work, I spent my nights in the dark, crying until my eyes burned. My mother hadn't known him personally, but my brother had seen my posts about his death and warned her that I was struggling. She saw the ghost of my friend’s struggle in my own eyes, and she was terrified that the same pressure that took him in the March would eventually break me by December.That morning, as I lay in bed, the silence didn't feel lonely anymore, it felt like a fresh start. Her invitation wasn’t just a suggestion, it was a lifeline. For the first time in five years, I wasn't just surviving the start of the week. I was choosing to save myself.A sharp vibration from my phone cut through the morning silence. Beside me, Simi stirred. She wasn't a fan of the noise either, she stretched, hopped off the bed, and headed straight for her litter box to handle her morning business. I finally reached for the phone. It was a message from a co-worker asking the same old question: "When are you getting in?" For the first time, I didn't feel the panic to explain myself. I didn't even reply. I just set the phone down and walked toward my wardrobe.The packing felt like a ritual of freedom. I grabbed my backpack and a duffel bag, folding just enough clothes to get me through a few months. Then, I carefully packed my PS4, I knew I’d need it to fill the quiet hours at my mum's, a small luxury for the "me-time" I hadn't allowed myself in years.After a quick shower, the reality of the move started to set in for both of us. When I brought out the carrier, Simi’s mood shifted. She’s a shy, indoor soul who treats new faces like a threat and the outdoors like an enemy. She had watched me move through the room, seen the bags piling up, and she knew. This wasn't just a trip to the vet, something big was happening.She refused to budge. No matter how much I coaxed her, she wouldn't step inside. With the clock ticking and the six-hour journey ahead of me, I had to make a hard call. I couldn't force her into a panic. I filled two extra bowls to the brim with food and water, promising her and myself that I’d figure out the logistics of moving her once I was settled and grounded at my mum’s.I hauled my bags out to the street and flagged down a bike. Usually, I’d haggle over the price, but not today. I was in too good a mood to argue over a few Naira. I just wanted to get to the bus terminal. My mind was already halfway down the road, leaving the stress of the city behind for the peace that was waiting for me.Leaving her behind felt like a physical ache in my chest. As the bike sped away, I looked back at the apartment, knowing Simi was sitting in the quiet, probably wondering why the house felt so empty all of a sudden. She was my constant, the one soul who had sat through my midnight breakdowns without judgment. The guilt gnawed at me, leaving her with extra bowls of food felt like a poor excuse for a goodbye, but I had to remind myself that I couldn't take care of her if I couldn't even take care of myself. I made a silent vow to come back for her the moment I found my footing. By the time we pulled into the bus terminal, the guilt was still there, but it was being overtaken by a desperate need for distance. The terminal was a chaotic mess of shouting loaders, hawkers and idling engines, but for once, the noise didn't grate on my nerves. I paid the bike man without a second thoughtI found my bus, which needed one last passenger, gave my duffle bag to the driver to arrange with other loads, and climbed aboard. As I settled into my seat near the window, I leaned my head against the cool glass, watching the familiar streets of my old life begin to blur. six hours of road between the person I had been and the person I was trying to become.I just watched the city disappear in the rearview mirror.

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