The warm air inside Derrick's apartment carried a blend of suya spices and freshly printed papers, the kind of scent that made the place feel more like a tired student's haven than a proper study space.
Eliana sat on the edge of Derrick's bed, a notebook resting against her thighs, her brown curls pulled into a loose puff that fell around her shoulders. The soft glow from the rechargeable lamp lit her face gently as she struggled to stay focused on her Statistics formulas.
Her eyes kept drifting back to her phone.
No message.
No missed call.
Not even a single "seen" since she had sent Mae a text hours ago explaining everything.
I'm sorry I didn't show up. I had no transport fare and my phone was dead. Please don't be mad.
But Mae hadn't replied.
And that silence cut deeper than any angry word would have.
"Standard deviation is just like emotional instability," Derrick said, tapping his pen against his notepad. "The more scattered your values, the wilder the data. Like someone who starts their day laughing and ends it crying."
Eliana raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. "You really just compared me to a math problem."
"I didn't say it was you," Derrick teased. "But if the shoe fits…"
Tolu, lying flat on the floor with her feet in the air and her head buried in a throw pillow, groaned. "You two better pass this test after all this flirting."
Derrick laughed, but Eliana just leaned her head against the wall, letting the joke pass. Her smile faded again as she checked her phone—still nothing.
Derrick noticed.
"You're not present," he said gently.
She sighed. "I was supposed to meet someone today… Mae."
Derrick blinked, recognizing the name. "The rich guy who drives that white Benz?"
She nodded. "He asked me out for milkshakes. Again. I agreed… but I couldn't make it. There was no light at home, my phone died, and… I didn't even have enough money to take a bike to school."
"Did you tell him?"
"I texted as soon as I could. But he didn't reply. He read it, though. Hours ago."
Derrick's face was calm, unreadable. "Maybe he's waiting to cool down."
"Or maybe he thinks I stood him up," she muttered, biting her lip. "That I'm some flaky girl playing hard to get."
"Or maybe," Derrick said carefully, "he only likes you when things are smooth."
That hit her.
She didn't reply.
"Look, I get it," he continued. "He's good-looking, probably charming, and he noticed you. But you're more than a pretty face. You're real. Life hits you. Sometimes you can't show up. That's not a crime."
Eliana dropped her phone on the bed and hugged her knees. "I just hate that I'm always the one who has to explain."
"You shouldn't have to."
Tolu popped her head out from under the pillow. "He didn't even try to call or check up on you? Eliana, abeg shift your energy somewhere else."
"Like where?" Eliana asked with a dry laugh.
Derrick passed her a bottle of chilled water. "Like this room. Like this textbook. Like people who don't make you feel guilty for surviving."
She gave a small smile.
They returned to the formulas. As Derrick taught her, using hilarious analogies and wild examples—like comparing regression to toxic dating habits—she began to laugh again. Genuinely
He made it easy to breathe.
Meanwhile…
Mae sat in the back seat of his car, engine running, parked in the school lot under a tree. His fingers scrolled through Instagram absently—until something caught his eye.
A blurry picture posted on someone's story.
Tolu. Derrick. And Eliana.
They were studying, laughing, eating suya. The image was casual, but intimate in a way that unsettled him.
His jaw clenched
She hadn't reached out again after the apology. No call. No second text.
And now she was at another guy's place—laughing?
He locked his phone, a storm quietly brewing in his chest.
He wouldn't text her.
Let her chase.
Back in Derrick's room, Eliana wrapped up her notes, her heart feeling a little less heavy. Still no reply from Mae. But oddly, she wasn't as shattered as she'd expected
Maybe it was the quiet support in Derrick's voice.
Maybe it was how Tolu didn't judge her struggle.
Or maybe it was just the comfort of knowing that even when one person chose silence, someone else chose presence.
And in that moment… presence mattered more.