The streets of Eko were dressed in red and white . Heart-shaped balloons and ribbons tied to shops entrances. These Shops and restaurants stayed open till midnight with vendors who sold chocolates and large teddy bears from every corner of the city announcing their discounts on every item sold.

Restaurants filled early with round tables, beautiful flowers and candlelight. Happiness filled the evening air like music meant for only the beloved and chosen.

Yet, not every heart was celebrating .

Bola a tall, dark, beautiful and talented young woman stood outside a gift store, watching couples step out with bright smiles and shopping bags full and heavy like Agege bread soaked in water. “Chai , it was another season of love”, She murmured.

Gift were being exchanged, yet she noticed not everyone was getting the gist, some were quiet and the ones who walked past the display of love slowly turned away and hissed . Others also pretended not to look at the couples who showered each other with love and affection.
 

Some boxes, she thought remain empty regardless of time and space. This isn’t because they lack wrapping paper but because they hold silent  thoughts, feelings, emotions, dreams and wishes. Closed, yet untouched.  Inside Bola’s chest was one of those boxes.  She had once believed  love could be measured in money bouquets, flowers, bags, jewelries,candlelit dinners and grand gestures. But as evening drew nearer , she began to understand something deeper.

Love is not measured in a day’s cheer . Not in dark chocolates, sweet wine, or an oversized teddy that barely fits through the door.

As Bola walked down the busy street, she noticed an elderly couple sharing hot chicken Suya from the same bamboo stick, laughing softly as they wiped pepper from their nostrils and holding each other’s cheeks tenderly. She also saw a young man nervously rehearsing what to say before knocking on his lover’s door. Further ahead, in a popular coffee shop

a pretty woman sat alone sipping slowly, refusing to let loneliness steal her grace.

Bola realized love lives in quiet places.

In the season, some rejoiced  openly in love’s embrace .Others  hid behind their hatred, sighs, loneliness and composed smiles. Bola felt the longing for this moment in her too , a deep steady ache. Not for gifts, Not for noise but for someone who would write to her love letters. Whisper sweet words in her ears and mean them. Someone whose surprise would not just make her overwhelmed with excitement but lift her spirit in every moment.

Someone who would her see her empty box and fill it not with material things but with emotional presence and physical presence.

The night grew darker, yet the city lights glowed brighter and  between sighs, hatred, loneliness, laughter and the longing . Hope remained.

Because seasons change. ©️written by: Ann.

And beyond the red and white, beyond the noise and gifts , Bola believed  that one day she too would brask in  Love’s embrace, not because it’s Valentine’s Day but because true love had found her, quietly and completely.