Photo Credits: Unsplash
Everyone in our 200-level class knew I was in love with Amara.
We’d been classmates since JSS3, but university made it obvious, same lectures, same sodality in church where I was NFCS secretary and she was VP. I carried her books during group projects, prayed beside her at meetings, stole glances during Mass. Classmates teased, “Chidi and Amara, when’s the wedding?” She laughed it off, but her smiles felt like hope.
I’d finally summoned courage. With my best friend Emeka, we planned the perfect proposal after exams: a quiet dinner, a ring I’d saved for (fake, but real feelings), words I’d practiced, “Amara, since JSS3, you’ve been my heart.” Emeka hyped me: “Bro, she’s waiting for you to say it.” That Christmas break, I was ready.
Then I got home. Dad, widowed since Mum left years ago, had changed, smiling more, dressing sharper. “Son, big surprise tonight,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I’ve invited someone special for dinner. Bring your best manners.” He’d been through hell, lonely nights, failed dates, depression. He deserved love. I was happy for him.
The doorbell rang. A woman walked in first, elegant, chatting with Dad like old friends. Then Amara stepped behind her, carrying a bowl of salad, a confused smile fading when she saw me. “Chidi? What are you…?”
Dad beamed. “Meet my girlfriend, Mrs. Okoro, and her beautiful daughter, Amara.”
The room spun. My proposal plans shattered. Amara’s eyes met mine, shock, then pity. We sat for dinner like zombies while Dad and her mum talked about future plans, visits, “blending families.”
Later, in the kitchen washing plates, Amara whispered, “You okay?”
I nodded, throat tight. “Did you know?”
She shook her head. “No. This is crazy.”
That night, alone, reality hit.
If Dad marries her mum, Amara becomes my stepsister. In Nigeria, stepsibling marriage isn’t blood incest, but socially? Church? Family? Impossible. Whispers, scandals, “What kind of abomination?”. All those years of silent love, gone.
How do I stop loving her?
I tried. Avoided sodality meetings, skipped class group chats, deleted her photos. But seeing her laugh in lectures, hearing her pray… it pulled. Dad glowed, first real joy since Mum. He deserved it. I couldn’t sabotage that.
Emeka called: “Propose now!” “How? She’s about to be family.” I gave him the full gist.
Silence. “Damn, bro.”
I have chosen silence. Supported Dad’s happiness. Buried my ring plans.
But at night, I cry for the boy who loved from JSS3, for a love timing destroyed, not by rejection, but by family. Stepsister or not, my heart hasn’t learned to let go. And that hurts worst of all.
Nma’s Diaries….Life…Lessons…And everything inbetween
