Òyì nke e mepụtara

Outside, the streetlights flickered on, one by one. Inside, hope flickered off. But still… she waited. Because sometimes, holding on feels easier than letting go. Hours passed. Her coffee had long gone cold. Her phone battery dipped lower and lower, just like her expectations. Every time the door opened, her head lifted — just for a second — before falling again. It was never him. Eventually, the café closed. “Sorry, we’re shutting down,” the barista said gently.