Òyì nke e mepụtara

It started like any other evening. The sky was painted in soft shades of orange and fading gold, and the air carried that quiet stillness just before night takes over. She sat by the window, her phone resting in her hand, her eyes flicking to the screen every few seconds. He said he’d be there. “7 PM. Don’t be late,” he had smiled. And she believed him. She always did. At first, she wasn’t worried. Five minutes passed, then ten. She adjusted her hair, checked her reflection,