I watched Zarat walk away happily to retrieve my backpack. Feeling nauseous, I asked her to fetch my bag from the classroom. I explained to her where to find it, as she already knew my favorite spot in class and should locate it easily.

We’ve been dating for two years, starting during our 200-level days. Unfortunately, due to an ASUU strike and the COVID-19 pandemic, we were still in our 300-level after more than two years.

I dated her to get over my ex-girlfriend, a fact she was oblivious to, who shattered my heart like glass. I dated Zarat to heal from the heartbreak. It was quite easy to get her to date me; she had a crush on me, evident from how she looked at me. I caught her a couple of times staring at me as I walked or talked. It was obvious she adored me.

I was a fan of aesthetics, and Zarat was incredibly beautiful, though not as beautiful as Jane Eyre, my ex. Her real name was Eze Janet, but I loved to call her Jane Eyre, a character and title of my favorite book.

She was as toxic as they come, but I loved her nonetheless. She was really beautiful, with an incredible body structure to match. I always thought myself lucky to have her. She had a bad attitude, crazy entitlement, and was a control freak, but she was really attractive.

We dated for a year, a year of ups and downs, heartbreak after heartbreak. She literally toyed with me before finally crushing my heart. I regretted the day I asked her out; it was during 100-level days. I had a huge crush on her, though I tried really hard to hide it. My best friend, AbdulRauf, detected it quite easily. He pressured me to ask her out, which, after days of mockery and encouragement, I finally did, and she accepted.

We had problems from the beginning of the relationship. She demanded money every time, and I was financially okay but not that loaded for her exorbitant demands. It was the first crisis in the relationship. She started getting shady phone calls, which she often left my presence to receive. I heard voices of men in the conversations. She gaslit me about being insecure every time I brought up the topic, so I stopped asking.

She wanted to control my every move, especially when it came to my friend Rauf. Well, the feeling was mutual; he hated her too. After a short time of us dating, I let her know that AbdulRauf was off-limits. He was more of a brother than a friend. After a turbulent year, she finally broke up with me, still during the summer holiday of our first year in school.

A few weeks later, I asked Zarat out during the holiday. I had to ask her out over text after days of attention and pretending I cared. She accepted immediately, of course, she did; I knew it was a dream come true for her. I’d noticed her since the beginning of the year. We were grouped together during Chemistry practical, our first of many together. My matriculation number serially preceded hers, so I knew we’d be grouped together many times. She was the group leader due to her brilliance and hard work. I had a way with words, and I knew I could sway her if I wanted to, which I did to avoid doing practical work. She was truly mesmerized by my charm and tried to get close to me. I used it to my advantage to avoid further work in the group during practical or group work for the rest of the year. She always tried to make conversation with me and comment on my every post on social media, which I often ignored until the summer of the year.

I communicated with her for three days in a row before I finally asked her out, and she was very happy. Perhaps the highest form of happiness she had ever felt; I could feel it. I told her that if I didn’t get an answer that night, she should forget I ever asked. She gave me a yes immediately.

Zarat has a petite stature and was truly beautiful, with lovely eyes, an addictive smile, and an innocent mind. She was intelligent and calm, rarely getting angry or using profane words when she did. She really loved and adored me. She literally did whatever I wanted. I wasn’t over my ex, Janet, to notice.

A month or two after resumption, I was tired of the relationship. I wanted to set her free; she didn’t deserve to be dated out of boredom or to get over someone. She was too good to be true, a saint, but I was in too deep. I already knew so much about her. She had such a sad life, indeed. Her father died long ago, and she and her sister, Zaidat, had only their mom to care for them. She told me how hardworking her mother was, leaving home early in the morning to go to her shops and coming back late at night to give them a better life. She encouraged them to focus on their education and acquire skills to be one step ahead, which they did.

They were both talented and beautiful; Zarat was a very good cook, often working with caterers for quick cash, and she was excellent at it. She could prepare any dish and snack, a privilege I enjoyed immensely. She cooked whatever I wanted, from my favorite food to meals I’d never tasted. We tried new foods often; I’d screenshot foods on Instagram and send them to her to prepare, which she did. She was also skilled at tailoring, sewing most of her clothes, which were beautiful. Her sister was quite good at making bags, making them at her leisure. I’d seen some of her work, including Zarat’s bags; they were really beautiful.

She should have had a good life, but it wasn’t so. Bad things always seemed to find her, from misplacing her clients’ money to losing her phone or getting scammed. Her bank account was hacked once, wiping out hers and Zaidat’s school fees. Her bag was stolen a day before an exam, containing her notes, phones, cash, and school ID. She wept bitterly that day, and bad luck always seemed to find her. Somehow, she always managed to go through the trouble and remain positive, no matter what.

I didn’t want to break her heart; I didn’t want to be another source of her sadness. She seemed to derive so much happiness from me, the way she loved and adored me. I wanted to push through and make her tired and bored of me; she would break up on her own accord. That didn’t seem to happen; she avoided fights with me. We’d never fought, and she rarely argued with me. She chatted me up when I didn’t and called me when I didn’t reply to her text. She didn’t bother to question me when I ignored both. She didn’t complain when she saw me talking to a lady, no matter how close we seemed to be. It didn’t matter what I did; she didn’t complain. I knew deep down she was hurt; I just wanted her to break it off herself.

I started to feel really guilty about how I treated her but didn’t know what to do. I was making changes, trying my best to treat her better. This was perhaps a relationship anyone could ever wish for; I couldn’t ruin it.

I saw her enter the class from a distance. We were heading to the school clinic and then to my place once she returned. I was feeling extremely sick from the roadside pineapple I had eaten earlier in the morning, suffering from a painful stomachache, the worst I’d ever felt. I struggled with the pain while waiting for her on a chair. Eventually, I stood up to see what was taking her so long.

Then it happened.

I heard the loudest bang I’d ever heard in my life. An intense energy threw me away, and I hit my back against a chair. I saw the class erupt in flames.

It was a bomb blast.

I was numb, spaced out, surrounded by the loud cries of people. Some were screaming out of fear, others out of pain. Some were crushed under debris, and some were being burnt alive. People like me who were fortunate enough to escape stared in horror at what was unfolding before us. My senses slowly returned, and I could think clearly now. That was the class Zarat had entered. It could have been me, but she was trapped in that horror because of me.

I began running toward the class, hoping against hope that there was still a chance I could save her. I was almost there when I felt someone pulling me back from behind. I turned back and saw Rauf holding on to me.

“What are you doing? Are you mad?” he shouted, his fear evident in his eyes.

“Zarat is in there, I need to get her out,” I cried.

“You can’t. The fire is too intense. You’ll be burnt alive before you even get close,” he said.

I looked up to see the building engulfed in flames. It was a raging inferno, as if heaven and earth were burning. It was truly hell on earth, and nobody could survive that.

“Please, I have to,” I begged him.

“You can’t save her. No one can save them. It’s too late,” he replied.

I wrestled him off me and sprinted toward the building, like a man possessed. But then, another explosion erupted from the building, and I was thrown back again. I hit my head on the floor, and for a moment, the world stopped. Everything seemed to revolve around me simultaneously. I couldn’t stand up. I heard another bang, this time from a few blocks away. The world around me was in flames, and I was rooted to the ground, unable to move a muscle. I might be burnt alive too.

Someone pulled me up. It was Rauf again.

“Run!” he screamed.

I was still weak, my head spinning, but I ran as fast as I could, with Rauf’s help. Everyone was running for their lives, not knowing where another bomb might explode. I ran in the direction Rauf pushed me until I passed out.