I have a museum in my former home, dedicated just to my wife's pictures.
It breaks my heart that Nneoma feels like an outcast that no matter what, she'll always be hated.Diadem really meant a lot to her
Chuwkudera's POV
Losing my wife taught me how to value relationships you could be here today and gone tomorrow. Death was an enigma. My wife's empty eyes still haunt me; her warmth died on that day.
There is no time I call her parents that her mom doesn't break down in tears. If I had known, maybe we would have adopted a child instead. I've thought about the alternatives, but sometimes guilt keeps me stuck. She died trying to give life how was I supposed to be happy after that?
Nneoma lightly tapped my shoulder. "It's not your fault. I'm sure she would want you to know that. I'm also sure she wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life thinking of alternatives. She would want you to see someone else, and slowly live again. She would want you to give a child a mother that truly cares. She would want you to honor her in a healthy way, not in a way that keeps you from moving forward."
"I might not have lost a partner, and I'm not trying to invalidate your feelings or compare, but losing Diadem as a friend hit me hard. I have never been blocked like that it punched the breath out of me. I stayed still for hours. I couldn't breathe. I wailed, not cried. Our friendship died that day."
"I understood pain differently after that. If Diadem could go, anyone could. I had a hard time grieving the parts of me that died with that friendship. No one could understand why Diadem was so important to me. No one could understand the bond we shared."
"I've never had to let go of both a friend and a lover at once. It felt ripped from me with no trace left in its wake. The betrayal burned deep. The what ifs and maybes clawed at me. I turned to God because I didn't know how to go through this on my own."
"Therapy helped me let out my emotions. The questions took days to put into answers some sessions ended with me crying, others with me angrier than before. I went from being someone open to being someone too scared to open up."
"The nightmares plagued me. I had to keep my eyes open. Prayer was all I had. I wasn't immune to the hatred, but I made peace with it. Still, I couldn't make sense of it. What did I have? Nothing. Fear became my companion. Anxiety became my friend."
"I was ruined. I got used to people I had never spoken to hating me. Word flew around. I felt like an outcast in my own church a place meant to be home. The space felt claustrophobic; it drained all the breath I had left."
"I would wake with dark circles under my eyes, pray, then crawl to my laptop. I cut a lot of people off. They already hated me what more could they do? I trimmed my circle. I asked God to bare their hearts to me. What I saw wasn't pleasant."
"My stomach churned with irritation, my heart squeezed with pain. The girl I once was had been murdered before her time. Slowly, I became a ghost of myself."
"I missed laughing until I fell apart. I missed running to tell my friends good news. I wasn't just mourning Diadem; I was mourning the death of who I was. The friendships. The joy."
"I was lonely. One time, my friends set me up on a blind date. It didn't go well. I tried to be civil, but one name lingered in my heart. I forced it to the back of my mind. It took two years before I allowed anyone to touch me again."
"I wasn't a one-night-stand kind of girl. Going out of my comfort zone was a no-no. Instead, I replayed the last time I made out with Diadem in my head. Even when I was horny, I couldn't. I relapsed into the memories of my Diadem archives."
"When my mom asked about him, I kept it surface level. She sensed something was wrong. She poked, but I knew she would slap me if she heard the truth. So I spared her the details."
"At gatherings, I refused to speak of it. I was tired. Diadem would always be special to me, even though I never thought we would speak again. He was unpredictable. I was tired of the way he spoke to me. I wasn't going to add his pain to the nightmares and loss of friendship I already carried."
"They never knew who my father was—I do not say this as an insult. But maybe if they knew, they would know who I was?"
"I worked harder. I saw the looks from people at events. I even overheard someone whisper: 'What's this girl doing here? She came for something else.' I ignored him—until I spoke at the event. We do not tell, we show."
That's an art I learned from writing.
"2024–2025 changed my life. I'll never forget it. It's etched into my heart and my mind. I lost myself in the process of learning, burying my pain in physics, games, and books. I barely got time to grieve the person I once was."
I understand grief. I am sorry you had to go through that.
Chuwkudera's POV (continued)
Whoa. That's a lot to happen to someone at once. I can't imagine how that pain changed you.
I'm so sorry about Diadem. Funny how he's back now. Took him long enough.
You and Wale deserve each other.
I have a museum in my former home, dedicated just to my wife's pictures.
Nneoma turned to me, her face melting with happiness and admiration. "I love how you loved her. Honestly, if you ever need to talk about her, I'm here to listen. I wish your daughter could have come. I might not be her mom, but I promise to take care of her like my own daughter."
I wiped tears from my eyes. Wale had won with Nneoma her heart is truly pure gold. I hadn't opened up to anyone like this in years. Only Wale knew this part of me.
Nneoma carried a warmth I loved. Crazy how she went through all this it must have been so painful. I love her for Wale.
Speaking of which… I turned to her again.
"Nneoma, Wale loves you. Don't forget that. I know he's been stalling on something he wants to say, but it's only because he's scared to lose you. Just trust him, okay? It's not my place to tell you, but Wale can't live without you. Each time you're not around, he's stuck thinking about you. He barely even gives other girls his attention. If you weren't related to him, I could tell you story after story girls throw themselves at him, but Wale barely glances at them. Even his best friend Chioma keeps complaining he never calls her anymore."
Nneoma's POV
Chuwkudera asked, "What kind of nightmares do you get? Are they the ones where you're being stabbed or running?"
I had many.
There was one where everywhere was blocked. They cut my hair. I woke up angry, praying.
Once, I even woke up with cuts on my arm.
I hated forcing my eyes to stay open, but I was scared to sleep. What if my enemy struck that way?
I gulped hard.
Just then, Wale texted again: "Nneoma, can you guys come back? We're about to start the sip and paint."
Barbie as Narrator
Chuwkudera calls his late wife's parents? He has a freaking museum dedicated to his wife? What? That's god-level love.
It breaks my heart that Nneoma feels like an outcast that no matter what, she'll always be hated.Diadem really meant a lot to her. Sigh. I can't even begin to imagine the pain, the dark circles under her eyes, the burdens she carried.
The part where she said she never got the chance to fully grieve her past self… that was the saddest.
Bye for now. Please like, subscribe, and share.