Her Love, His Scars
Chapter Three – Beards, Boots & Bad Decisions
"Girl, you gave your number to a roadside baller?"
Chioma nearly dropped her meat pie in shock. They were sitting under the shade of the big almond tree behind the design building, the spot where they always hung out between classes.
Ziora rolled her eyes. "He wasn't roadside. He was in a car. A black Corolla."
"Ah!" Fola threw her head back dramatically. "A Corolla? Zii, you're finished. That's their national car!"
Even Halima, the chillest of the group, raised a brow. "So you're telling me… you, the queen of fashion, the girl who didn't reply her last three toasters, gave your number to a footballer?"
Ziora chuckled into her bottle of water. "I didn't know he was a footballer then. He just… spoke nicely. And he didn't act like one of those rude guys."
Fola leaned in, whispering with full dramatic effect: "They never act rude at first. That's the setup."
Chioma nodded seriously. "I'm sorry babe, but football boys? They're fine, yes. But they're dangerous. One minute he's calling you 'Zee', next minute he's uploading your replacement with a 'Game day 😎' caption."
Ziora laughed. "You people are mad."
"No, we're experienced," Halima said calmly, tucking her braids behind her ear. "They're either full of themselves, full of women, or full of both."
"But he's not even on WhatsApp," Ziora said.
Fola widened her eyes. "That's worse! What's he hiding? Baby mama? Sugar mummy? A girlfriend abroad?"
Ziora smirked. "He's not like that."
They all turned to look at her.
"What do you mean he's not like that?" Chioma asked. "You just met him yesterday."
Ziora's smile faded slightly. "I don't know. The way he talks… it's like he sees me. Like I'm not just another pretty girl walking."
The girls exchanged silent glances. Halima finally spoke, softly.
"Zii… that's exactly what makes it dangerous. Those ones that see you too clearly? They know where to hurt you."
Ziora sighed and picked at the label on her water bottle. "Can't I just talk to a guy without all of you planning my heartbreak in advance?"
Fola leaned back. "Sure, talk to him. But don't fall. Not fast. Not first."
Chioma nodded. "And definitely not for a footballer in a Corolla."
The group burst into laughter again, and for a moment the teasing filled the air like perfume. But inside, Ziora felt… off. Something stung.
She didn't like the way they talked about him — like he was just another playboy in cleats.
They didn't know how his voice slowed when he said her name.
Or how he didn't beg or brag or pressure her like the others.
And the worst part?
She was already in too deep.
She just didn't want to admit it to herself.
Not yet.