Chapter 1: The Voice Note That Ended It All😔😩
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Zara Adebayo woke up to betrayal in surround sound.
Her phone buzzed once on the nightstand—once was enough. She fumbled for it in the half-dark, squinting at the screen. Chidi. A voice note. Forty-seven seconds.
Normal people sent good-morning texts. Chidi apparently sent execution notices
She tapped play before her brain could catch up.
His voice came through tinny and calm, like he was reading a shopping lis
"Zara… look, this thing isn't working anymore. I've been feeling it for a while. You're great, really, but we want different things. I've actually been seeing someone else. Ada. Yeah. She just… gets me, you know? No drama, no stress, no constant overthinking everything . I think it's better we end it now. No hard feelings, babe. Take care of yourself and maybe work on being a little less intense .
Beep.
Silence.
Zara stared at the waveform flatline on her screen. Forty-seven seconds. Two years reduced to less than a minute. She could've timed it with an egg.
She pressed play again.
"…I've actually been seeing someone else. Ada. Yeah…"
Again.
"…She just gets me, you know?"
Again.
Each replay carved a little deeper, like someone was slowly peeling the skin off her heart with a blunt knife. By the fourth time, her thumb was shaking so badly she accidentally favorited the damn thing.
She dropped the phone like it burned.
The room smelled of yesterday's stew and Aunty Ngozi's incense. Normal morning smells. Except nothing was normal anymore. Her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had been sleeping with her best friend. Best friend. The same Ada who'd cried on her shoulder last month about how single life was "so lonely." Apparently not lonely enough.
Zara swung her legs over the bed and stood. Her reflection in the wardrobe mirror looked like a stranger: braids half-collapsed from sleep, eyes puffy, mouth trembling like it wanted to say something but couldn't decide what.
She laughed. It came out jagged and wet.
"'No hard feelings,'" she mimicked in a high-pitched whisper. "Mscheww. Ode."
She marched to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and faced herself properly. Mascara from yesterday still clung stubbornly to her lashes. She looked like a heartbroken raccoon.
"Okay," she told the mirror. "You are not going to cry in public today. You cried enough in secondary school when that boy said your laugh was too loud. We're past that."
Her reflection didn't look convinced.
She splashed water on her face until it hurt, then brushed her teeth so hard her gums protested. When she spat, it felt symbolic.
By the time she stepped into the kitchen, Aunty Ngozi was already humming over the steaming kettle.
"Morning, my princess. You look like someone stole your joy.
Zara forced a smile. "Just traffic dreams, Aunty. You know how it is.
Aunty Ngozi narrowed her eyes but let it slide, sliding a plate of yam and egg toward her. "Eat. You're too skinny these days. Men like meat on the bone.
Zara almost choked on nothing. Meat on the bone. Perfect. Chidi clearly preferred Ada's version.
She ate standing up, barely tasting it, while scrolling through WhatsApp. No new messages from him. Of course not. He'd said his piece. Closure delivered via voice memo. Very 2025 of him
Temi's chat popped up
Temi: Babe u up? Need to rant about this new guy. He said "low-key" unironically. Kill me
Zara stared at the keyboard for ten seconds before typing:
Me: Chidi dumped me. Voice note. Ada.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Temi: WHAT
Temi: ADA ADA??
Temi: I'm coming over. We burning his picture.
Me: I'm going to work. Pitch day.
Temi: Then we burn his picture AFTER work. With petrol.
Temi: Am serious , I still have the lighter from secondary school the one we used to burn exams scripts when we failed maths . Symbolic right ?
Temi : or we go full Nollywood : pour schnapps on the photo , light it , dance around the fire chanting " good riddance ". Aunty Ngozi will think we are doing juju but who cares 🤪.
Temi : or we just key his car , I know were he parks . Small scratch .Big message .
Temi : say the word babe , I got bail morning from skipping owambe 😂( Nigerian traditional weddings ) . We ride or die .
Temi : But fr tho … are you okay ? Like actually okay ? Because if you're not am stealing a bike and coming to drag you out of that office .
Despite everything, Zara snorted. Trust Temi to turn heartbreak into arson plans
She pocketed the phone, grabbed her bag, and stepped outside into the Lagos morning. Okada horns blared. A woman balanced a tray of bread on her head while dodging puddles. Life kept moving.
Zara flagged a keke and squeezed in beside two aunties arguing about fuel prices
The driver glanced at her in the rearview. "Aunty, you dey okay? Your eye red."
"Dust," she lied automatically.
He nodded like he'd heard it before.
She leaned her head against the metal frame and closed her eyes. The voice note looped in her head on its own now.
No hard feelings.
She pictured Chidi's smug face, Ada's fake-sweet smile, the way they'd probably laughed about how easy it was to fool her
Anger flared hot and bright behind her ribs.
She opened her eyes, stared at the chaos outside the keke window—danfos swerving, hawkers shouting, life refusing to pause—and made herself a promise.
"No more settling," she whispered.
Not for men who voice-note breakups.
Not for friends who smile while stabbing.
Not for jobs that called her work "aggressively average" last week (yes, the client had actually said that).
She was Zara Adebayo. Loud laugh, big dreams, sometimes too much. And maybe—just maybe—that was the point.
The keke jerked to a stop outside her office building.
She paid, stepped out, straightened her blazer, and lifted her chin.
Today she had a pitch to nail.
Tomorrow she'd figure out how to stop feeling like someone had hollowed her out with a spoon.
But today?
Today she was showing up.
Even if her heart was still replaying forty-seven seconds of goodbye.
-- the normal life of a strong girl