Somewhere in October last year, life changed because of Peace.

We were out for lunch from work when she took a call and returned looking like she was just about to burst into tears. It was her landlord. He was evicting her immediately. He needed the room as fast as he could get it, and if she didn’t comply, he would send boys to threaten her and destroy her belongings. She said, “I know that man, his words don’t go to waste.” Then, “I don’t know how I can get a room within my budget in a week.” I was marveled myself. “This Accra landlords, eh,” I responded. We were quiet for a while, thinking about our options.

I stay alone, big room and a hall with a washroom inside. I blurted it out before we knew what was happening. I went to her place, stayed the night while we packed everything into bags and boxes, chatting about life and work, and brought her home with me, by my side.

As the gentleman that I am, I keep my life limited to the hall, the kitchen, and the washroom, while she takes the bedroom.

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That is how my life changed in seconds. For example; the bachelor smell that used to emanate from my place is gone. The air doesn’t smell so stuck anymore. There are air fresheners everywhere, a bit of decoration here and there, photo frames on the walls, and at Christmas there was a little DIY Christmas tree.

The house smells of chicken and fried rice and a lot more, which my stomach is very grateful for. I pay with my t-shirts. I don’t know what it is with women and stealing t-shirts, but since she came, I keep buying more and they keep going missing from my wardrobe. She keeps taking them and pacifying me with her famous stir fry indomie, one of my favourite meals from her.

At first, it was easy to live with her, but things have changed. I am so much in love with her, her chatting, her food, her support, her words, her day. I want to love her every day, every moment.

We have known each other since time immemorial. We walked the same path to school with our mothers behind us, gisting about our fathers’ ugly attitudes. We shared the same textbook at one point. We split someone’s money at another point because someone’s share was missing. It was pure, genuine friendship that never blossomed beyond that, but right now, in my heart, at least for me, it has.

The first time I spotted Peace at my workplace, I was so excited. She was the new hire. I was grinning from ear to ear while they took her through the onboarding and orientation. We share the same office. Her desk isn’t too far from mine. I could just stretch my neck and there she is, the most beautiful girl, wrapped up in her business, replying to mails or checking accounts. I sit there and shiver at the thought of her being solely mine.

When it’s time for lunch, she sends a smile my way and I know it’s time. So I take my wallet and we walk down to get food. At the canteen, all I see is her. My co-workers move like trees to me. I no longer notice them. I watch her eat her meals diligently and we have conversations, gossip about who and whom. I know there are rumours going around that we might be dating. Oh, how I wish it were true, but it really isn’t.

It’s Not God’s Law For A Man To Apologize To A Woman

We share the same office. We share the same heart. At work every day, I can’t seem to concentrate. My KPIs are not up to the standard that once won me three awards for worker of the month. Right now my heart is pressed with matters of the heart, and the one thing that puts food on my table is taking a back seat.

I’m juggling between love and professional life. I’m rethinking everything, searching for answers about whether to go or not go. Unfortunately, I can’t hear my own thoughts on this one. She is my friend, my colleague, my roommate, and now I love her. I’m sure our parents would be happy, but what about our superiors at work and management? What if someone had to resign and it had to be her?

And I’m scared. Scared of what we would be putting at stake. The office rules. Our friendship. Is it worth the risk? Can it be easy to go back to being friends after we have tried dating and it didn’t work out?

During working hours, everything between us is professional. But back home, we do things lovers do. Without the title.

She smells like the end of a long day and still I want to stay close. We share silences that don’t need filling. She steals the blanket and I let her because honestly, I sleep better when she’s near anyway.

So how do I tell her? That she is the missing rib I have been searching for. That I am done doing this almost-thing. That every time I’m around her something in me just settles, quietly, like it finally found where it belongs.

—Melvin

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