Oxygen 2

He watched me. Like a lion watches its prey before jumping in.

Even danced with a girl he follows on Instagram— I routinely checked his following and followers counts. Every girl does that.

Read Part One Here. 

He watched me but like in a way, he didn't know how to anticipate my moves and I don't even blame him. 

For one, I didn't unblock him yet here I was, still at his birthday party... In his house and two, I also wasn't kissing anyone like I typically would be doing, I was just yelling song lyrics and jumping around with Stan and his boyfriend Tolu.

"What are you playing at, Estella?" Someone grabbed my arm and it made me feel like I'd inhaled pure oxygen because his voice, his hand on me filled me up like I was previously just an ordinary deflated balloon.

"Maduka," I heaved out his name as I turned to stare at him. I felt my chest begin to pound hard against my ribs, my tongue begin to water, my temperature start to rise and, this feeling. This. This is what I live for.

Before him, without him, there’s none of this. It feels like I’m robotic, just living life as if there’s a void in my chest, but this, him... He fills up that void. How could I ever leave this. 

His eyes moved to my lips as his name left them and I could feel that he could feel it too. I think that’s why he still hasn’t been able to drop me even after I'd hurt him. I'd cheated on him but only once and only after I spotted his pattern of breaking up with me just to get with someone new, and I made sure he'd learned about it too, I honestly think I just cheated so he could find out I did. 

So he'd know, I'd let another man touch me after he was so certain only he ever would. I loved that finding out drove him almost to the point of insanity.

 I'd cheated, and it'd killed him because to him he'd never cheated. To him, he broke up with me before sleeping with someone else, so he had never cheated on me. But to me, potato, potahto.

I'd hurt him, but he still hasn't been able to drop me because of this electricity between us that exceeds the point of tension. It was a life source itself.

"Come with me—"

"Do you want to?" Staniel cut in, and I felt someone else pull my hand. The difference in touch was too painfully obvious. Staniel wished he was straight so we could just end up together, and I wished he could also touch me the way Maduka effortlessly did.

"I’d be fine." I whispered, feeling like my breath had been snatched out of my lungs.

"Easy, kitten." Maduka snickered at him and waited for Staniel to drop my arm, and when he did, Maduka waited for me to get in front of him before we started heading up to the only place sound didn’t reach in his house. The diamond closet.

We reached the closet, and I could feel the tension building between us. He stood there for a moment, the white bright light made it seem like we were in heaven, the glitter on the ceiling felt like we'd stepped into another dimension, he stood there not saying anything, but the way he looked at me—eyes full of something unreadable—made my chest tighten.

His locs were packed up in a bun and his nose ring glittered under the perfect lighting in this room. I wished I could freeze time and just stay here, forever in this moment where we both didn't say anything but just stared at each other. 

But of course, I couldn't. 

"You blocked me," Maduka finally said, his voice low.

I met his gaze. "You snapped at me," I replied, keeping it simple, though the weight of it hung in the air.

I did block him, for an entire week before Staniel even found out and another week after he found out. 

There was a long silence before he spoke again, his voice strained. "Is that all it took for you to cut me off? A few words? A little fight?"

"You don’t understand," I said, my voice shaky now. "It wasn’t just the fight, Maduka. It was everything. The way you’ve been pushing me away, the way you shut down every time life gets hard. I can’t keep doing this if you’re not willing to fight for us too."

Another long silence followed, thick with things unsaid, begging to be spoken. He ran a hand through his locked hair, looking frustrated. Then stepped closer, his body language almost pleading for me to say something. But I didn't, so he had to. 

"Look, Estella," he began, voice low and strained. "I’m sorry, alright? Every time I try, I end up hurting you. I can’t… I can’t keep pretending like I’m fine when I’m not. You don’t know what it’s like in my head. The pressure, the noise… it’s suffocating."

I could feel it. His anger, his unease—he was fighting himself. Fighting whatever it was that gnawed at him every day, that made him pull away from me the second things started to feel heavy.

"What are you talking about?" I pushed, though I already knew the answer. There had been signs. "What happened last two weeks? You—"

"I told you, I just... I couldn’t take it!" His voice cracked, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "It’s like everything is just one big storm in my head, and the smallest thing sets me off. I snap, and I hate it, Estella. I hate that I push you away, but I can’t help it!"

My stomach twisted. The man I’d once thought impenetrable was crumbling down before me. The rage in his eyes wasn’t directed at me—it never had been. But the way he shut me out, the way he withdrew from everything and everyone when life felt too much? That was a problem. And I had to face it.

"You’ve been pushing me away for weeks," I said, my voice shaky but firm. "You yelled at me, then barely spoke to me. And now you’re saying you can’t take it? What about us? What about what we have?"

He swallowed hard, eyes glistening but not with tears—no, Maduka wasn’t the type to cry. "I’m too broken, Estella. I don’t know how to be the man you need me to be. You deserve better than this."

I shook my head, feeling the pit in my stomach grow deeper. "I just want you to let me in. Let me help. But every time I try, you push me away harder. I've been trying for years with you Maduka and you know this, it's like we're in a loop and I'm so tired."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking torn between wanting to say something and knowing it wouldn't matter. "I love you, Estella. God knows I do. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I can’t be who you need me to be, Estella. I can’t keep giving you bits of myself when you deserve all of me."

My heart raced, the space between us growing wider with each word. I could feel the distance—so real, so painful. Just when I thought I had him, when I thought maybe—just maybe—he would finally let me in, he was pulling away.

"It matters, Maduka. Don’t tell me it doesn’t. Don’t tell me that we don’t matter," I pleaded, stepping closer to him, desperate to bridge the gap.

But he was already stepping back. "I can’t. You deserve more than someone like me," he muttered, his voice barely audible now.

And just like that, in the span of a breath, he was pulling away completely. Like he hadn’t just dragged me up here, away from everything, like I wasn't happy before he'd come to me, he pulled away even though he'd brought me up here when I was on my own, like he hadn't dragged me to this moment where I thought maybe—just maybe—he’d finally let me in.

Maduka walked out the door, leaving me standing there, the air around me suddenly cold, more cold than I knew it really was. He was gone.

And as filling as he was, watching him walk out the door tore up a deeper hole in the void in me. 

Read Part Three Here