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Chapter 7:The bench (Maya's pov)
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2026-02-27 15:00:13She walked.
That was the only thing she could do. Put one foot in front of the other and walk away from the lecture hall and the boy holding her notebook and the words she never meant anyone to see.
The bench by the science block.
She told him ten minutes.
She didn't know why she said that. She should have taken her notebook and walked away forever. That would have been the smartest thing. The safe thing.
She sat down on the bench. Facing the wall.
The same wall. The same bench. The same spot where he had sat beside her and said I think about you too.
She put the notebook on her lap. Stared at it.
She should open it. See which pages he saw. Know exactly how much of herself he had read without permission.
She couldn't open it.
Her hands were shaking.
Her phone buzzed.
Bisi: Where are you? Class ended forever ago.
Maya typed: Bench by science block.
Bisi: Alone?
Maya: Waiting.
Bisi: For who?
Maya: Him.
The coffee boy?
Maya: Yes.
Bisi: Tell me everything when you get back. EVERYTHING.
Maya put the phone down.
Looked at the wall.
Counted her breathing the way she did when things felt too big.
In. Out. In. Out.
She heard footsteps.
Didn't turn around.
The footsteps stopped. Then slow steps. Then he sat on the bench beside her. Not too close. Close enough.
They sat in silence.
The wall in front of them. The world behind them.
Then Ethan said: "I'm sorry."
She didn't answer.
"I shouldn't have opened your notebook. I knew I shouldn't. I did it anyway."
Still nothing.
"I'm not sorry I read it," he said quietly. "That's the worst part. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry you feel like I took something that wasn't mine, but I'm not sorry I know."
Maya turned to look at him.
He was looking at the wall. His face opened. Honest. Scared even.
"What do you know?" she asked.
He turned to her.
"I know you wrote Thursday and crossed it out. I know you wrote things that get comfortable get complicated and didn't cross that out. I know you wrote maybe that is not always bad and really meant it."
Her chest tightened.
"I know you wrote I wish I could call him," he said. "And I know he is me."
Maya looked away.
The wall. She stared at the wall.
"I wrote that before my father collapsed," she said. "Before everything. I was just… I was sitting in my room and I couldn't stop thinking about you and I wrote it without deciding to. Like my hand moved on its own."
"That's the best part."
She looked at him.
"That you didn't decide to," he said. "That it just came out. That means it's real."
"It means I'm stupid."
"It means you're human."
She shook her head. Looked back at the wall.
"You don't understand," she said. "I don't do this. I don't sit on benches with boys. I don't write things in margins about calling people. I have a system. I have plans. I have…"
"I know."
"You keep saying that."
" That's because I keep meaning it."
She stared at the wall.
He didn't push. Didn't touch her. Didn't fill the silence. Just sat there beside her like he had all the time in the world.
After a long moment, she said: "My father is in the hospital."
Ethan went still beside her.
"He collapsed at his shop. His heart. They did surgery. He's okay but he's… he's not okay. He's weak. He can't work. And there's…" She stopped.
"What?"
She thought about Mrs. Adebayo. The ordinary man. The questions. The watching.
"Nothing," she said. "There's just a lot. Money. Bills. The shop. My mother looking smaller than I've ever seen her."
Ethan was quiet for a moment. Then: "What do you need?"
She looked at him.
"What?"
"What do you need? Right now. Today. What helps?"
She stared at him.
No one had ever asked her that. Not once. People told her what she needed. People told her to be strong, to study hard, to send money, to hold it together. No one ever just asked.
"I don't know," she said honestly.
"Okay."
"That's it? Just okay?"
"What else should I say?"
"I don't know. Something about how it'll be fine. How I'm strong. How I can handle it."
"You are strong. You will handle it. But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone."
She felt something in her chest. Something warm and painful at the same time.
"You don't even know me," she said.
"I know you read ahead. I know you have a system. I know you send money home and your father calls you Aya and you drink instant coffee that tastes like disappointment."
She smiled.
"You said that before."
"Because it's true."
They sat in silence again. But different this time. Softer.
Then Maya said: "I'm going back home tomorrow. For a few days. Maybe longer."
Ethan nodded.
"I don't know when I'll be back."
He nodded again.
"I don't know if I can do this. Whatever this is. I don't have room for…"
"I know."
She looked at him. Really looked.
He was looking at the wall. Calm. Steady. Like he wasn't going anywhere.
"Why are you still here?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I just told you I'm leaving. I just told you I don't have room. Most people would walk away."
He turned to her.
"Good thing I'm not most people."
She stared at him.
Then she did something she didn't expect.
She laughed.
Not a big laugh. Just a small one. A release.
Ethan smiled. The real one.
"There it is," he said.
"What?"
"Your laugh. I've been waiting for it."
She shook her head. Looked away so he wouldn't see her face.
"I have to go," she said. "Packing. Bisi is waiting. My mother needs me to call."
She stood up.
He stood too.
They faced each other beside the bench.
"I'll text you," he said. "Not too much. Just to know you're okay."
She nodded.
"And when you come back," he said, "I'll be here. Same bench. Same wall. Same idiot who buys coffee from the good cart."
She looked at him.
For one second. Just one second. She let herself feel it. Whatever this was. Growing in her chest despite all her efforts to stop it.
"You're going to buy me coffee again," she said. "After everything I said."
"Yes."
"You're impossible."
"I know."
She almost smiled again.
Then she turned and walked away.
She didn't look back.
But she felt him standing there. Watching her go.
Her phone buzzed when she was halfway to her room.
Ethan: I wish you could call me too.
She stopped walking.
Stared at the words.
Then she typed back: I know.
She put the phone in her pocket and kept walking.
And for the first time since her mother called, she felt like she could breathe.
Pinakabagong kabanata
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