Pray For Me, Ubanji - by Emmanuel Daniji

In the eastern kingdom where the morning sun bowed gently before the hills of Igboland, there lived a princess titled Ugo Eze They called her “The Pride of the King.” But pride does not cancel longing. And royalty does not silence the heart. Ugo Eze had fallen in love. Not with a boy who chased masquerades in the village square.Not with a prince still learning how to hold a sword without shaking. She fell for a man. A foreign prince named Ubanji. He did not belong to her land.He did not belong to her age.He did not belong to her season. But somehow, he belonged to her heart. Ubanji was everything maturity looks like when it dresses well - calm voice, patient wisdom, stories of battles fought and kingdoms negotiated. He spoke and storms reduced themselves to drizzles. He listened and her fears felt embarrassed for existing. He was not loud.He was not desperate.He was not trying. And that was the problem. Because when a young princess falls for a seasoned prince, it feels like safety. Until it begins to feel like distance. At first, their conversations were fireworks over the River Niger - bright, breathtaking, unforgettable. He told her about lands beyond her imagination. She told him about dreams still forming inside her chest. He called her “Little Lioness.” She called him “My Anchor.” But anchors are meant to steady ships - not sail with them forever. The council began to whisper. Her maidens began to worry. Even the elders who loved her said gently: “Princess, the man you love is a chapter ahead of your story.” Ugo Eze tried to ignore them. Love does not listen to arithmetic. Love does not calculate timelines. But seasons do. Ubanji was preparing for legacy.She was still discovering identity. He was ready for settlement.She was still experimenting with becoming. One evening, under a moon too honest to lie, she realized something that broke her gently: She did not need to stop loving him. She needed to outgrow him. And so she went to him - not as a princess demanding forever - but as a young woman choosing her future. “Ubanji,” she whispered, “you have loved me with maturity. But I must learn to love someone who grows at my pace. I cannot borrow your season when mine is just beginning.” He did not argue. Because maturity recognizes timing. He looked at her the way men look at sunsets - knowing they cannot hold them, only appreciate them. “Then go,” he said softly. “And when you remember me, do not regret me. Pray for me.” She smiled through tears. “Pray for me too.” And just like that, the love that felt like destiny became a blessing released. Ugo Eze did not leave because she stopped loving him. She left because she started loving herself correctly. She chose a future where laughter did not need translation.Where growth did not feel like catching up.Where companionship did not feel like mentorship. Some loves are teachers. Some loves are partners. Wisdom is knowing the difference. Years later, when songs were sung about the eastern princess who chose alignment over attachment, they never called her foolish. They called her brave. Because it takes courage to walk away from what feels safe…For what feels synchronized. And somewhere in a distant kingdom, Prince Ubanji would sometimes hear her name carried by travelers. He would smile. And he would pray for her. Not because she failed him. But because she chose her time. <h2>TwoCents Takeaway:</h2>Love is not just about.... <h2>TwoCents Reflection:</h2>Are you holding onto someone because .... <h4>Goodbye February....</h4>

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