True
2260;
Score | 29
Ink Horizon Student @ University of Abuja
In Literature, Writing and Blogging 2 min read
Strangers 3
<p>The class was social studies. The topic was marriage. And the class had been divided into six groups according to the number of subtopics, with fifteen minutes to prepare before we took the stage—the unflattering space at the front of the classroom—because Mr. Dan would rather flirt with every female teacher than actually teach.</p><p><br/></p><p>There were four people in my group, two people fewer than the other groups. The work had been divided, with Fatima, ever over-diligent, taking most of it. No one minded.</p><p><br/></p><p>Group One started when Mr. Dan returned, floating around the classroom and handing out unnecessary corrections—a farce at teaching. Ten minutes into their presentation, he was slipping out again. The presentation continued.</p><p><br/></p><p>My group was huddled on a desk by the window. I sat closest to it, my shoulder pressing into the wall with my textbook open on my lap, but I was watching the cars outside. Fatima wanted us to go over our parts again. Hannah told her she was doing too much for a fake presentation. She didn't want to hear any of it.</p><p><br/></p><p>Up front, the group was on types of marriage now, and the boy presenting, one of those preppy mixed kids, was defending arranged marriage like it was gospel.</p><p><br/></p><p>“Me, I cannot do arranged marriage, o.” Hannah said with a pout. “I want to marry someone that I know and love so that we'll be happy.” </p><p><br/></p><p>Kamsi scoffed. His lips pressed with contempt as he thumbed his textbook. His eyes met Hannah's. He watched her like she just got there, like she knew nothing, and couldn't wait for her to learn everything. He looked away, back to the front of the class where the presentation had somehow turned into a heated debate. </p><p><br/></p><p>“If I get married —”</p><p><br/></p><p>If. My ears pricked. Not when.</p><p>Like it was optional. Like he knew forever was a myth too. A time bomb with a long fuse. </p><p><br/></p><p>Another car passed. I'd lost count. I turned away from the window then.</p><p><br/></p><p>“—I’ll divorce and take the children, ‘cause… why not?” He said it lazily, but his jaw tightened like there was more behind it, more he wouldn’t give away.</p><p><br/></p><p>I didn’t flinch. Not like Hannah, who gasped so loud half the class turned. Maybe because I’d thought it too, about the quiet that sometimes comes only after things break.</p><p><br/></p><p>“Wow… please don't say that while we're presenting.” Fatima told him.</p><p><br/></p><p>I listened to Hannah chew him out, her words spilling over, frantic and pink-eared. He just laughed, teasing until her voice faltered. But when he turned to me…</p><p><br/></p><p>the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.</p>

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