You look so beautiful when you sleep.
“Sorry I had to dash off so quickly. I came here just to see you and I have a meeting early tomorrow back in Nigeria. By the time you read this, I’ll probably be on the plane because you were sleeping like the dead.
You look so beautiful when you sleep. This is the first time I’ve woken up next to you and it felt like the hundredth time because it was so familiar. So comfortable. Something I would want to do for the rest of my life.
I know you didn’t want to hear this when I told you, but I love you. I have no right to say this, no right to make you feel this way and I am so so sorry but at the end of the day, you really cannot help who you fall in love with. I will not insult you with the cliché of hating my wife or growing apart from her. We grew up together. From a young age, we always knew we would be getting married. She has been my best friend for decades and I will always have a special place in my heart for her. But you. What I feel for you is something I’ve never felt before. I’m not a reader of fiction, romantic or otherwise but I’m actually thinking of getting one of those Mills and Boons you women seem to like so I can articulate myself further. I feel like I’m stumbling about like a dizzy bear in a forest here.
I want to grow old with you. I want to have kids with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and sleep by your side every night. I want to have all your attention and emotions. I want to breathe you in and have you with me at every given time. I love the little snuffles you make when you sleep. Your very VERY loud snores. The way your eyes flash when you’re irritated and baby, you are almost always irritated by everything. Especially me. I love it still.
Fuck, I’m sounding so soppy here but I can’t stop writing. Everytime you twitch on the bed as I scribble, I freeze. Hoping you won’t see me writing here like a pathetic teenager. This is what you’ve done to me. Skulking about for a pen and paper to leave love notes for you. Amara Nnechi.
I hate the fact that I won’t see your face fill with awareness as you open your eyes this morning. I’m devastated that I won’t see the smile on your face when you see me next to you. Cocky? Probably. But it’s because I’d have had the same smile too. I miss you already and I’m not even out of your flat.
I know you probably hate me for this. You tried and tried to make this emotionless but I kept on pushing and pushing and now I know I’ve gone and done it. It can only go two ways: you cut me off completely, or you admit that you feel the same way about me. Because I know you do. I’ve never been so sure about love. I’ve never been in love so I know this is it. This is the love people talk about in those silly movies…well, they seem to make sense now. I know I have no right to say these things to you and evoke feelings, especially confusion because I’m the fucking married person here. But you never know. And that’s all I’ll say about this.
I have to go now or I’ll be late for my flight. I’m leaving my bank card with this note. No, I’m not buying you or treating you like a prostitute or anything of the sort, but I’d have liked… No, I would have loved to take you shopping. For whatever you wanted. Or gone shopping for you. Or got you biscuits if that’s all you wanted. But time. So please, spend. Spend 1 pound or 10,000 pounds. Just, please get something for yourself. Anything. Please do that for me.
See you soon, Amara.”
I crumpled the now wrinkled note in my hand, my 3 cup of tea cold and untouched yet again. Then I smoothened it quickly, reverently and read for the umpteenth time. My face a maelstrom of tears and laughter.