I still remember the promise I made to myself the first time I moved into my new apartment in Block 12: no distractions, no friends, no parties, no falling in love again.
After my last heartbreak, I just wanted nothing but peace. My new apartment was nothing like the last compound I lived in. This news was old, peeling paint, and an almost falling gate that screeched whenever you opened it with all the strength left in you. A typical aba compound. My room was small, but I made sure to keep it clean. Also, the sun made sure to kiss my room every morning before it rose, slanting its golden lines through my curtains. Even with such beauty, I still found it hard to breathe in the first few days as a result of my neighbor upstairs playing a familiar, faint sound on his piano as I was about to sleep.
I listened hard; it was “When You Say Nothing at All,” a song that used to be my ex’s favorite. At first, I waved it off as just a mere coincidence, but as days went by, he kept playing the same song on and on, at the same time, 9 p.m. sharp. And every time I heard that song, my heart did that annoying thing it always does when something old tries to sneak back into my life.
It hurt.
One painful night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up from my bed and walked my way to his door. I didn’t care if I really covered well for the cold night. The hallway smelled like paint and cigarette smoke, and smoked fish. One of the disadvantages of living in such an apartment.
I got to his door and stood there, then I took a deep breath before knocking twice. “Who’s there?” a voice called out. It was calm, male, and deep. “Your neighbor from downstairs,” I said, trying not to sound irritated.
Gently, the door opened, and a tall guy with smart glasses stood there, holding a cup of tea. He had paint stains on his shirt. Behind him, I saw an easel with half-finished paintings of city views from the rooftops. Hello’ he greeted. I swallowed hard before asking ‘Can you please… The music’ I replied, pointing to his speakers inside his house “Sorry,” he said. “Too loud?” “It’s not that,” I said, folding my arms and avoiding his eyes. “It’s just… why do you play that song every night?” He smiled, a little embarrassed. “Ah. It reminds me of someone.” My chest tightened. I turned to meet his eyes. There was truth in them. “Me too,” I muttered before I could stop myself. We stood there awkwardly like two souls that were fighting the same demons until he laughed softly. ‘Does that make us prisoners of our memories?” I laughed. There was something about his laughter that could easily melt a broken heart. Well, he invited me in that night, and we talked a little too long. Like two broken souls trying to find peace from a song. I got to know his name was Kelechi. He told me, actually. He was a painter trying to make enough to host his first exhibition. I told him I was Abbey, a content writer who was trying not to think about the past or write about it. “I’m sorry my music keeps disturbing you. It just helps me think,” he said, sipping his tea. “I promise to switch to other songs, so you don’t have to relive whatever that was.” I shrugged. ‘It’s fine. Maybe it's time I stop running from it.” He paused, smiled, then asked, “How about I play you a new one instead? Something different?” I nodded.
He walked to his small piano and played “Count on Me” by Bruno Mars. I got up and walked close to him and shut my eyes, listening to him play. It was soft and slow, nothing like the heartbreak song before. Nothing like pain. I almost didn’t want it to end, but it did, and I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me. “See? A new song. Painless. Maybe a new chapter.” I was speechless. I just kept smiling, feeling some kind of new peace. That night, as I went back downstairs, I felt liberated. For the first time since my breakup, the silence didn’t scare me. Honestly, I was ready for my next chapter of life. Maybe with Kelechi.
Beautiful I must confess ...
It's good to see how music became the bridge between two broken souls. And of a truth, healing at times begin in expected ways/moments.
Thanks for sharing.
💯❤️💯
Being hurt takes time to heal and it keeps people in cage preventing them from going to the next chapter. A guy like kelechi is someone every woman would like to move on with his vibes are cool...
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STOPA very interesting story to read, with striking descriptive passages that add even more brilliance to the narrative. Very good work.
Thanks for sharing your story with us.
Excellent day.