Insufficient balance

Akpos’ love for Amaara was a quiet, trembling thing. It lived in the quick glances he stole during lectures, in the way he memorized the cadence of her laugh, a sound like distant wind chimes. For two years, he was a curator of silent affections, building a museum of moments in his heart, but the exhibit had no visitor. He was its only patron, wandering the halls of his own longing.

The courage, when it came, arrived not as a tidal wave, but as a desperate, midnight spark. The room was dark, lit only by the sterile glow of his old Nokia phone. The world was asleep, and in that blanket of silence, his fear felt smaller, almost manageable. His thumbs, clumsy with adrenaline, pecked out the confession he had written a hundred times in his head: "I love you so much, I wanna date you. Please reply and tell me how you feel about me." He didn’t allow himself a single breath of doubt. He found her name, pressed send, and flung his soul into the digital void.

The almost-instant vibration that followed was a seismic shock to his system. His phone lit up: 1 New Message. His heart, which had been a frantic drum, now seemed to stop entirely. The fear returned, not smaller, but gigantic, paralyzing. This was it. His entire future—ecstatic acceptance or crushing rejection—was locked behind that...