It was one of those Lagos afternoons in 2017—the kind where danfos honk like they're in a singing competition and everyone’s running like they’re late for something (which they probably are). Yusuf sprinted across the Yaba College of Technology campus, clutching his backpack like it contained gold, dodging puddles from last night’s rain. He muttered to himself, “God, abeg, don’t let this lecturer embarrass me today.”
Then the door creaked open.
The lecture had started 15 minutes ago, and the lecturer wasn’t exactly known for patience. Yusuf burst into the class, panting like he had just finished a marathon. The lecture hall went silent as lecturer paused mid-sentence, pushing his glasses up his nose and giving him a look that could freeze Amala.
“Ah, Mr. Yusuf, how nice of you to join us. Should we clap for you or wait for your apology?”
The class erupted in laughter, and Yusuf, the latecomer in question, grinned sheepishly as he scanned the room for an empty seat. Fate—or perhaps mischief—led him to the spot next to Love.
Now, Love wasn’t just a name; it was a vibe. She had this effortless beauty—cornrows neatly done, a pair of dimples that appeared whenever she smiled, and the kind of presence that could make a noisy class pin-drop silent.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he squeezed past her, his bag bumping her elbow.
“Sorry for yourself,” Love replied, not even looking up from her notes.
Yusuf chuckled as he sat down. “Ah, madam, no vex. What did I miss?”
“Everything, including punctuality,” she quipped, finally glancing at him.
He grinned, leaning slightly toward her. “Thanks. I like to make an impression.” And he did!
Love rolled her eyes but passed him her notes. “If you’re going to sit here or next to me every time you’re late, you might as well start paying rent.”
That was how it started—just another chance meeting in a sea of lecture halls. But for Yusuf, that day felt different. There was something about Love, something in the way her dimples appeared when she smirked, the way she held her pen like she was ready to conquer the world. Over time, Yusuf’s lateness became more frequent, though he would never admit it wasn’t just because of Lagos traffic anymore.
They became fast friends, trading banter during lectures and sharing snacks during breaks. Yusuf soon discovered Love wasn’t just beautiful; she was ambitious, witty, and had a laugh that could turn a bad day around.
One rainy afternoon, after a particularly dull lecture, Yusuf walked her to the school library. As they ducked under the eaves to avoid the downpour, he turned to her and said, “You know, I was meant to sit beside you that day. It’s like God planned it.”
Love laughed, shaking her head. “Planned what? That you’ll be late?”
“Correct!” Yusuf grinned. “Because if I wasn’t late, I wouldn’t have met you.”
But as the weeks rolled on, their late-night calls turned into something more serious. They talked about everything—her dreams and his goals, and the way Lagos traffic always united people in their suffering.
Now, fast forward a few months. Yusuf and Love have grown from classmates to partners with shared dreams, countless memories, and an unshakable bond. And in less than two months, they’ll stand together before their families and friends to say their vows, officially beginning the next chapter of their story.
For now, they’re enjoying the whirlwind of wedding preparations, from choosing colors that’ll outshine any owambe to arguing about who gets the bigger piece of cake on their big day. One thing’s for sure: their love story, which began with a late arrival, is already on time for a lifetime of happiness.
Yusuf still jokes, “Lagos traffic brought me to Love.” And Love? She just rolls her eyes, her dimples and beautiful smile gives her away everytime as she smiles.