Everything Was Fine Until
The school bell rang, signaling the start of lunch break. Students spilled into the hallways, laughing and chatting as they made their way to the cafeteria. Everything was fine, just as it had been every day at Divine Gift Secondary school.
I and my best friend,Ogechi
, sat at our usual table near the windows. The two of us were inseparable, our friendship cemented over years of shared secrets and inside jokes.
“Did you hear about the party at Jason’s this weekend?” Ogechi asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.
“Yeah, but you know I can’t go,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “My mom would freak if she knew there was no adult supervision.”
Ogechi smirked. “You worry too much. Just tell her you’re staying at my place.”
I hesitated. She hated lying, but the idea of being left out gnawed at her. “Maybe,” I said finally.
The cafeteria buzzed with energy, and the hum of conversation was occasionally punctuated by bursts of laughter. Everything was normal, predictable.
Until it wasn’t.
It started with a commotion near the entrance. A group of students huddled together, their voices low and serious. I noticed how the mood in the room shifted, the carefree chatter replaced by murmurs of concern.
“What’s going on?” Ogechi whispered.
Before I could answer, their classmate Obinna rushed past our table, his face pale. “It’s Chibuike,” he muttered. “Something happened in the bathroom.”
I and oge exchanged worried glances before abandoning our lunches and following the crowd.
When we reached the bathroom, a teacher was already there, holding the door open just enough to keep students from looking inside. But the whispers around them painted a grim picture.
“I heard he passed out.”
“Someone said he wasn’t breathing.”
“Do you think he overdosed?”
My stomach churned. Chibuike Ejiofor was a quiet kid, always keeping to himself. He wasn’t the type to draw attention, let alone end up at the center of a crisis.
The principal Mr.Ofor who is always mean and strict arrived moments later, his usually composed demeanor replaced with visible tension. “Everyone back to the cafeteria,” he ordered, his voice firm. “Lunch is over.”
Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed. I and Ogechi returned to our table, but neither touched our food.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. Rumors spread like wildfire—Chibuike had taken something, Chibuike was rushed to the hospital, He might not make it. The uncertainty gnawed at me.
After school, I and Ogechi lingered in the parking lot, too restless to go home. “Do you think it’s true?” I asked. “About the pills?”
Ogechi shrugged but looked uneasy. “I don’t know. Chibuike doesn't seem like the type, but... people hide things.”
By the next morning, the news had spread. Chibuike was gone.
The school held an emergency assembly in the gym. The principal addressed the students, his voice heavy with emotion. “This is a tragedy for our community,” he said. “Please remember that help is always available. If you or someone you know is struggling, reach out.”
I felt numb. I barely heard the rest of the speech. Chibuike’s death didn’t feel real, like it was something that had happened in another world. Everything was as if it a dream but deep down I know it's something that has happened and cannot be revived, the whole thing left me speechless, not only I it was quite the whole day in school
Later that day, I found herself sitting under the mango tree behind the school. It was a spot I and Ogechi often visited when we needed to escape the chaos of the hallways.
Ogechi joined me, sitting cross-legged in the grass. For a while, we didn’t speak.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Do you think we should’ve noticed? Like, if Chibuike was struggling, shouldn’t someone have seen it?”
Ogechi hugged her knees to her chest. “I don’t know. We weren’t exactly close to him. But... yeah, maybe someone should’ve.”
I thought back to all the times I had passed Him in the hall, barely registering his presence. Had he looked sad? Lonely? I couldn’t really remember.
Ogechi pulled something out of her pocket—a small, folded note. “Obinna gave me this,” she said, her voice unsteady.
I unfolded the paper and read the scrawled handwriting. It was a message from Chibuike, he wrote it two days before his death.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Everything feels too heavy. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay.”
My heart sank. “He wrote this to Obinna?”
Ogechi nodded. “obinna said Chibuike handed it to him in class, but he didn’t take it seriously. He thought Chibuike was just being dramatic.”
"Obinna on his own side has been crying since he heard the news,he has been blaming himself say that it's his fault Chibuike is dead " Ogechi stated
Tears welled in my eyes. “He tried to reach out, and no one listened.”
Ogechi’s voice broke. “What if there are others? People we see every day, and we just... don’t notice?”
That night, I lay awake in bed, Chibuike’s note replaying in my mind. Everything had seemed fine, but it wasn’t.
The next day at school, I made a promise to myself that I would start paying attention—to the quiet kids in the back of the room, to the friends who said they were “fine” but seemed distant, to anyone who might need someone to notice them.
Because everything had been fine, until it wasn’t. And I never wanted to feel this helpless again.
We