A Làdé Kind of Love

By Bunmi Adaramola

It was on the eve of her traditional wedding day, when Tolúwalàshẹ saw Gbọ́ládé in the far corner of the Lounge & Grill her bridesmaids had dragged her to, that she—for the first time—questioned whether she and Nóbazé were truly soulmates like everyone claimed. It was odd; she’d never once had an iota of doubt that they were meant to be in the two years they’d been engaged, but seeing Làdé again after four years apart seemed to dredge up old feelings Tolúwa had assured herself were tightly sealed away after a harrowing breakup. It didn’t make sense to her—Gbọ́ládé had been aggressively toxic, and Nóbazé made her feel safe and emotionally put together. He was her person. But at that moment, especially with the familiar smirk and salacious wink Làdé threw in her direction once they locked eyes, Tolúwa couldn’t help but get swept up in the nostalgia of his familiarity and their long-winded relationship.

Làdé had been in his final year at the University of Nottingham when Tolúwa had that first date with him at their local fried chicken restaurant after a tiresome day of trying to find her footing as a fresher. She’d noticed him earlier in the day when she’d gingerly passed by the ACS–African and Caribbean Society–stall at the fresher’s fair and had been distracted by the loud way he wore his personality. She hadn’t wanted to stop by or get caught up in any society event at Notts, but her flatmate, Nimí–and now Maid of Honour–had decidedly dragged her out, citing the full uni experience as her rationale. He wasn’t a small man by any means, towering over virtually anyone who walked by. He hadn’t noticed her–why would he, when she was merely a nondescript fresher, easily able to blend in with the restless crowd without drawing any form of attention to herself? Mundane was her superpower. But she’d stopped at the stall. And no matter how much she’d tried to fight it, Tolúwa was already drawn to him–curious about him. He’d fascinated her in both good and destructive ways. She’d recognised the power behind his presence, the charm he wielded to draw people to him, the playfulness he exuded to immerse them in comfort around him, and the flirtations he distilled that ultimately made any woman who flocked to him bite her lip, collect his phone and save his number. 

“Ever tried Conch Fritters before?” Tolúwa’s eyes followed his movement when he sauntered up to her, pointing at the plates littered with different snacks from the Carribeans perched beside the signup sheets. 

Shifting her weight between both feet, Tolúwa had lowered her eyes shyly, heart thundering erratically as he inched closer until their feet were practically touching side by side. She’d shaken her head and watched as he lifted the plate in her direction, lips lifted in a smirk, not mockingly, rather curiously. 

“Try one. I promise if you don’t like them, I’ll buy you lunch any day next week as an apology.” 

“And if I do like them?” 

He’d shrugged playfully as he watched her lift the snack to her lips. “I’ll still buy you lunch. This time as an I told you so.” 

And the moment he’d uttered those words to Tolúwa was when she knew she would be hooked, perhaps for life. Whether it was later on that day when he’d made good on her promise and took her to their local chicken restaurant–they’d talked like they’d known each other all their lives, watching pedestrians and passersby from their seats at the window until the chicken shop closed by 2 am. He’d walked her back to the library. Or how quickly he’d become her favourite person because no matter how much she fought it, her heart looked forward to seeing him every day. Whatever it was, Tolúwa was locked in an infatuation she wildly embraced. 

“You taste like forever,” Làdé had whispered against her lips when he’d pulled back after stealing her first kiss. They’d been aimlessly loitering outside the Nottingham Christmas Market, where Làdé had brought her for their second date. He’d proudly declared their outing at the chicken shop as their first date and asked her to spend the next evening with him roaming around the Christmas market because it was a rite of passage for freshers, his words, not hers. Throughout the evening, she’d felt his heated glances, his hand intently brushing against hers, and the simple yet perfervid way he’d wrapped an arm around her when he’d seen her shaking, brushing a slight peck against her cheek. He’d made her smile and laugh, stroking a part of her that, for as long as Tolúwa knew, had always lay dormant.

It was a moment that would be permanently etched in the most important corners of Tolúwa’s memory for as long as she lived. 

“Your mind is so far away, Tee…what’s wrong?” Nimí’s voice clouds Tolúwa’s misguided trip down memory lane, abruptly bringing her back to the reality of the morning of her traditional wedding day. They’d gotten up as early as 4 am—a combination of Tolúwa’s nerves and unending thoughts from seeing Làdé forcing her up all night—and were more hungover than they should have been considering their early makeup appointment at 6 am. Even though the girls had thrown her on the previous weekend, they’d decided to go out again–a way to calm Tolúwa’s wavering nerves concerning her impending wedding. Ironically, it had been a night of heightened emotions following seeing Làdé again and the guilt Tolúwa felt from her emotional response. 

Something about Làdé always seemed to drum up unusual visceral reactions from Tolúwa. Like the day he’d officially asked her to be his girlfriend after nearly two months of wearing playful titles of being each others’ best friend. They’d grown to know each other like the lines and curves of their fingerprints, being able to easily tell what the other was thinking with a simple glance. And when he’d placed his hand over her heart on a random day, playfully citing a desire to hear her heartbeat, Tolúwa knew he was the only person her heart would belong to. He was her favourite person, and it made Tolúwa ecstatic, drunk with the feeling of power from claiming the ACS’ most unattainable. The way she loved him was full and overwhelming, scaring her on occasions, but she wore it proudly like a badge. And even when she’d walked in on him pounding desperately into a very naked Anita on his couch in her third year at Notts–Anita, a work colleague he’d assured her was nothing other than his nuisance desk mate–Tolúwa’s emotions with Làdé remained unpredictable, even to her detriment. 

He’d been like a madman possessed–moving inside Anita the way he never did with her. Anita, who he’d said was not his type; the same Anita who was bemoaning a rather loud yes baby at that moment. His eyes were wild with lust and something else—a mixture of excitement and another emotion she refused to acknowledge. It was all the more heart-wrenching as she stood there watching them together because even though she’d never even wanted to sleep with him in the first place, he’d convinced her it was the best way to strengthen their relationship and deepen their intimacy. She’d been young and impressionable, and her feelings for him ran deeper than she understood, so conceding to his request was easy. Even though she’d questioned her ability to make independent decisions when it came to him, she had trusted him and the safe space she thought he’d created for her to be emotionally vulnerable. But she’d been wrong. So wrong. 

“You said she was a nuisance. You said she was whiny and annoying.” Tolúwa’s voice had been as broken as everything inside her, bracing against the closed door she now wished she hadn’t been given a key to in the first place. “You said…You said you could never be attracted to her.” Her voice, still a whisper, sounded shattered even to her ears as a dam of emotions burst through. 

“Shit.” Gbọ́ládé spat out, scrambling away from Anita, the couch, and the dents he’d permanently thrown into their relationship and her heart. “Baby, it’s not…I can explain…shit.” 

And explain he did, successfully convincing her that it was a mere physical reaction to Anita being at his place, nothing more; after all, Tolúwa was the only one he ever loved. So, no matter what rational thinking demanded, Tolúwa had held on to him. Her heart and head refused to reach a meeting point. And even though she felt like something was breaking inside her, she refused to let go. No matter how much it broke her. 

“Tee!” Nimí calls out again, forcing Tolúwa’s head to turn in her direction. “It’s him, isn’t it.” 

“Yes,” is the only word that falls out of her mouth as her mind drifts away once more. As he’d always done, Làdé continued to take up rental space in her head, a space that should be reserved for the man she was due to call husband in the next five hours. 

“Tee…” She eyes the door as though fearing that Làdé would burst in any moment to drag Tolúwa out and away from her perceived happiness. It was a ridiculous notion because even though he’d been invited to the wedding–by being an old friend of Nobaze’s–Tolúwa was certain he wouldn’t attend. 

“Nimí…” Tolúwa looks ahead, her movements now becoming robotic as she tries to avoid the truth she knew was glaring in Nimí’s eyes. Nimí had been an unwilling participant in Tolúwa’s grief and emotional rollercoaster the multiple times she’d found out about Làdé cheating. Each time, Nimí would beg her to leave, but Tolúwa always found a justification to stay; her emotional bandwidth further stretched every time Làdé came begging. 

“He cheated Tee. If you don’t remember anything, remember that. Not once, not twice. He. Cheated. And it broke you.” 

She was right. Tolúwa remembered the overwhelming sense of inadequacy and inferiority that enveloped her each time she found out about Làdé’s infidelity. Some days, it felt like her heart would burst into flames with nothing to control it. On other days, she felt numb, number than she could ever imagine. He would shower her with gifts and extravagant dates, manipulating his knowledge of how she wanted to be loved to his own benefit every time, and like a fool, she would crawl back to him. He’d come to realise this eventually and took advantage of it. But she knew she loved him. The way she felt about him was consuming and destructive. It was rash and toxic, a type of love that continued to blind common sense no matter how much she fought against it. And even at that moment, recalling the euphoria from seeing him again and the wave of nostalgia from the good times she’d had with him, she could feel herself questioning everything about her relationship with Nóbazé and wanting to give in once more to Gbọ́ládé’s brand of love. She knew it was wrong and idiotic of her, but it didn’t stop her erratic emotions. 

“It’s your wedding day, Tee. You’re my best friend, and while I’d do anything to support you, I also know when to call you out on your bullshit.” 

Tolúwa releases a pregnant sigh, her emotions raging a violent war within her. “What if I’m making a mistake with Nóbazé?” It was the question that had been lingering in her heart since seeing Gbọ́ládé, one she’d been terrified of. In the three years she’d been dating him, Nóbazé had become a safe haven for her feelings. He doted on her so much that she could no longer do any wrong in his eyes. The way she felt about him was vastly different from whatever she’d felt with Làdé, her love more mellow than impassioned. But she loved him. For the longest time, she’d fancied herself in love with Nóbazé. Nóbazé had been the one to pick up the shattered pieces Làdé had left in his wake when he abandoned Toluwa the final time he’d cheated. He’d been Làdé’s best friend but never once condoned Làdé’s misdemeanour and wasn’t shy about making it known to both Làdé and anyone who knew them. They’d quickly grown close, and he’d been able to convince her not to go back to Làdé when he eventually came begging this time around—even when a part of her knew she’d never fully be able to move on from Lade; he was her first love after all. But Nóbazé was safe. She knew that she could trust her sanity in his hands. He’d given her everything she needed in a man. Yet it was never enough because he was not any of the things she wanted–that she could admit to herself but never to him. 

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tee. You’ve moved on. Don’t let whatever stupid nostalgia creeping up in your mind mess up the good thing you have with Nóbazé.” Nimí’s angry voice pulled her away from her jumbled thoughts, her emotions latching on one word from Nimí’s rant. 

“Good thing, Nimi. You said a good thing. Not a great thing. Not the best thing. Not a mind-blowing thing. What if…”

She sighs the way she would if she was dealing with a petulant or colicky child. “You think this is one of those ‘don’t let your fiance stop you from finding the love of your life’ type scenarios? Newsflash, Tee, Gbọ́ládé is not the love of your life; he’s a thorn in your flesh. It's a destructive time bomb. I’m begging you, Tolú, don’t do what I know you’re thinking.” 

“Seeing him again…” Her tone is wistful as she mindlessly watches the hair stylist and make-up artist burst in and out of the room in a flurry of activities. “Seeing him again felt like home, Nimí.” 

Tolúwa’s mind drifts back to the first time he’d held her in his arms all those years ago, recalling how with each subsequent hug afterwards, she’d felt as though a part of her soul had become permanently attached to him, the memories of him forever ingrained in her heart. He’d appealed to some baser instinct she never knew she possessed and never felt with any other that came after him–Nóbazé included. Làdé stoked a flame inside Tolúwa that had refused to burn out, no matter how many years passed. Because even when she was with Nóbazé, that flame lingered, burning frustratingly low–but alive all the same. 

“Do you hear yourself, Tee?” Nimí’s voice brings her back to the present, confusion, and shock laced with the disbelief her tone held as she paced about the room. “Today is your wedding, for heaven’s sake! To someone else! To Nóbazé. The person that, up until yesterday, you called the love of your life in case you’ve forgotten.” 

Tolúwa shakes her head in response, her mind pulling her back to the previous night, forcing the kaleidoscope of emotions she’d been overwhelmed with that night to the front of her mind. 

“Làdé…” Tolúwa had murmured, disbelief colouring her tone at seeing him merely two inches away from her. He’d caught her unawares on her way to the toilet to gather her nerves, caging her between himself and the wall behind her with his palms spread flat by her head. Even though she tried to fight it, her stomach still fluttered from his closeness, eyes searching his frantically, reminding her of the overpowering intensity his presence drew her into each time they’d been together in the past. He still wore that scent that drove her crazy anytime she touched his bare skin, one that made her lose her head as she became cocooned in the euphoria of her feelings for him. His hand stroked her hip, comfortably resting in the centre of the blurred lines between being mildly inappropriate for someone engaged to another and not doing enough to fan the forbidden flames. 

“Hi, baby…” He’d smirked the usual way that made her melt, putting her putty to his bidding. He’d been the pied piper to her body, such that whatever tune he wanted it to sing, it followed blindly and sang unapologetically. 

She’d shut her eyes tightly, willing her heart to calm its thunderous racing as she leaned as far away as possible from temptation. “Gbọ́ládé…what…how…when did you get back to Lagos?” 

“I don’t get a hi? An ‘I’ve missed you too, baby’?” His voice had dropped dangerously low as he pressed his front to hers, forcing her to cower further into the wall as his breath tickled her neck. They’d always been combustible together, and in that moment, it was as though time had never moved, and they were thrust back to the people they were back in uni, back before their problems began escalating. “Because I have. So damn much.” 

The last time they’d been in the same space like this had been the day he’d found out she was dating his best friend, Nóbazé. Làdé had been more than livid, bemoaning an entitled tale of Nóbazé always wanting what he had and how Tolúwa was his first. Even though he’d cheated, even though he was now parading around Notts with a girl as equally beautiful as him, Làdé’s words conveyed how victimised he felt to the extent that Nóbazé was wrong. But as conflicted as she felt at that moment, Tolúwa had matured enough to realise that she needed stability. And Nóbazé represented that for her. So, as much as she wanted the passion Làdé ignited, she chose Nóbazé. 

“Just…” She pauses her pacing, facing Tolúwa with concern lining her eyes. “Just tell me…did anything happen between last night and today? With you and Lade?” 

“Nimí…” 

Lowering herself to sit beside Tolúwa, Nimi grabs her hands in a plea, urging her to empty her conscience. “Tee…just…tell me nothing happened…Tell me you didn’t sleep with him, Tee.” It was ironic–Nimí had never really liked Nóbazé; they could never really stand each other, yet for the first time, Nimí sounded scared for him and the future of his relationship with Tolúwa. Or perhaps it was fear of the embarrassment that would follow if Tolúwa’s response was positive–that she had, in fact, slept with Làdé. 

But she hadn’t. 

No matter how much every cell in her body pulled her to him. She couldn’t do that–not to herself, definitely not to Nóbazé. She had already done enough to hurt him in the past, the worst being the emotional tug of war she’d instilled after her final breakup with Gbọ́ládé and the comfort she’d gone on to seek in the arms of his best friend. She’d fuelled Nóbazé’s insecurity about their relationship during their first year in her attempt to navigate whatever lingering feelings she still had for Gbọ́ládé and her growing appreciation for Nóbazé. There were those odd moments where she and Làdé would cross paths, his flirtatious nature drawing her to him again, wanting to be closer to him once more in a way that superseded the physical. Yet she held herself back. In those moments, Nóbazé would question her feelings for him, wondering if he was losing her. 

“I didn’t sleep with him.”  It was the questions she’d always see in his eyes but was too afraid to ask anytime the three of them hung out together. 

“But you wanted to.” 

Her answer should have been a loud and proud no. But she couldn’t answer the way he wanted. And even if she lied, Nóbazé had known her well enough in the past year and was a master at reading her face. He’d always tease her that he always knew the moment her eyes and whatever came out of her mouth never matched, so it was a moot attempt to lie to him. He was perceptive that way. So she kept mum. His face had contorted into an array of conflicting emotions, interpreting her silence as confirming his deepest fear throughout their rather ill-fated relationship. 

“You wanted to, and that is the problem, Làshẹ. I’ll never be enough for you. I’ve given you time and space to heal from him, but he’ll always have your heart, won’t he? You’ve just played me for a fool all along–”

“Nóbazé, I love you.” That itself was true. How couldn’t she? 

He smiled sardonically, the pain in his eyes tugging Toluwa’s heartstrings. “I’m sure you think you do. It’s what you’ve deluded yourself into believing all these years, and maybe a part of you does. But I’ll always come second to him because you’re in love with him.” 

Eventually, she worked hard. Hard enough to gain Nóbazé’s full trust in their relationship. And slowly, Làdé had drifted to the rear end of her memory, Nóbazé occupying her waking thoughts, satisfying her body and enriching her mind. It wasn’t until the second anniversary of her move back to Lagos that some part of her finally got over Làdé. Tolúwa was ultimately forced to acknowledge the fact that she’d never fully ever get over Làdé because he was her deepest love; she could only dull the memory of him to create space to love Nóbazé in the way he needed. She couldn’t help it again. Her mind drifted back to last night and the feelings Làdé had ignited within her when he’d been pressed up against her. 

“Gbọ́ládé, stop it…I…I’m marrying your ex-best friend this weekend.”  She’d wanted to fight, to push him away and muster the courage to walk away, knowing it was the right thing. But she couldn’t. Tolúwa didn’t understand why, but she wanted to hold on to the memories of the way he’d made her feel alive in many ways she couldn’t describe.  

“I don’t care. Because I know deep down, you wish it was me and not him.” 

“I love him. I love Nóbazé.” She couldn’t disagree with him or concur with his assertion, so she did what she knew best—reminding herself of her current reality. Perhaps if she did it enough, she would believe it. 

“Now, look me in the eyes when you tell that lie again. Because you and I know that’s what it is.” 

“I didn’t sleep with him. But God help me, I wanted to.” 

“Tee…” Nimí’s voice softens to a painful edge Tolúwa had only ever heard once–the day Nimí’s father had died. “What do you want to do?” 

It was a question she had yet to have an answer to, even three hours to the wedding. So she got ready and pretended everything was okay, pretended that Tolúwa didn’t have doubts or the overwhelming desire to back out from this marriage. She ignored how everything inside her screamed that she was making a mistake. She pretended that Làdé’s last words from last night were not pounding in her ears, silencing every other good emotion she could possibly feel at that moment. When the time came, she sat in her make-up artist’s chair, pretending that she was indeed getting married to the undeniable love of her life, even as the hair stylist tugged and pulled on her hair, drawing her back to the reality that she would probably never experience the passion she craved with Nóbazé. Tolúwa smiled for the camera when they’d asked her to, adjusting to get her perfect angles so they could get the best pictures for the wedding blogs they’d paid for features to. After all, it was a massive elite Lagos wedding with Nóbazé’s family being old money oil moguls. So she plastered a smile on her face, robotically moving through the motions even as Làdé’s face kept flashing through her memory. 

Because there was one thing she didn’t have: the courage to walk away even though everything in her wanted to, knowing it was the right thing.

Writer’s Biography
Bunmi works in academia by day and spends the rest of the time in her imagination, concocting hilarious scenarios or romantic tales, some of which spill out as short stories. Bunmi is currently a PhD Researcher at the University of Leeds. She studied Law at the University of Leeds and has an LLM and MSc from the University of Leeds and the University of Law, respectively. Keen to develop her writing skills, she completed an online Creative Writing Specialisation at the renowned Weslyean University, a top liberal arts college in the US, and a Transmedia Writing Course at Michigan State University. 

Her short story Palmwine Promises was featured in Brittle Paper’s 2023 Festive Anthology. Her fiction and nonfiction short stories appear in The Three Boats Magazine, Brittle Paper, The Kalahari Review, The African Writer, and elsewhere. She is a coffee addict and bibliophile with an overwhelming library of contemporary romance.