Chalk Dust & Heartbeats
Back in 2016, in the warm, buzzing town of Nsukka—where the sun always seemed to shine and the University of Nigeria campus stretched as far as your eyes could see—something sweet started, Not in some grand romantic way, but in a regular, dusty old classroom in the Faculty of Education.
Adaobi Nnaji was in her second year of study. Smart, confident, and always sitting on the third bench by the window. She had this calm-but-don’t-mess-with-me vibe, with her braids neatly packed and a backpack always full of notes, pens, and stories she wrote during boring lectures. She was studying English Education and already had dreams of being the kind of teacher students never forget.
Then came Chuka Okoye. He was the quiet, glasses-wearing type. A bit shy, Always thinking and always carrying extra notebooks like he might get a pop quiz on life. He had just transferred from Enugu and looked completely lost on his first day. He sat at the front, of course. But then the lecturer yelled, “You! You’re blocking the board, move back!”
So he moved… right next to Adaobi.
He said “sorry” like three times before sitting, clutching his books like they were life jackets. Adaobi just gave him a polite smile and kept scribbling in her notebook. That was their first proper moment—nothing flashy, but something clicked.
They started bumping into each other a lot—same classes, same group assignments, and somehow, always sitting next to each other. One day after class, Chuka saw Adaobi reading Purple Hibiscus under the mango tree behind the department.
“You like Chimamanda?” he asked.
She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “She’s the reason I want to teach literature.”
That was it. That one line led to two hours of nonstop gist. Books, music, dreams, even heartbreaks. That day, he walked her back to her hostel, and she laughed so hard at one of his terrible jokes that she nearly tripped.
From then on, it was them. Always together. Study partners turned best friends turned… well, more.
They spent late nights in the library, shared suya and Jollof from the small buka behind Jubilee Hostel, and had heated debates about who was greater—Achebe or Soyinka (Adaobi would die on the Soyinka hill, by the way).
Their relationship wasn’t dramatic. No grand declarations under the rain. Just little moments. On Saturday when they were washing clothes behind Adaobi’s hostel, Chuka suddenly said, “I think I like you… a lot.”
Adaobi smiled, wrung out a shirt, and said, “I know. I was waiting for you to say it.”
And that was it. From there, they grew. Helped each other through projects, exams, and NYSC dreams. They were that couple everyone lowkey admired.
Fast forward to 2020, during convocation—under that same mango tree where they had their first real conversation—Chuka brought out a ring, knees shaking, heart racing.
“I want a lifetime of books, breakfast, and barefoot walks with you. Will you marry me?”
Adaobi said yes with the biggest smile on her face.
Now? They’re married, running a small school together in Enugu. She's teaching lit, he’s teaching math. And yes, they still argue about Achebe vs. Soyinka—but always over a cup of tea and a whole lot of love.
Because sometimes, the sweetest love stories start with just a bench, a book, and someone who makes you laugh hard enough to trip.
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