The Ball Hit Me So Hard, My Crush’s Fine Boy Chest Was the Last Thing I Saw

It’s been two months since The Incident. My friends have called it everything from The Fall to The Day Gravity Gave Up on Her.

But to me? It was simply the day my spirit quietly exited my body to go and report me to my ancestors.

Let me start from the top.

I’ve liked Innocent for as long as I can remember. And by “liked,” I mean the kind of unholy crush that turns your brain to boiled yam and your dignity to vapor.

And the worst part? His name is Innocent, but God knows there’s nothing innocent about that man. Tall, dark, and carrying sin in every bone. The kind of boy that makes you want to write “Mrs” in your journal and start testing your wedding hashtag on Instagram.

That day should’ve been my warning. My blouse got stained before I even left the house. That alone should’ve told me to stay indoors, drink water, and mind my destiny.

But no. My spirit whispered “Innocent,” and my body — high on vibes and delusion — shouted, “Innocent is playing football today!”

So off I went to the field. The game was already on. And there he was — shirt damp, chest glistening like he came straight from a Nollywood audition to tempt me specifically.

My crush intensified on sight. I nearly opened my Notes app to start naming our children.

Everything was going perfectly… until Cynthia yelled my name from across the field.

And that’s when my village people clocked in.

Instead of staying where I was — like someone with sense — I waved, smiled, and started strolling across the football field like I was on a runway.

Before I could even register the danger, it happened.

BAM!

Right in the middle of my forehead.

The ball found me with wicked precision. My body hit the ground like a bag of cement.

Flat.

No buffer.

No warning.

Just disgrace — served in full HD with surround sound.

As if that wasn’t enough, I heard Ade — Innocent’s loyal side demon — say,

“Who parked that sack of beans there?”

At that moment, I didn’t just want the earth to open up. I wanted it to develop manners and escort me home. But no. God looked down and simply said, “My grace is sufficient.”

So I remained there, face flat like a village girl paying homage to her ancestors. My spirit couldn’t take the shame. It quietly packed its load and flew to my mother’s house to ask her why she gave birth to me.

And in the distance? My enemies were laughing. Loudly. Including Innocent.

They still call it The Incident.

But me? I call it the day gravity betrayed me… and my enemies threw a party.