The Breakup Neighbors—Episode 1
Once upon a time in our compound, two neighbors were so close that people used to say if dēath ever came, it would have to knock on their door together.
Their names were Sophia and Daniel.
But one evening, something happened that made the whole compound swallow spit all at once.
It was just like a regular day but little did they know that day will be different.
They used to say if you see Sophia and Daniel fighting, then love itself has packed its load and left the world. That’s how close they were.
Every evening, people in the compound would sit on the corridor pretending to mind their business, but everybody’s eyes were secretly on those two;
Sophia would be outside first, washing plates in her plastic bowl, waiting. Daniel would stroll in from work, with sweat still on his shirt, and without wasting time, he would collect the sponge from her hand and start washing the plates like husband and wife.
Sometimes they would laugh so loud, the other tenants would hiss from jealousy, but deep down everybody admired them.
But one day, everything scattered.
It was sudden, like a fire outbreak.
Sophia stopped waiting for him in the evenings. Daniel started coming back with a straight face, heading straight into his room like the corridor didn’t exist. She would cook beans and stew, and instead of him eating as usual, he would come out later with bread and sardine.
At first, neighbors pretended not to notice. But you know compound life— people can never mind their business.
Especially Mama Nkechi, the woman who sells vegetables down the street.
She was the first person that whispered it. “I think Sophia and Daniel have quarreled,” she told the landlord’s wife, loud enough for people in two rooms to hear. From that moment, the matter turned into free cinema for everyone.
Children fetching water at the well noticed that Sophia and Daniel no longer fetched in pairs. The barber’s apprentice living in room seven swore he saw Daniel fling Sophia’s slippers out of his way one morning. And that evening, two women nearly fought because one said Sophia had found another man while the other insisted it was Daniel who misbehaved.
Through it all, Sophia carried herself like nothing touched her. She still wore her clean Ankara gowns, still walked across the corridor with her head high, though her eyes avoided Daniel’s. Daniel, on the other hand, became too deliberate with his actions. He greeted every neighbor loudly, laughed too long at jokes that weren’t funny, just so people would think he had moved on.
Yet every time their doors opened at the same time, the air in the compound would change. Their silence was louder than quarrel. Their glances, when they mistakenly met, were like matches ready to strike.
That night, something happened in the corridor that made every tenant stop pretending and start watching openly.
THE BREAKUP NEIGHBOURS
Chapter 2
That night in the corridor, it wasn’t even a quarrel between Sophia and Daniel that scattered the peace.
It started from ordinary gist oh.
Mama Nkechi grumbling that somebody had stolen her soap from the bathroom. Before anybody could blink, tongues became sharp. Landlord’s wife dragged Madam Ifeoma about her children making noise. Madam Ifeoma shouted back, exposing how landlord’s wife once borrowed palm oil and never returned it.
The quarrel rolled from one person to another until voices rose like market sellers. It was in the middle of all this that Sophia and Daniel stepped out at the same time, and the whole corridor went quiet.
Nobody said their names, but everybody’s eyes turned to them. The quarrel froze in mid-air. People wanted to see whether they would stand together or turn away. And when Daniel walked past without even glancing at Sophia, and she too turned her head as if he was a stranger, that silence slapped harder than any insult that flew that night.
From that moment, no one bothered pretending anymore. The corridor became a stage, and Sophia and Daniel were the unwilling actors everyone was watching.
The next morning, the compound well turned into the real theater. Sophia came first, balancing her yellow bucket on her hip, wrapper tied tight across her chest. She dropped the bucket with a small bang, the rope rolling down with a splash. Barely two minutes later, Daniel arrived with his own bucket. He didn’t greet, didn’t even clear his throat. He just walked straight to the edge and dropped his rope, letting it land right beside hers.
At once, people found excuses to hang around. A boy who had finished fetching remained there, tying his slippers for too long. Madam Ifeoma’s daughter suddenly remembered to rinse her clothes right by the well. Even Mama Nkechi showed up, holding one tomato in her hand, pretending she came to wash it.
Sophia drew her water quickly, her arms moving fast, her wrapper shifting with each pull. Daniel matched her, muscle straining under his shirt, as if it was a competition. When her bucket filled, she shifted it deliberately in his way. He dragged his rope harder, the splash from his bucket wetting her slippers. She looked at him sharply, lips pressed tight, but said nothing. Instead, she leaned her bucket against his own as she lifted it, the edge scraping with a grating sound.
A small hiss escaped from the boy tying his slippers. Mama Nkechi’s eyes widened. They all saw it—the war was no longer inside their room, it was now playing out in public, in small moves sharp enough to cut skin.
Sophia walked away first, water sloshing, her back stiff. Daniel lingered just a moment, then carried his bucket with one hand as if to prove strength. By the time he left, whispers had already started circling the corridor, moving faster than harmattan breeze.
“They have broken up,” somebody said with certainty.
But before the whispers could settle, something happened that morning that nobody in the compound was prepared for.
THE BREAKUP NEIGHBOURS
Chapter 3
But before the whispers could settle, something happened that morning that nobody in the compound was prepared for.
A small truck pulled into the compound, and two men jumped down to start unloading belongings.
People who had been whispering about Sophia and Daniel quickly shifted their eyes to the newcomers.
Boxes, a mattress wrapped in nylon, one standing fan with missing blades, a stereo system, even a set of dumbbells—all these things began to pile up in the corridor. And then he appeared.
Adrian.
He stepped down from the truck with an air that made people pause. His shirt was crisp, his jeans neat, and he carried himself like somebody who already knew the corridor was watching him. He greeted loudly and warmly, flashing a smile that immediately softened the landlord’s frown. He shook hands with the men helping him and even tipped them before they left.
Sophia was still walking back from the well when their eyes met. She didn’t slow her steps, but Adrian noticed her. In fact, the first thing he did after dropping his backpack was to rush forward, offering his hand to steady the bucket on her head. She blinked, surprised, and muttered that she could manage, but he insisted, taking the bucket as if it was the most natural thing.
Neighbors gasped inside their throats. Mama Nkechi nearly bit her tomato in half. Even the boy who was still pretending to tie his slippers stopped altogether.
Daniel came out of his room just in time to see Adrian lowering Sophia’s bucket beside her door. His face didn’t move, but the way he adjusted his shirt and folded his arms told another story. He stood there, acting like his attention was on the truck, but his eyes didn’t leave them.
“Thank you,” Sophia said lightly, dusting her hands against her wrapper.
“My pleasure,” Adrian replied, his voice smooth, his smile hanging too long.
By evening, the new tenant had already turned into the headline gist. Some neighbors admired his boldness, others hissed that he was too forward. But the loudest whispers circled one fact: Adrian seemed to have chosen his corner already, and it was right beside Sophia.
Daniel pretended it didn’t bother him. He whistled too loud as he washed his clothes. He laughed with the barber’s apprentice until his jaw ached. But when Adrian passed by, greeting Sophia with an extra cheerfulness, Daniel’s hands moved harder against the cloth, squeezing like he was strangling something.
The corridor knew what was brewing. Everybody was just waiting for the first spark.
And it came quicker than expected.
THE BREAKUP NEIGHBOURS
Chapter 4
That was how the compound held its breath that evening, but by the next morning, breath had turned to talk, and talk had turned to full-blown gossip. The first person to break the silence was the landlord’s wife. She told Mama Nkechi, and Mama Nkechi told the tailor that came to deliver clothes, and by noon the story had already grown legs that were longer than the corridor itself.
Some people said Sophia had already chosen Adrian, that all this carrying bucket and smiling was only the beginning. One even swore she saw Sophia enter his room to help him arrange his curtains and stayed there for more than ten minutes. Others pushed blame on Daniel, saying he had been behaving like somebody that didn’t know the value of what he had until another man showed interest.
It was the kind of gist that didn’t need a chair before it spread. Women were suddenly sweeping their frontage more often so they could look out for the next chapter. The barber’s apprentice added his own spice, saying Daniel now washes clothes like a widower trying to forget his pain, and that made three people laugh, not because it was funny but because they wanted to act like they knew more than they did.
Daniel heard pieces of it. The way somebody greeted him with too much pity, the way another one tried to joke with him about “new neighbors that like helping too much.” He would only tighten his jaw and keep moving. But once he entered his room, the noise in his head became worse than the corridor.
Sophia wasn’t spared either. One afternoon, she overheard Madam Ifeoma telling a customer by the gate that “nowadays women don’t even wait for ashes to cool before they start fanning new fire.” She didn’t answer, she only walked past slowly, but her fingers kept picking the edge of her wrapper all the way to her room.
By evening, the corridor was no longer just a place to pass; it had turned into a theatre. Adrian was there, sitting on a low stool, tinkering with his stereo and humming a tune. Daniel came out to pick his clothes from the line, his face blank but his eyes heavy. Sophia stepped out at the same time, a small bowl in her hand, and for the first time all three of them stood within arm’s reach while every other person watched from the corners of their eyes.
Adrian looked up, smiled, and said, “Sophia, that thing you said you will show me about the socket, are you free now?”
Daniel stopped folding. His fingers held one sleeve too tight, his head turning slightly like he didn’t hear well.
The corridor went quiet again, waiting for what would come out of his mouth.
THE BREAKUP NEIGHBOURS
Chapter 5
Daniel did not answer. He only folded the cloth slowly, shook it once like he wanted to clear dust that was not there, then carried his basin inside without a word. Sophia shifted her bowl from one hand to the other and told Adrian she would come later, her voice flat as if she was not sure whether to go or not. The corridor, seeing no fight to chew on, scattered little by little, but the air that evening remained thick, like soup that had stayed too long on low fire.
Two nights later, when the rain had just stopped and the ground was still wet, a shout rose from Mama Chinyere’s room near the stairs. People rushed out again, slippers slapping on the wet cement. She was standing by her doorway, wrapper tied carelessly across her chest, saying her envelope of money had disappeared. It was not much, but she had kept it to buy foodstuffs at the market. Her hands moved as she spoke, one pointing at the corridor, the other holding her empty bag as if it would explain where the notes went.
Questions started flying. Who entered the corridor? Who passed here today? Some mentioned Sophia’s name because she had gone to fetch water and had passed by not long before. At first it was small talk, but the landlord’s wife picked it up like something she had been waiting for. “I saw her moving about that time,” she said, her voice carrying, “and you people know these days, it’s not everybody that looks quiet that is innocent.”
Sophia heard her name and came out, her face lined with confusion. “Me? I don’t understand. I only passed here to carry water, ask Mama Nkechi, she saw me.”
But eyes had already turned. Some looked at her with pity, some with doubt, and some with the eagerness of those who wanted drama to continue. She felt heat gather on her neck even though the evening was cool. She asked them to search her room if they wanted. No one moved.
Daniel was standing by his door, arms crossed, leaning on the frame. Their eyes met for one second. He looked like he wanted to talk, but he pressed his lips instead. His mind was loud, but his mouth refused to open. To defend her meant opening an old wound in front of everybody, and to stay quiet meant leaving her alone in the storm.
The landlord’s wife sighed as if her suspicion had already become truth. “Well, if the money doesn’t show, we will know how to handle it,” she said, turning back to her room.
Sophia remained at the center, both hands gripping her wrapper now, watching them disperse as if nothing had happened. The corridor grew quiet again, but not the quiet of peace — the kind that waits for somebody to break.
And in that quiet, Adrian’s door creaked open.
THE BREAKUP NEIGHBOURS
Chapter 6
Adrian stepped out slowly, one hand still on his doorframe, looking from Sophia to the faces that were already turning away. “What’s going on here?” he asked, but nobody answered him. The corridor was tired for that night, the kind of tired that comes when people know they will still discuss the matter inside their rooms. Doors shut one after another, slippers dragged on the floor, and only the wet smell of rainwater remained.
By the next week, the money matter had not fully died, it only shifted to one side because another trouble had started. This one was about the new electricity bill that came with a figure higher than what anybody expected, and on top of it, the water contribution that the landlord’s wife had been postponing since last month suddenly became urgent. That evening, tenants gathered near the stairs, some standing with hands on their waist, some leaning on the wall with faces set like they had been keeping this annoyance for a long time.
Voices started climbing. One man said he would not pay for water when his room hardly saw a drop because people at the front always finish it before it reached their side. A woman snapped back that he should talk to his children that leave tap running. The landlord’s wife said those refusing to pay were the ones making life hard in the compound. It went back and forth like that, the kind of argument that does not start big but grows like oil fire.
Sophia was standing at the far end, arms folded, trying not to talk but her name came up again. Someone mentioned that those who refuse to cooperate are always the same set, pointing her way. She turned, her voice sharp this time, saying she had never refused to pay, that all she asked for was a proper account of the last money they collected. Murmurs followed. Some agreed with her, some hissed.
Daniel, who had been quiet near his door, suddenly laughed small, that kind of dry laugh that cuts more than a slap. “Some people that like account so much,” he said, his eyes still on the ground, “they should start with their own hands first.” It was not loud, but the meaning entered everybody’s ear. Heads turned.
Sophia’s eyes fixed on him. “If you have something to say, say it well. Don’t stand there throwing words like you are sweeping gutter.” Her voice was steady, but her fingers gripped the edge of her wrapper hard.
The landlord’s wife clapped her hands, happy that the real meat had come out. People drew closer, some even left their rooms to stand by the railing. The quarrel began to pull others into it, questions mixing with old grudges, until the whole corridor was buzzing again.
And in the middle of it, somebody shouted that if they didn’t settle this tonight, the landlord himself would step in tomorrow.
THE BREAKUP NEIGHBOURS
CHAPTER 7&8
That warning about the landlord coming the next day did not die quietly. People went back to their rooms that night with faces still tight, but the compound itself refused to rest. Doors opened and closed like they were breathing, footsteps passed in the corridor, and even the smell of kerosene from somebody’s stove hung longer than usual. By the following evening, the air was heavy as if waiting for something to scatter it.
And then, the rain came.
It started as a breeze, just enough to lift the edge of curtains and make buckets rattle outside, before the real thing followed — fat drops slamming the roof, running along the corridor, pushing tenants to carry basins and sweep water away from their doorsteps. Some children shouted in the rain, some women shouted at the children, and the whole place turned into a mix of noise and wet smell.
Sophia was in her room when she first noticed the corner near her wardrobe was dripping. She moved a stool there, placed a bowl, and thought it would stop, but the water only grew stronger. Before long, the mat where she kept her clothes was soaking. She tried to push things aside, but her hands slipped on the wet floor, and the bulb above her flickered once before going off. Darkness joined the rain.
She stepped out into the corridor to find help, holding her wrapper with one hand and using the other to shield her face from the cold spray of water blowing in. Most doors were shut; people had already settled. She reached for the small lock of her door again, meaning to pick something from inside, but the key twisted halfway and snapped. Half of it remained in her hand. The door refused to open.
She stood there, water touching her hairline, her wrapper sticking to her chest. The compound was quieter now except for the rain hitting the ground like stones. Her eyes turned and caught Daniel’s door. Light was leaking from under it. For a moment she stood still, teeth pressing on her lower lip, as if begging herself to ignore him.
Then his door opened.
He looked at her, at the broken key, at the wet floor. For a second he didn’t say anything, just stepped out and pulled his door close so the rain would not rush in. “Bring it,” he said finally, stretching his hand for the lock, his voice flat like it was an instruction, not an offer.
She hesitated, then handed it over. Their fingers brushed. It was brief, but it stayed longer in their minds than on their skin.
Daniel tried the lock, pushed the door, and after a few twists managed to open it. Water rushed out from the corner like it had been waiting. He stepped in without asking, moved the wet mat aside, and started lifting the small stool to where it would catch more drops.
Sophia followed him, the sound of rain now softer inside, their shadows bending on the wall. For the first time in months, they were in the same space without the corridor watching.
And then the light blinked again — off, on, then off completely.
Darkness wrapped them both.
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The darkness sat thick between them, only the sound of rain pressing the roof like impatient fingers. Sophia shifted where she stood, her hand brushing the wall to find her balance, and for a strange second, it felt like the compound itself was holding its breath, waiting for somebody to move first. Daniel cleared his throat, said he would check the fuse the next morning, then stepped out without looking back. She locked the door after him, sat on the small wooden chair near the leaking corner, and listened as his footsteps faded.
By the next week, the talk about that rainy night had scattered into other matters, the kind of compound talk that rises and disappears like steam from hot rice. But another story began to grow, one that carried Adrian’s name more than anybody else’s. He was the new tenant who liked to dress as if every corridor was a red carpet, shoes always shining, phone always in his hand, yet nobody really knew where he went in the day or how he earned the money that made him buy things faster than most people could pay rent.
It started small — whispers by the staircase, somebody saying he owed them money for some goods, another person saying they saw two men asking of him at the gate one evening. Adrian laughed it off when the landlord asked him directly, said it was just old business misunderstanding. But his laugh was the type that didn’t reach his eyes.
Sophia noticed the change first. He became quieter when he passed her room, sometimes standing a little too long by her door as if waiting for something. One afternoon, she came back from work to find him leaning by her window, pretending to be on a call. He smiled, said the rain the other night was something else, then later that same week asked if she could help him with a small loan to balance something urgent. The way he said it, with a voice low and careful, made her chest feel tight because she had been in that position before — when someone you didn’t fully trust tried to dress trouble like a polite request.
She told him she would think about it, but the next day he came again, this time saying he just needed a signature to collect a parcel. Daniel, who had been sweeping his side quietly, raised his head and looked at them for the first time in days, his eyes dark like the rain that almost drowned her room.
That evening, while people carried buckets of water from the tap, two unfamiliar men in plain clothes came to the gate asking for Adrian by full name.
And this time, he was inside.
THE BREAKUP NEIGHBOURS
Final Part (Episode 9 & 10)
The two men at the gate didn’t look like visitors; they looked like shadows dragged by unfinished business. Their shirts were plain, their questions direct: “Where is Adrian?” The compound stiffened. Children who had been playing ten-ten with chalk on the ground suddenly pressed against their mothers. Doors half-closed, then half-opened again, eyes peeking.
Adrian stepped forward, his smile weaker this time. “Gentlemen, you are mistaken,” he said, voice too smooth. But the men only exchanged glances, one pulling a folded paper from his pocket. His full name, bold in black letters, stared at him. There was no more hiding.
The corridor, which had feasted on Sophia and Daniel for weeks, now had a new play. Mama Nkechi whispered, “Did I not say it? A man too neat for this compound must have story.” The landlord’s wife held her wrapper tighter, satisfied that the gossip had ripened. Even Daniel, arms crossed, couldn’t mask the flicker of grim satisfaction that passed across his face.
Sophia, however, stood still. Her hands tightened on her bucket as if it could anchor her. Adrian’s eyes darted toward her, desperate, as though she could pull him out of this storm. But she said nothing. For the first time since he arrived, she saw through the polished shirt, the quick smiles, the easy charm—and what she saw was hollow.
The men led him away. The truck that once carried his mattress and stereo now looked like a ghost parked in memory. His door stayed locked, his shoes abandoned under his window. And just like that, the corridor lost its latest headline, but gained a story that would not die easily.
Chapter 10 — The Quiet After the Noise
In the days that followed, the compound changed its rhythm. The whispers slowed, not because people had grown tired, but because the echo of Adrian’s footsteps leaving with strangers still rang too loud. It was like a drum that reminded everyone how quickly masks can fall.
Sophia carried herself quietly. She fetched her water, cooked her meals, swept her frontage—yet people’s eyes still followed her, weighing, guessing, attaching her name to Adrian’s departure even though no one saw her enter his room again. Madam Ifeoma’s daughter said, “She dodged bullet,” while another voice hissed that maybe she helped load the gun. In compounds, silence never clears suspicion—it only feeds it.
Daniel returned to his old ways of walking straight into his room, but this time there was less stiffness in his shoulders. One evening, when Sophia’s bucket slipped and splashed water across the corridor, he bent without thinking, picked it up, and placed it back in her hands. Their eyes met—brief, heavy. Neighbors noticed. Neighbors always notice.
That night, for the first time in months, the corridor felt like it could breathe again. No shouting, no accusations, no sudden sparks. Just the sound of radios humming low, the smell of kerosene stoves, and the ordinary life of people bound together by walls too thin to hide anything for long.
But the truth was simple: Sophia and Daniel’s story had cracked, Adrian’s mask had fallen, and the compound had learned once again that in shared spaces, nothing ever remains private.
The corridor would move on—new tenants would come, new quarrels would rise, laughter would return—but somewhere beneath it all, the memory of the breakup neighbours would linger like a stain that even rain could not wash away.
✨ End of Season One: The Breakup Neighbours
