THE ART OF BREAKING HEARTS

The Fight That Never Ends.

Peter stood alone in the dimly lit room, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. His breathing was heavy, and his mind was filled with frustration.

"Hmmm, I have tried my best to avoid any and all types of problems," he mumbled to himself. "And yet, this bastard Luke refuses to let me be. No matter how many times I beat him up, he still somehow finds the strength and will to fight me again."

As he finished speaking, he turned around, dropped his bag on the floor, and was about to leave when his younger brother, Jubilee, suddenly grabbed his right arm.

"Senior, you're going to fight again, right?" Jubilee asked, his voice filled with worry.

Peter didn't answer immediately. He simply nodded, his face expressionless.

Jubilee exhaled deeply, his grip tightening slightly. "Brother, aren't you tired of fighting these gang wars? Haven't you grown tired of being thrown into battle every time? Mom and Dad are still here, fighting against each other, and now you're going out to fight another battle outside."

Peter gently pulled his arm free from Jubilee's grip and walked toward the door without looking back.

Jubilee wasn't satisfied with his silence. He raised his voice, desperation creeping into his words. "You know, brother, as much as I hate the family crises in our home, it doesn't mean I should hate Mom and Dad. You should understand—not all families are perfect. Many have fought, broken up, or even killed each other. But thanks to God—even if it's not really worth thanking—we are still alive are we not. And after awhile of fighting our parents sometimes come back together, we still live in our home, and we still go to school."

Peter stopped. He didn't turn around fully, only tilting his head slightly backward. "I totally agree with you, brother. But like I said, you still don't know anything. Take care of them. I'll be back soon."

Jubilee's face fell. His voice trembled as he shouted, "Then make me understand, brother! Are you this way because Mom and Dad don't care and fight a lot? Or is it because of your heartbreaks? Tell me, because this isn't the brother I know!"

Peter sighed deeply. "I am the way I am now because I accepted the reality of life."

Jubilee frowned. "You accepted reality make me understand or is it because you were exposed to a bad environment at a young age?"

A faint, bitter smile crossed Peter's lips. "You can call it bad environment, bad parenting, or heartbreak. But I call it reality. This is how our world is. The faster you get used to it and harden your heart, the better for you."

He turned slightly, his eyes dark with experience. "As my blood, I'll tell you this: the world doesn't accept weak people. It doesn't accept good people either—it mocks them, breaks them, and finally turns them into the villains or 'bad guys' as the world calls them. But in reality, these were once good people who tried their best, who gave everything they had… only for the world to throw it back in their faces."

Jubilee sighed, his voice softening. "Brother… are you alright? Is it because of the little trauma you faced as a young boy growing up, that's making you to say all these words?"

Peter didn't answer directly. Instead, he said, "Later. And be calm—they won't kill themselves."

With that, he opened the door and stepped out into the calm and beautiful evening of the day.

Jubilee watched him leave, his heart heavy. "Brother, be careful. Unless… you might end up hurting yourself in a way you'll regret." He closed his eyes and whispered, "God, I know You can hear me. Please protect him and keep him safe, like You always do. Amen."

BAM! CRASH!

The sudden sound of breaking objects made Jubilee jump. His eyes widened as he ran toward the noise, muttering to himself, "God… they seriously want to kill themselves!"

Y.K.C. Woji Junction – The Park

Luke stood in the middle of the park, a smug grin on his face. His men surrounded him, laughing and jeering. He raised both hands in mock surrender.

"So, Josiah, where is your king? Where is your best friend, Peter?" He pretended to think, tapping his chin. "Oh, oh, wait—let me guess. He's a pussy who's too afraid to show up when it matters most!"

Luke's men burst into laughter, chanting in unison, "Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!" before erupting into another round of mocking laughter.

Josiah's men tensed, ready to attack, but he quickly raised a hand to stop them. His voice was calm but firm. "How many times has my best friend beaten you up, Luke? And yet, you always find a way to come back. Aren't you tired of always getting your ass kicked?"

Luke's grin faded. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Both groups tensed, fists clenched, waiting for the next move.

"Watch your tongue, Josiah," Luke warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I'll do that for you."

Josiah exhaled, shaking his head. "Naturally, I know I can't hope to win against you. But if Peter doesn't show up, then I'll do my best to defeat you here—once and for all."

Luke laughed loudly, then suddenly tapped Josiah's shoulders rapidly—before delivering a lightning-fast punch that sent Josiah crashing to the ground.

The moment Luke struck, both groups clashed. But Luke's men had the upper hand—they outnumbered Josiah's crew.

Luke loomed over Josiah, raining down powerful blows without giving him a chance to stand. Josiah could only defend himself weakly, his arms barely blocking the relentless attacks.

"Come on, boy!" Luke taunted, his voice dripping with excitement. "Fight back! You said you'd try your best to defeat me—so do it!" He laughed loudly, enjoying every second.

Josiah, struggling to keep up, spat out blood and shouted, "A cheat fighter like you can never win against my brother in a fight! Now I see why you always lose to him!"

The moment those words left his mouth, Luke's face twisted in rage. He signaled two of his strongest fighters. "Hold him down!"

The two men rushed forward, grabbing Josiah's arms and pinning them wide open—leaving his face and body completely defenseless.

Josiah struggled, but their grip was too strong.

Luke smirked, picking up a brick from the ground. Without hesitation, he smashed it into Josiah's face—once, twice, three times.

"AHHHHH!" Josiah screamed in agony, his nose broken, his face bloodied. His cries echoed across the park like a wounded animal.

Hearing their leader's screams, Josiah's elite fighters tried to rush to his aid—but Luke's men ambushed them, overwhelming them with sheer numbers.

Luke stood up, wiping his hands as he admired Josiah's broken form. He turned to see his men victorious, and a wide, triumphant grin spread across his face. He spread his arms and laughed—a loud, victorious laugh, like a man who had just won a billion naira.

Then—footsteps.

Slow. Calm. Approaching from the darkness ahead.

Not one. Not two. But many.

To be continued…