KING KATOR: Keep Kinging Part 2 ( A SESSION WITH QUEST)

“So, Kator,” I said gently, “just tell me a bit about her. Quest.”

He rubbed his palms together. “She’s a student.”

I blinked ''A student?''

“Yes. Dentistry and Dental Surgery, Ebonyi State University.”

I nodded slowly. Not because it explained everything — but because it explained something.

'' so, you entered something serious with someone who's literally buried between preclinicals & clinicals, struggling to survive dental school stress? Probably thinking of surviving tomorrow's test, not some unknown future."  He didn't reply.

I wasn’t judging.

I just knew what pressure felt like. And sometimes, people don’t walk away from love — they walk away from timing.

That was when the professional in me kicked in, I knew I had to speak to her-- not as Kator's friend or ghostwriter, but as someone who understood pressure, detachment, and emotional timing... I needed to hear Quest’s side — not for gossip… for balance. Thats why I'm DUBAEMO----KEEPER OF UNTOLD STORIES.

It took a few days. Messages left on read. One-word replies.

But eventually, she said:

 '' Okay. I’ll talk.''

And so — the session was set.

I travelled all the way to Abakaliki, Ebonyi State, just for this session. Not because I didn't have other things do, but because something about her silence felt too familiar and too heavy to leave ignored.

She agreed to see me even when she was not in the mood to talk. Maybe because I seemed serious about what I do or maybe I looked like I actually understood the kind of pain that doesn't always come with noise.

She sat across from me, quietly at first — hands tucked between her thighs, eyes scanning the room like she was still deciding whether to speak or just hold it in like usual.

But then, almost like a sigh cracked open her chest, Quest began to talk.

“Dubaemo, I met him in 2022,” she said, voice soft like someone recalling something too sacred to touch carelessly.

“He was my first. The first boy I ever gave a chance. I had stayed away from all that — I wasn’t the type to fall anyhow. I waited… not because I thought I was better than anyone, but because I wanted something genuine.”

Her fingers played with the hem of her sleeve.

“We didn’t just bump into each other on Instagram. Our parents were involved, low-key. It was like… an understanding or maybe a silent hope that something genuine would grow. Before I got into school, we were already talking seriously. And he was saying all these things — sweet things that made me feel seen.”

She turned slightly toward me, as if trying to make sure I was still listening.

“He told me he’d take care of me. That when people saw me, they’d be jealous because of how well he’d treat me. He said I’d glow — that I’d shine because of his love.”

A weak smile crept onto her lips, then disappeared just as fast.

“I don’t know what I expected, Dubaemo. Maybe I was naïve. But I didn’t think the person who promised me joy would forget I even needed it.”

She paused. Swallowed.

“I’m a student. Dentistry. Ebonyi. It’s not child’s play. There are weeks I don’t even recognize my own reflection — stress has bent me into shapes I never knew my body could fold into. I’m buying manuals, printing slides, catching night classes like I’m chasing shadows. But I never bothered him with all that.”

She shook her head, gently.

“I just wanted small reliefs. A skincare product here and there, maybe something for my cravings when I’ve skipped two meals just to stretch my allowance. I wasn’t asking for the world. I only wanted him to notice the weight on my back and try to hold even a corner of it.”

Her voice lowered, trembling slightly.

“Dubaemo, my allowance doesn’t carry me halfway into the month. I thought maybe, just maybe, during those gaps — when I’m down to Garri and cold water — he’d offer something. A little airtime. A plate of food. A smile, even.”

She looked up. Her eyes were glossy, not with tears, but with exhaustion.

“But no. Nothing. Not on my birthday. Not during my period cramps when I curl up and cry from pain. Not even a ‘how are you holding up?’ when school is draining me like an old battery.”

She laughed, bitterly — but soft, like a girl too tired to be angry.

“I thought relationships were supposed to be sweet, Dubaemo. I waited this long hoping I’d at least enjoy my first. But sometimes I ask myself, am I a gold-digger? Just because I want to eat and not faint in school?”

Her voice cracked now, just a little.

“How do you expect me to be happy when I haven’t eaten? You’re working, I’m not. I can’t even focus on my books when my stomach is empty. And the one who claimed he would treat me like a queen, treats me like I’m asking too much just to be remembered.”

She exhaled, long and weary.

“I’m not even looking for luxury. I just wanted effort. The kind that says, ‘I see you, and I wanted to help you carry what you’re carrying.’ But instead, he wanted everything from me --loyalty, attention, softness… all the things I give naturally — yet I was the only one pouring.”

Then her voice faded to a whisper.

'' I didn't ask for too much, Dubaemo. I Just asked not to suffer alone''

I listened.......

Not the shallow kind of listening that nods at intervals and rushes to respond. NO - I listened the way a woman listens when another woman is bleeding in places no radiograph can detect.

I travelled to Abakaliki with a simple intention-- to listen.

Not to intervene.

Not to diagnose.

Not to diagnose...... but to witness.

QUEST isn't my client. KATOR is. So, this is me-- writing, not to fix her story, but to document it. Because healing is not always loud, and some sessions are not meant for follow-ups.

She wasn't asking for extravagance. she only wanted small reminders that she mattered-- a little softness, a little thought, some presence in her chaos.

What struck me most wasn't her pain-- it was her restraint. How she kept editing her expectations so that wouldn't seem like a burden.

And I thought: how often do women swallow their needs just to preserve a man's comfort?

KATOR made promises. But love is not poetry-- it is proof. And where effort is absent, affection becomes exhausting.

So no, she is not client. I may never speak to her again.

But, if you must love someone, let it not be with empty hands and beautiful excuses. Because love carries weight. And presence is not a Favour-- it's a form of care.

BUT WETIN I SABI???

I AM JUST A WERID THINKER

back to my client story please

KING KATOR: Keep Kinging Part3

(LOVE STORY TO HUSTLE GLORY)