Power of Hindsight.

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The moment komolafe woke up that calm Saturday, he knew it was going to be a special day. He had ironed his joggers the night before, shaved his chest hair into the shape of a lightning bolt, and Googled "how to flirt while breathing heavily." Today was the Lagos City Marathon—and most importantly, today was the day he would finally impress Flourish, the girl of his dreams and the only woman who had ever borrowed his power bank and actually returned it fully charged.

Flourish was a TV journalist—sharp, confident, and so beautiful that even mosquitoes hesitated before landing on her. She had once smiled at Komolafe during a press conference, and in that moment, Komolafe immediately decided that they were already spiritually engaged. So when Flourish casually asked Komolafe, one time they had a conversation, "You should come for coverage at the marathon," what komolafe heard was, "Come and run for me, my lion."

Komolafe was not a runner; he wasn't even a brisk walker. But he trained the only way a man in love knows how to: blindly and with pride. He jogged once around his neighborhood, nearly fainted by a coconut tree, and actually declared himself a marathon-guru and marathon-ready. If only he had the power of hindsight, he might have stayed home and actually loved Flourish from afar—with clean clothes and dry dignity.

On the day of the marathon, Komolafe arrived dressed as if he were auditioning for the Olympics—gear and all. He wore a white sweatband, compression tights, Nike sneakers, and a stopwatch he didn't know how to use. He quickly scanned the area in search of Flourish and immediately spotted her adjusting her camera near the starting line. She wore black jeans, sunglasses, and the kind of confidence you can't buy at Idumota market.

"Komolafe!" she called out loudly enough for him to hear. He immediately turned, pretending not to have seen her before. "Wow! You actually came," she said, surprised.

Komolafe flashed his best smile, which unfortunately made him look like he was trying not to sneeze. "Of course. I am here to support fitness and journalism and...general running things," he gestured, still grinning.

"I see." she simply said, laughing.

Komolafe took the laughter as a sign from the universe.

"Good luck with the race, and break a leg," Flourish said playfully while waving to Komolafe as she walked back to mind her camera.

"I probably won't!" Komolafe exclaimed and smiled as he jogged back to the race line to join the other runners.

Then the race began.

"On your mark! get ready! go!" the race official called out.

The athletes exploded from the line, slicing through the wind with all their strength, raw power, and precision. Runners surged forward like a human tsunami, pounding the ground with thunderous determination.
Komolafe joined the crowd, elbowing a man dressed in Spider-Man costume and dodging a chubby woman waving a half empty-bottle of Pepsi. It wasn't long before he realized three things: he had no idea where he was going, he had pulled something very important in his left thigh, and his bladder was suddenly giving him ultimatums.

However, he pushed on. Everytime he ran past a camera, he puffed out his chest and smiled like a toothpaste model—Flourish had stationed herself near a bridge to interview runners. Komolafe saw her ahead and decided now was the moment. He would sprint fast, wink, and say something smooth—probably "Flourish, this is for you," or "I'm committed to this marathon 100%." He reasoned.

Now the moment came as he ran past the bridge, almost about to wink and grin for the camera, especially for Flourish. he suddenly tripped over a pure water nylon; his body immediately twisted mid-air like a confused pretzel.

"Aaaaahhh!" he screamed.

Immediately, Flourish turned as she stared at Komolafe falling directly into an open gutter.

Live.

On national TV.

Legs up. Face down. Pride shattered into the gutter.

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There was silence. Then Flourish gasped. A man shouted, "Yea! A fine guy has fallen into the gutter!" Immediately, a camera zoomed in for a close-up.

"Are you okay?" she asked, keeping a straight face and extending her hands to pull him out.

"I should be fine, I guess." Komolafe smirked, staring at Flourish, feeling completely embarrassed.

Komolafe emerged, drenched, smelling like decade-old sorrow, holding up one shoe and a dead rat like a trophy. Flourish looked horrified. The cameraman was giggling.

That fall was actually epic.

That Saturday night, the Internet exploded. The fall went through Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and even Facebook—everywhere you looked, there was Komolafe flying in slow-motion replays, remixes with dramatic music, and even one version on YouTube edited the fall into an avengers battle.

Later that day, Komolafe switched off his phone and actually went into hiding.

However, Jide, his very loyal but unserious cousin, refused to let the humiliation rest. "You need to erase this fall of shame... Forever!" Jide exclaimed, waving a remote control made from an old DSTV decoder and a car key. "This is a time rewinder, but only for just five minutes backwards into your past. Don't doubt, just believe, and every shame and embarrassment will be over."

Komolafe didn't even argue. He immediately pressed the red button.

He just blinked—and there he was, back in his actual past, just before he had the fall; before the embarrassing trip. Standing right before the sprint. Before destiny actually dragged him into drainage shame.

This time, as soon as the starting whistle was blown, Komolafe ran slowly, conscious of every step and obstacle on his path. Then suddenly, he started walking slowly.

No running. No sprint. No quotes.

He strolled past Flourish and gave a gentle nod.

Flourish smiled and nodded back.

Komolafe smiled back. "Today, I am simply walking by faith. No dramatic entrance because I have learned the power of hindsight," he muttered.

Later, when all the cameras were turned off, Flourish walked over to Komolafe and said, "I saw the fall in the other timeline."

"What?!" he said, startled.

Jide, his cousin had posted the whole rewinding story.

"Argh!" Komolafe groaned.

However, Flourish chuckled, "You know...it was the funniest thing I've seen in months. What's more, you took the fall like a champ. Not many guys would show up again after going viral over tripping on public drainage." She encouraged him, still chuckling.

"So... you're not completely horrified?" Komolafe asked, interestingly surprised.

"No, I'm not, want to grab lunch? preferably somewhere without gutters?" Flourish offered nicely, grinning.

"I'd really loved that." Komolafe replied as they both walked off together, grinning.

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If there's one thing Komolafe would never forget, It's the power of hindsight—especially when it smells like gutter water and impressing a girl.

THANKS ALOT FOR READING ME