There was no reason for the café to be this loud…

A blender was fighting for its life somewhere in the background. Somebody’s child was crying near the entrance. Two NYSC girls were taking pictures beside a fake flower wall like their lives depended on it.

And somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, four people were arguing over who should call the waiter.

“I called him the last time,” Shola said firmly, adjusting her glasses without looking up from the menu.

“There is no ‘last time’, ”Emeka replied. “We entered this place ten minutes ago.”

“At least she’s trying,” Atim muttered. “You people fear human interaction too much.”

Musa laughed quietly. “Funny thing is, all of you can tweet for twelve hours straight.”

“Tweeting is different,” Emeka said immediately. “Tweeting has no eye contact.”

The table burst into laughter.

Norma watched them quietly from across the table.

Maybe this was why she liked these meetups.

Not because anybody had life figured out. In fact, that was the interesting part. Everybody here looked functional on the outside, but if you listened carefully enough, you could hear the confusion underneath.

Shola looked like someone who knew exactly where her life was headed. Good job. Structured life. Color-coded calendar.

But three days ago, she had texted Norma:

“Do you ever feel like everybody else got a manual for life except you?”

Emeka joked constantly, but somehow every joke sounded one inch away from an existential crisis.

Atim noticed things nobody else noticed.

And Musa…

Musa spoke like somebody who had accepted that life would never fully make sense.

“Okay, serious question,” Emeka said suddenly, dropping his phone on the table.

Everybody looked up.

“Do you people realize we are now the adults?”

Silence.

Then immediate chaos.

“No.”
“Please don’t start.”
“God forbid.”
“Next topic.”

“I’m serious!” Emeka insisted, laughing. “Like… WE are now the people children are looking at for answers.”

“That’s their business,” Shola said quickly.

The table exploded with laughter again.

But the thought had already entered the room now.

That strange realization young people keep bumping into these days:

At some point, adulthood stopped being “those older people” and quietly became… us.

You’re the one leaving the house very early and returning very late.
The one paying bills.
The one saying things like:

“Let me check my schedule.”

As if you’re somebody’s father.

“At what age do you actually start feeling like an adult?” Atim asked.

“Thirty-five,” Shola answered immediately.

“Fifty,” Musa said.

“Never,” Emeka replied.

Norma laughed. “Honestly? I thought there would be a moment. Like a switch.”

“Exactly!” Emeka said, pointing aggressively. “That’s what they sold to us in secondary school.”

Everybody laughed again.

“No, seriously,” he continued. “I thought by now I would wake up one morning and suddenly know what I’m doing.”

“And?” Atim asked.

Emeka stared into space dramatically.

“I still Google things like:

‘How long should chicken stay in the air fryer?’”

They all laughed.

“But that’s the scary part,” Shola said after the laughter settled.

“We all look okay.”

And suddenly the room quieted a little.

Because that was true too.

Everybody looked okay online.

People were relocating. Getting married. Starting businesses. Buying cars. Posting soft life pictures with captions like:

“God did.”

Meanwhile, half the people scrolling were sipping garri and groundnuts for dinner and wondering if they were behind in life.

“I think social media made adulthood look more organized than it actually is,” Atim said softly.

Musa nodded.

“Every generation was probably confused,” he said. “Ours just documents it in real time.”

“Hm,” Atim smiled. “That’s actually true.”

“Our parents panicked privately,” Shola added.

“We panic aesthetically now,” Emeka finished.

The café erupted again.

The waiter finally arrived.

“What would you people like to order?”

Everybody immediately became silent.

Nobody had looked at the menu properly.

Norma leaned back in her chair and smiled.

Yeah.

Definitely adults.

Now let’s talk.

At what moment did adulthood suddenly feel real for you?

Or do you still feel like a confused teenager with responsibilities and a banking app? 😭