The Headset Fiasco

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That year, my sister and I came back to the house for the long school break, and for me, it was going to be a time to get back deeper into music.

My mom had a tradition of rewarding academic excellence in a way that would motivate us further. That term, I had performed exceptionally in exams, and after much pleading and negotiating, I convinced my mom to buy me an expensive headset as a gift. I still remember the day we went to the store there were lots other of gadgets that I wished I could also get, each one tempting me. I picked a black one, it was quite popular and expensive and perfect for getting lost into the world of music.

"Don't lose it ooo," my mom warned as she bought it. "If anything happens to it, don't even bother meeting me for your own good."
I nodded zealously, promising her I’d treat it like gold. And I did for a while.

One Sunday, a friend from church, Divine, started up a conversation with me about music. Divine wasn’t the kind of person my mom wanted us to mingle with. She thought he was wayward—too free-spirited and carefree for her liking. But I was drawn to his extensive music collection, I couldn't help it. He admired my headset that day, fiddling with the headsets as he talked about some new tracks he’d just downloaded.

"I can get you over 80 hot songs if you agree for me to take it home,” he said casually.

“No way!” I replied as I laughed nervously. “My mom will kill me.”

“Relax, I’ll return it on Tuesday. Plus, I’ll load it with tons of songs for you. I have lots of new tracks I know you would like.” he promised.

The thought of expanding my playlist was too tempting. Against my better judgment and every warning my mom had given me, I handed it over.

"Don’t tell your mum," he said.

“I am not stupid, she would skin me alive!” I muttered, I had already planned on keeping it secret.

The plan was simple: get the headset back on Tuesday during the church program, and my mom wouldn’t even notice it was gone. On Monday, I kept my distance from the living room, avoided any situation that might lead her to ask about the headset, and prayed Tuesday would come quickly.

Finally, Tuesday arrived. I was ready for church fifteen minutes ahead of time. My sister had gone out somewhere—I didn’t even know where. I was moving around in my room, nervously waiting for the moment to leave. That’s when I walked into the parlor and found my mom resting on the sofa. She was in her singlet and shorts, her phone in her hand, looking far too relaxed for someone about to attend a church program.

"Are you not getting ready?" I asked, trying real hard not to sound suspicious.

She looked up at me, her face calm but with an edge of mischief. “They’ve merged the programs to the Sunday service,” she said.

I froze. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My heart sank as I realized what had just happened. My mom had dropped a bombshell on me, and it wasn’t the kind you could recover from

The rest of the week crawled by painfully. Each day, I felt the weight of my decision pressing down on me. What if Divine didn’t show up next Sunday? What if my mom asked for the headset before then? I avoided her questions about my music habits, hoping to steer clear of any conversation that might lead her to the missing gadget.

When Sunday finally came, I rushed to the church and found Divine waiting for me, as promised. He handed over the headset, and I sighed with relief. But as I slipped the earpieces on, I noticed something was off. Only one side was working.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to keep my voice cool.

“I don't know, I think it fell,” he shrugged. “It’s just one side. The songs are still there, though.”

I was so angry, but I couldn’t bring myself to confront him. Instead, I didn't thank him, I just shoved the headset into my bag and walked away.

Back home, I inspected the headset, hoping I could fix it. But no amount of twisting, prodding, or fiddling could bring it back to life. One side remained stubbornly silent. The anger I felt wasn’t just at Divine—it was at myself. My mom had warned me countless times not to give it out and not to trust people with my things, but I hadn’t listened. I couldn’t tell her what had happened, so I quietly put the headset away, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

In the days that followed, I avoided using the headset when she was around. If she asked, I’d say I didn’t feel like listening to music. It was a small lie, but it was enough to cover up my mistake. She later found out it wasn't working well, but she wasn't too pissed since it was after a long time, so to her the headset lasted.