Chapter 1: The Night Everything Changed

After I realised my boyfriend was destined to fall for the heroine and leave me, I decided to act first. The night he was supposed to be drugged and spend the night with her, I beat her to it.

That night, as the city buzzed with its usual Lagos energy, generator humming in the background, I prepared myself for what I knew I had to do. I rub small ori for my chest, pray make my spirit strong reach tonight. My heart carried the weight of a thousand secrets, the kind only a true Naija girl could swallow and still stand.

Afterwards, I staged a dramatic scene and caught him red-handed.

The drama na real Nollywood style. I storm the place, tears and anger all over my face, my best friend backing me up, phone camera ready in case wahala go burst. The smell of fried plantain and cheap perfume choke the corridor as I burst enter. No one fit say I no try. My voice shake with betrayal, but inside me, I dey pray make my knees no give way.

"Make we break up. I no fit dey with man wey don dirty himself."

I talk strong, but my hand dey shake like generator wey fuel dey finish. E be like thunder strike for the middle of my chest as I drop those words, but my voice steady, no shake.

He looked like a heartbroken puppy, he scrub himself with hard sponge, as if he wan wash sin commot for skin.

I fit still remember the way him dey rub him skin, like say if him scrub reach bone, e go clean the memory of that night. Wetin pain me pass be say I see the small boy I grow with, the one wey dey share mango with me under mama Udoka tree, turn stranger because of fate wey no be our fault.

Four years later, I heard he was about to marry the heroine. I thought our story had already ended.

People gist dey fly everywhere for WhatsApp group. Even my old classmates dey drop sly comments, some dey even send me wedding invitation screenshots. I just dey laugh anyhow for my mind, but inside, small ache dey stubborn for my chest.

So I showed up again and started seeing the marriage partner my family arranged for me.

You know how e be for here – parents no dey gree make their pikin remain single after heart break, especially if you be woman. My mama and papa arrange Tunde for me—fine Yoruba boy, calm, always dey carry respect for voice.

But that very night, he locked me up.

Na so e start, like film. Just as I dey reason how to move on, Chijioke show, eyes red, voice low. He lock the door, body shaking, like say something dey pursue am from dream.

He pulled off his clothes, one by one, looking sick and obsessed, yet humble and desperate.

His hands no steady as he dey remove each cloth, sweat dey his forehead even though AC dey blow. He look me like say I be the only water wey fit quench am thirst, eyes dey beg, but pride still dey inside.

"Baby, abeg look me well. I don dey wash myself for years. I no dey dirty again."

His voice crack as he talk am. The words heavy, like say na prayer. I for laugh if no be the way my heart twist inside me. This na real Naija wahala—love, pain, and spirit of never gree.