IMAN'S POV
I ... and saw Billy laughing. Tears were literally rolling down her cheeks.
OUR LECTURER IS THE MAN I FOUGHT WITH.
My brain tried to process it, but the system said error 404. I froze.
“Why are you two late? You’re exactly 15 minutes late. Why?” he asked, voice sharp.
Billy jumped in quickly, “Sorry sir, I forgot my phone at home so I had to go and pick it up. Sorry, sir.”
He nodded. “Okay. Go sit down. Don’t ever be late again.”
She marched off to her seat without even looking back at me.
She left me behind. Abandoned. Betrayed.
But honestly... maybe I deserved it.
"And you?" he turned to me. "Why are you late?"
“Uhmm…”
“I’m listening,” he said, folding his arms.
Silence. My brain did not get the memo.
"...NEPA don take light."
He blinked. “In fact, I do not have your time. Go and sit down. See me after class.”
As I turned, Kamal—a boy who clearly lives for drama—leaned over and whispered loudly,
"You’re in trouuuuubbbbllleeee."
The whole class burst into laughter.
Until Mr. Sassmaster glared at them. Instant silence.
---
1 painfully long hour later...
Class ended.
As promised, I stayed behind. I dragged myself to his desk.
"Sir, I’m here."
He looked up. “Okay. I’ll ask again—why were you late?”
I crossed my arms. “You know the reason.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I do not know the reason. In fact, why am I wasting my time? I have more important things to do. Since you have no explanation, you’ll be writing lines.”
Lines. LINES?! Am I in primary school?!
I muttered, “Lines kowa... what kind of wahala—"
“Yes, Miss Dikko, the exact type of line you're thinking. Because clearly, you are in primary school,” he said with a sarcastic smirk.
“If you don’t want to write lines, I can just deduct 100 points from your semester work.”
I watched in horror as he reached for his pen.
“No, no! Okay wait! I’ll write it, I’ll write it! How many lines and what should I write?”
“Write: ‘I will never disrespect my elders again’—500 times. Submit it by tomorrow,” he said, thick accent and all.
This was definitely about what happened in the shop.
“I never said that, Miss Dikko. I don’t have your time. I have another class. Bye-bye,” he added, waving me off like a fly.
The nerve.
I turned and left, muttering under my breath.
Why does he talk with so much sass?
“It’s called confidence, dummy,” my conscience replied, sipping tea.
---
As I walked into the café, people started bombarding me with questions.
“Did you get expelled?”
“Is he going to call your parents?”
But the last person made me scream.
“Did he ask you out?”
“NOOOO! Never ever! I rebuke it! God forbid! HARAM, HARAM!”
Aisha, another classmate, raised a brow. “Then what did he say?”
“He just told me to write lines.”
Billy popped up beside me, cackling. “Lines? Are you in primary school?”
“That’s what he said. Or he’d deduct 100 points.”
Billy shrugged. “Okay o. Let’s go. We have another class.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Why?”
“Because you left me there! What if he’d done something worse? Called my parents? Reported me to the board? Or—”
Billy cut me off, “But did he do any of those things?”
I sighed. “No…”
“Then forget it. We have class, and if we’re late again, you’ll be writing 1,000 lines.”
---
Back home...
We ate, and I started writing my punishment lines while watching Friends. Billy helped out—bestie points were restored.
At 2:30 AM, I yawned, eyes barely open. “Thank God we don’t have class till 3:30 PM. If not, I’d have collapsed.”
“Don’t worry. We’re almost done. Just 40 more lines,” Billy said. “But you owe me, sha.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later, we were FINALLY DONE.
I threw my pen down, curled into bed, and whispered,
“I’m not giving him this paper until the very end of the day.”
With that, I drifted off into la la land, praying never to hear the words "write lines" again in this lifetime.
***************
Heys guys
So short chapter I have a lot on my plate I am packing we travelling tomorrow so I have to finish, at the point my mom is calling me
Enough with my sorutu let me go before she comes and bounce on me 🏃♂️🏃♂️🏃♂️🏃♀️🏃🏃
Komal ❣️❣️❣️❣️
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