Regrets||✓✓

18.6

I had never felt more humiliation than I had in the last three weeks. It was a nightmare. True to the anonymous writer's word, they uploaded twice a week. And they wrote EVERYTHING I had done, down to my banishment from home. People talked and people laughed but people never forgot. They reposted and dropped hateful comments. I felt bad for myself, but I felt worse for Toby. They knew we were a couple. I couldn't bear to imagine how he felt.

It was maddening. I didn't leave my apartment, I didn't attend classes, I didn't eat, sleep or bathe without crying. The only person that could have done such a thing, was Gold, and I had serious bones to pick with that bitch.

There was no need to play the victim. They already knew everything. I wore camo high waist shorts, a black tube top, a black coat and face cap. I settled for black sneakers. I was going to war. And I wasn't scared of going down for fighting for my dignity.

I stepped out of my apartment, frowning. People were starting to talk and whisper and point fingers, but I broadly smiled at them, and they frowned. They weren't expecting that. A wise person once said, 'you can't beat someone with something they don't feel. Shame, especially.'

I took my time, strutting even, to Gold's apartment. It was a long walk, but I was determined to show them that I was done feeling sorry for myself. Shit happens, anyway. Finally I arrived at the building, went inside and took the elevator. A lecturer I recognized was inside the elevator, with her daughter. She switched her daughter's position and stood between the both of us. She looked at me from the side of her eye, but I was already looking at her with a cocked brow. She looked away quickly and cleared her throat. The elevator stopped and I tipped my cap and walked out.

I threw five furious bangs on Gold's unsuspecting door. "Who is it?," she called, before opening the door. "Oh, Naija, it's you; I was just about to—" She was wearing a brown and cream stripped long sleeved t-shirt and cream palaso pants. I went around her and marched inside, reclining on her dining table. Her apartment was small; a couch, a loveseat, a TV backing the window, a dining table for two, a kitchen to the left, and her bedroom and bathroom behind the green door on the right. "I was just about to call you. I made soup. Hungry?" My blank face told her my answer.

"Cut the bullshit, Gold. You're the one uploading those articles. And I'm not asking. I know it's you."

"You're being ridiculous, Naija. I'm petty but not that petty. It wasn't me." I bounced off the table and marched up to her face, noses touching.

"Look me in the eye and say it again."

"It wasn't me," she whispered, and I saw hurt flash across her face. I lifted my face and stepped back.

"I don't believe you. You've always been such a perfect actress." She looked at me in disbelief, standing akimbo and folding her hands across her chest. "You're doing this to get back at me for rejecting you."

"You can't be serious, Naija; it's been over a year!" She realised her voice had gone a few pitches higher and she took a deep breath. "Yes, you rejected me, and it hurt, but even if you don't love me back, I still love you. And even if we don't talk like before, we're still friends. Which means your secrets are still safe with me. And I can swear on my life, I swear to God, Naija, I never told another soul." Tears were forming in her eyes and I visibly relaxed. I walked up to her and awkwardly hugged her. She nodded against my shoulder and pulled away.

After a while, I said, "I'm sorry... I just... I thought..." I couldn't complete my sentences without feeling guilty.

"It's okay, Naija, I understand. It only seems fair that the sad girl rejected by her best friend decides to ruin her as revenge. It's cool." She wiped her tears. "I'm sorry, though. Sorry I hadn't come by to see how you were faring. When I called it was always switched off."