CHAPTER THREE:A FRIEND LIKE NO OTHER

A few weeks after our first meeting, I visited the girl who had opened my eyes to the truth. She welcomed me warmly, introducing me to her family.

"I have no father," she said with a small smile. "But here is my mother."

Her mother—a beautiful widow—greeted me kindly, and her siblings, four girls and two boys, looked at me with curiosity.

As time passed, our friendship grew deeper. She knew everything about me—my struggles, my pain, my aunt's cruelty. She comforted me, telling me it was okay, that I wasn't alone anymore.

She was different from anyone I had ever met. She spoke freely about love, about romance, about the things she had experienced. She would tease me, calling me innocent, a little girl untouched by passion.

"How do you feel when you have sex?" she once asked, her eyes playful.

"I don't know," I replied honestly.

She laughed. "Oh, poor virgin, missing out on so much."

I smiled, but deep inside, I felt a strange stirring—a mix of curiosity and longing for something I couldn't yet define.

Months later, life dealt my friend a cruel hand—she got pregnant.

The news spread like wildfire. People whispered behind her back, some laughed, others judged. Her mother, unable to bear the shame, abandoned her. Female friends who once adored her now avoided her, calling her names, treating her like an outcast.

But I never left her side.

Despite my aunt's warnings, despite the punishments she inflicted on me for staying close to my friend, I remained.

"You're the only one who truly loves me," she would say, holding my hand tightly.

"I will always be here," I promised.

Nine months later, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. I was there, through every moment, buying her things she needed, making sure she never felt alone.

Then, one day, my father called. It was unexpected, almost surreal. He told me to prepare for an exam that would determine my admission into the university.

I was torn—excited at the thought of escaping my miserable life, yet guilty for leaving the one person who had stood by me.

When I passed and received my admission to study Linguistics at the university, I told my best friend. She smiled, but her eyes held sadness.

"I should be happy," she whispered. "But I don't want to lose you."

"You never will," I assured her.

But deep down, I wondered if that was a promise I could keep.

Not everyone celebrated my success.

My aunt's friend—our new neighbor—was a wicked woman who seemed to have made it her mission to ruin my life. She constantly filled my aunt's ears with venom, convincing her to make me suffer even more.

"She's running around with different men," she would say.

Lies.

"She's up to no good."

Lies.

But my aunt believed her. She forced me to work long hours in her shop without pay, never once contributing to my education, yet making sure I had no time to rest.

Through it all, I held onto one dream—leaving.

When the time came to prepare for university, my best friend and I made a desperate decision. We needed money. I couldn't go to school looking like a beggar, and she needed to care for her child.

So we stole.

It was wrong, but in that moment, it felt like the only way. The mission was successful. I bought clothes, essentials for school, and even gifts for her and her son.

Still, she wasn't happy.

"I know you'll forget me soon," she said, her voice heavy with sadness.

"Never," I promised. "I love you."