CHAPTER ELEVEN: DISTANCE FRIENDSHIP,UNEXPECTED MEETING

As time went on, things began to change between Olivia, Mercy, and me. We didn't quarrel, nor did we stop talking entirely—we simply grew distant. It was a slow, quiet drift, the kind that doesn't require words but is felt in the silence, in the way conversations became shorter and glances less frequent.

Loneliness crept in, wrapping itself around me like a cold embrace. Depression followed, dark and unrelenting.

The only boy who still spoke to me eventually provoked me one day, and in my frustration, I lashed out at him. That was the end of our friendship.

What pained me most wasn't losing him—it was what he said behind my back.

"She has no friends," he told others. "Her bad character and pride pushed everyone away. I tried to make her happy, but she wouldn't let me."

When I heard this, I was angry, but not hurt. Pain had long since become a part of me, a familiar presence I no longer fought against. I had been betrayed too many times, abandoned too many times. Nothing surprised me anymore.

Days passed in solitude, and I found myself yearning for my roommate's return. She was the one person who truly understood me, who treated me with respect and care. Without her, school felt unbearable.

Then, one evening, something changed.

As I walked along the road, lost in my thoughts, a tall, dark-skinned man with striking pink lips stopped me. His eyes held a charm that was impossible to ignore. He studied me for a moment before approaching.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I found myself calm, gentle, and uncharacteristically respectful in his presence. He fell for me quickly, drawn to a version of myself I hadn't realized existed. In time, we became friends, and before long, he took me as his lover.

But I wasn't in love with him.

I only pretended.

The first time I visited his home, I cooked for him—an elaborate meal, prepared with care. When he tasted it, his eyes widened in shock and admiration.

"I've never seen a girl as complete as you," he told me. "You're beautiful, fair-skinned, with a perfect shape, a pointed nose, and the kindest heart. And you can cook so well too."

I only smiled.

But later that night, as I lay in bed, I replayed the day's events in my mind. How had I been so respectful to him? Why had I been so different? It was then that a thought crept into my mind:

"Friends are the road to destruction. They steal your destiny and make you evil."

Perhaps that was why I had lost Olivia and Mercy. Perhaps I was better off without friends.

At least now, I had someone who appreciated me.

A few months later, my roommate finally came back. The moment I saw her, happiness flooded through me. If only she had never left—maybe things wouldn't have turned out this way. Maybe I wouldn't have been so lonely.

She was everything I needed in a friend—loyal, hardworking, and full of respect for me. Having her back made me feel lucky again.

Meanwhile, my relationship with Paul, the man who had come into my life so unexpectedly, continued. He took me seriously, far more seriously than I took him. He never pressured me, never asked for anything I wasn't ready to give.

He spoke to me about his family, introduced me to them. I could see how deep he was falling for me, and though I didn't truly love him, I stayed. I wanted to learn how to love. I wanted to feel what he felt for me.

I stopped going to church. For a long time, I had felt disconnected from it, and when I discovered my calling in culture and tradition, everything started to make sense.

The deeper I went, the more I uncovered about myself. I embraced the teachings, the rituals, the spirits. They guided me, comforted me.

Until one day, when I asked about myself.

The spirits spoke, revealing a truth that sent a shiver down my spine.

"You need cleansing. There is blood on your hands. You have committed abortion."

I froze. Abortion? Me? How? I had never even gone to a pharmacy for such things. Had I been pregnant without knowing?

Then, a memory surfaced—Anita.

I had helped her during her abortion, had been there for her. Could that be what the spirits meant?

Guilt and confusion consumed me. The only way forward was cleansing, but it would cost me $100, and I had no money.

I worked hard, pushing myself to earn the money. When I finally gathered enough, I wasted no time—I went for the cleansing. And when it was done, I made a vow to myself.

"Never again will I help someone commit abortion or suicide."