Chapter 5: Lines I Shouldn’t Have Crossed

 Zina never imagined love could arrive wearing so many faces, yet carry the same ache in the end, after Christian's betrayal and Frank's cold silence, she met another boy , this time from Obijuru State University. His name was Ikenna, Unlike the others, Ikenna saw her. He listened. He remembered the little things she said. They shared books, exchanged late-night texts, and dreamt about the future like it was something they could touch.

There was just one detail — Zina was a year older, But Ikenna didn't mind. He never mentioned it like the others had. With him, she felt young again, in a good way — seen, heard, and adored. He brought food to her hostel when she couldn't afford any. He'd call just to hear her voice. He was gentle, sweet, and far too good.

Maybe too good.

 Zina feared that goodness. She feared she would ruin it. So before the bond grew deeper, she slowly walked away, leaving behind a boy who had given her love without condition.

 Her roommate at school, Amaka, lived a different life — loud makeup, late-night outings, and unfamiliar perfumes that clung to her clothes. One evening, as Zina struggled to stretch her last ₦500 for the week, Amaka leaned on the bunk and offered a solution.

"I can hook you up," she said. "One night and your problems go away."

Zina's heart skipped. She needed money. She needed relief. But something inside her recoiled. Maybe it was fear, maybe pride, or maybe the last thread of her faith.

She turned it down.

 From that day, Amaka treated her like competition. Cold stares. Petty remarks. But Zina didn't flinch. She knew what she had refused, and she stood by it.

 Tina, her older sister, had always looked out for her. When Zina opened up about her financial struggles, Tina decided to help in her own way, by introducing her to a man who, according to her, "had sense and would help." His name was Mr. Duru, At first, he was polite. Encouraging. Supportive. They exchanged a few calls. Nothing serious.

Then one day, while returning from a love-struck visit to Ikenna, Zina's bus broke down along the lonely Obijuru highway. Her battery was dying. Her money was gone. It was already dark.

In desperation, she called Mr. Duru.

He came swiftly, offering comfort and a place to rest for the night. He didn't tell her he was married.

She found out the hard way.

In the guest room, he knocked and entered without permission. His eyes were different now — colder, demanding. When he reached for her, Zina's heart froze.

"No," she said, trembling. "Please."

But he didn't stop.

What saved her was the blood.

Her period had started unexpectedly. The bedsheet bore the mark. Mr. Duru recoiled, cursed beneath his breath, and stormed out. The next morning, a maid ushered her out quietly — no breakfast, no words.

 Zina stepped into the morning sun like someone who had escaped a fire. She didn't look back. From that day, she promised herself:

Never again.

She would never rely on anyone for her survival or love story. If the world wanted her to crawl, she would choose to stand. Even if it hurt.

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