One month into the term and Tari still hadn't asked me out.
Which was weird.
I mean, we spoke every night. He knew what I had for breakfast, my favorite TikTok sound, and how many strands I'd plucked from my braids out of boredom. We even had inside jokes.
But no, Mr. Reserved was still circling me like I was some sacred ground he didn't want to ruin.
Meanwhile, I was drowning in family drama.
Exams were creeping in like silent assassins, and I didn't even know where my textbooks were half the time. My head was filled with my mum's sighs and my dad's yelling.
He came home late. Always angry. Asking for food like it was his birthright.
"Where's the soup?" he snapped one night, dropping his belt on the couch.
"There's no meat left—" Mum started.
"No meat?! So I'm not a man in this house again?"
I rolled my eyes from the hallway. Same drama, different day.
No money. No support. Just mouth and madness.
The worst part? She still served him.
Sunday came, and I wore my best smile to church — the kind that hid everything beneath lip gloss and mascara.
Michael, my crush since forever, decided to stay in the main church for once instead of going to the teens section. I almost choked when I saw him sitting two rows in front of me.
During praise and worship, our eyes met.
My stomach flipped.
After service, he came up beside me, grinning like he didn't know he was dangerously fine.
"You didn't dance much today," he said.
"I was fasting," I lied.
He laughed, eyes twinkling. "Liar."
We talked briefly — awkward pauses, lingering glances. It was the same chemistry we'd always had, the one I was too scared to confess to. The one I still hadn't outgrown.
Just then, Kosi bounced up beside me.
She was glowing.
"Guess who finally gave in to Tunde," she whispered. "Me."
I stared at her, blinking. "Wait. You and Tunde?"
She nodded, cheeks pink. "It just happened. We kissed on Friday. And I think… I like him."
Even though she tried to act chill, I knew she'd liked him since JSS3.
I was happy for her.
Jealous? Maybe. Just a little.
Mum was still juggling three side hustles — selling headwraps, cleaning offices, and managing church donations — just to keep us afloat.
My older brother? Missing in action. Claimed he was "finding himself" in school, but never sent a single naira home. Even when Dara needed school sandals, he was nowhere to be found.
The only one who showed up consistently?
Tari.
Every time I needed data, airtime, or something for school, his "I've sent it" text popped up before I could even finish typing my request.
Still, he hadn't said the words.
He hadn't made the move.
And maybe, just maybe, I didn't want him to.
Because when someone loves you too much, they become easy to manipulate.
And I needed control right now more than I needed butterflies.
Then the worst happened
It happened on a rainy Thursday.
We were all home early. Light drizzle outside, steaming eba in the pot. Dara — being Dara — had already licked her plate clean and wanted more.
"I want ice cream," she announced, her eyes locked on Mum.
Mum sighed, wiping her hands. "Dara, we've talked about this. There's no money for that now."
Dad, who had just entered, overheard.
"You're refusing her ice cream?" he barked.
"She's eaten. And there's no money—"
Before we could even blink, his hand struck her face.
Loud.
Sharp.
My mum stumbled backward, holding her cheek.
The room froze.
Even the twins didn't make a sound.
I saw red.
Hatred surged through my veins like fire. My throat burned. My fists clenched.
He had crossed a line.
And in that moment, I knew something had to change.
I couldn't let this continue.
I wouldn't.
But I wasn't going to yell or fight.
I was going to expose him.
Whatever he was hiding — money, mistresses, lies — I'd find it.
And when I did…
I'd bring his whole world crashing down.