Octavia.
That's me.
In case you forgot.
Honestly, I wish I could forget myself sometimes.
After my… let's call it that incident with Amanda and Kemi, something very unexpected happened.
They started dating.
Yes. Dating.
I know.
I was just as shocked as you are.
At first, I laughed it off. Like, wow, life is funny. Then it hit me properly. They were actually together. Official. Exclusive. Holding hands like the world hadn't just mocked me personally.
And just like that, I became the third wheel in my own house.
Life went on, obviously. It always does. But it went on without me at the center, and that was new.
I saw Kemi everywhere—at school and at home. She was always coming over to see Amanda whenever my grandma wasn't around. And whenever my grandma was around, she'd suddenly remember she needed to "check on Octavia" or "study with Octavia."
Imagine being used as a cover story in your own house.
Anyways… I was happy for them.
😑
No, I wasn't.
😭
I was pained.
Like proper pain. The kind that sits in your chest and pretends it's not there until you're alone and doing absolutely nothing. For about a week, I moved around like a ghost—smiling when necessary, nodding when spoken to, but internally screaming.
Amanda stopped paying attention to me.
No more long conversations.
No more lingering looks.
No more accidental touches.
She only spoke to me when it was absolutely necessary.
"Food is ready."
"Can you help me with my assignment?"
"Do you have dirty laundry?"
That was it.
No warmth. No softness. No us.
And obviously—no more sneaking around. No more shared moments. No more anything that made me feel chosen.
It hurt more than I wanted to admit.
But eventually, I adjusted. Because what choice did I have?
So when I met a new girl on Instagram, it felt like a lifeline.
Her name was Kayla.
Kayla was… stunning. Like the kind of fine that makes you stare at your phone a little too long. She had confidence dripping from her pictures. Bold captions. Sharp replies. That baddie aura that makes you feel lucky just for being noticed.
We started texting casually at first. Then more consistently. Then constantly.
She was funny. Flirty. Interested. She made me feel wanted again.
And I won't lie—that feeling was intoxicating.
By this time, we were officially on holiday. Final exams were over. School stress was gone. And then something even better happened.
My grandma traveled to Canada to see my parents and siblings.
She didn't take me with her.
Nigeria was my punishment.
But honestly?
I didn't mind.
In fact, I was thrilled.
For the first time in a long while, the house was quiet. Free. Mine.
And best of all—Kayla and I could finally meet.
She was supposed to come over and stay for the weekend. Friday to Monday morning.
I couldn't wait.
Especially because Kemi had practically moved in since my grandma left, and her and Amanda had made it their personal mission to make sure I had no peace.
Lovey-dovey nonsense during the day.
Whispered laughter in corners.
And at night?
Yeah. No comment.
So Kayla's visit felt like salvation.
Friday morning came, and we talked. She told me she'd soon start coming. My excitement went through the roof. I was pacing the house, checking my phone every five minutes.
Then she said something.
She didn't have money for transport. She needed over 50k.
I didn't even think twice.
I sent it.
The account name was a male name, but I ignored the small voice in my head. It could've been her brother. Or her cousin. Not everyone had a bank account, especially students.
I trusted her.
After that, I cleaned the house like my life depended on it. Especially my bedroom. Changed the sheets. Rearranged things. Made it perfect.
I was hopeful again.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
I told myself she was stuck in traffic. Lagos traffic was evil like that.
Afternoon turned into evening.
Still nothing.
I started texting her.
No reply.
I refreshed the chat.
Messages weren't delivering.
My heart sank slowly, painfully.
Then it hit me.
She had blocked me.
Just like that.
No explanation.
No apology.
No Kayla.
I sat on my bed staring at my phone, feeling stupid. Embarrassed. Angry. Used.
I had been scammed.
And the worst part?
I had no one to blame but myself.
I laughed once. A dry, broken laugh. Then I dropped the phone beside me and lay back, staring at the ceiling again—something I was doing far too often lately.
Life really had jokes.
And I was always the punchline.