I pretend to be excited about Toria’s upcoming nuptials but somewhere in the back of my mind, I am thinking of ways to throw a spanner in its works. I know, I know. That makes me sound like a terrible person and maybe I am, but what do you expect me to do? How do you expect me to go back to living a life that doesn’t have Toria in it?
I know that once she gets married, she will have someone else controlling her money, and she will no longer be able to do me a transfer whenever I ask. She will tell me she has to ask her husband about it first.
I always thought I would get married before her, after all, I was prettier and more extroverted than she was. Finding a man wasn’t my problem, it was finding the right kind of man.
Something smells fishy about Toria’s wedding. I’ve never met the person she’s planning to wed and that is strange because Toria always introduces me to her boyfriends. It’s how I’m able to get inside their relationship and split it open before it has a chance to become cohesive.
I think Toria is an amazing person, and not because she is generous with me but because I have come to know her heart and it is a good one. I wouldn’t have believed rich people could be genuinely good people if I hadn’t met Toria. She carries herself with a quiet grace that’s rare, especially given the privileged background she comes from. Unlike the stereotypical rich kids who might be entitled or self-absorbed, Toria is kind and thoughtful. She looks out for others, serving on the boards of two charity organizations and donating to several more. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like her—someone who makes a difference quietly, creating ripples without ever needing applause.
So yes, I think highly of Toria which is what motivates me to screen all her boyfriends to ensure they deserve her.
My methods might be questionable, but my intentions? Pure.
Take Shola, for example. When she started dating him, neither of us knew he was a Yahoo boy. He claimed to work remotely for a U.S. startup, and his wealth seemed legitimate. But something about his behaviour around Toria felt off. I’ll never forget the day I saw him convince her to lend him her debit card, saying he’d misplaced his. His story didn’t ring true to me, and I waited for Toria to spot the holes and question him, or refuse to do as he wanted.
She did neither rather she just handed him the card without hesitation.
This upset me, the way she handed out money to him like it meant nothing. I could see he was taking advantage of her kindness and my blood boiled.
That was the moment I decided Shola had to go.
It didn’t take long to find what I needed. One evening, when he came over to visit Toria, I managed to check his laptop, and there it was: undeniable evidence. A folder labelled with country names—Germany, Slovakia, Switzerland. Inside were email templates designed to scam women. I snapped pictures of everything before putting the laptop back as if nothing had happened.
As I said, I am lazy until I am properly motivated.
Three days later, I arranged a meeting between me and Shola.
“I know what you’re doing,” I told him.
He laughed, arrogant and dismissive.
“I know about your ‘remote ’ work,” I said.
I had his attention then but he said nothing, waiting.
“End things with Toria or I will tell her the truth,” I said.
“What exactly do you know?”
“I know about your ‘pitches’. I know about the women. I know everything. How dare you prey on innocent women who are simply looking for companionship?”
“How is that much different from what you are doing with Toria? What makes you think you’re better than me? You’re just as manipulative, controlling who she dates.”
His questions hit home but I refused to back down.
“What Toria and I have is none of your business. Now, end things with her or I tell her everything. Trust me, I have evidence.”
That was the end of Shola. He retreated like a wounded cat and things returned to normal with me and Toria. Soon after, she told me he had ended things with her. She didn’t tell me why, and I didn’t tell her what I discovered. That’s how she is—when her relationships end, she doesn’t fall apart like I do. Instead, she withdraws into herself, mourning quietly until she’s ready to move on.
And me? I was just glad to have her back to myself, safe from someone who never deserved her in the first place. With Shola, I had a good reason to break them up: he was a douchebag.
However, with Henry, it was different. Henry came into the picture two years later. From the moment Toria introduced us, I couldn’t ignore the attraction. Henry had this easy charm that made you notice the tilt of his smile and his laughter made me feel lightheaded. He was tall, with appropriate-sized shoulders that made me want to cry into them. What made it worse was his shameless flirting. He’d lean in a little too close when we spoke, his cologne—a rich mix of cedarwood and spice—lingering long after he pulled away. His eyes seemed to linger too, following me in ways that felt both thrilling and damning. Henry laughed at my unfunny jokes and had this habit of brushing against me as if by accident when we were all together. Sometimes I wondered if Toria could see it.
The night it happened, I remember the air between us feeling electric, thick with unspoken words and tension. Seducing him wasn’t hard; in fact, it felt inevitable. But the exhilaration didn’t last. After it was over, a pit settled deep in my stomach. The guilt was a dull, throbbing ache that wouldn’t go away. Every time I saw Toria after that, it gnawed at me, a silent reminder of what I’d done.
When Henry’s era was over, I told myself I would stop, that Toria was a grown woman and I would let her make her decisions herself. It worried me that she was such a bad judge of character and I wondered if that was because she was too pure to realize that everyone didn’t have pure intentions all the time, myself included.
Samuel was next, and he came eighteen months after Henry. Samuel was nice, slightly boring, in my opinion. He seemed appropriately into Toria and somehow that made me jealous. He didn’t seem to notice me whenever I was around and he was polite around me. I got the feeling he didn’t like me, so I decided that I didn’t like him either, and how could Toria be with someone who disliked me? What if he poisoned her against me? Worse, what if he married her and told her to cut me off? The thought gave me shivers at night. I had become used to having Toria in my life and living without her would be suicide for me. I loved her. Yes, yes I did. I do.
So I knew Samuel had to go but he was a good guy and finding something to unravel their relationship was harder than the first two. They were together six months before I figured something out. I created a Facebook profile for Samuel, asked a friend who was into Photoshop to do some work with his photos, and set it up so it looked like he was in another relationship and had just proposed to his ‘girlfriend’. Then I sent the link to the profile to Toria with the caption: “This looks like Samuel. Oh em gee! He’s getting married to someone else?”
The Facebook profile was the beginning of the unravelling of their relationship. Even though Samuel denied it for months and they tried to stay together, I could tell that their relationship had lost the spark it had. Toria was struggling with trusting him and Samuel was hurt that he had to convince her that he was trustworthy. Their relationship eventually sputtered and gave up a month later.
Samuel confronted me once, right after he ended things with Toria. It happened in the dimly lit parking lot outside her apartment building, the air heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass. I’d just stepped out of the building when I saw him leaning against his car, his arms crossed tightly, jaw set like he was trying to physically contain his anger.
“I know it was you who sent Toria that Facebook profile,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I froze mid-step, my palms growing clammy despite the cool evening breeze. I had banked on the fact that Toria would keep me anonymous.
“Come on, I’m not stupid. ‘A friend’ sent her the Facebook profile? What other friends does she have besides you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. His words hit like rapid-fire, and the cold intensity of his gaze made me avert my eyes.
“I don’t know what your motive is, but I wish Toria would open her eyes to see that the one she can’t trust is you.” He took a step closer, the gravel crunching under his feet.
“Don’t blame me for your failed relationship, Samuel.” I pretended that I wasn’t afraid, that my heart wasn’t beating wildly against my chest.
“I see you prancing around when I’m over, wearing skimpy outfits, hoping I would look at you. I honestly don’t know how Toria can’t see it. You’re a cancer and you’re eating her up.”
The word “cancer” hit like a slap, stinging my ears and making my chest tighten.
“Okay, I don’t have to listen to this. Leave me alone.” My voice cracked at the end, betraying the composure I was trying to maintain. I turned on my heel and walked away.
By the time I reached the apartment door, my hands trembled as I fumbled with the keys. No one had ever called me out on my behavior before. No one had ever called me a cancer. The word echoed in my mind, and unsettled me in a way I didn’t fully understand, leaving me shaken and raw.
Samuel was the last boyfriend. Toria had been single for a year as far as I know and now here she was engaged to be married, to some nameless, faceless guy I haven’t met. I don’t know how to feel about this. On the one hand, I am curious about who he is and whether he has skeletons I can use to sink their wedding plans.
Why didn’t Toria tell me about him before now? How long have they been dating? Since when did Toria keep secrets from me? We live in the same apartment, (one of the homes her parents owned that I’d convinced her to let me move in with her) so keeping her love life away from me must have been tough.
“So,” I lean forward across the small, round table, the café’s warm, roasted coffee scent mingling with the sugary sweetness of pastries on the counter nearby. The dull hum of conversations and the clatter of mugs against saucers create a cozy, bustling atmosphere. “Tell me about this mystery man.”
Toria’s face lights up, her smile as radiant as the diamond on her finger. The glow in her eyes, soft and unfocused, is unmistakable—she’s lovestruck.
“Don’t worry, you’ll meet him when the time is right,” she says.
I wonder if she’s lying, if there isn’t a man. But then, there’s the enormous diamond on her hand, glinting every time she moves her fingers. The cut catches the light, throwing tiny rainbows onto the tabletop. Plus Toria doesn’t have a dubious bone in her body.
I shrug, tearing a bite from my sandwich. The crunch of the toasted bread fills the brief silence between us as I pretend not to care. But inside, my mind is already working, piecing together ways to extract the information she’s withholding.
“I guess we have a wedding to plan,” I say, dabbing at my mouth with the stiff paper napkin. My eyes briefly flicker to her ring before I force myself to look away, recalling the moment earlier when I’d reached for it. The subtle way Toria had pulled her hand back, the delicate arch of her brow, had been enough to stop me.
Toria may not act like a spoiled rich kid, but she has these polished, almost imperceptible gestures—gestures that scream elitism and remind me of the wide, yawning economic gap between us.
I try to keep my gaze steady, but everything in me wants to reach for the diamond again, to slip it onto my own finger and feel its weight. An unexpected wave of longing washes over me, sharp and hot. It isn’t just the diamond—it’s Toria herself. Her life, her effortless grace, her ability to glide through the world like it’s made for her.
I close my eyes briefly to hide my thoughts.
“About that…” Toria begins.
