TORIA
I can tell it’s pissing Anya off, the fact that she knows very little about my relationship or impending wedding. I pretend to be focused on the food in front of me, keeping my mouth full to keep the smile of satisfaction off my face. I am not very good at lying and Anya knows this.
When I first met London, I was hesitant to open up. My track record with boyfriends wasn’t great, and that fear lingered like a shadow. But it only took four dates to realize this was different—serious in a way nothing had ever been before.
On our fourth date, we had dinner on the rooftop of the Transcorp Hilton. The city sparkled beneath us, the golden glow of streetlights stretching into the horizon. The stars were etched into the dark sky, creating a mesmerizing and romantic atmosphere. I remember thinking how brilliant God was in creation. The beauty and cohesion of his creations were unrivaled. The faint clinking of wine glasses from other tables and the soft strumming of live guitar music created an atmosphere of intimacy I wasn’t used to.
“You’re holding back from me, I can tell,” London said, his voice soft but probing. His eyes were steady on mine, the kind that made you feel seen.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, the confession almost lost in the evening breeze. Vulnerability wasn’t something I practiced often, but something about London softened the edges of my defenses. “I’ve had so many failed relationships that I wonder if I’m the problem.”
“What happened to your last relationship?” he asked, reaching across the table to take my hand. His touch was warm, grounding.
I grimaced, the memory still fresh enough to sting. “Well, turns out he was dating someone else.”
“Ouch. That must have hurt. How did you find out?”
“My friend. She found his Facebook page and sent it to me,” I said, the bitterness bubbling up despite my efforts to keep it down.
“So wait, he was dating you and someone else and dared to post pictures of the other girl on Facebook? Didn’t he think you’d see it somehow?”
I shrugged, a small laugh escaping me. “I don’t do Facebook. I don’t know how you men think.”
He held up his palms in mock surrender, a teasing grin on his lips. “Hey. Don’t lump us all in the same boat. But you know what? I want to see the Facebook page.”
“Why?”
“I’m curious about the kind of man that will have you and still want someone else.”
His words melted the bitterness away, leaving warmth in its place. I wasn’t sure why we were revisiting Samuel, but it felt oddly freeing to talk about it. Samuel had been a good guy—steady, quiet, like me. I liked him a lot and his betrayal had hit harder because he didn’t seem the type.
Even though he had denied it till we broke up, I just couldn’t find it in me to trust him wholeheartedly anymore.
“Come to think of it,” I said, pulling out my phone to find the link Anya had sent me, “he claimed that the Facebook profile was a fake. That someone was trying to mess with him.”
“Really? That was his defense?”
“Yeah. He never admitted to anything.”
“Did you believe him?” London leaned forward, the flickering candlelight from our table catching in his eyes.
I thought about it. “Yes and no. I mean yes, because Samuel didn’t seem like that kind of person, and his denial was firm till the end. No, because I saw the pictures. Pictures don’t lie.”
“Well,” he said, sitting back with a knowing look, “there’s Photoshop.”
I rolled my eyes. “The odds of anyone going that length to disrupt his life is slim. I mean, he wasn’t a celebrity or anything like that.”
By then, I’d found the link and forwarded it to London. Talking to him was easy, like a warm bath on a cold day. Even though we were still learning each other, it felt like we were friends as much as anything else, and that made me glad.
“Wait. So, he opened this Facebook account in 2023?” London asked.
“What? I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, Facebook shows when a person created their profile and it says here, that he created this profile July 7, 2023.”
“That’s six months after we started dating.”
“Exactly. Isn’t that odd? Why would he join Facebook after you start dating and then upload photos of the other girlfriend?”
I frowned, leaning closer. The profile looked different than I remembered, and his observation made my stomach twist.
“Honestly, I didn’t bother taking a deep look at it back then. But you’re right, it is weird.”
“And there’s little information about him on his profile. And look, look at this photo. Look at the angle of the head right there. What do you see?”
I squinted at the screen, my pulse quickening as I studied the photo. It was a jolt to see Samuel again, smiling at the woman beside him
“Wait. You’re right. The angle of his head is wrong. Oh my God, is this photoshop?”
I’d bet all my dollars it is,” London said with a triumphant smile. He leaned back, his confidence radiating. “It seems your ex didn’t cheat on you after all. Someone was out to get him—or you.”
“What? Why me?”
“I don’t know but I’m curious. Do you mind if I go further with this?”
It was then I learned about London’s love for detective shows and his knack for solving puzzles. He had a sharp, curious mind, and I found myself both impressed and intrigued. He was also a computer geek. Half of his money was from the apps he built and sold, the other half was his inheritance. This, I found out later.
“Sure,” I said, “go ahead.”
Two days later, he called me while I was at work.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice buzzing with excitement.
“Hey,” I replied, my curiosity instantly piqued.
“I’ve got news,” he said.
“Tell me!”
“I traced the original creator of the Facebook page. They weren’t very smart about covering their tracks. It was a hack job.”
“You can do that?” I was impressed, and for some reason, this made him even more attractive to me.
“Well, with the right tools and knowledge, yeah.” he grinned.
“Okay, so tell me!”
“Do you know an Ifunanya?”
At first, it didn’t register. I’d known Anya for so long that hearing her full name felt foreign. But when it clicked, my heart dropped.
“Yes,” I said, in a whisper. “I know her.”
I glance up again and catch her watching me. Her gaze is sharp, and calculating, like she’s picking me apart piece by piece. I wonder what’s going on in that brain of hers. The thought unsettles me. I’ve created a monster, haven’t I? No matter how much I try to wrap my head around her actions or find excuses for why she does what she does, nothing makes sense.
I have been good to her, I don’t deserve the hurt she’s put me through. The betrayal sits heavy in my chest, like a stone I can’t shake. I haven’t told her I know everything she’s done behind my back. Confrontation has never been my strong suit, and besides, Anya is a master manipulator. I’ve seen her twist conversations with men until they’re apologizing to her, even when she’s the one at fault. The ones who complain about her endless complaints, her high standards, and her tastes that drain their wallets. I’ve spoiled her for the rest of the world, and now it’s time she learns that actions have consequences.
When London discovered Anya had orchestrated the Facebook ordeal with Samuel, I told him everything. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t cut her off immediately. How could I explain to him that keeping her close felt safer at the time? Distance gives people too much room to do more damage.
Not long after, I reached out to Samuel. We agreed to meet at a little breakfast spot across from my office. The place was warm and inviting, with the scent of fresh pastries and coffee wafting through the air. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, bouncing off the polished wooden tables and casting a golden glow over the room. I spotted Samuel right away, sitting by the window with a smoothie in hand.
“You’re glowing,” he said as I slid into the chair across from him. His tone was light, but his eyes held a familiar intensity.
“Thank you,” I said, smoothing the hem of my blouse as I settled in.
“Are you in love?” he asked, straightforward as ever. Samuel never danced around things.
“Well…” I gave a small smile, the kind that didn’t confirm anything but hinted enough.
“Good for you, Toria. You deserve it,” he took a sip of his smoothie, the straw making a soft slurping sound as it reached the bottom of the glass.
“Thank you, Sam. I called you here to apologise.”
His brow furrowed slightly, curiosity streaking his face.
“I found out some things recently that made me realise I was unfair to you and should have believed you last year.”
He shrugged, “ honestly it hurt that you thought I was capable of that. I was falling for you.”
The weight of his words pressed on my chest, and I nodded slowly. “I know that now. And I’m sorry.”
“So, what did you find out?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with genuine interest.
I hesitated, fiddling with the edge of my napkin.
“Come on,” he said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t you think I deserve to know?”
“Well, you were right,” I sighed, lowering my voice. “That Facebook page was fake and I found out who opened it.”
“Can I take a guess?” His lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Sure.”
“Your friend, Anya.”
I nearly choked on my tea. “Wh…how did you know?”
“Come on, Toria. Everyone could see she was jealous of you. Whenever I came over to your house, she’d walk past the TV over and over in those short dresses, pretending to look for something. And the bending over? Classic. It was pathetic.”
My stomach twisted with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Oh my. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re a smart woman, Toria. I hoped you would figure it out someday, and I’m glad you have.”
I shook my head, staring down at my half-eaten croissant. My appetite had vanished, leaving only a sour taste in my mouth.
“Promise me one thing,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
“What’s that?” I asked, looking up.
“Whoever’s making you glow this way…” He paused, his eyes searching mine. “Keep him away from her. I think she’d go to any length to destroy your happiness.”
His words hung in the air between us, heavy and undeniable. I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down, I knew he was right.
I recounted my conversation with Samuel to London while we sat on the couch in his apartment. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the decorative floor lamp beside us. The antique floor lamp was a purchase from Thailand and it was one of my favourite things in his apartment. London listened intently, his jaw tightening with every word. When I finished, his hands were clenched into fists, resting on his thighs.
“It’s infuriating,” he said finally, his voice low and charged. “How can someone who’s supposed to be your friend do something like this to you?”
It was oddly comforting, watching his anger on my behalf. I wasn’t used to someone willing to bear my burdens, to fight for me. My family never had.
“I want to meet her,” he said, turning toward me, his expression firm.
“Absolutely not,” I shot back, my voice sharp. “Didn’t you hear what I said? What Samuel said?”
His eyebrows arched, and he leaned back against the couch, folding his arms. “So, you’re afraid she’ll what… take me from you? Like I’m some toy without a mind of my own?”
Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, I’m afraid of exactly that.
“No,’ I said. “No, I just don’t want her to poison what we have.”
It wasn’t a lie. It was true in its own way. But there was more. Anya was the devil in my life now, and I couldn’t escape her just yet. I had to keep her close to protect myself, to stay ahead of her. But living with her was suffocating. Every time I saw her, I felt an almost primal urge to claw out her eyes, to scream at her for everything she had taken from me without a shred of remorse.
The tension grew unbearable after I reached out to Henry. We met at the same breakfast spot opposite my office and I shivered at the sense of deja vu it gave me. Seeing Henry was different than seeing Samuel. Henry had always been suave and a little too into himself and seeing him again felt like stepping into a world I’d been happy to stay away from since we ended things.
“Anya and I had sex once,” he confessed, his tone flat, like he was reading the weather report.
The words hit me like a slap, leaving my chest tight and hollow. “What?” And yet a part of me was not surprised by this: Henry always seemed a little too friendly with Anya.
“And then she blackmailed me with it,” he continued, his eyes flicking up to meet mine briefly before returning to the untouched latte in front of him.
“How?”
“She made a video and said she would release it if I didn’t end things with you.”
“Jesus,” the word slipped out before I could stop it, barely audible over the noisy din in the cafe.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I cheated on you,” he said.
“Yes, you should be. But also… thank you. And I guess, thanks to Anya.”
The bitterness in my voice was impossible to hide. Henry’s apology didn’t fix anything, but it gave me clarity. Anya’s betrayal wasn’t just casual—it was calculated, vindictive, and unrelenting. And now, I was even more certain: I couldn’t let her anywhere near London.
“So, the wedding,” Anya prompts, her voice cutting through the low hum of background music in the café. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the chatter of nearby diners fill the space, but her words draw me out of my thoughts. “Where and when is it happening?”
“Oh, it’ll probably be a destination wedding,” I say, leaning back in my chair. The cool metal pressed against my spine.
“A what? Wow! Go Toria!” she cheers, clapping her hands in glee. Her laughter rings out, drawing a few glances from nearby tables.
For a brief second, I almost believe her happiness is genuine. Almost.
“So, what can I do? How can I help?” she leans forward, eager to please and expectant.
“Uh…we’ll be using a wedding planner so there’s nothing really to do,” I say. I glance down at my glass, watching the condensation pool into droplets that slide down its surface.
“Wait, I hope I’m invited to this wedding oh,” she says, a hint of pleading creeping into her voice. Her smile falters and she covers it with a mock pout.
“Of course, you have your passport, right?”
“Yes,” her tone shifts to playful. She tilts her head at me. “You’re sponsoring my flight abi?”
On another day, if things were different, I would have said yes without hesitation. That’s how things have always worked between us. Anya has needs, and I meet them. No questions asked, no second thoughts. But things aren’t the same anymore, and this is where the lesson begins.
“I can talk to a friend who owns a travel agency,” I say casually, lifting my glass to my lips and taking a slow sip of the cool water. “They could work out a cheap flight for you.”
“Why a cheap one? You can’t afford something within the normal range?”
I set the glass down gently, the faint clink of it meeting the table sounding louder in the pause that follows. I look at her, letting the weight of my next words settle in.
“No, love. I can,” I say, smiling faintly. “But I don’t think you can.”
