ABBY

Hmm, very funny.

As soon as we got home, Aunty half-dragged, half-carried me through the back door, straight into the bedroom. Her daughter was inside playing and immediately looked up.

“Mummy, what’s wrong with Abby?”

Aunty forced a smile. “She’s not feeling well, darling. Go and play with your brothers.”

Once the door closed, she started shaking me. “Abby! Abby, wake up!”

I was fully conscious at this point but kept my eyes shut, pretending I wasn’t. But when the shaking got too rough, I opened my eyes and croaked, “Yes, Aunty?”

Then she lost it.

“Silly girl! Why can’t you mind your business? What did you see?”

I frowned, looking around the room. “See?”

She exhaled sharply.

I blinked. “Aunty, I saw you and that uncle—”

Before I could finish, she shrieked, “Shut your dirty mouth! Stupid girl! I regret bringing you to Lagos!”

For a moment, I wanted to remind her that she never brought me here—I came on my own. But I kept quiet.

She took a deep breath and spoke in a lower, more controlled voice. “Look, Abby, I will only say this once. Repeat after me: I did not see anything.”

I hesitated. “But I did, Aunty.”

She raised her hand to slap me but paused, thinking better of it. Instead, she pressed on, voice dangerously calm. “Repeat after me. I did not see anything. The bump on your head has made you confused.”

I looked at her, confused. “Aunty, I don’t understand. The other day, you called me a liar when I made up a story about the woman who made you late. You were so angry. But now, you’re asking me to lie? I don’t want you to hate me. Please don’t make me lie. I’m trying to stop being a liar.”

Aunty jumped off the bed, pacing the room in frustration. She ran a hand over her face, muttering to herself.

Then she stopped, took a few deep breaths, and turned to me.

“Okay. What do you want?”

I swallowed. “What?”

“What do you want me to do for you? Name it. Anything. But if I grant it, you must swear never to tell Uncle or anyone else what you saw today. Do you understand?”

Hmmm…

CHRIS

I chose the latter. I agreed to do Paul’s exams for him.

Before I knew it, the next semester’s exams had arrived.

By then, I had a new roommate, a final-year student. We barely spoke—just brief greetings. He was rarely in the room, only coming back to sleep before disappearing again. I didn’t mind. I was too busy.

Between my part-time job at the postgraduate school and studying, I had no time for friends.

I had worked out a way to handle both exam papers.

On the exam day, we were given two questions and told to choose one. I picked the easier one for Paul and the harder one for myself. We had two hours. That meant I had just one hour to finish Paul’s paper and another for mine—an almost impossible task.

Paul showed up, sat beside me, and pretended to scribble while I wrote his answers. To avoid suspicion, I didn’t just pick different questions—I also changed my handwriting. I wrote Paul’s in small letters and mine in capitals.

As soon as I finished his, I gave him a subtle thumbs-up. He got up immediately and, “accidentally,” knocked my desk. Both papers fell.

Before I could react, he swiftly picked up the one with writing and submitted it.

I swallowed my panic and began my own paper.

I wrote as fast as I could, but by the time the invigilator called “Pens up,” I had only completed 80% of my essay.

I submitted it, hoping it would be enough to pass

Four weeks later, the results came out.

Paul scored 85%.

I barely scraped a 55%.

That’s when I was summoned to the lecturer’s office.

He didn’t mince words.

“Mr Chris, I will only say this once. If you ever try that nonsense in my class again, I will personally ensure you are rusticated.”

I froze.

“You and I both know what you did. If not for my kindness and your scholarship situation, I would have failed you both. But we also know that the only person it would truly affect is you. Next time, if this happens again, come to me first. We will figure something out. Do you understand?”

I was shaking like a leaf. I collapsed to my knees. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

He pointed at the door. “Get out.”

As I turned the corner outside his office, I found Paul and three other guys waiting for me.

They wasted no time, shoving me against the wall.

“Have you been a rat?” one of them demanded.

I shook my head. “No. The lecturer just scolded me for my drop in grades. Said if I don’t improve, I might have to do an extra year.”

Paul smirked. “Don’t worry. If he threatens you again, let me know. We’ll deal with his f-up.

I had no idea what that meant.

But I could only imagine.

Hmmm…

Abby:

People say children don’t lie. But that’s not true. Children lie all the time. Sometimes because they don’t know any better. Sometimes because they do. I became a liar at ten.

It started small. A nod here. A simple “Yes, Aunty” there. At first, I didn’t even question it. It was like a game, a script I was expected to read. Uncle would ask Aunty why she spent so much time in her shop, and she would look toward me, eyes glaring, and ask:

“Abby, you saw me and that uncle go into my office, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“And we were just talking, right?”

“Yes, Aunty.”

That was the truth as far as I understood it. Until the day I saw it with my own eyes.

The Day I Learned the Truth

It was a Saturday. The shop was busy, the heat unbearable. The man—Aunty’s special customer—came, just like he always did. I watched them from the corner of my eye as they whispered and giggled. And then, like clockwork, they disappeared into the back office.

I had seen this happen too many times. And I was tired of being in the dark. Heart pounding, I waited a few seconds before moving.

Carefully, I crept toward the wooden door, pressing my face against the crack. At first, I only saw shadows. And then… I saw everything.

I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t. The air felt thick, heavy, suffocating. My hands gripped the doorframe so tightly that my nails dug into the wood.

Oh, my gosh. This was what I had been vouching for? This was the business meeting?

Suddenly, the door creaked. I stumbled back just as my aunt’s eyes locked onto mine. And that’s when everything changed.

That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my stomach in knots. I had a choice. I could tell the truth. But what would that do? Destroy her marriage? Destroy my place in her home?

Or I could lie. And I already knew what that meant.

The next time her husband accused her, when she turned to me, her voice sharp and desperate, I had my answer ready.

“Abby, did you see anything?”

My lips barely moved. “No, Aunty.”

That would be my answer.

Pondering the hold I had over my aunt, I realized this was another opportunity to get what I wanted. I learned quickly that lying could buy you protection. That night, I saw the pattern—and it felt good.

And it wasn’t the last time I would trade truth for survival.

Chris:

You must understand something before I tell this story.

I was the eldest of four children. The firstborn. The one who had to be strong. The one who had to sacrifice. My parents had me and my brother barely two years apart. Then, for ten long years, they waited and prayed for another child. When the twin girls were finally born, it was as if my parents saw them as a miracle—and me as a responsibility.

Papa was a farmer. Mama was a market trader. They never had enough. Not for school fees. Definitely not for university.

So, from the age of ten, I already had a routine: Wake up before sunrise. Follow Papa to the farm. Bathe in the village stream. Pull on my worn, torn uniform. Run barefoot to school. On the way back? Straight to the farm. My younger brother, on the other hand, never had to lift a finger. He was sickly—thin as a reed, frail as paper. No matter how much he ate, he stayed weak. And because my parents feared losing him, they let him get away with everything. And I? I did all the work. And for years, I never questioned it.

Then, one day, I saw what life could be. And that changed everything.

A Glimpse of Freedom

The youth corper’s name was Sam. He had come from the city, and unlike the other teachers, he didn’t just teach. He noticed things—and he noticed me.

“You’re smart,” he told me one day after class. “You remind me of myself.”

At first, I thought he was joking. How could he be anything like me? He had been to university, had a job, had escaped. But then he told me his story.

He had been just like me—poor, overworked, the eldest in a struggling family, expected to sacrifice. But he hadn’t accepted that as his destiny. He studied harder than anyone else, and because of that, someone took notice. Someone helped him get a scholarship. Someone changed his life. And now, he wanted to help me.

So he did. Sam gave me extra homework, old exam papers, and books that smelled of dust and hope. I studied whenever I could—at the farm, under the cashew tree, even in the dead of night when my body ached for rest. And then, one day, it happened.

I got a scholarship. University to study Economics. Tuition paid. A room in the hostel. Books covered. All I needed was money for upkeep.

I remember rushing home, my heart thudding with excitement. I had done it. I could barely contain my smile as I told them. I was going to university.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Mama spoke first.

“Son, can we cash it in? Maybe take some of the money, and you manage the rest?”

I blinked. “What?”

Papa barely looked up from his seat. “And who will help me on the farm when you go off to do… whatever it is you call it?”

I waited for someone to defend me. But no one did. The air in the room was thick, pressing against my chest. I felt the weight settle in again. The same weight I had carried since I was a boy.

I wanted to shout. To say I wasn’t a man yet. That I didn’t owe them my future. That maybe, just once, I wanted to put myself first.

But I already knew better. So I nodded. And I let the silence take me.

Two Lives. Two Secrets. One Truth.

Abby’s power came from silence.

Chris’ weakness came from silence.

One used it to get away. The other was trapped by it.

One knew the cost of keeping secrets. The other knew the cost of never speaking at all. And without realizing it, without meaning to, they were both stepping into destinies they were too young to understand.

To be continued…