Yemi;

The tale of two friends.

Yemi thought she knew me.

Until I stole her husband.

You see, the mistake people make is thinking they’re always five steps ahead of everyone else. Lai lai.

Just because I watch you doesn’t mean I’m blind. Just because I don’t react doesn’t mean I’m weak.

I no just get your time.

Now, back to Yemi.

She used to call me sister. Said it with so much warmth, like she meant it. Maybe she did. But see, meaning something and acting accordingly are two different things.

I met Yemi in our second year in school during a GST course. We were sitting next to each other when the lecturer made one of those ridiculous statements about women—something stupid, something dismissive. I scoffed under my breath, and she turned to me, eyes wide, whispering,

“Abeg, what’s wrong with this man?”

That was how it started. A shared moment of irritation. A feeling that maybe we were alike, that we understood each other.

It was easy to be friends with her at first. Yemi was charming, funny, the kind of person who walked into a room and knew exactly how to make herself the center of attention. She had this way of making you feel like you belonged, like she had chosen you.

But Yemi liked to be the one on top. She liked to shine, and she liked you just enough to keep you close, but not enough to let you think you were ever on her level. Yemi had a way of making you feel small without ever saying it outright. She made it seem like jokes. Small, harmless comments. But words stick.

I should have known when she started making those offhand comments, the kind that seemed harmless but left a sting.

"Ah, Zinne is smart nau but it's because her course is easy now. She's just enjoying. Me, I’m dying in law school."

I would laugh it off. Until the next one came.

"This your dress, are you sure? You know where we’re going, abi? You don’t want people looking at you funny, do you?" No go embarrass me o, Zee baby"

And then the next.

"Ah ah, Zinne, try dey watch your weight o. Before you know it, men will just be running."

Boys? Before I blink, she would have positioned herself right in front of whoever was interested in me.

"Zinne is shy o. She’s not used to guys like you. Be patient with her."

And then, just like that, she’d slip into the space where I should have been. I can’t count how many times it happened, how many times I let it.

But I swallowed it all. Smiled. Nodded.

Oh oh.

You’re wondering why I didn’t just walk away.

Why I stayed friends with her?

You’re thinking maybe I was weak, right?

Well, maybe I stayed because there was no out. What else could I have done? If I walked away, who would I be? Alone again?

No.

I needed her.

I needed the approval, the validation, even if it came in doses wrapped in poison. She was there when I needed someone to talk to, someone who pretended to care. She’d listen to my problems, then turn around and judge me for them, like she was somehow above it all. But she was all I had. And sometimes, that’s enough to make you stick around, even when you know you should’ve left long ago.

When she got engaged, I was genuinely happy for her. I stood by her side as she tried on wedding dresses, helped plan her bridal shower, smiled as she danced with her husband at the wedding. And then she changed. She started talking like she had unlocked a level in life the rest of us hadn’t.

"Zinne, don’t worry. You sef go soon marry. I fit introduce you to one of my husband’s friends. I no fit leave you behind."

Always with that same condescending smile. Always making it clear that she had something I didn’t.

I still helped her when she needed me. She traveled a lot, and I would run errands, cook, make sure her husband was fine. She thought she was using me. She thought I was just the helpful friend. And honestly, I was, at first.

But, one day, I slipped.

“You know she used to lie about the money her parents gave her in school?”

It was a small lie. A little twist of the truth. But when he frowned and said, “I suspected as much,”

I realized something. I could do this.

The night they had a big fight, he called me. Ranting. Frustrated. Tired. That was the moment I knew. The moment I realized how easy it would be. He needed someone to listen. Someone who understood him. And I was right there. I soothed. I advised. I made him feel seen. And slowly, he started confiding in me more than he did his wife.

Yemi noticed. I knew she would.

The suspicion in her eyes, the careful way she watched me, the way she tried to pretend everything was fine even when I could see her cracking.

One day, she confronted me.

“Zinne, are you sure you’re not overstepping?”

I almost laughed. That thing she used to do—making me question myself, making me feel like I was the one imagining things. But not this time.

I smiled. Tilted my head. Let the words roll off my tongue, sweet and easy.

“Yemi, are you sure you’re not overthinking?”

I saw the flicker in her eyes. The way her shoulders tensed. I knew that feeling. The feeling of knowing something was wrong but not being able to prove it. The same way she had made me feel for years. And just like that, I returned the favor.

She used to call me sister.

She thought she knew me best.

Until I stole her husband.

And now, Yemi is gone.

Not just from his life, but from this life.

I sit in her house, beside her man, wearing her ring, thinking about the last words she ever said to me.

She had whispered it, voice shaking, as she realized—too late.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?"

I just smiled.

Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.

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Lmao, I suck at titles.😂

And thank you, Subomi, for the inspo.😂❤️