"University is 40% tests, 30% emotional trauma, 20% food confusion, and 10% romantic tension with people who may or may not notice you exist."
—Zayne Adedayo
7:00 AM — Monday Madness
They say nothing prepares you for university mid-semester week.
They lied.
Nothing prepares you for it.
Every department was having continuous assessment tests, half the students were either crying, praying, or faking malaria to avoid class. The other half were drinking garri like holy water, trying to calculate what percentage of failure was still "manageable."
I was somewhere in the middle.
My last score had been 1/10.
I couldn't afford another humiliation.
9:00 AM — The "Surprise" Test
We sat in CST103, the data structures class. 150 students in one lecture hall. Dr. Salako, a former military man turned computer science sadist, strolled in.
"Surprise test."
Panic spread like viral memes.
Ugo whispered, "Guy, lend me sense."
I whispered back, "I've been trying to borrow mine since 7 a.m."
Dr. Salako distributed the test: 5 questions, all theory.
Question 1: Explain the difference between a stack and a queue with real-life applications.
Question 5: Implement a pseudo-code algorithm that reverses a linked list using recursion.
Ugo stared at the question like it was written in Klingon.
"Zayne, are we in the wrong department?"
"Yes."
10:30 AM — Test Ends, Panic Begins
Students came out weeping.
One girl yelled, "I need a therapist and paracetamol!"
Another guy shouted, "I'm transferring to Agricultural Science tomorrow!"
I walked out slowly.
Amaka was waiting near the staircase, already scrolling through her phone.
"You survived?" she asked.
"Barely. I think I wrote in tongues."
She smirked. "Let me guess. You skipped the recursion question."
"…I wrote a poem instead."
She burst into laughter.
"Zayne, you're a mess."
"You keep saying that, but you still talk to me."
"Maybe I like messes."
Silence.
That was… something.
11:00 AM — Naya Shows Up
As I reached the Student Union café for cheap jollof rice, I bumped into Naya.
She looked radiant in a black hoodie and jeans, holding a book titled Poems from the Edge of Madness.
"Rough morning?" she asked.
"Worse than rough."
She handed me a sealed bottle of water. "Here. You look like dehydration and anxiety had a baby."
I laughed.
Then she said, "We're having a small press hangout at The Literary Garden. Food. Games. Poetry."
I hesitated.
"Come. You need air. And maybe a break from red-blazer royalty."
I blinked. "You mean Amaka?"
She grinned. "Who else dresses like a senior prefect with Wi-Fi?"
"Low blow."
"Just facts."
5:00 PM — The Literary Garden (Is This a Date?)
The garden was quiet, decorated with fairy lights and beanbags. A few members of the press club sat in a circle, talking, laughing, eating suya.
Naya waved me over.
We played charades, wrote a group haiku, and debated whether hotdogs count as sandwiches.
She read a poem aloud about heartbreak and honey.
I listened. Something about her voice felt soft and heavy—like she had wounds under her confidence.
After the event, she walked me to the gate.
"You have a complicated aura, Zayne."
"How?"
"You carry too much emotion for someone who tries to act chill."
"I… don't know what to do with that."
"Start by accepting it."
Then she leaned in—and kissed my cheek.
"You're not just a debater, Zayne. You're a storyteller."
She left.
And I just stood there… frozen.
6:00 PM — The Message (DANGER ALERT)
Back in the hostel, I got a message from Amaka.
Amaka: I saw you at the garden with Naya.
Zayne: It was just a club hangout.
Amaka: Hope it doesn't interfere with your prep for the departmental finals.
Zayne: It won't.
Amaka: Good. Because next round is not about charm. It's about blood.
What did that mean?
Why was I sweating?
7:00 PM — Ugo's Midweek Meltdown
Ugo walked in wearing sunglasses.
At night.
"What's up with you?" I asked.
"Heartbreak."
"Oh no."
"The modeling girl? Princess?"
"Yeah?"
"She said I walk like a turtle and dress like a fake skit maker."
"Did you cry?"
"I bought gala and wept into it."
He lay flat on the bed.
"Bro. These girls will finish me."
I patted his head. "I'm proud of you."
"For what?"
"For getting dumped before the semester ended. That's efficient."
He laughed bitterly.
Then he whispered, "I'll join Robotics. At least robots don't insult your shoe."
9:00 PM — SCANDAL BREWING
While scrolling WhatsApp class groups, a mysterious message popped up:
Anonymous Tip
There's cheating happening at the CST level.
Test questions are being leaked by an insider.
Expect proof soon.
I read it three times.
Then again.
I showed Ugo.
He sat up. "Omo. Wahala is coming."
"If it's real, people could get suspended."
"Or expelled."
I thought of my department. My scores.
Then I thought of Amaka. Naya. The pressure. The finals.
Was someone cheating?
Was I just chasing crushes while war was coming?