"University isn't always about what you study. Sometimes, it's about who's watching… and what they're willing to hide."
—Zayne Adedayo
8:00 AM — The List
Crestmont campus woke up like it had bitten into raw pepper.
Every class group was on fire.
BREAKING: Anonymous Google Doc Leaked — Alleged List of CST Students Involved in Exam Leak
20 names
Matric numbers
"Evidence coming soon"
My phone buzzed non-stop.
Even the class rep, Kunle, posted a warning:
"Please DO NOT share unverified info. There'll be an emergency departmental meeting. Avoid rumors."
Too late.
The rumors were already spreading faster than Naira inflation.
Ugo stormed into the hostel waving his phone. "Guy, na real wahala!"
"Did they mention names?"
He nodded. "Some big ones. Final year students. One 200-level babe. Even a part-time lecturer."
"…What?"
Then he whispered:
"One of the names is from DPSS."
My heart stopped.
"Who?"
He hesitated.
"Amaka's cousin."
10:00 AM — The War Room
The Debate & Public Speaking Society was in panic mode.
We sat in the clubroom.
Tense. Quiet. Phones buzzing.
Amaka was pacing.
She was no longer in red.
She wore black.
War color.
Her voice was sharp and low.
"They're targeting us. This isn't just about cheating—this is about destroying our rep before the interdepartmental finals."
I raised a hand. "But what if the list is true?"
She turned, eyes cold. "Zayne. I've known my cousin, Tayo, since we were 5. He wouldn't risk everything for marks."
Another member muttered, "But the leaked doc had his WhatsApp chat screenshot…"
Amaka exploded. "Fakeable. All fakeable."
I'd never seen her this shaken.
Confident Amaka was cracking.
And that scared me more than anything.
12:00 PM — Naya Appears Again
As I walked out to get air, Naya appeared.
She wore white today. Too white. Like a walking contradiction.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"Campus is a mess."
"You're caught in the middle?"
I sighed. "More like watching a train crash from inside the engine."
She tilted her head. "Then maybe you need a new seat."
I stared at her.
She pulled out her phone and showed me something.
A document.
The leak.
But this one had metadata tags—time stamps, email IDs, IP sources.
"Where did you get this?"
She smiled. "Press Club has sources."
"…Are you involved in this?"
"Let's just say some people needed to know what's behind the curtains."
"You leaked this?"
"No," she said carefully. "But I might know who did."
2:00 PM — Lines Get Drawn
I returned to the DPSS room.
Tension was worse.
People arguing.
Shouting.
Defensive.
Amaka stood up.
"We need to clear our names."
"How?"
"We go on the offensive. We write a campus-wide statement. We demand an investigation."
Someone said, "LPC already posted an editorial piece hinting that we're involved—without names, but it's obvious."
Amaka clenched her fists.
"Of course they did. Naya's poison wears lipstick and a press tag."
I said nothing.
But the guilt was building.
4:00 PM — The Storm Hits
Crestmont's official student bulletin released a special update:
CST Department Statement
"A preliminary review has been launched into the alleged examination malpractice ring. Any student involved will be suspended pending final investigation."
And just like that, fear became official.
Students stopped smiling.
Classes felt haunted.
Even lecturers avoided eye contact.
6:00 PM — Under the Mango Tree (Again)
Amaka was there already.
No book. No smile.
Just silence.
I sat beside her.
We didn't speak for five whole minutes.
Then she said, "You went to see her again, didn't you?"
I hesitated. "Naya showed me something."
"I knew it."
Her voice cracked.
"She's using you. You're a fresher. She knows you're rising. She wants your voice, your face… your weakness."
"I'm not weak."
She turned, eyes blazing.
"You are. To her."
Silence again.
Then I asked, "Why does it matter so much to you?"
She didn't answer right away.
But when she did, it wasn't the Amaka I knew.
It was a softer version. A scarred one.
"Because for once, I met someone who wasn't intimidated by me. Someone who didn't treat me like a trophy. You… you joked with me. You challenged me. You looked me in the eyes."
Then she stood up.
"And now you're drifting."
She walked away again.
This time, I didn't know if she'd come back.
8:00 PM — Naya's Confession
Later, in front of the old library, Naya asked to meet.
She wore denim and glasses. Her voice was calm.
"I owe you honesty," she said.
"Okay…"
"I didn't leak the names. But I did tip someone who did."
"…Why?"
"Because Tayo—Amaka's cousin—used the system against my friend last semester. Harassed her. Blackmailed her for scores. Covered it up."
My eyes widened.
"Are you saying he's not innocent?"
"I'm saying he's not clean."
"And this is revenge?"
"This is justice."
I didn't know what to feel.
Or who to believe.
Amaka's words rang in my head.
"She steals talent. And stories."
But Naya looked so… real.
So sure.
So broken.
I left without saying another word.