“Ah!” The girls exclaimed in unison.

“What now happened to the Maecenas?” Grace asked, deeply concerned.

“Was that not what I was about to say? Will you let me continue?” you interjected, eyeing her conspicuously.

“Sha continue,” Fatima had voiced her irritation.

“The Maecenas’ collapse caused an uproar in the class. People rushed to help revive her. It caught the sister’s attention, and she quickly disengaged from her man. She was in trouble, and she could tell – even without any surety that her sister saw what they were doing. She had rushed to the side of her sister’s friend, but the lady eschewed her. Her partner in crime drew out a book from his bag and started to flip the pages as if he had no idea he was the genesis of the bedlam that overtook the class.

“His remorselessness alarmed the friend, and she charged at him like a rabid dog. With the speed of light, she ascended the flight of stairs and was soon at the rear of the class. She blessed his smooth face with a resounding slap and pushed him off his seat, tearing at him with her artificial nails and mouthing ‘bastard!’ at the top of her voice. Before people intervened, she had drawn blood from his face and chest. She struggled to escape the grip of her restrainers, screaming, ‘I warned her against you! Gold-digging leech!’. She had ripped his new Chelsea jersey and made a mess of his good looks.”

“Men! Karma is a bitch!” Fatima exclaimed.

“Abi,” Grace added.

“When they finally resuscitated the lady, she was calm and sober. She insisted that she had forgiven them when her sister begged her,”

“Wow!” the ladies exclaimed in disbelief.

“Will you guys let me finish or not?” you asked, half-angry.

And silence reigned.

“She gave the condition that they both stay out of her life though – meaning that her sister would have to leave her apartment.”

They burst into laughter.

“Before nkọ́?” Fatima exclaimed.

“She ought to leave, even without being told,” Grace added.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“But the babe fuck up sha,” Fatima added.

“Which one? The sister or the lady?” Grace asked.

“Both of them.” she clarified.

“How?” You and Grace chorused, turning to face her.

“Yes, na. The Maecenas was not attentive to the surrounding changes,” Fatima reaffirmed.

You refused to support her, and neither did Grace. You argued back and forth, countering her points and trying to make her understand why her monocle of reasoning was unfair and too judgemental. Despite your efforts, she was realistic, insisting that the lady was equally responsible for her predicament.
Things got heated, and Grace, out of the blues, asked, “Come to think of it, Miss Realistic. Are you even attentive to the changes surrounding you?”

“And what do you mean by that?” she asked, clearly confused.

“Look at me and what I went through with Emeka. Are you telling me you can not trace the dots too?” she questioned.

to be continued…
Do you agree with Fatima’s stance?
By dots, what do you think Grace means?
What else do you think?
The comment section is all yours; let us read all of your thoughts!
First timer? Worry not!
Catch up on the prequels you missed here
P.S: This work is purely fictional. Any semblance to actual persons (living or late), places, or events are merely figments of the writer’s attempt at keeping in touch with reality.
✌🏾 Alavida!

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