Love Indeed

Shadows Between Us

The first semester of university feels like a blur in my memory now, yet when I sit down and think carefully, I can almost relive every moment. It is laughter after lectures, our noisy footsteps echoing down the hallways, the long evenings spent at each other’s hostels, the endless chatter and ridiculous arguments about who looks the funniest on campus. The bond between us—Favour, Mine, John, Portiphar, Ben, and me—feels unbreakable. We are that loud clique of students people recognize when we walk together, not because we try to be noticed but because the energy we carry spills into the open. At that time, I don’t imagine that anything could shake us, that underneath the laughter seeds of jealousy are quietly waiting for the right season to sprout.

The semester ends and we all go home for the holidays. For the first time in months, campus quiets in my head and my life returns to family routine—waking up in my parents’ house, listening to my brothers argue about video games, going to church with my mum, and feeling the familiar comfort of home. Still, my friends are always at the back of my mind. We chat sometimes, though everyone is busy with their own life.

It is during the holidays that both Favour and Mine celebrate their birthdays. Their birthdays are close together, and though I cannot be physically there with them on the actual days, I make a mental note that once school resumes, I will do something, even if small, to show that I remember and that I value them. That’s who I am—I don’t always have much, but I give what I can, and my heart feels lighter knowing I’ve made someone smile.

When the new semester begins, the campus suddenly bursts back to life. The sight of students dragging boxes back into hostels, hugging friends, and shouting about how they’ve missed each other warms me inside. On the second weekend after resumption, I gather enough courage and money to take Favour and Mine out. It isn’t something grand—we go to a small eatery not too far from school, a place with plastic chairs, posters of meals on the wall, and the smell of fried rice and chicken filling the air.

As we sit around the table with plates of food, I watch their faces light up. Favour laughs, clapping her hands the way she always does when she’s excited, and Mine smiles softly, her eyes glistening in that way that makes you feel like she’s genuinely happy. I know it isn’t about the food; it’s about the thought. In that moment, I feel proud of myself. They are my friends, and I am glad to have them. I don’t know it yet, but this simple outing is the last memory I will hold onto before everything begins to change.

The second semester starts as joyfully as the first. We attend lectures together, sit at the back of the hall whispering jokes about the way one lecturer drags his feet, and spend afternoons under the trees near faculty buildings. Favour and Mine become inseparable—they laugh together, walk arm in arm, and spend hours chatting as though the rest of us don’t exist. I notice it, of course, but it doesn’t bother me. I have always been the kind of person who is cool with everyone. People can have their moments; it doesn’t make me insecure. I tell myself that friendship is not competition, that I don’t need to measure how close I am to someone compared to another.

But slowly, without even realizing it, I start finding more moments with Mine. Maybe it’s because she is naturally warm, maybe it’s because she sometimes chooses to sit next to me instead of Favour, or maybe because she has this way of making me laugh when I’m having a bad day. Whatever it is, we begin to grow closer. We share secrets, giggle at inside jokes, and sometimes walk together after lectures when the others are still packing up.

At first, I think nothing of it. Favour is close to Mine, and now I am too—what’s wrong with that? But friendship is a fragile balance. What seems harmless to me starts to shift the scales. Favour, who once shared every laugh with Mine, begins to notice that Mine and I are becoming a pair of our own. I catch her watching us sometimes, her eyes narrowing slightly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Then there’s John and Portiphar. Both of them like Mine, and they don’t even hide it very well. John is the type who tries to be charming, cracking jokes around her, leaning closer than necessary, making exaggerated compliments about her hair or her handwriting in class. Portiphar, on the other hand, is quiet, but the way he looks at Mine when she speaks says everything. He lingers on her words, nods attentively, and smiles softly at her in a way he doesn’t with anyone else.

The irony is that Mine is already in a relationship, one she talks about casually sometimes, not as though she is bragging but as though it is simply a fact of her life. She is taken, yet the boys keep circling around her. And Favour—she likes Portiphar. She doesn’t say it directly, but I can see it in the way she lights up when he joins us, in the way her voice softens when she calls his name. She tries to mask it with jokes, but her eyes betray her.

It doesn’t take long for jealousy to creep in. Favour begins to act differently. At first, it is subtle—she makes small comments, laughs too loudly when Mine talks to me, or goes quiet when I sit beside Mine. She begins to tease John and Portiphar about their interest in Mine, and though it seems playful on the surface, the edge in her tone cuts deeper than it should. When Portiphar pays attention to Mine, Favour withdraws, her smile fading even though she tries to force it back.

I tell myself not to take sides, not to get involved in whatever silent battle is brewing, but it’s hard. The group doesn’t feel the same anymore. There are whispers where there used to be laughter, glances where there used to be openness. Mine and I still laugh together, but now I feel Favour’s eyes on us, watching, measuring, judging. She begins to create little rifts—sometimes excluding me from conversations, sometimes exaggerating something I said so it sounds worse, sometimes stirring up tension between the boys by pointing out who Mine seems to prefer.

The tension grows heavier as the semester progresses. We still walk together, still sit in the same rows during lectures, but there is a thin crack in our unity that widens with each passing week. I try to hold onto the memory of our first semester, the easy laughter, the harmony, but it feels like trying to hold sand in my hands—no matter how tight I squeeze, it slips away.

Toward the end of the second semester, the change becomes undeniable. Favour becomes sharper in her words, Mine grows quieter when the group is together, John becomes restless, and Portiphar retreats further into silence. I remain calm, always cool, always trying to smile through it, but deep down I know something is breaking.

I don’t confront anyone. That’s not who I am. But I carry the weight of it, the slow unraveling of the friendships I thought would last. And as the semester crawls to its end, I begin to sense that we are standing on the edge of something bigger—something that will either tear us apart completely or force us to face truths none of us are ready for.

The laughter is still there sometimes, echoing faintly, but it no longer feels the same. It feels like a memory pretending to be real, like a fragile mask covering cracks too deep to hide. And though no one says it out loud, we all feel it: the storm is coming.