Foreign Soil, Fierce Soul

Chapter 3 -Anita's POV

The clock on the wall ticked softly in the stillness of the room. I was alone. No one else was needed. It was just me and the truth I had kept hidden for years—and tonight, for the first time, I was ready to let it out.

What a small world it is!

Isn't it amusing how people say that? As if coincidence is merely a random occurrence. As if the universe is some clumsy entity that inadvertently brings people together at mobile bars. No, the universe is exact. Even surgical. And sometimes, it delivers precisely what you've been longing for—wrapped in an unexpected bow.

Who would have imagined that the man I was madly in love with, the one Emily (that cunning snake) took from me, would eventually become my fiancé?

Finally.

That word lingered on my tongue like honey—sweet, slow, and incredibly satisfying. I had waited years for this moment. Years spent lurking in the shadows, years of swallowing my pride, years of pretending that the wound Emily inflicted on my life had healed. It hadn’t. It had merely scarred over, toughened, becoming something sharper than it had ever been.

I’ve always had a crush on George Hopson, even if he never noticed.

I don’t hold it against him, though, because I recall back in college, he was the most sought-after guy in class until Emily snatched him away from me.

Snatched. That’s the right word, isn’t it? Not “met.” Not “got together with.” Snatched. As if she reached into something that was mine and took it with both hands, grinning the entire time. And the worst part? Everyone cheered her on. “Oh, Emily and George! They’re such a perfect couple!” Perfect. As if perfection was something that just fell into their laps, rather than something she orchestrated with every calculated smile and perfectly timed laugh.

You might be curious why I harbor such intense feelings...

So, settle in. This isn't going to be quick, but I want you to hear everything. By the time I’m done, you won’t have any questions left—just understanding.

Emily—well, I always called her Lily—grew up right next door to me in Lagos. She was my childhood friend. My neighbor. My person. Notice that word: was. It’s small, but it’s heavy. She was my friend. Was my neighbor. Was the one I trusted more than anyone. Now, it’s all in the past. Just memories, nothing more.

Our moms worked side by side in the market square. That’s really where it all started, you know? That’s where Lily and I became inseparable.

We did everything together—like, literally everything. We’d show up with the same braids, rock the same outfits, and people just gave up trying to tell us apart. They started calling us twins. Honestly, we loved that. We soaked it up. We’d stand in front of the mirror, our braids pulled tight, our dresses crisp and matching, grinning like we had some secret plan. And, in a way, we did. We imagined a future where nothing could ever break us apart.

Looking back, we had no idea how fragile that was.

We dreamed up all kinds of things—going to the same university, jetting off on little vacations or business trips together. I really thought we were unbreakable, soul sisters for life. But then came that Thursday morning. I’ll never forget it. Everything changed.

People don’t give Thursday enough credit for being sneaky. Everyone complains about Mondays—those get all the groans and eye rolls. But Thursday? Nobody ever says, “Watch out for Thursday.” That’s when the universe pulls its worst tricks. By then, you’re feeling almost free, like you’ve survived the week. You start to relax. You think you’re out of the woods. You’re not.

You might judge me for being inconsiderate and not thinking about her daughter, Maya. Oh Maya! I wonder how broken she’ll be when she finds out that George is not her father. But that’s another tale for another time.

So, here’s the deal—I’m going to walk you through it. Every last detail. Every word. I’ll tell you about that Thursday—the day my best friend became my worst enemy and everything in my life spun out of control.

But before we dive in, grab yourself a drink.

Trust me, you’ll want one.

It all kicked off on a random Wednesday night. George announced he was throwing a birthday party at his place and wanted the whole campus crew to come. Lily and I got these special invites—honestly, I was thrilled. It finally felt like George noticed me. Or at least, that’s what I wanted to believe.

The party was set for Sunday, so Lily and I spent the next few days hunting for outfits and picking out shoes, obsessing over every little detail. We always matched, and this time was no different. Lily knew exactly how I felt about George. She told me to chill out a bit, to stop acting like a lovesick puppy. According to her, he barely looked our way anyway. For a second, I actually listened. I mean, I loved him, but I wasn’t about to lose myself or let some guy disrespect me.

When Sunday finally rolled around, I was buzzing with excitement. Out of the blue, Lily called and said she had to handle something and would be late, so I should go ahead without her. It felt off, but I shrugged it off. I really wish I hadn’t.

I showed up in this champagne-colored jumpsuit—wide-leg trousers, sharp blazer, the works. The satin shimmered in the lights, and the V-neckline gave it just the right edge. I paired it with pointed kitten heels and a gold cuff. Who says you need a dress to look elegant? People kept stopping me to compliment my outfit—even George came over to talk. For a second, I was on cloud nine.

Then Lily walked in. She wore this floor-length emerald gown that seemed to glow every time she moved. The neckline was beaded, the back was open, and everything about it screamed effortless drama. She finished it off with a gold clutch and delicate heels—simple, but impossible to miss. And yeah, it stung. Not because she outshone me, but because she lied.

She’d told me not to dress up, said George’s party was casual, and warned me against overdressing.

All the while, she’d planned to steal the show. When I asked her why she lied to me, she dismissed my feelings and said it was due to her mood swings. I felt Lily was changing but not like this. I decided to enjoy the party regardless and just make the best out of the invitation. I wasn’t supposed to be there. Or maybe I was. Fate’s weird that way, always nudging you where you need to be, whether you like it or not. I’d only stepped out of the party for a second—just needed some air—when I caught it. Laughter, soft and secret, drifting from behind a half-open door. I probably should’ve just kept moving.

But I didn’t. I looked. And there they were. George and Emily. His mouth on hers, her fingers tangled in his shirt, his hand steady and familiar at the small of her back. The way he looked at her—it was like nothing else in the world mattered. Like she was it. The whole story.

Something icy slid into my chest. Not shock. Not rage. Just this quiet, heavy thing that had been waiting in the dark, patient and certain, waiting for proof.

I closed the door without a sound and melted back into the party. The noise swept over me, all those voices and music, hiding me in plain sight. Nobody noticed I’d slipped away. Nobody caught the smile I couldn’t quite erase.

Because now I knew exactly what I was dealing with.