Honestly, I don't know when it all changed. One moment we were sworn enemies—okay, maybe not sworn—but we didn't exactly get along. He had this annoying way of always being two steps ahead in everything. If I raised my hand in class, he'd already be halfway through the answer. If I made a joke, he'd somehow make it funnier. If I got a nine out of ten, he got ten and even asked me what I "missed." Ugh.
I didn't know why I hated him so much. Maybe it wasn't hate. Maybe it was irritation mixed with jealousy mixed with… something else. Something I wasn't ready to name just yet. But I knew something was shifting the day he helped me pick up my books after I tripped near the science lab. He didn't laugh like I expected. He just said, "Careful, lawyer girl," with the smallest smile. And my stomach did a weird flip.
But let's rewind a little—because this story isn't just about Prince.
It's about me.
At home, things weren't always easy. I live in a small but noisy house with siblings who think "privacy" is just a fancy word for "nah." My mum works hard. Like, wake-up-at-4-a.m.-to-pray-and-boil-rice hard. Sometimes she forgets I'm still figuring myself out. She wants me to be bold, outspoken, "strong like Deborah in the Bible," but I'm just… me. Quiet, awkward, always hiding my right hand in long sleeves.
But one day, I was crying quietly in my room after a classmate made a comment about the way I write with my left hand. "You write like a crab," he joked. It wasn't even that serious, but it stung.
That was when Grace, my best friend and unofficial therapist, called. "Bernice," she said, "you need to stop seeing yourself through their eyes. You're soft, yes, but soft isn't weak. You're different, yes, but different isn't wrong."
And then Gerald, our class clown and unexpected voice of reason, sent me a meme followed by: "Don't let people who peak in SHS make you doubt your magic."
I laughed.
That night, I looked in the mirror and for the first time in a while, I didn't frown. I didn't cry. I just stood there and looked at myself. Still shy, still hiding my hand, still figuring it all out—but maybe… maybe I was learning to love myself. Slowly. Quietly. Day by day.
And Prince? Well, we're still annoying each other. Still throwing small jabs. But now when he walks into class and nods at me, I don't roll my eyes.
I smile.