Angela was doing fine.
Well… pretending to.
She stayed focused. Woke early. Studied. Went for fellowship. Blocked out the whispers. She was healing — or at least, she was trying to.
But peace never lasts long when your name is on people's tongues…
and one of them is Sandra.
---
It started with a post.
Not anonymous this time — a full Instagram reel.
Sandra. Glammed up. Voice loud.
"I'm not trying to be petty o, but it's the way some of us are painting others as holy water when our mouths were on someone's boyfriend two nights ago. Lol. Guess we're all ministry girls now."
The caption?
"Angela, this is your cue. Stop hiding your sin under worship." 😌
The comment section exploded:
"Tea is hot this semester"
"Ministry mouth 😭😭"
"If I speak, UNIBEN go shake…"
Angela didn't cry.
Not this time.
She was too tired to feel. Too angry to break.
But when Peter walked into their next class and saw the reel on everyone's phone, saw the sly glances, the fake coughs, and the murmurs?
He snapped.
---
"Stand up," he said, voice sharp as steel.
The class froze.
He was looking at Sandra.
"Excuse me?" she blinked, smiling like she was ready for war.
Peter walked toward her slowly. "I said stand up."
The lecturer wasn't in yet, and the class knew what time it was.
Sandra stood. Dramatic. "You want to embarrass me?"
"No. I want you to grow up."
"Wow."
Peter didn't blink. "Keep my name and Angela's out of your mouth, out of your captions, and out of your bitterness. You don't like that we moved on? Cool. But throwing shade doesn't make you important. It makes you sad."
A few gasps. A few mumbled "chai" in the corner.
Sandra laughed. "Oh, so she's worth all this noise? The same girl who almost gave it up on your bed?"
Peter stepped closer. "Say that again."
"No need," Sandra said, voice shaking now. "I just hope you know when you break her heart, she won't recover like I did."
Peter stared at her a long moment.
Then said the one thing that made the room go silent:
"Angela has what you never had — character. You had access. She has depth."
Then he turned and walked away, straight to Angela's corner.
She looked at him, quiet.
"Why do you keep defending me?"
Peter looked her dead in the eyes. "Because nobody defended me when people lied about me. But I will never let you stand alone."
---
That night, Angela cried. Not because she was weak —
but because she realized something deeper than desire had taken root:
Peter wasn't just the boy she liked.
He was the man who chose her — even in chaos.