I told myself I wouldn't fall again.
Not after Kunle. Not after Maya. Not after what I did to The Girl.
But that's the thing about liars.
We don't just lie to others — we lie to ourselves best.
And I? I was always the best.
Her name was Remi. She wasn't supposed to mean anything.
A distraction, I called her. A soft tongue and tired eyes. A detour.
But the thing about poison is… it never tastes like death at first.
Sometimes, it tastes like salvation.
---
She worked at the university bookstore.
Thin-framed glasses. Wore white a lot. Always reading — always watching.
She said I looked like someone running from something.
I asked her if that turned her on. She didn't laugh. She just nodded.
"I don't like safe boys," she said.
Well, I wasn't safe.
I was a whole f*cking hazard.
---
We started talking. Late nights, empty lecture halls, her knees brushing mine.
She liked old poetry. Quoted Sylvia Plath like scripture.
I liked her mouth.
She liked my mind.
She had no idea I was already scripting how it would end.
Because the truth is — everyone is either a lesson or a weapon.
And Remi?
She felt like both.
---
The first time she kissed me, I tasted lavender and secrets.
The second time, blood.
That was when I knew.
She wasn't innocent.
She was hiding something too.
---
She asked too many questions.
"Where did you school before here?"
"Why do you avoid crowds?"
"Who's Maya?"
That name.
I never told her that name.
Not once.
So how the hell did she know?
---
One night, I followed her.
She left her hostel at 2:12 a.m.
She didn't go to the library.
She didn't go to the female block either.
She went to the chapel.
And met with someone wearing all black.
I stayed in the shadows, fingers around the switchblade I now carried like breath.
I couldn't hear everything, but I heard this:
> "He's getting closer to the truth.
What do we do when he finds the file?"
Her.
Remi.
Sweet-lipped Remi.
---
I wanted to believe it wasn't betrayal.
But then again, I wanted to believe Maya was loyal.
And that my brother didn't know about The Archive.
I wanted to believe too many things.
But belief is a trap.
And I don't fall into traps.
I set them.
---
So I kissed her again.
I pulled her in with the same hands that once held Maya.
Same lips that once whispered to The Girl.
And while she kissed me like redemption…
…I slipped the poisoned note into her bag.
Let her read it and wonder.
Let her sweat under her skin.
Let her panic.
Because if she thought she could play me…
She hadn't read the last page of the book.