My flight landed at Nnamdi Azikiwe Airport at exactly 4:00 p.m.
We were all directed to alight once the plane stopped moving. I waited a little while before finding my luggage — a purple suitcase I could recognize anywhere.
Dragging it into the arrival hall, I pulled out my iPhone 16 Pro Max and tripod. I had to let my fans know I'd arrived. They were the only ones who cared to know — the only ones who cared about me.
I adjusted the camera angle to capture my white tracksuit, my flat stomach, my pretty face, and my pretty luggage. Every detail mattered.
"Just landed. #newschool #newme #themukbanggirl"
Within seconds, my phone buzzed with likes and comments.
"You look so pretty!"
"I wish I could be like you."
"Where did you do your hair?"
I smiled to myself, feeding on the love. It was the kind of warmth I never got offline.
Outside, I spotted a man holding a card with my name — "Leila Adesina."
I walked toward him, chin lifted. The white Lexus parked beside him gleamed under the evening sun — just like I ordered. The Mukbang Girl didn't arrive in anything less.
He placed my luggage in the trunk while I slid into the back seat. The car smelled of new leather and soft music played as we drove toward Greenwood Academy, one of the most prestigious schools in Nigeria.
A scholarship and a spotlight — that's what they call beauty with brains.
Abuja was just as beautiful as they said.
I took a few pictures of myself in the car and of the city outside — clean roads, tall trees, golden skies. Then, like I always did, I scrolled through my socials, reading comments under my latest Instagram post.
I switched to TikTok, planning to relax a bit.
"The mukbang girl, fake. What do you mean you can't get fat with all that food you eat? Yeah, right?"
That was the first thing that popped up on my feed. My chest tightened.
Can't these people just rest and leave me the f*** alone?
Anger flared in me. I reported the video — "misinformation" — before scrolling away.
I wasn't going to let one jealous hater ruin my mood. I was The Mukbang Girl. People loved me.
As we got closer to my destination, I leaned my head against the window, breathing in deeply. The driver finally pulled into a wide parking space filled with sleek cars and students with luggage — some with their parents, some alone. Greenwood Academy. My new school.
The driver helped me get my purple suitcase from the trunk. I took a few more pictures, updating my Snap:
"Just arrived #NewSchool #NewMe #TheMukbangGirl"
Dragging my suitcase behind me, I made my way across the parking lot toward the main hall. I needed to find the principal's office, sign in, and get my dorm room.
The hallway was crowded — students chatting, laughing, rolling their suitcases. But when I stepped in, the noise dropped for a second. Heads turned.
Then came the whispers.
I froze, suddenly aware of every inch of my body.
Why are they staring? Is my face fat? Did my outfit look weird?
My skin prickled. I wanted to disappear.
A light tap on my arm made me jump.
"Hi."
I turned, startled. A girl around my age stood there, smiling. "I love your videos — and your hair! You're even prettier in person."
I exhaled, forcing a smile. "Thanks."
She grinned wider. "I'm Wunmi. You look kinda lost. Need help?" She stretched out her hand for a shake and I reluctantly took it.
Did my hand feel normal to her? I couldn't help but think as we shook hands.
I pulled out almost immediately. I hesitated to reply, then nodded. "Yeah… I'm looking for the principal's office." I said to her, hiding my nervousness.
"I can take you there."
"Yeah, sure."
We walked to the elevator together. She pressed a button, and the silence between us was awkward but not uncomfortable. When the doors opened, we stepped out, and she led me down a quiet hallway.
"Here you go," she said, stopping in front of a polished wooden door.
"Thanks," I replied, giving a small smile before knocking.
"Come in," a calm voice answered.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Our scholarship student," the principal said warmly. "Welcome."
I dropped my luggage by the door and sat down. The principal was a dark-skinned woman in her fifties — elegant, with a calm presence that filled the room.
"How do you find our school so far?" she asked.
"It's beautiful," I replied, trying to sound confident.
"I'm glad to hear that." She pulled out a folder and handed it to me. "These contain your student information, school ID, timetable, and dorm details. You'll be staying in room 319 — I think you'll like it."
"I'm sure I will."
She smiled kindly. "That'll be all for now. My office is always open if you need anything."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Let me direct you to your dorm," she said, standing. As we walked, she explained the school layout, the dorm blocks, and how to tell the girls' wing from the boys'.
Greenwood Academy was even bigger up close — a place for people who had everything. And somehow, I made it here too.
Dragging my suitcase behind me, I followed the principal's directions toward the dormitory.
At the entrance, a woman asked for my hostel ID. I handed it over, and after checking it, she waved me in.
Inside, I found the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor — my floor. The soft hum of the elevator filled the silence. When it stopped, I stepped out, counting the room numbers until I found mine.
I slid the key into the lock, but it didn't turn all the way. It felt like someone had already opened it from the inside. So, I knocked.
A moment later, the door swung open.
"Hi," said a girl with a bright smile.
"Hi," I replied, stepping in.
"My name's Tara. Nice to meet you, roomie."
"I'm Leila. Nice to meet you too."
The room was… stunning. A cozy two-seater and one-seater sofa, a coffee table in the middle, and a soft rug underneath. A TV hung neatly on the wall, with a console below it. The small kitchen surprised me — no stove, but it had a fridge, microwave, coffee maker, and cupboards.
Everything looked new, like something out of a dorm tour vlog.
There were two bedrooms, both ensuite. Each bed had clean sheets, fluffy duvets, and four pillows stacked neatly. Dressing tables, closets, and even a full-length mirror. A separate bathroom for both of us. There was a small reading room with two desks and chairs.
It was more than I expected — this wasn't just a dorm, it was a mini apartment.
"Nice, right?" Tara's voice pulled me back.
"Yeah, it is," I replied, still scanning the room.
"You're the Mukbang Girl, right?" she asked suddenly.
I turned to her. "Yeah, I am."
"You look even prettier in person! And I love your hair."
"Thank you. You look pretty too."
She smiled. "Dinner's by 6:30. We should head to the dining now." She threw on a cropped black hoodie over her white tank top.
"Oh, it's that time already?"
"Yep. I'm sure everyone will be thrilled to know that The Mukbang Girl is schooling here." Tara seemed lively — the kind of girl who always knew what to say.
I followed her out.
"So, do you already school here?" I asked, trying to make a conversation.
"Yeah. Been here since JSS1," she said proudly.
"Oh, that's cool," I said, keeping my tone casual. Talking wasn't really my thing.
"You'll love the food here. The cooks are great — lots of options," Tara added cheerfully as we entered the dining hall.
Food.
Just hearing that word sent a shiver through me.
I quickly glanced around, scanning for the nearest restroom — just in case.
The hall was half-full, a low buzz of students chatting and laughing over trays of food.
"Hey girls!" Tara called out as we walked further into the dining.
"Ouu, bestie! You look gorgeous," one girl said, beaming.
"Thanks, bestie. You too," Tara replied, hugging her.
"You're the Mukbang Girl," another said, turning to me. "Hi, I'm Ivy." She extended her hand, and I took it.
"Leila. Nice to meet you."
"You really are her!" The first girl grinned.
"You're so beautiful, and your hair—amazing."
The first girl smiled at me warmly. "I'm Nora. Welcome to Greenwood Academy — the best school in Nigeria. We're happy to have you."
I smiled back, feeling a warm rush of attention.
I wasn't used to this kind of welcome — not in real life, at least.
We ordered our food and the girls led me to an empty table where we sat together.
"So, girls," Tara said, "why don't we tell Leila all she needs to know to survive Greenwood? We can't have our girl left behind."
"Definitely!" Nora said with a playful grin.
"Let's start with the do's and don'ts."
They filled me in — who to talk to, who to avoid, the cliques, the gossip. Greenwood had its own little kingdom, and I was already part of it.
Then, suddenly, the noise in the dining hall swelled. Heads turned toward the entrance. A group of boys had just walked in — tall, confident, and unmistakably popular.
"They're the football team," Tara whispered.
"Oh," I said, realizing why everyone's energy had shifted.
One of them caught my eye. Fair skin, full hair, a face that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover. His confidence wasn't loud — it was quiet, controlled.
"That's Adrian Cole," Tara said softly. "The team captain."
My heart skipped a beat. And then — he looked at me. Our eyes locked, and he smiled.
Thank God for melanin, my face would've been bright red.