It was Saturday afternoon, and the clouds above Anne's street were thick and grey, matching her mood. She had tried to distract herself—by reading, cleaning her room, even peeling yam with her mum—but her mind kept drifting back to the same thing.
Rita.
The results.
The silence growing between them.
And so, with a quiet sigh, Anne tied her scarf and stepped out of the house.
She needed air.
She needed space.
She needed someone who knew her before everything changed.
Mufti.
They hadn't spoken much in a while. Not since JSS1, when they used to do homework together, braid each other's hair, and pass notes in class.
Anne walked down the familiar road to Mufti's house, past the mechanic shop and the small mosque at the corner. She knocked gently when she arrived.
Mufti's younger brother opened the gate and grinned.
"Anne!"
"Is your sister home?"
"She's upstairs!"
Anne walked in, the scent of fried plantain drifting from the kitchen. Everything looked the same—the blue-painted walls, the wide veranda with potted plants, the calmness that always seemed to live here.
Mufti appeared at the stairwell in a long peach gown, surprised but smiling.
"Anne?"
"I hope I'm not disturbing."
"No, no. Come in!"
They went upstairs to Mufti's room. A soft breeze came through the window. Posters of science formulas and neat notes were still taped to the wall.
"Your room hasn't changed," Anne said with a smile.
"Neither have you," Muftiat replied, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
Anne hesitated, then sat beside her.
"I don't know why I came," she said after a while. "I just… I needed someone."
Mufti didn't rush her. She just listened.
"I've been feeling weird," Anne said. "Since the results came out. Rita came first. Everyone's clapping. Even Evelyn had things to say. And me? I just stood there like a statue."
Mufti tilted her head. "Did you talk to her?"
"Not properly. I just smiled and told her I was fine. But I wasn't."
Mufti nodded slowly. "You feel like you've been pushed aside."
Anne blinked. "Yes. Exactly. And maybe it sounds childish, but it hurts."
"It's not childish," Mufti said softly. "You're human. You feel things. You loved having that friendship—being close, being seen. It's hard when things shift."
Anne sighed. "I didn't think I could miss you too. But coming here now… I realize I do."
Mufti smiled and leaned against her. "I miss you too. You didn't lose me, Anne. You just drifted a bit. And maybe you and Rita need time to talk things out. But don't let pride make you carry pain that was never meant to be yours."
Anne was quiet for a moment, then chuckled. "You still talk like a grown-up."
"I read books," Mufti said, grinning.
They both laughed—really laughed, the kind that shakes your shoulders and makes the tension melt. It was like opening an old window and letting in fresh air.
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, playing a card game, and even watching an old Nollywood movie on her dad's DVD player.
When Anne finally stood to leave, the sun had begun to set.
"Thanks, Mufti," she said at the gate.
"Anytime. Don't stay away too long."
As Anne walked home, her heart felt lighter. For the first time in days, the heaviness in her chest had softened.
She still didn't know exactly how to fix things with Rita.
But now… she wanted to try.