Chapter 1: The Press Conference

The hall smell of sweat and cheap perfume, generator dey hum for background. After the whole internet drag me for plagiarism, I come out and announce my retirement from writing, just like that.

Na wah, the way I just stand there, dey look everybody as if nothing dey pain me, but my heart dey beat like drum for inside. As I talk my own, the whole place quiet small, but the tension for my chest just dey choke me. The way people dey watch, some dey pity me, others just dey wait make I fall. Na so e be for Naija, wahala dey sweet people to watch.

My boyfriend, who was just shouting accusations at me, suddenly lost words.

Him mouth just hang like say fish bone choke am. He just dey look me as if say he no believe wetin I talk. I fit see say for him mind, e dey struggle to arrange words wey fit match the drama.

"Wetin be this one now? No be you talk say you still get mountain of debt to pay?"

The guy voice crack small as he talk, eye dey run left and right like person wey thief maggi for market. Na so some people for back hiss, whisper begin fly like say dem dey arrange gist.

His so-called white moonlight—the supposed victim of the plagiarism scandal—Amarachi, started to panic too.

Her hand begin shake, small sweat dey gather for her forehead. I see as she look Tunde, like say she dey beg am with her eyes make e talk something nice. She be fine girl, but the way she dey fidget show say wahala don dey catch her.

"Ifeoma, you no need punish yourself like this. I dey willing to give you chance to start again."

She talk am with her voice soft like person wey wan beg but still dey fear camera. I just shake my head, make sure say my face no show any emotion for the people wey dey record.

I just looked down at the flashing camera lights below the stage, my face hard as stone.

Those cameras, e be like say dem dey swallow my soul, but I refuse give dem tears. I hold myself, dey breathe steady. Na so some people dey murmur, but I bone face, no let anybody see my weakness.

I remember how Amarachi dey smile for camera, dey claim say na her midnight hustle write the book—meanwhile, na my own heartbreak she dey use collect award. For my previous life, both of them disgrace me in public, but behind the scenes, they join hand to thief my work.

E pain me that year, but who go believe? Na so Naija be—person wey sabi form saint for outside, na the real devil for back. I remember the secret meetings, the coded WhatsApp messages—everything dey play for my mind like film.

At the end, all the words wey I pour my heart into make Amarachi famous as literary genius.

I watch as she dey chop all the glory. Me, I dey background dey grind, dey watch my own dream dey build another person future. E pain me, but I just swallow am like bitterleaf soup.

This time, I just delete the pen name wey I use for six years.

My finger heavy, but I press am. The whole hall freeze. Even the AC no fit cool the wahala. I click delete with hand wey no even shake. Make dem see say na me get power over my own name, my own destiny. Even if na pain I dey choose, na my own pain.

I don taya for this my small rented life. Time don reach to go house and collect my family money.

I take deep breath, tell myself say suffering no be badge of honour. If family dey, why I go dey use suffering dey do competition?

As for Amarachi—make I see how you wan take finish the rest of that story.

My lips curl small, na only me sabi the secret corners of that book. Make she try, make everybody see say copy no be craft.