Chapter 2: Evidence and Exposure

"Ms. Ifeoma, you keep saying you get evidence to prove say you no plagiarise. So where the evidence dey?"

The question land like slap, mic nearly touch my mouth. Even the cameraman look me, him own eye big like he dey expect drama.

"As your old reader, I no wan believe say you fit do this kind thing. Na you really write all those your old books?"

I hear pain inside the woman voice. She be real fan. My heart squeeze small, but I no let am show for my face.

As all the microphones dey face me, at first I shock. Then my heart begin beat anyhow.

I dey sweat under the AC, e be like say my skin dey pepper me. Na so press for Naija dey do—dem go surround you like hungry mosquitoes.

I don come back to life—back to the day wey I hold press conference to clear my name.

The light dey shine for my face, but na memory dey flood my mind. Na this day turn everything upside down for me last time.

For my last life, my boyfriend’s white moonlight thief my novel, the one wey I write based on my own secret crush.

I fit still remember how my heart dey beat as I dey write that story, how I dey hide my feelings for one guy for class, how I pour my soul into every word. Amarachi sabi my story inside out, na why she fit thief am.

The day dem release am, the book blow, land number one for the site’s gold list, turn to campus romance legend.

Everybody dey talk am—dem dey gist am for Twitter, dey form book club for WhatsApp. My small dream turn big, but na another person dey collect the praise.

After all those big marketing accounts repost am, plenty people for internet dey talk say the book touch their heart.

I go dey read comments at night, dey cry silent tears. Everybody dey celebrate her, but nobody know say na my pain and my joy dem dey read.

I plan to show my original drafts as evidence.

I arrange all the drafts, screenshots, and emails. I even label folder: 'True Author.' My hand dey shake as I dey prepare. My mind dey tell me say this one go clear my name once and for all.

But on the day of the press conference, person don wipe my whole folder—nothing remain at all.

I open laptop, everything blank. Cold catch me. Na that moment I know say wahala don land.

I chop online insult wey I never see before, dem even dey send me funeral wreaths, black-and-white photos, and threat package from everywhere for the country.

Person even send me goat head by dispatch, write RIP on am. For Facebook, my old classmates dey do sub-tweet, dey mock me join.

I still grind teeth dey write, but last last, one obsessed anti-fan come my house stab me die.

Na the night I wan give up, I still dey type story when dem break my burglary, stab me for back. Nobody hear me shout. My blood stain my final manuscript.

Now, just as I dey hesitate, my boyfriend of three years, Tunde, no fit hold himself again. He shout, "Ifeoma, if you dey talk say na Amarachi dey lie against you, then show us evidence! No dey drag innocent people down with you!" He glare at me, but small pride dey hide inside his eyes.

As he dey shout, people for back dey nod. Na so Naija boys dey do—if wahala show, dem go position like say dem dey fight for justice, but na their own shine dem dey chase.

He know wetin dey my folder well.

The way he dey look me, I sabi say he don already see wetin dey. He dey count down till my shame go complete.

He just wan make my name scatter so that Amarachi go become the new top author.

Everything for their plan set. I be obstacle, na why dem dey do like say dem dey pity me for camera.

I lower my eyes, carry my laptop go projection booth.

People dey murmur, dey try zoom their phones. I waka like say I no send anybody.

I on am, then cast the screen.

The next thing, as everybody dey look, I delete the pen name wey I use for six years.

Na so the screen flash red, my hand steady, I press delete. My name vanish for the author page. Some people gasp, some dey shake head, but I no look anybody eye.

Tunde and Amarachi jump up immediately.

Their body movement fast, Tunde face turn red, Amarachi voice high like market woman.

I talk with cold voice: "Everybody, na today dem frame me, and person don destroy all my evidence, so I no fit defend myself again."

I make sure say my voice cut through the noise. Even the press people calm, dey wait for more gist.

"From today, this pen name no dey again. I don officially retire from writing, I no go ever enter online literature again."

My chest heavy, but I refuse to cry. Na so people dey talk, dey post live video as evidence. Make dem carry my pain, let me rest.