CHAPTER 2: The Shame and Pain

The morning lecture concluded with a brief classwork assignment. As the class coordinator, Samantha was responsible for collecting all the papers and submitting them to the lecturer’s office. She stood at the front of the room, her voice calm but firm.

“Please, everyone,” she called out, “submit your classwork before you leave.”

Some students began handing in their sheets right away, while others were still cross-checking their answers with classmates, whispering and flipping through notes. The room buzzed with quiet urgency, papers rustling and pens scribbling last-minute corrections.

Samantha’s eyes locked with Jake’s for a brief second.

She looked away instantly, her jaw tightening.

Why is this broke guy staring at me? she muttered under her breath, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. What does he even want from me?

Jake, still watching, staring at her from a distance,

"He'd better not provoke me today. I’m not the only girl on this campus—and I’m definitely not the one he should be longing for." Samantha said to herself.

Samantha moved from desk to desk, collecting the work but avoiding the seat where he was seated.

Later, she saw Jake step out. “Thank God,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Outside the lecture hall, Jake sat patiently on a bench, waiting for her. His backpack rested beside him, and he leaned forward slightly, watching students stream out of the hall. He didn’t seem in a hurry. There was something calm about the way he waited — like he had all the time in the world.

Inside, Samantha gathered the last few papers, stacked them neatly, and stepped out of the classroom and headed toward the lecturer’s office.

“Hey, Samantha,” Jake called out gently.

She turned around and saw him. Her face tightened slightly, and she spoke in a quiet, hurried voice. “Please, I’m busy right now. I need to submit this work and focus on other important things."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, her steps quick and determined.

Jake watched her leave. He wasn’t really trying to toast her because he already knew she would be hard to deal with for now. For now, she wanted her as a friend since she was the class coordinator; her friendship could be of help to him later.

But to Samantha, she had seen this kind of approach before. In her mind, He was another broke guy.

After a long day of lectures, Samantha stepped out into the warm afternoon sun. A group of guys stood beside their shiny cars, leaning casually, enjoying each other’s company. Their vehicles gleamed under the sunlight — polished, expensive, and hard to ignore.

“These must be the sons of millionaires or billionaires,” she thought, casting a quick look at herself—her clothes, her posture—and then around,

Samantha walked toward them, not by accident but with quiet intention. Her steps were slow, graceful — a soft catwalk like a softer dance, that carried both confidence and hope. Maybe, just maybe, one of them would notice her. Maybe, just maybe, someone would excuse themselves from the group, say hello, or offer a compliment.

But as she passed, no one looked her way. No one called out. They were too caught up in their own world — talking, laughing, playfully nudging each other.

She works to some extent and paused. Turning slightly, she glanced back. Her eyes scanned the group again. Still, they were only chatting among themselves, carefree and unaware of her presence.

Samantha took a quiet breath. She wasn’t angry — just a little disappointed.

Samantha adjusted herself, straightened her shoulders, and walked back through the park with the same quiet grace. This time, she lifted her hand and gave a small wave. “Hi,” she said, her voice light but hopeful.

The boys didn’t respond.

She kept walking, her heart sinking a little. A flush of embarrassment crept into her cheeks. She felt exposed — maybe even foolish. "Now, when I was finally ready to open my heart to a man, for the first time in my life, they acted like it meant nothing; they were forming like they didn’t care. By the time I close it up again, they’ll start chasing after me like they always do."she thought.

“Was it that they hadn’t heard her? Or were they pretending not to?”

She wasn’t sure. And that uncertainty gnawed at her.

But she had seen two of them in the group glance up. One had looked at her just before she waved, the other right after. So they had noticed. And still… nothing. Her steps slowed as she reasoned within herself. But then, just as Samantha was about to move on, something else caught her eye.

A student was walking toward her, towards the same direction where those group of guys were standing. The girl wore a light, transparent shot pant that stopped just above her knees. It hugged her body closely, showing every curve. To Samantha, it felt like the girl was almost uncovered.

Samantha watched her pass , her steps confident and relaxed. Without thinking, Samantha turned to look. From behind, the girl’s figure moved with a rhythm that was hard to ignore.

“She’s carrying the shape of two people,” Samantha thought, surprised by how much attention the girl’s presence demanded.

As Samantha walked away, something made her turn back for one last glance at the group of handsome guys. Her eyes scanned the scene — and then she saw it.

One of the boys had called out to the girl who had just passed earlier. From where Samantha stood, she could clearly see how he was looking at her — full of admiration, his attention completely drawn to her presence.

Then, gently, he reached for the girl’s hand and lifted it, guiding her to turn around. It was playful, but full of interest. She didn’t need to speak; her presence alone unraveled him. He was taken—utterly.

Samantha felt a sting in her chest. A quiet pain. A wave of jealousy she hadn’t expected. She looked down at herself, adjusting her outfit slightly, wondering, “Am I not attractive enough?”

She stood there for a moment, watching the scene play out. The laughter, the attention, the holding, the huge, the ease with which the girl was noticed.

Then, Samantha turned and walked away, unhappy, and embarrassed — her steps slow, her heart heavy, her thoughts quietly spinning.

Samantha’s lectures ended at 4 p.m., and like always, she walked home with her close friends — Naomi, Tasha, and Marian. They weren’t just classmates; they were like sisters.

Except for Tasha, who lived farther away, the rest stayed close enough to campus to walk home. They chose not to rent hostels so they could save money and keep enjoying their company.

Their walk was more than just getting home — it was their time to laugh, share stories, and talk about life. The road always felt shorter when they were together.

At the usual spot where their paths split, each girl headed in her own direction. Tasha, whose house was farther, would take a taxi from there.

That evening, as Samantha and her friends walked home, Samantha decided to tell her friends about Jake. “ I don't know this boy wants from me. She said.

Which boy are talking about? They asked in curiosity.

His name is Jake, he has been on my neck since our first encounter. He would not just allow me rest.”

Naomi smiles “ is he cute?”

Why will I allowed her keep chasing me if it's not a cute boy” Samantha said.

Then what are your thoughts? Waiting for Marian chip in.

Oh no, the guy is broke, I mean broke-broke”.

as the talk went on, a loud screech of tires made them jump in fear. They quickly ran into a nearby compound, hearts pounding.

“Oh my God! What just happened?” Tasha gasped.

“We almost died,” Marian whispered. “Just like that. No warning.”

Naomi held Marian’s arm tightly. “Thank God,” she said shakily. “Nearly doesn’t kill a bird.”

“If we had been one second slower, we wouldn’t be here,” Samantha said, still catching her breath.

“This your so-called broke guy called Jake is a bad lock” Naomi said.

“I think he was, because this hasn't happened before.” Tasha chips in.

After a moment, they stepped out of the compound. The city around them carried on like nothing had happened—cars honking, people walking, life moving forward.

“This person didn’t care,” Naomi said, shaking her head.

“Not even a little,” Miriam added.

Tasha crossed her arms and let out a bitter laugh. “Just imagine if one of us had been hit. Would the person have stopped? Or just kept driving?”

Just then, a car nearby caught their attention. It had been parked quietly, only a short distance away, and they hadn’t noticed it before.

The engine hummed low, but the presence felt tense. Inside, a young lady sat behind the wheel, her face tight with irritation. No concern. No apology. Just anger. She was the one who overtook a big trunk and almost hit them behind.

She rolled down the window and snapped, “Are you girls out of your minds?”

Her voice was sharp and cold.

“Is it because your parents couldn’t afford a car that you’re using your walking to bring trouble to me and my family?”

Samantha was quite letting her to finish before she start her own madness.