From the moment they met in primary school, Wunmi and Tarela were a matched pair. Teachers used to joke that they should just weld their shadows together, because where one went, the other followed. They were the kind of children who shared a single Gala between them, took blame for each other, learned the same dances, and spent so much time in each other’s houses that their parents stopped calling them “visitors.”
Growing up in Zaria, their friendship was almost legendary.
But as the years rolled by, the bond began to develop small cracks—cracks Wunmi could not see because she was looking through eyes trained to love without question.
Wunmi was the dreamer.
Tarela was the anchor.
At least, that’s what Wunmi believed.
Whenever Wunmi got a new achievement—a job interview, a scholarship shortlist, a promotion—she would run to Tarela first. She expected excitement, hugs, screams, something loud and celebratory, because that was what she gave to her friend.
Instead, she always got the same thing: a slow nod, a half-smile, and a question that tasted like smoke.
“Are you sure they didn’t mix up your application?”
“Promotion? Haa… just be careful, you know how these companies are.”
“Hmm. Let’s see how it goes first.”
Every good thing in Wunmi’s life seemed to shrink when standing beside Tarela.
Still, she held on.
This was her girl.
Her sister.
Her backbone.
She ignored the unease.
Then came Felix.
Wunmi met Felix in a banking hall on a painfully hot afternoon. NEPA had just taken light and the generator was misbehaving. People were sweating, irritated, and snapping at one another. But Felix—soft-spoken, clean-shaven Felix—had smiled at her with a gentleness that cut straight through the heat.
Their story started with a complaint about the long queue, and ended three hours later with exchanged numbers and laughter that felt too natural for strangers.
From the beginning, Felix studied affectionately. It showed in the way he listened fully, how he never forgot small details, how he always anticipated what she needed before she asked.
To Wunmi, he was peace in human form.
When she finally introduced him to her best friend, she expected excitement. Flowers. Jumps. Maybe even dancing.
But the moment Felix walked into the restaurant where they agreed to meet, Tarela’s face tightened. She scanned him like someone checking for defects.
“So, you don’t have a girlfriend before?” she asked abruptly.
“No secret baby mama?”
“No one you’re hiding?”
Felix laughed politely, but Wunmi’s heart sank. It wasn’t playful curiosity. It was interrogation.
That night, Felix called and said something she wasn’t ready to hear.
“My love, there’s something off about your friend. I can’t explain it, but please… be careful.”
Wunmi became defensive.
“Tarela? Off? No naa. She’s just protective.”
Even as she said it, her voice trembled.
Things worsened a few weeks later.
Felix showed her a screenshot of a message from Tarela.
It was long. Detailed. Carefully written.
She told Felix that Wunmi was “not stable,” “too emotional,” “hard to live with,” and “not ready for marriage.”
“She’s my friend,” the message ended. “That’s why I’m warning you before it’s too late.”
Wunmi’s heart broke with a sharp, painful snap.
But she was still in denial.
“She’s… probably joking,” she whispered.
Felix shook his head.
“There’s nothing playful about what she wrote.”
He confronted Tarela, and she changed her story three times. First, she claimed she never wrote the message. Then she said her account was hacked. Finally, she confessed she only wanted to “test his intentions.”
That was the day Felix made a quiet vow.
“I won’t allow anybody to plant weeds in the heart of the woman I want to marry.”
For the first time, Wunmi didn’t defend her friend. Something in her shifted—something tired, something wounded.
Still, she said nothing to Tarela.
She just stepped back quietly.
Not long after, Felix proposed.
It was a warm evening in Kaduna. He drove her to the spot where they first shared suya together, beneath a dim streetlight. He knelt on bare ground, unbothered by the dust.
“Marry me, Wunmi,” he said simply.
There was no speech, no elaborate show—just sincerity.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
They planned a small introduction in November. No one outside family knew.
Not even Tarela.
Peace entered Wunmi’s life like fresh air.
But two days later, her younger sister posted pictures from the introduction on WhatsApp. Within minutes, Wunmi’s phone buzzed—Tarela.
“What is going on in these pictures?”
Wunmi tried calling her to explain, but the calls failed.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Then her number was blocked.
The older woman who loved Wunmi like a daughter got involved. She visited Tarela and asked calmly:
“Why are you avoiding your best friend?”
Tarela’s answer carried bitterness thicker than kerosene.
“Why didn’t she tell me Felix proposed to her? Talkless of introduction? Or wedding date?”
“She can go to hell, abeg. Is she the first to marry?”
The older woman was stunned.
“She’s your friend.”
“So?” Tarela snapped. “Let her continue her life.”
She didn’t attend the wedding in April.
Didn’t send congratulations.
Didn’t call.
She only watched Wunmi’s WhatsApp stories silently, like a stranger peering through a window.
That was the day Wunmi understood:
Not everyone who grows beside you grows with you.
And some friendships don’t die with noise—they fade with silence.
To be continued...
The Jealous Friend
Episode 1
Follow Stories by Peace to read the next episode.
Like, Comment and Share ❤️
Growing up in Zaria, their friendship was almost legendary.
But as the years rolled by, the bond began to develop small cracks—cracks Wunmi could not see because she was looking through eyes trained to love without question.
Wunmi was the dreamer.
Tarela was the anchor.
At least, that’s what Wunmi believed.
Whenever Wunmi got a new achievement—a job interview, a scholarship shortlist, a promotion—she would run to Tarela first. She expected excitement, hugs, screams, something loud and celebratory, because that was what she gave to her friend.
Instead, she always got the same thing: a slow nod, a half-smile, and a question that tasted like smoke.
“Are you sure they didn’t mix up your application?”
“Promotion? Haa… just be careful, you know how these companies are.”
“Hmm. Let’s see how it goes first.”
Every good thing in Wunmi’s life seemed to shrink when standing beside Tarela.
Still, she held on.
This was her girl.
Her sister.
Her backbone.
She ignored the unease.
Then came Felix.
Wunmi met Felix in a banking hall on a painfully hot afternoon. NEPA had just taken light and the generator was misbehaving. People were sweating, irritated, and snapping at one another. But Felix—soft-spoken, clean-shaven Felix—had smiled at her with a gentleness that cut straight through the heat.
Their story started with a complaint about the long queue, and ended three hours later with exchanged numbers and laughter that felt too natural for strangers.
From the beginning, Felix studied affectionately. It showed in the way he listened fully, how he never forgot small details, how he always anticipated what she needed before she asked.
To Wunmi, he was peace in human form.
When she finally introduced him to her best friend, she expected excitement. Flowers. Jumps. Maybe even dancing.
But the moment Felix walked into the restaurant where they agreed to meet, Tarela’s face tightened. She scanned him like someone checking for defects.
“So, you don’t have a girlfriend before?” she asked abruptly.
“No secret baby mama?”
“No one you’re hiding?”
Felix laughed politely, but Wunmi’s heart sank. It wasn’t playful curiosity. It was interrogation.
That night, Felix called and said something she wasn’t ready to hear.
“My love, there’s something off about your friend. I can’t explain it, but please… be careful.”
Wunmi became defensive.
“Tarela? Off? No naa. She’s just protective.”
Even as she said it, her voice trembled.
Things worsened a few weeks later.
Felix showed her a screenshot of a message from Tarela.
It was long. Detailed. Carefully written.
She told Felix that Wunmi was “not stable,” “too emotional,” “hard to live with,” and “not ready for marriage.”
“She’s my friend,” the message ended. “That’s why I’m warning you before it’s too late.”
Wunmi’s heart broke with a sharp, painful snap.
But she was still in denial.
“She’s… probably joking,” she whispered.
Felix shook his head.
“There’s nothing playful about what she wrote.”
He confronted Tarela, and she changed her story three times. First, she claimed she never wrote the message. Then she said her account was hacked. Finally, she confessed she only wanted to “test his intentions.”
That was the day Felix made a quiet vow.
“I won’t allow anybody to plant weeds in the heart of the woman I want to marry.”
For the first time, Wunmi didn’t defend her friend. Something in her shifted—something tired, something wounded.
Still, she said nothing to Tarela.
She just stepped back quietly.
Not long after, Felix proposed.
It was a warm evening in Kaduna. He drove her to the spot where they first shared suya together, beneath a dim streetlight. He knelt on bare ground, unbothered by the dust.
“Marry me, Wunmi,” he said simply.
There was no speech, no elaborate show—just sincerity.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
They planned a small introduction in November. No one outside family knew.
Not even Tarela.
Peace entered Wunmi’s life like fresh air.
But two days later, her younger sister posted pictures from the introduction on WhatsApp. Within minutes, Wunmi’s phone buzzed—Tarela.
“What is going on in these pictures?”
Wunmi tried calling her to explain, but the calls failed.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Then her number was blocked.
The older woman who loved Wunmi like a daughter got involved. She visited Tarela and asked calmly:
“Why are you avoiding your best friend?”
Tarela’s answer carried bitterness thicker than kerosene.
“Why didn’t she tell me Felix proposed to her? Talkless of introduction? Or wedding date?”
“She can go to hell, abeg. Is she the first to marry?”
The older woman was stunned.
“She’s your friend.”
“So?” Tarela snapped. “Let her continue her life.”
She didn’t attend the wedding in April.
Didn’t send congratulations.
Didn’t call.
She only watched Wunmi’s WhatsApp stories silently, like a stranger peering through a window.
That was the day Wunmi understood:
Not everyone who grows beside you grows with you.
And some friendships don’t die with noise—they fade with silence.
To be continued...
The Jealous Friend
Episode 1
Follow Stories by Peace to read the next episode.
Like, Comment and Share ❤️
