TËSSÃ ãñd DARÆY: A Love Written with fire

Things had been going fine these past few days. Before I knew it, it was already Wednesday—a day I had set aside to end someone.

Okay, not literally. But Justin, that Dutch tutor of mine, was definitely going to hear a piece of my mind.

At least I wasn't going to face him on an empty stomach. I made sure to eat to my heart's content while mentally preparing my words.

Flashing Back to the Previous Night…

It was 2 AM. Dead in the middle of the night.

And my phone would not stop ringing.

At first, I was determined to ignore it. Whoever it was could wait. But something in me nagged at my conscience.

What if it's an emergency?

With an irritated sigh, I picked up my phone and answered.

Big. Big mistake.

The call was nothing but a quarrel—not even my own! It was a fight between lovers.

And the person who called? Someone I barely even considered a friend.

Remember Divine? The one from Year One? The Acting student?

Well, this wasn't her. This was a friend of a friend of a friend—basically, someone hanging onto a thread-thin connection to my life.

Her name? Also Divine.

Back then, they called each other "namey" because they shared the same name. They were inseparable, always going everywhere together. That's how we all knew her.

The problem? She was the type of person who called for irrelevant things.

So naturally, I never took her seriously.

I was this close to hanging up.

But then my brain whispered, What if it's a death call?

Fine. Fine. I'll answer.

And that was the moment I ruined my night.

When I answered the call, all I heard was incoherent blabbering.

Divine was crying—hard. I couldn't even make out half of what she was saying, so I did the only logical thing.

I kept quiet and let her finish her nonsense.

In the middle of her sobbing, my phone vibrated with a WhatsApp message.

It was from her.

I squinted at the screen, trying to focus through my sleep haze. Then, her message popped up.

"That's the guy! The guy that broke up with me just because he's tired of me!"

My sleep-fogged brain barely processed her words, but I tapped on the attached photo anyway.

And the second my eyes landed on the picture—

BOOM.

Sleep? Gone.

My eyes snapped open so fast they could've given me whiplash.

"JUSTIN?!"

My voice shot through the silence of my dark room.

"You know him?" she asked, her sobs slowing down.

I swallowed hard. Oh, I know him all right.

"Yeah," I said, gripping my phone tighter. "I'll talk to him. Call me back tomorrow."

And just like that, her tears turned into endless gratitude.

She couldn't stop thanking me.

But me? I was just lying there, staring at the ceiling in disbelief.

Justin. Of all people.

This was going to be interesting.

The Breaking Point

2 AM.

My sleep was already gone, and since Justin was still awake, I figured—why not just talk to him now?

So, I slid into his DM.

---

Me: Hey.

Justin: It's 2 AM. What are you doing up at this time?

Oh wow. What a way to say hi to a friend.

Me: I was asleep, but someone's girlfriend woke me up.

Justin: Hollup, Irene is not my girlfriend.

Wow, that's nice to know.

Me: Wait… you offended Irene too?

Justin: Well, no. But she's the only person that I know and you know too.

Yeah, apparently not, or I'd still be in bed.

Me: Fair point, but it's not her.

Justin: Then who? Because honestly, I don't have a girlfriend. They're just f*** mates.

What the actual eff?

That's how he considered them?

I would hate for someone to think of me that way.

Me: Wow. Well, Divine said she can't live without you, and instead of disturbing your sleep, she's disturbing mine.

I could feel his anger rise through the next thing he sent.

Justin: You girls can never live without us. That's what all of you always cry about whenever we break up with you.

Okay, I get that he's mad, but why take it out on me?

Me: Says who?

Justin: Says me and every other guy on the continent.

Ah. Rude.

I guess I brought this up on myself since I was the one who texted him.

Me: Big woof.

I wasn't backing down. Maybe it had something to do with me hating to lose.

Justin: Well, I no longer like doing it with her, so there's nothing you can do.

He said that so freely.

Me: Look, I know it's not my place…

Justin: Buuuutttttt?

Me: But I'm already involved.

It's 2 AM. God knows how much I love my morning sleep, but here I am—settling the dispute of a couple I never even knew existed.

Justin: Sooooooo?

He was pressing harder.

Me: Sooooo… I'm going to say this: girls aren't just f*** buddies. They have feelings too.

I sent the message with my fingers crossed.

Not everyone is Daræy. Not everyone is willing to take advice from people like me.

I was bracing myself for what was coming next—

Little did I know, it was not my kind of deal.

Justin: But isn't that what you signed up for, though?

…Me?

My heart skipped a beat.

Me: Me?

Justin: All of you. You enjoy the process but hate the aftermath, acting like it was all the guy's fault and you're just the victim. You know it takes two people to do it, right?

I felt my blood boil.

Did I cross a line?

I thought I could talk to him—because we're friends, right? Right?

But his words were just… too insulting.

Me: Why are you generalizing this? You're saying it like you're counting me among your f***mates.

Then, his next message hit like a grenade.

Justin: Aren't you, though?

…

What the whaaaat.

He did not just call me that—

And think he'd get away with it.

---

End of Flashback.

I was fuming.

I didn't just wake up and choose violence—I had been dragged into it at 2 AM by a crying girl and a jackass of a guy who thought he could lump me in with his so-called f** mates.*

And now, here I was, dressed up with a full stomach—because if I was going to commit murder, I wasn't going to do it hungry—heading straight to his usual hangout spot.

It wasn't a regular club. It was one of those places where you could only get in if you were Afghan or not Nigerian. I didn't even know what they officially called it. All I knew was Justin went there all the time and acted like it was some sacred sanctuary.

"These are the only people that truly get me," he always said.

Wrong.

They only get him because they think like him. A whole group of douchebags hyping up each other's stupidity.

I grabbed my bag without telling my roommates where I was going. I wasn't in the mood for twenty questions when my mind was already a battlefield. They tried asking, but I brushed them off with a vague, "I'll be back when I get back. We'll discuss then."

The truth?

I didn't trust myself to say anything rational at that moment.

Last night, at 2 AM, while the entire world was peacefully asleep, I was the one wide awake, taking the heat. And now? Now, I was going to return it.

---

The Club

When I got there, the club wasn't fully packed yet. The music thumped low and steady, bodies swayed under dim lights, and laughter echoed through the room.

And there he was.

Justin.

Laughing. Joking. Living his best life like he hadn't just spoken to me like absolute trash a few hours ago.

Like he hadn't dismissed a whole human being's emotions as irrelevant.

Like he hadn't called me—me—a f** mate.*

I gripped my bag tighter, my heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out the music.

For a split second, my rational mind tried to stop me. Maybe just cuss him out? Maybe just glare at him until he feels uncomfortable?

But the rage was already burning, an uncontrollable inferno, and before I could even think twice—

My fist connected right with his face.

Hard.

The crack was satisfying.

The sheer force of my punch sent him stumbling back, eyes wide in shock.

For a guy who never played with his face, that had to sting.

The club froze.

Half of the people jumped in to hold him back, while the other half just stood there, gawking at me like I was some kind of madwoman.

And maybe I was.

Because damn, that felt good.

Justin's face contorted with rage, nostrils flaring like he was about to pounce, but his friends kept a tight grip on him.

I stood there, unshaken, my pulse still thrumming from the impact, when suddenly—

Divine called.

I blinked, still staring at Justin's furious expression as my phone buzzed in my hand.

Of all times.

I exhaled sharply and swiped to answer.

"Hey girl, have you talked to him?" she asked, completely oblivious.

Oh, Divine.

With the same fiery tone I had just used on Justin, I hissed into the phone,

"Bitch, if you want a good life partner, then you should find a real person, not a f** mate. Stop bringing your problems to me if they're this stupid and insignificant. Many of us have real lives and actual things to do. Get a better boyfriend. Not… whatever the hell Justin is."*

And with that, I hung up.

Silence.

The club still hadn't fully recovered from the punch I delivered. Justin was still being held back, his jaw clenched, his pride shattered.

And me?

I turned around and walked out like nothing had ever happened.

But inside?

I was shocked.

Not just at him.

But at myself.