____________________________________
"Some people are willing to betray years of friendship just to get a little bit of the
spotlight."
— LAUREN CONRAD
____________________________________
Enemies cannot betray you, because you never believed them. Betrayal always comes from someone you thought was a friend.
— Bohdi Sanders
____________________________________
Safeeyah's Monologue:
They say what goes around comes around—that life moves in circles, teaching you the same lesson over and over until, finally, you learn it.
I never used to believe that… not until everything happened.
My name is Safeeyah—named after my grandmother, my father's mother. Dad always says I'm the apple of his eye, his first princess. I have two sisters, and anyone who has grown up with sisters knows the chaos it brings. You fight for attention. You fight for love. Sometimes, you fight just to be seen.
I know I'm not my mother's favorite. Parents pretend they don't have favorites, but children always know. Still… I was Dad's little girl. Maybe it's because of my name, maybe something deeper. My grandmother and Mom never really got along, so perhaps my name itself is a reminder that Mom never loved me.
Dad is a respected man in our community—successful, generous, and kind. He owns oil businesses and several stations across the country. My mother, on the other hand, is the principal of a public school near our house.
I grew up believing love looked like my parents—my mother standing by my father through his hardest years, and my father refusing to remarry despite pressure from others.
"This is the woman who endured my storms," he'd say.
"I will never hurt her. Not even by accident."
That was the kind of home I grew up in—steady, warm, safe. A home that shaped the way I understood loyalty, trust, and the quiet power of love that doesn't demand anything in return.
_________________________
The First Meeting—6 Years Ago
I was in primary school when the stomach pain hit. One second I was coloring in class; the next, I was doubled over, trying not to cry. Then came the vomiting. The school nurse tried to calm me while someone called my parents.
Before long, I was in the hospital. Four days passed in a blur of medicine and examinations. On the fifth day, my parents came to me, worry written all over their faces.
"The doctors are going to help you feel better," Dad whispered. "You'll sleep first, and when you wake up, the pain will be gone."
I didn't understand that they meant surgery. I only knew I was scared.
Dad hugged me tight. "My brave little princess. We love you. Everything will be okay."
And in his arms, it felt true.
The surgery happened. I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke, the first thing I saw was Mom's hand gripping mine while she slept beside my bed. She must have waited hours.
I called out to her, and she jerked awake.
"My poor baby," she whispered. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone cut my stomach. It hurts," I said, nearly crying.
She laughed softly and kissed my forehead. "It'll get better, sweetheart. Let me call your father."
She stepped out, and the room fell quiet.
That's when I heard it.
A whisper. Soft. Strange.
"Missy… Missyyy… where did you wander off to?"
A girl around my age stepped into the room, wearing a blue-and-white dress with tiny butterfly wings attached to the back. She peeked around curiously.
"Hey," she said. "Have you seen a cat? Brown and white stripes, blue eyes? Her name is Missy."
I shook my head. "No."
She came closer. "Did they do surgery on you?"
"Yeah."
"I hope you feel better," she said with a small smile.
I remember thinking, Who wanders around a hospital looking for a cat?
Almost as if she heard my thoughts, she laughed.
"I'm not lost. I'm visiting someone—two doors down. He's the one who gave me Missy. But he's been unconscious for two weeks now. He doesn't blink. He doesn't speak. So I come every day with my mom."
Her voice softened with a sadness far too deep for her age.
I whispered, "I'm sorry… I hope he gets better. What's your name?"
"MiMie," she said.
"And I'm Safeyyah."
She smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Safeyyah. I'll come say hi again tomorrow. If my mom doesn't freak out because I'm gone for too long now."
As she walked toward the door, she suddenly yelled, "There you are, Missy!"
I watched her scoop up a brown-and-white cat, hair flowing behind her like dark silk.
A moment later, my mom returned with my father and the doctors, and MiMie was gone.
______________________
A Week of Friendship
She visited the next day—and the day after—and every day for a full week. She met my mother, sometimes my father and sisters. We talked, played games on our iPads, and she told me stories about the boy she visited.
"How he fell sick. How no doctor could tell what was wrong. How his father wanted to fly him abroad, but he was too weak to travel."
"Why do you visit every day?" I asked.
Her answer stayed with me forever.
"I don't want him to wake up and find me gone. I think he got sick protecting me… and I feel guilty, even if our parents say it isn't our fault."
There was a passion in her eyes, a raw devotion I didn't understand. I wanted to be brave like her. Confident like her. Loyal like her. Extremely kind and caring just like her.
The night before I was supposed to be discharged, I asked, "Will you be my best friend?"
She nodded instantly, excited.
She promised to come the next morning with her mom so they could exchange contacts with mine, and maybe she'd visit me at home.
We both believed it.
We had no idea we were saying goodbye for years.
__________________
The Disappearance
The next morning, a storm broke over the city—violent rain, thunder shaking the windows. MiMie never came.
By afternoon, it was time for my discharge. I begged Mom to check the boy's room for any contact information. She returned with a sad expression.
"He woke up last night. They transferred him immediately. The staff said the family wants privacy. They can't give us any information."
I went home crying.
Days passed. Weeks. Months.
Eventually… I forgot my best friend.
____________________
Years Later—The Return
In my third year at A.R.C, a transfer student arrived. She slid into the seat next to me. My chest tightened at the sight of her. That hair—long, silky, flowing like a river of midnight—felt hauntingly familiar.
The boys couldn't stop staring. Whispers snaked through the classroom like fire.
"So so pretty"
"Is she like a model or something…"
"Ooh my… so Gorgeous"
Even Imran—my secret, hopeless crush—was frozen, eyes wide, incapable of looking anywhere else.
Then she turned toward me, her voice soft but trembling with excitement:
"Safeyyah? Is that you? It's me—MiMie. Do you recognize me?"
Every muscle in me locked. My throat went dry.
"MiMie?! Oh my God—it's been forever!"
I launched myself at her. Our arms collided. She hugged me back, tight, almost desperate.
The classroom dissolved into silence. Every whisper vanished. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
We spoke and spoke, words tumbling out like a dam breaking. Every detail of the years we'd lost, every memory, every fleeting thought, all poured between us. Within days, we were inseparable again.
We became friends again.
Weeks later, she became my best friend all over again.
She told me how she had never given up on our friendship. After I disappeared from the hospital, she had gone back looking for me, but she couldn't find me anywhere.
Then she told me something else.
The boy she used to visit at the hospital had miraculously recovered. Day by day, he'd gotten stronger until he was now completely healthy.
The only problem?
He is still at their former school A.M.A.
We shared everything after that.
Secrets. Dreams. Embarrassing stories.
Crushes.
I told her about the boy I secretly liked and how I planned to make him fall hopelessly in love with me.
Little did I know she would eventually try to take him from me.
Days passed, and I started noticing things.
Small things.
The way Imran and MiMie looked at each other sometimes. Or at least that's what I am imagining.
The way he always found excuses to stop by her desk.
The way he'd come to collect notes he supposedly missed while playing in the inter-class basketball tournament, then somehow stay behind chatting with her.
I didn't like it. Not one bit.
When I asked MiMie about it, she laughed it off.
"He just needs notes from class," she said. "Nothing more."
But deep down, I knew it wasn't that simple.
Still, she reassured me.
Nothing would ever happen between them.
She said her heart had belonged to someone else for as long as she could remember.
Naturally, I asked if she meant the boy from the hospital.
MiMie simply smiled.
"It's much more complicated than that," she said softly. "If only it were that simple."
That was always her answer whenever I asked about her crush.
If only it were that simple.
As the weeks passed and the term drew closer to its end, MiMie became even more popular.
Boys from our class.
Boys from neighboring classes.
Even senior students.
They all wanted her attention.
Love letters appeared in her locker almost daily.
Some were handwritten.
Some were decorated with flowers.
Some were pages long.
She ignored every single one.
It wasn't just the boys.
Various clubs competed to recruit her because of her brilliant mind.
The Debate Club wanted her.
The Science Club wanted her.
The Literary Society wanted her.
Even the Drama Club wanted her because, according to them, she was the most beautiful girl in school, perfect facial bone structure, perfect skin, like a model, pretty enough to be their leading actress.
I was her best friend.
But sometimes…
I was jealous of her. I hated admitting that.
Yet I couldn't control the feelings growing inside me.
They were ugly. Dangerous.
The kind of feelings that whispered ugly things when no one else was around.
After only one semester, MiMie had already become a legend.
She led A.R.C to victory in the Elite Championship.
Then she won more major trophies and competitions during our junior year.
By the time our third term arrived, we sat for our Junior Certificate Examinations and successfully qualified for Senior Secondary School.
____________________
Then came the day I'd been dreaming about.
Six weeks before our final exams.
I can still remember every second of it.
Imran walked into our classroom carrying a bouquet of roses.
In his other hand was a small envelope shaped like a heart.
The entire class immediately went silent.
He stopped in front of my desk.
Then he confessed. Right there. In front of everyone.
The classroom exploded. People screamed.
Cheered. Whistled.
Some girls nearly fainted from excitement.
I felt like my heart was about to burst.
It was everything I'd ever dreamed of.
Everything.
We started dating immediately afterward.
Soon everyone referred to us as the couple.
Not just in our class. Possibly in our entire set.
At Junior Prom, we were voted King and Queen. It felt unreal.
Like living inside a fairytale.
We spent the rest of the semester together.
Then the summer break. Text messages. Phone calls. Video calls. The occasional outing.
Every day felt magical.
When school resumed, we moved to Senior Secondary section as freshmen.
Most of our old classmates returned to ARC.
A few transferred to other elite schools.
At the same time, several new students from those schools joined us.
Naturally, the old students stayed close to one another.
I still had MiMie. Umaymah. Fatima.
All my friends. And most importantly…
I still had Imran.
I thought life couldn't get any better.
I was wrong.
Because I had no idea that Mimi secretly envied my relationship.
Or that everything was about to fall apart.
_________________
About nine weeks into the first semester, exactly halfway into the semester, shortly after we completed our second Continuous Assessment test, I walked into class one morning and headed toward my desk.
MiMie's backpack was sitting on top of it.
She wasn't anywhere in sight.
I assumed she had rushed off to one of her Elite Championship committee meetings.
Poor girl.
Between academics and competitions, she was always exhausted.
Wanting to help, I picked up her bag and decided to place it inside her locker.
As I lifted it—
Something fell out. A bundle of letters.
My heart skipped.
The envelopes looked familiar.
Very familiar. Slowly, I picked one up.
Then another. Then another.
My fingers began trembling.
Every envelope carried the same signature.
"From Your Undying Lover, Imran."
My breathing stopped.
There were more than a dozen letters.
I opened one. Then another. Then another.
Every single one was addressed to MiMie.
My hands started shaking violently.
Tears blurred my vision. Drops landed on the paper. Smearing the ink.
I checked the dates. My stomach twisted.
Some of them dated all the way back to our second semester of junior year.
I suddenly remembered asking MiMie a direct question months ago.
"Has Imran ever sent you a love message?"
She had looked me straight in the eyes and said: "No."
The rage that exploded inside me was indescribable.
My head spun. My chest burned.
Then, as if summoned by fate itself—
MiMie appeared.
The moment I saw her, I threw the letters directly at her face. The papers scattered across the classroom floor.
She glanced down. Then back at me.
Surprisingly calm.
"Safeeyah," she began. "I can explain. Just listen—"
SLAP!
The sound echoed across the classroom.
Everyone turned. Every head. Every eye.
Every conversation stopped.
Before MiMie could finish her sentence, I had slapped her.
Hard.
Students immediately started rushing toward us.
But what happened next shocked me.
MiMie slapped me back.
Harder. Much harder.
The impact stunned me.
I staggered backward, clutching my cheek.
For a second, I simply stared at her.
Disbelief. Then pure fury.
I lunged at her.
Students immediately jumped between us, holding me back.
I screamed. Shouted. Cursed.
Meanwhile, MiMie stood there silently.
Not defending herself. Not arguing. Just watching me.
And somehow that made me even angrier.
Because suddenly I felt like I was the crazy one.
Like I was the villain.
Like every fight I'd ever had with my siblings was happening all over again.
Every time we argued, my mother always sided with them.
Always.
No matter what happened. No matter who started it.
Somehow it became my fault.
And now I feared history was about to repeat itself.
That everyone would side with MiMie .
And I'd be left standing alone. Again.
But then Umaymah grabbed my wrist.
With her other hand, she grabbed MiMie's.
Without saying a word, she dragged us both out of the classroom while signaling our closest friends to stop anyone from following.
The moment we were alone, Umaymah exploded.
"What is wrong with you two?" she shouted, looking between us. "Aren't you supposed to be best friends? What is going on?"
My chest heaved as I turned toward MiMie.
"All this time," I said, my voice trembling with anger, "you've been exchanging love letters with Imran while knowing perfectly well that he's my boyfriend? What kind of person does that?"
MiMie simply stared at me.
The silence only made me angrier.
"Answer me!" I yelled. "How can you call yourself my best friend?"
MiMie swallowed hard before finally speaking.
"It's not what it looks like, Safeeyah. I brought those letters to tell you the truth. Imran isn't the person you think he is. He's been sending me love messages ever since I arrived at this school. I rejected every single one of them. Even before you told me you liked him."
She paused, her eyes glistening.
"And when we became best friends and you told me how you felt about him, I wanted to tell you everything. But I saw how jealous and upset you got whenever another girl looked at him that way. I was afraid of losing our friendship, so I kept quiet."
Umaymah turned toward MiMie with a strange look, as if she wasn't sure what to believe.
But I was too angry to stop.
"Liar," I snapped. "You are liar. My Imran would never do something like that. You just wanted him because you knew he was mine."
"If you think I'm lying," MiMie said, "then let's ask him."
She took a breath.
"And I was trying to protect you. That's why I brought those letters. He told me that because I kept rejecting him, he was going to break your heart and destroy our friendship just to get revenge on me. That's the only reason he started dating you in the first place."
The words hit me like a slap.
"If that's true," I demanded, "then why didn't you tell me when he confessed to me? Why did you let me date him then?"
"I didn't know that was his plan," MiMie replied quickly. "He only told me two days ago during the Elite Champion's meeting. He said he would show me why no girl should ever reject him."
"I don't believe you," I whispered, tears beginning to form. "Imran would never do something like that."
Umaymah stepped between us.
"Enough. Let me call him right now."
She pulled out her phone and dialed.
A few minutes later, Imran arrived carrying a basketball under one arm. He looked relaxed and confident, completely unaware of the storm waiting for him.
"Hey, ladies," he said with a smile. "What's going on?"
Safeeyah stepped forward immediately.
"Imran, tell me the truth. Did you send these love letters to MiMie?"
Umaymah handed him the stack of letters.
Imran looked through them briefly before shaking his head.
"Heck no. They kind of look like the letters I used to write for you, baby, but this isn't even my handwriting. They're not mine. And I definitely never gave MiMie any letters."
He looked genuinely confused.
"What's going on here? Why am I being accused?"
MiMie stared at him in disbelief.
"Imran, stop lying. Tell her the truth. The evidence is right there. You wanted to break Safeeyah's heart because I rejected you. You told me that yourself. You knew she liked you since JSS1, but you never liked her back. Remember?"
Imran looked stunned.
Then his expression hardened.
"How dare you?" he said. "When have I ever said any of that? When have I ever written those letters to you?"
He turned toward Safeeyah.
"What do you have against us? Why are you so jealous of her? Why are you trying to sabotage my relationship?"
Silence fell.
Everyone was shocked.
MiMie knew he was lying.
But Safeeyah and Umaymah looked uncertain.
More doubt crept into their eyes.
"Imran, please stop," MiMie pleaded. "Why are you doing this to her? She's never done anything to hurt you. If you want revenge on me, then take it out on me, not my best friend."
"What is happening?" Umaymah asked quietly. "Who's telling the truth?"
Before anyone else could answer, Imran spoke.
"I can prove she's lying." He pointed at MiMie.
"Let me get my backpack. I'll show you the letters she's been writing to me since the beginning of the semester. Unlike her, I can prove they're hers. I also have SMS messages she sent from her phone number."
Safeeyah's eyes widened. "What?"
"I never showed you because I knew it would break your heart," Imran continued. "She's your best friend, after all. I warned her to stop, but she kept saying she wouldn't stop until she got what you had."
He pointed to himself. "Me."
The shock on everyone's face was immediate.
"Liar!" MiMie shouted. "You're a liar! I have never sent you anything!"
"Umaymah," Safeeyah said sharply. "Go get his backpack."
Umaimah hurried off.
"And your phone," Safeeyah added. "Show us those messages if you're telling the truth."
"Let's wait until Umaymah returns." Imran replied coldly. "I want more witnesses, more people to see how poisonous MiMie really i…."
Before he could finish, MiMie slapped him.
The crack echoed across the yard.
"Don't you dare insult me again."
For a moment, Imran's eyes flashed with fury. Both MiMie and Safeeyah saw it.
But somehow, he managed to control himself.
A few moments later, Umaimah returned with the backpack.
Imran slowly unzipped one of the side pockets and pulled out a thick bundle of letters.
He handed them over.
Safeeyah and Umaymah read them.
Their faces drained of color.
The handwriting looked exactly like MiMie's.
The dates stretched all the way back to the beginning of the semester.
"No…" MiMie whispered. As she read some of it in shock after Umaymah handed some of them to her.
The moment MiMie read them, her breath hitched.
Her face drained of color.
Then panic tore through her.
MiMie's eyes darted across the pages.
"This isn't possible. I didn't write these! I did not write these letters, he is lying!" she cried, her voice cracking into hysteria.
I stepped forward, rage igniting every nerve in my body.
"Then maybe it's your ghost, bitch… This is exactly your handwriting. Look at the 'I's and the 'y's—this is literally how you write. And trust me, I'd know. Your handwriting's all over my notebooks…"
My vision blurred as I stepped toward her, ready to tear her apart—
—but Umaymah grabbed my arm and yanked me back hard.
"It's not all," Imran said.
He held up his phone. "Look at these messages."
Safeeyah and Umaymah stared at the screen.
Message after message.
Declarations of affection.
Confessions.
Wishes that Imran would leave Safeeyah.
Every message appeared to come directly from MiMie's number.
"You can even call the number and confirm it," Imran said. "And notice—they're received messages, not sent ones."
Safeeyah exploded.
"I'll kill you!"
She lunged at MiMie.
Only Umaymah's grip stopped her.
The struggle was so fierce that Umaymah nearly lost her balance.
Imran's phone slipped from her hand and landed near MiMie.
MiMie quickly picked it up.
She stared at the messages.
"No," she whispered. "This is impossible. I have never sent these. He most have hacked my phone."
Imran snatched the device back.
"Hacked your phone? I barely know how to use half the features on my own phone. Talk-less of hacking a phone. Just admit it. Admit how jealous you are of your innocent, loving best friend."
_____________________
Safeeyah continued struggling against Umaimah's hold.
If she got free, she looked ready to scratch, slap, punch, and tear MiMie apart.
The anger inside her was overwhelming.
Finally, she stopped fighting and stared at MiMie with tears in her eyes.
"We're done."
The words were ice cold.
"From this day forward, you're the black sheep of our class. As long as we're in this school, you won't know peace. You won't make friends. I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of backstabbing bitch you are."
Her voice shook with rage.
"We have three years of high school left, MiMie. Three years to ruin your life. You'll wish we had never met."
She pointed at her.
"And even if you leave this school, I'll hunt you down. I'll make sure you feel my wrath."
The place fell silent.
"I promise you a high school full of misery."
MiMie replied while tears rolling down her eyes. "Hmm… I am being framed… but fine… let's be done… Safeeyah."
________________________
Over the next few days, MiMie became an outcast.
The story spread through the girls first, then among the boys, and eventually across the entire senior class.
Whispers slithered through the senior corridors, mutating with every retelling. Heads bent together when she passed. Conversations stopped abruptly. Seats beside her remained empty, as if she carried something infectious.
People stopped talking to her.
They stopped sitting with her. Nobody wanted to be seen with her. Fearing the repercussions from me and my clique.
Then, the following week, she missed several days of school.
On the last day of that week, our homeroom teacher made an announcement.
"MiMie has transferred to another school."
The room erupted with whispers.
At first, nobody knew where she had gone.
But about 2 week later, rumors began spreading.
MiMie had transferred to Chyroma Amad Academy, (C.A.A)
A.R.C's biggest rival.
The news angered many people.
It wasn't just me who felt betrayed.
Several of A.R.C's students felt she had turned her back on them by joining their greatest rival.
The revelation hit like a second betrayal.
It wasn't only me who felt wounded.
The Elite champions of A.R.C—the students who built their identity on loyalty, prestige, and school pride—felt insulted. To them, MiMie hadn't just betrayed a friend.
She had betrayed the school.
And that was unforgivable.
Anger spread. Resentment hardened.
A collective hunger for revenge took shape.
Many of them wanted revenge.
And when I saw that anger, I saw an opportunity.
An opportunity to join them.
An opportunity to destroy MiMie and her new school.
My name is Safeeyah.
I felt betrayed. And I wasn't going to stop until I saw MiMie completely destroyed.
___________________
Few days after MiMie Left A.R.C
The news of MiMie's transfer had spread through A.R.C. like wildfire, but the anger she left behind had not faded with her departure.
If anything, it had only grown.
Every time Safeeyah walked past the empty desk where MiMie used to sit, she felt the same sharp sting twisting inside her chest.
The betrayal refused to die. Some wounds did not heal. Some wounds learned how to breathe. And every day, Safeeyah carried hers into class.
Few days later
Afreen arrived.
At first, nobody paid much attention to her.
She was just another transfer student.
A quiet girl. A beautiful girl.
A girl who seemed completely uninterested in the attention that naturally followed her wherever she went.
But that only lasted until someone recognized her.
The effect was immediate.
A single whisper turned into dozens.
Heads turned.
Students stopped walking.
Conversations died halfway through.
Then the rumors exploded.
"That's Afreen."
"No way."
"It is."
"The Math Bowl Champion?"
"The national one?"
"The tennis champion too?"
"Didn't she appear in those commercials?"
"I thought she was a myth."
The entire school seemed to vibrate with excitement.
By lunchtime, groups had gathered around the courtyard discussing her.
Some swore she had won more competitions than the entire senior set combined.
Others insisted she was probably a rumor that had somehow become a real person.
During Lunch break Safeeyah watched from across the courtyard as groups of students gathered around Afreen.
Yet the girl herself looked completely unaffected.As though none of it mattered.
As though championships, trophies, fame, admiration and beauty were things she had long grown tired of carrying.
Afreen barely reacted to the attention.
While everyone else seemed eager to orbit around her, she looked almost bored by it.
That alone made Safeeyah curious.
Most people chased attention.
Afreen seemed determined to avoid it.
And that made her dangerous.
The next day. After Safeeyah and Umaymah made a deep thorough search on Afreen's history.
They walked up to her while she was sitting quietly beneath the Neem tree near the administration block, reading a thick mathematics textbook thick enough to intimidate most students.
She didn't look up immediately.
She finished reading the line she was on.
Only then did she close the book.
Slowly. Calmly. Patiently.
Then she looked at them.
With the kind of eyes that seemed to measure everything.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Safeeyah exchanged a glance with Umaymah.
"We'd like to talk," Safeeyah said.
Afreen closed her book. "About?"
"The Elite Champions."
Afreen immediately lost interest. "No."
Safeeyah blinked."No?"
"No." Afreen repeated
"That's it?" Umaymah asked
"That's it." Afreen answered
Umaymah frowned. "You didn't even hear what we were going to say."
Afreen stood up. "I already know."
Then she walked away.
Just like that.
Safeeyah stared after her.
For the first time in weeks, somebody had completely ignored the influence of the Elite Champions.
And strangely…
That made her want Afreen even more.
_______________
The next day
everything changed in the afternoon
Afreen had been heading toward the library when she heard familiar voices that approached her yesterday, coming from an empty corridor.
She wasn't trying to eavesdrop.
But then she heard a name.
MiMie.
Her footsteps stopped instantly.
"… I can't believe she transferred to C.A.A.," Safeeyah was saying.
"And when the competition starts," Umaymah replied, "we'll have to crush her."
Afreen froze.
A cold sensation crawled through her chest.
MiMie.
Not many people shared that name.
She stepped closer.
"…after what she did…"
"…traitor…"
"…destroy her…"
The voices continued.
And suddenly Afreen wasn't standing in A.R.C anymore.
She was back on that rooftop.
Back at A.M.A.
The wind. The Clouds. The sunset.
Tahir.
MiMie.
A strange numbness crawled through her body. The memories crashed into her like a tidal wave.
Her fingers tightened. She remembered the humiliation. The betrayal.
The day her math club collapsed. Months of work. Months of effort. Gone.
She remembered the day her first real friendship shattered. The day her first crush broke her heart.
She remembered her feelings for Tahir. Feelings she had once treasured. Feelings that now felt poisonous. The day she realized she had been used.
She remembered crying alone afterward. Remembered staring at the ceiling of her room and making herself a promise.
Never again.
Never again would she allow anyone to make a fool of her. Never again would she be weak. Never again would she be blind.
Never again would she be manipulated.
Never again would she trust so easily.
One day she would become stronger.
Smarter. Untouchable.
And when that day came—
She would find them. And make them pay.
Afreen slowly closed her eyes. Then opened them again. The softness was gone. The hesitation was gone.
Only purpose remained.
She stepped into the corridor.
Safeeyah and Umaymah turned. Both looked surprised.
Afreen looked directly at Safeeyah.
"Are you talking about MiMie A. Jiddah?" Afreen asked Furiously.
Both Umaymah and Safeeyah, looked at her with confusion.
"Yes…" Safeeyah answered, with confusion on her face.
"Tell me everything." Afreen said, as she came closer to them.
"Tell me everything."
________________
An hour later they were sitting in an empty classroom.
Safeeyah narrated everything.
The friendship. The letters. The confrontation. The accusations. The betrayal. The transfer.
Every detail.
As Safeeyah spoke, Afreen listened in complete silence.
Not once did she interrupt.
Not once did she look away.
And when Safeeyah finally finished…
Afreen told her own story.
And she told them about A.M.A.
About the rooftop.
About Tahir.
About MiMie.
About the destruction left behind.
Neither Safeeyah nor Umaymah interrupted once.
When she finished, all three girls sat in silence.
The room became painfully quiet.
By the end of it, nobody spoke.
Because the similarities were impossible to ignore.
Different schools. Different circumstances. Different years.
Yet somehow MiMie's name stood at the center of both stories.
Like a shadow stretching across two lives.
Eventually Afreen broke the silence.
"Did MiMie come here with Tahir?"
Safeeyah shook her head.
"No."
Something flickered across Afreen's face.
Then Safeeyah added, "But Tahir also transferred to C.A.A."
Afreen's eyes immediately sharpened.
"Are you sure ?" She asked
Safeeyah leaned forward.
"Yes, I had lunch with him two days ago."
That got Afreen's attention. "You did?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?" Afreen asked
Safeeyah laughed bitterly. "I thought he might give me information about MiMie's plan."
"And?"
"He said he wasn't interested in our petty drama."
For the first time all day, Afreen smiled.
Not because it was funny. But because it was familiar. Painfully familiar.
She could practically hear Tahir saying it.
The same detached tone. The same indifference. The same refusal to involve himself. It sounded exactly like him. After all these years. He hadn't changed.
And somehow that realization made everything feel real. MiMie was there. Tahir was there. Not memories. Not ghosts. Not unfinished chapters.
Real.
Alive.
Within reach.
Three years of waiting suddenly felt worthwhile.
The hunt was finally over.
Now came the reckoning.
Her revenge no longer felt distant.
It felt real.
___________________
Elite Nomination
A few days later Afreen was formally nominated for the Elite Champions.
Nobody objected. Nobody was foolish enough to.
The rumors alone had already made her legendary.
When preparations began for A.R.C.'s first confrontation with C.A.A., the Standoff/venue selections in C.A.A, everyone assumed Afreen would attend.
Instead she refused. "I'll join later."
Safeeyah frowned. "Why?"
Afreen's lips curved slightly. "I prefer surprises."
_______________
Zayn's Legacy
That evening Safeeyah found herself talking with Afreen about old stories.
One story in particular.
A name.
Basma Zayn.
The legendary genius.
The girl whose achievements had become almost mythical among elite schools.
Afreen listened carefully.
Then Safeeyah laughed. "You know what's funny?"
"What?" Afreen asked
"MiMie used to talk about her all the time."
Afreen raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"She wanted to break all of Basma Zayn's records one day."
Afreen became very still.
Then she smiled. A dangerous smile.
"Interesting."
Safeeyah suddenly felt a chill. "What?"
Afreen looked out the window. "If that's her dream…"
Her voice became softer.
"…then perhaps I'll take that away from her too."
_________________
Malik at A.R.C
The next name to enter the conversation was Malik.
Safeeyah arranged the meeting.
When Malik entered the room, Afreen immediately recognized him.
And he recognized her.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Both were remembering.
A.M.A.
The chaos. The fallout. The damage left behind. Eventually Malik broke the silence.
"It's been a while."
Afreen nodded. "It has."
Then something occurred to her.
"You tried warning me."
Malik looked away. "You wouldn't listen."
Afreen laughed once. A bitter laugh.
"No. I didn't"
She wouldn't have. Back then she had been stubborn. Naive.
Certain she understood everything.
Now she knew better.
Safeeyah watched the exchange carefully.
Then she brought up Tahir.
Immediately Malik's expression darkened.
The atmosphere changed. The room grew heavier.
Afreen noticed. "What happened?"
And so Malik told them.
About Ayrah. About old grudges.
About the fountain fight.
About three-way fight. About Muktar. About his broken arm. About everything.
When he finished, the silence lingered.
Afreen studied him. Then asked a simple question.
"If you had the chance…" She leaned forward. "…would you fight Tahir?"
Malik's answer came instantly. "With everything I've got."
No hesitation. No doubt. No uncertainty.
His eyes burned. "For three years I've been training."
His fists clenched. "For three years I've imagined it."
The room fell silent again.
Safeeyah looked around.
Afreen.
Malik.
Umaymah.
The Elite Champions.
All of them now connected by the same target.
The same rivalry.
The same unfinished war.
For the first time since MiMie left A.R.C., Safeeyah felt something she had been missing.
Confidence.
Not the fragile kind.
Not the desperate kind.
Something stronger.
Something dangerous.
Safeeyah felt powerful again.
Not because her pain had faded.
Not because her anger had healed.
But because she was no longer alone.
Her army was growing.
She looked toward the window.
Far away.
Toward the horizon.
Toward C.A.A.
Toward MiMie.
Toward Tahir.
Toward everything that awaited them.
And silently, she made herself a promise.
No matter what it took.
No matter how long it lasted.
This story was far from over.