It started with a ding.
Then another.
Then five.
Angela's phone buzzed like an alarm, and before she could open her eyes fully, Tolu — her roommate — burst into the room with her mouth wide open.
> "Angela… babe, you're trending. On the school anonymous."
Angela rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep.
> "Trending for what?"
Tolu just stared at her like she was a ghost.
> "They said… you slept with Pastor Akin before you got saved."
Everything froze.
Angela's breath. Her thoughts. Her stomach.
Tolu tossed the phone to her, and there it was — in black, bold letters:
---
> Anonymous Post #342: "Y'all keep hyping that girl that thinks she's the next Deborah in the Bible. Ask her who laid hands on her when she was 'confused.' Ask her what she was doing in Pastor Akin's office. Ask her why Peter started losing focus after he started messing with her. Please, I'm not judging, just shedding light."
– Friday Night Files, 11:58pm
---
The comment section was worse.
Wicked. Graphic. Filthy.
> "Na why I dey say church girls no dey holy."
"She looks like she's been around."
"Even Peter is dulling since he met her."
"Shame dey shame me."
"This one's punani don do conference."
"Holy slut in action. Lmaooo."
---
Angela couldn't breathe.
Her hands trembled as her mind scrambled for oxygen and logic. What in God's name was this?
She never even had a private conversation with Pastor Akin. Never stepped foot in his office alone.
But the anonymous post made it sound real — like truth wrapped in poison.
Tolu knelt in front of her, voice low.
> "Angela. Do you want me to comment for you? Defend you? Should I call Peter?"
Angela blinked back tears, shaking her head.
> "No. Let them talk. I'll go to class. They'll get tired."
---
She was wrong.
L
---
By 10AM, whispers followed her everywhere.
Some just stared.
Others coughed fake 'Amen's when she walked past.
One girl dropped a sanitary pad wrapper near her chair and muttered:
> "Just in case pastor needs another 'laying of hands' session."
Angela bit her lip till she tasted blood.
Every step felt like walking naked through fire.
---
📚 Lecture Hall, Later That Day...
Peter walked in. Students were already gossiping when he sat beside her.
She didn't speak.
He didn't ask.
But the silence? Spoke volumes.
She saw the tension in his jaw. The twitch in his fingers. His body wanted to rage. His soul wanted to speak peace. But anger was winning.
And then — the lecturer walked in.
Or rather, tried to.
Because Peter stood up.
Unapologetically. Boldly. Eyes sharp.
> "Excuse me, sir. Before we begin this class, I'd like to say something."
The entire hall went quiet.
Even the noise on the corridor stopped.
Angela's heart slammed into her ribs.
Peter turned around, facing the full lecture hall — packed with people who had either read the anonymous post or added their spice to it.
He lifted his voice.
Calm. Firm. Burning.
> "You all want to gossip? Drag her name through dust? Post screenshots and paint her filthy because of rumors you didn't verify?"
> "Let me make your lives easier."
He pointed to Angela.
> "That girl right there? She's human. She's made mistakes. She's cried in prayer rooms you never stepped into. And even if she did mess up, none of you qualify to condemn her. None of you."
> "But here's the truth…"
He looked straight into the lecturer's confused eyes.
> "I love her. And I'm not ashamed to say it."
> "So if you've got a problem with her, talk to me. Not behind fake profiles or cowardly memes."
The hall was still.
The lecturer cleared his throat awkwardly and gestured for him to sit.
But no one said a word.
Not one.
---
Angela felt a single tear slip down.
Not from shame.
Not from the rumors.
But from being defended. Out loud.
By someone who could've hidden instead.
Peter leaned toward her and whispered:
> "You're not alone, Angela. I won't let them break you."
She didn't say anything.
But her heart whispered back:
> I'm already breaking… but I'll rebuild with you.