Novels by Miumuni otto

"I never expected you to like it," Martha said, her voice laced with a sincerity that felt…rehearsed. It was a performance, I realized, carefully crafted to project an image of remorse. But behind her eyes, I saw something else – a flicker of triumph, a hint of calculation.I stared at her, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach. Was this genuine? Could Martha, after all the veiled insults and petty sabotage, actually be feeling regret? Or was this just another layer in her intricate game?"After all the drama that happened between me and you, you still hold no grudges against me?" she continued, her tone almost pleading. The words hung in the air, a challenge and an accusation all rolled into one.I forced a smile, a carefully constructed mask of forgiveness. *Hold no grudges?* The thought echoed in my mind, bitter and ironic. *I'm not ready to strike yet. But when I do, you'll know it.*"All those are bygone," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "This is a new

The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to me as I walked out of the hospital. Collins was a constant presence, a shadow flitting at the edge of my vision, ever since my father had signed the discharge papers. He’d been there through the stilted small talk with the nurses, the awkward shuffle to the car, and the silent drive back to the dorm. My father dropped me off with a curt nod, a silent promise to return soon, leaving me to face whatever awaited me behind that familiar door.The moment I pushed it open, I gasped. It was like walking into a dream – or perhaps a carefully constructed trap. My dorm room, usually a study in organized chaos, had been transformed. Garlands of flowers draped across the ceiling, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the pale walls. Petals, a riot of reds, pinks, and whites, carpeted the floor, swirling around my bed in a fragrant, dizzying display. My name, "Olivia," was spelled out in meticulously arranged petals on the duvet.My first instinct was to

The invitation felt like a poisoned chalice, a gilded promise concealing a bitter draught. Collins, bless his earnest heart, didn't see the storm brewing behind my eyes. He only saw my hesitation, the shadow of doubt that flickered across my face.His expression crumpled, a fleeting twist of disappointment that he quickly masked. "It's okay if you don't want to go," he said, his voice carefully neutral as he slipped the invitation back into his bag."It's not that I *don't* want to go," I hedged, the words catching in my throat. "It's just… you know Martha and I don't exactly get along. I can only imagine what she'd do if she found me there." The thought of facing Martha, particularly on her own turf, sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine.Collins's eyes softened, a protective glint entering them. "You don't have to worry about her," he said, his voice firm. "I'll be there to protect you."I managed a weak smile, unconvinced but unwilling to shatter his earnestness. I turned my

The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to everything in the hospital room, a constant, unwelcome reminder of my confinement. Two days. Forty-eight hours trapped within these four walls, and a silent scream building in my chest. Not from the pain – though the dull ache thrumming through my body was persistent – but from the gaping absence where Arden should have been.I’d foolishly imagined that a hospital stay, a genuine brush with mortality (or at least a very persuasive imitation of it), would elicit some flicker of… something… from him. Sympathy? Concern? Even a begrudging visit would have sufficed. Instead, the parade of well-wishers underscored his absence with brutal clarity.Collins was a constant, almost unnervingly cheerful presence. Each morning, he arrived bearing a single, perfect bloom – a rose, a lily, once even a delicate sprig of lavender – its fragrance a fleeting counterpoint to the pervasive medicinal odor. “Good morning, sunshine,” he’d say, his voice a warm rumble

The back corner table, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, was my sanctuary. Close to the window, it offered a panoramic view of the school grounds, a silent observer of the drama unfolding below. A convenient lie, a flimsy excuse to mask my desire for solitude. "I just love the seat because it's close to the window and I could see everything going on from there," I said, forcing a casual tone.Collins studied me, his gaze intense and unwavering. I couldn't decipher the expression in his eyes, a mixture of concern and something else, something I couldn't quite name. He saw through my facade, I was sure of it. But he didn't call me out. He simply placed the tray of food on the table, his movements deliberate and careful."Eat," he said, his voice soft but firm.I hesitated, my stomach churning with a mixture of hunger and apprehension. The jollof rice looked deceptively appealing, a vibrant mound of red and orange, garnished with sprigs of parsley. The aroma was rich and savo

The cafeteria air hung thick with the aroma of stale pizza and simmering gossip, a noxious blend that mirrored the sour taste in my mouth. Talia's triumphant smirk, a fleeting flash of victory before she trailed after Arden, replayed in my mind like a broken record. *Dating*. So, that was it. The pieces clicked into place with a sickening finality. Arden and Talia. It made a cruel kind of sense.Arden, forever out of reach. The realization settled upon me like a shroud, heavy and suffocating. I slumped onto my desk, the cool surface a small comfort against the burning humiliation that still coursed through me. Lunchtime. A cacophony of noise and forced cheerfulness that I had no energy to face. The cafeteria was a battlefield today, and I was a wounded soldier seeking refuge.I burrowed my face into my arms, seeking oblivion. Sleep offered a temporary escape, a brief respite from the torment of my thoughts. The minutes ticked by, marked only by the distant rumble of voices and the rhy