Jide stared at the newspaper clipping long after the ink had blurred from his sight. The headline repeated itself in his mind: _Local Teacher Arrested for Exam Fraud – Faces 10 Years._ It didn't make sense. Mr. Adewale, the man who now stood as a pillar of discipline and integrity, had once been dragged through the mud. And yet, somehow, he had risen to become principal of one of the most respected schools in Lagos.
He folded the paper carefully and slipped it back into the envelope, his hands shaking. If this was true, then everything about Mr. Adewale's reputation was built on a lie. But why had no one ever spoken of it? How had he managed to erase his past so completely?
A knock on his window startled him. It was Aisha, her face half-lit by the streetlamp outside. "You're not answering your phone," she whispered, climbing in through the window. "What's going on, Jide? You've been acting weird all day."
Jide hesitated, then showed her the clipping. Aisha's eyes widened as she scanned the article. "Whoa. This… this is huge. If this gets out, it could destroy him."
"Exactly," Jide said, his voice low. "But what if it's not true? What if this is some kind of setup? I mean, look at him now—he's respected, powerful. How does someone go from being arrested to being a principal?"
Aisha shook her head. "People change, sure. But they don't erase their past without help. Someone must've covered this up. And if they did, they won't want it exposed."
The next day at school, whispers seemed louder, glances sharper. Ngozi approached them during break, her eyes darting around before she spoke. "I've been digging into Mr. Adewale's history for my article. There's nothing—no records, no mentions of any scandal. It's like he appeared out of thin air ten years ago."
"That's because someone made sure of it," Jide muttered.
Ngozi's eyes narrowed. "You know something, don't you? You've got to tell me, Jide. I'm not asking for my article—I'm asking because this feels dangerous. If you're holding onto something, you're putting yourself at risk."
Before Jide could respond, Mr. Bello appeared at the edge of the courtyard, his gaze fixed on them. He didn't say a word, but his presence was enough to send a chill down their spines.
That night, as Jide lay awake, he heard a soft thud against his window. He got up, heart pounding, and found a small stone wrapped in paper on his windowsill. Unfolding it, he read: _"You're playing with fire. Stop now, or you'll get burned."_
The warning was clear. Someone was watching. And they were willing to threaten him to keep the past buried.