Karma in my hands

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It was very close to the exams period, like one week and some days away, the first semester of my 100 level in the university.
Lecture periods usually reduce around this period, and we close very early from school for the sake of revision, and lecturers are already finished with their course outline.

That Tuesday, we finished all our lectures before 2pm, and many people left.
At some point, it was just me, my cousin, and my friend left in the class revising with two other boys outside.

When we were done, as we were leaving the class, I came across a large thick cover note on the ground.With how large the book was with a pen with one end poking out I knew it was an important book to whomever dropped it, especially in the exam period.

‘I will just give it to the course rep, then he can find the owner.’ I picked up the book that was face down.

I turned the book and then read the name, immediately it hit me.‘This name’ felt like I was sliding backward.

‘OGUNJI AMARACHI TREASURE’, the name rang a loud and painful bell in my memories. She was my senior in secondary and was the deputy dormitory prefect in ss3 while I was in ss1.
The memories I hadn't thought about in years came rushing back.

“Zainab, what are you still doing? Please be fast; I need to go and rest now," my cousin said, standing at the door waiting for me.

I put the book inside my bag and carried it to the hostel with me that night.

That night while my cousin and friend were about their business in the hostel. I sat on my bed, quiet and staring at the name on the book, remembering that day. The day I felt true hate…

———

It was on a weekday and it was time for the afternoon siesta in the hostel after lunch. I was on my bed sleeping, trying to block out all the noise from the prefects and their threats and orders as they barked across the entire hostel; I wanted to sleep in that siesta.
But suddenly, the weather changed, and before I knew it, a heavy downpour started instantly.

I jumped down from my bed and rushed outside to get my clothes. I didn't have a choice; it was the only thing I had to wear the next day, so I couldn't let it get beat by the rain and maybe fall into the mud.
I remember how it wasn't only me who rushed out to save their clothes. Many girls from every different class rushed out.

Some prefects that were outside ignored the junior students and allowed us to go to the clothesline to get our clothes.My legs were stained with wet mud, and the clothes in my hands got soaked with the ones I had on.

I was running back to the hostel with three other girls when senior Amarachi stopped us in the rain while she was dry under the corridor.
“It's like all these small girls are stupid, so you saw me and you still came out…” she said boiling as we offended her personally.

Before we could even reply, she shouted at us, “Just kneel there, kneel!"
We pleaded as we knelt, but it all fell on deaf ears, “You people are stupid, raise your clothes above your head. And when I come back, you better be here," then she left us there.> I was already shaking when a kind senior passed by and told us to go to the hostel.After that day in the rain, I fell sick the next day.

Now it was reversed; the huge, thick cover note contained all her complete notes for that semester; she was at my mercy.

The next day, I casually mentioned the name to my cousin and asked her if she could remember the person, and she confirmed that it was a senior from secondary school and she was now in the same class with us, and I felt the pain again from that day.

Later that day I silently searched for her and found her. I noticed how different she was; she was sitting alone, and she was copying her notes in a new notebook. She even had black eye bags from stress and lack of sleep, she had probably cried her eyes out after searching for her note and not finding it. Seeing her this time, I didn't feel pain, but instead, I felt a sense of control—she was at my mercy.

That evening, while I scrolled through the chat forum, I saw periodic posts of her asking if anyone found her note. At that point I had double minds—should I return it or get rid of it?
I wanted her to feel the pain and helplessness I felt back then, but I said to myself, “I am no longer that girl in ss1 when she wronged me. Besides, I was never with a wicked or vengeful heart, and I wasn't going to change now.

The next morning I spent minutes in my thoughts trying to decide what I wanted. And after minutes of deep thought, I made up my mind.
When I got to school, I just walked up to her with the note and said, “Is this the note you said you were looking for?"
I handed the note to her and she was filled with gratitude and happiness.

As I walked away I felt growth and realized I didn't need to get revenge to feel any better. Even if she didn't recognize me it didn't matter because showing her forgiveness and kindness felt like winning at the end.

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