“I got married to a man who completely transformed my life. He is a senior manager at Suwe Oil and Gas Company. I work as his personal secretary. Can you believe he also employed my two brothers in the same company? Apart from working with him, I own two boutiques registered in my name. I have five cars, and last year I donated one to charity. Honestly, God has been so good to me. My story has changed completely.”
The hall erupted in applause.
Some women whistled.
Others cheered.
A few shouted, “That’s our girl!”
I smiled proudly and adjusted my expensive-looking designer handbag on my lap. The admiration in the room felt good. Very good.
After all, wasn’t that the whole point?
We were attending the first-ever reunion of Queens High School Old Girls, ten years after graduation. The event was taking place in my hometown, and there was no way I would miss an opportunity to show everyone how far I had come.
Or at least, how far they thought I had come.
The banquet hall was beautifully decorated. Soft music played in the background while waiters moved around serving drinks and snacks. Everywhere I looked were familiar faces that had aged in different ways. Some had gained weight. Some had become more beautiful. Others looked almost exactly the same.
But one thing was obvious.
Everyone was curious about everyone else’s life.
The reunion had quietly become a competition.
Who married the richest husband?
Who travelled abroad?
Who owned the biggest business?
Who had the most successful children?
And judging from the reactions in the room, I was winning.
As I scanned the crowd, my eyes landed on Janet.
Immediately, my smile widened.
Janet.
My greatest rival throughout secondary school.
Back then, she was always one step ahead of me. Better grades. Better clothes. More popular. Even teachers seemed to like her more.
And now, ten years later, I finally had my revenge.
She was clapping.
But I knew that clap.
It was forced.
The smile on her face wasn’t reaching her eyes.
I had also noticed the way she stared at my handbag when I first entered the hall.
The way her gaze lingered on my jewelry.
The way she kept glancing at my high heels.
She was jealous.
At least that was what I wanted to believe.
“But Joy,” Janet suddenly said, smiling sweetly, “why didn’t you post any wedding pictures in our group chat?”
A few women turned toward me.
“That’s true o!” Lucy added immediately. “You didn’t even update your Facebook status. We only heard that you got married.”
“Or invite anybody,” another woman chipped in.
The room became quiet.
Everyone was waiting for my answer.
I laughed softly.
“You ladies should know me by now.”
I shook my head.
“I like keeping my private life private.”
The answer earned another round of applause.
“Classy woman.”
“Exactly.”
“Not everything should be on social media.”
I smiled modestly while accepting the compliments.
Inside, however, I was relieved.
Very relieved.
Because the truth was that there were no wedding pictures.
No wedding guests.
No husband.
Nothing.
I was living inside a lie.
Fortunately, nobody knew.
The reunion continued for another hour. More women stood up to share stories about their lives. Some spoke about their children. Some talked about businesses. Others discussed careers and relocation abroad.
I listened carefully.
For the first time that day, I began to feel uncomfortable.
Many of them weren’t as rich as I claimed to be.
But they seemed genuinely happy.
They spoke with confidence.
With peace.
With contentment.
Meanwhile, every word that came out of my mouth was carefully rehearsed fiction.
Suddenly my phone vibrated.
I glanced at the screen.
A customer was calling.
The owner of the boutique where I worked.
I quickly stood up.
“Excuse me, ladies. Business never sleeps.”
The women laughed.
As I walked out of the hall, I made sure to move confidently.
Head high.
Shoulders back.
Like the wealthy woman everyone believed I was.
Outside, the evening air felt refreshing.
I was heading toward the parking lot when I noticed a handsome man approaching from the opposite direction.
He looked successful.
Well dressed.
Confident.
The type of man who knew he was attractive.
As he got closer, I noticed he was smiling.
A genuine smile.
My heart skipped slightly.
He was definitely coming to talk to me.
I adjusted my hair.
Slowed my pace.
Prepared myself.
But the moment he got near, his eyes shifted toward my left hand.
His smile disappeared.
He frowned slightly.
Then he walked past me without saying a word.
I stood there confused.
What happened?
Then I looked down.
My wedding ring sparkled under the evening lights.
“Oh.”
I sighed.
No wonder.
If only he knew.
I continued toward the vehicle parked outside.
Before reaching it, I heard someone calling my name.
“Joy!”
I turned.
Juliet was running toward me.
Juliet had been one of the quietest girls in our class.
Small, shy, and always sitting at the back.
Now she looked older, tired, but somehow peaceful.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said between breaths.
“It’s okay.”
“You said your husband works in an oil company, right?”
I smiled.
“He is a manager.”
Her eyes widened.
“Wow.”
She hesitated before continuing.
“My husband has been searching for a decent job for years. He studied Chemical Engineering and graduated with First Class. Things have been very difficult. We have three children now and…” Her voice broke slightly.
I could see embarrassment on her face.
“…please, can you help us? Maybe talk to your husband.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
The irony almost made me laugh.
Here was a woman asking help from someone whose entire life was a performance.
I forced a smile.
“Take my number.”
Her face brightened instantly.
I saved her contact.
“Thank you so much.”
“I’ll speak with him.”
“You don’t know how much this means to me.”
I nodded.
Then entered the car and drove away.
Through the rearview mirror, I watched her standing there, smiling with hope.
Hope.
The very thing I no longer had.
As soon as I turned onto the main road, my smile vanished.
The silence inside the car felt heavy.
Painful.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly.
Poor Juliet.
If only she knew.
If only all of them knew.
The truth was that I envied her more than anyone in that hall.
She had a husband.
A real husband.
Children.
A family.
A home filled with genuine relationships.
Meanwhile, I was thirty years old.
Still single.
Not engaged.
Not even in a serious relationship.
The “manager husband” didn’t exist.
The oil company didn’t exist.
The two boutiques weren’t mine.
I was merely a sales attendant managing one of them for the owner.
The five cars?
Only one existed.
And it wasn’t mine.
I had borrowed it from my boss for the reunion.
Even the designer handbag hanging beside me belonged to my cousin.
The jewelry was rented.
The shoes were borrowed.
The life was fake.
Every single part of it.
Tears gathered in my eyes as I remembered the admiration on everyone’s faces.
They were admiring an illusion.
A character.
A version of me that only existed in stories.
When I finally arrived at the boutique, the owner was already waiting outside.
I parked carefully and handed over the car keys.
“Thank you, ma,” I said quietly.
She nodded.
“No problem. Hope your reunion went well.”
I forced a smile.
“It went perfectly.”
As she drove away in her car, I stood alone on the roadside.
For the first time that day, there was nobody to impress.
Nobody to deceive.
Nobody to compete with.
Just me.
And the painful truth.
Fake life no easy.
But keeping up with it was even harder.
