"Words are just words—until you say them in front of someone who matters."
—Zayne Adedayo
12:00 PM — Main Auditorium, Crestmont University
The air inside the Crestmont main auditorium was electric.
Over 800 students packed the hall—phones recording, eyes locked on stage, whispers racing through the rows like wildfire.
This wasn't just a debate final.
This was war.
Not with weapons.
With words.
12:10 PM — The Stage
Each department had two finalists.
Mass Comm's pair: Naya Okonkwo and her partner, Uchechukwu Bello.
Computer Science: Amaka Eze… and me.
I wore a blue blazer and tie.
Amaka wore red.
Always red.
Naya wore black, her braids tied up like a crown of silence.
As we stood at our podiums, I felt it:
Tension. Regret. History. Chemistry.
All colliding in one moment.
12:30 PM — Opening Topic
Moderator: "Today's final motion is: 'Silence in the face of injustice is equal to participation in the crime.' Mass Communication, you're for the motion. Computer Science, you're against. 8 minutes per team. Begin."
Mass Comm Opening – Naya's Speech
She stepped forward.
Confident. Calm. Cutting.
"Silence is not neutral. Silence is complicity.
When you watch someone cheat, harass, manipulate, and you say nothing—you become a tool in their hand.
When our campus chooses fear over truth, we breed monsters in daylight.
You cannot stay silent and claim innocence.
Because silence… is a choice.
And every silence leaves someone else bleeding.
We, the Press Club, chose voice.
And we stand for the students who couldn't."
The crowd exploded in applause.
She stared at me as she returned to her seat.
I felt the weight of her words like glass pressed against skin.
Computer Science Opening – Amaka's Speech
Then Amaka stepped forward.
Fire. Ice. Controlled rage.
"Silence can be dangerous. But speaking without understanding is worse.
There's a difference between justice—and vendetta.
You speak of truth? But you forget the price of false exposure.
Accusations without proof ruin lives.
Investigations take time. Real change takes roots—not noise.
And sometimes, silence isn't betrayal.
Sometimes, it's survival."
Her voice cracked—just for a moment.
Then recovered.
The crowd fell into stunned silence. Even the judge nodded.
She returned to the podium and didn't look at me.
Not once.
1:00 PM — My Turn
It was my turn now.
I stepped forward.
Heart thudding.
Palms sweaty.
Everyone watching.
Amaka's eyes.
Naya's breath.
My voice trembled. Then found steel.
"We all want justice.
We all want change.
But here's what no one tells you—sometimes both sides are wrong.
And sometimes, they're both… right.
Amaka was right—real change takes patience. Proof.
Naya was right—silence protects the guilty.
But neither side looked at what that pressure does to the people in-between.
The witnesses. The pawns. The collateral.
I've been silent. I've been angry. I've been torn.
And I choose today… to stop choosing sides.
I choose people. I choose truth.
Even if it costs me both."
The auditorium was dead silent.
Then erupted.
Not applause.
Not cheers.
Just stunned awe.
2:00 PM — The Verdict
The judges whispered.
Deliberated.
Then the Dean stepped forward.
"In a split decision… the winner of the Inter-Departmental Debate Finals is…"
"Computer Science."
The hall exploded.
Students screamed.
Amaka stood frozen.
Naya didn't flinch.
She just looked down.
2:30 PM — Aftermath
We exited backstage.
Students swarmed.
Hands shook mine.
Cameras flashed.
But I didn't hear them.
I was looking for her.
Then—I saw Naya.
She stood near the stairs, arms folded, face unreadable.
I walked up.
"I didn't mean to humiliate you—"
"You didn't."
"I just—"
"You spoke your truth."
She looked up at me.
And smiled. But it wasn't warm.
"Congrats, Zayne. You won your match.
But you lost something too."
Then she walked away.
And didn't turn back.
3:00 PM — The Kiss
Later, under the mango tree, Amaka sat alone.
This time, I approached first.
She didn't look up.
"Why did you bring up survival?" I asked gently.
She answered slowly.
"Tayo tried to control everything. Even me. I kept silent. Not because I agreed—but because I was scared to destroy family."
"And now?"
She exhaled.
"I'm done being scared."
She stood.
We were inches apart.
She reached out.
Took my hand.
And then, without warning, leaned in—
And kissed me.
Soft. Honest. No fire. No war.
Just Amaka.
The real one.
Not the queen.
Not the debater.
Just… her.