Witches on WhatApp EP3

 

Witches on WhatsApp 

I don’t know who these girls think they’re impressing with their posts.

Every day, it’s the same thing—pictures of luxury dinners, vacations, job promotions, and wedding rings flashing on my WhatsApp feed. As if they’re trying to remind me that they have their lives together but the truth is I know it all, most of it are fake.

But the funny thing? Even with all their posts, they still run to me when they need help.

Like Anita.

Anita, the Igbo fine girl who made my secondary school days miserable. The one who led the whispers behind my back, the laughter in the hallways, the cruel jokes at lunchtime. She bullied me, humiliated me, and acted like she was better than everyone else.

Now, seventeen years later, she found me.

She saw me at a conference, and just like that—boom!—she wanted to be my friend.

“Wow! Is this really you?” she had gasped, her perfectly arched brows shooting up in surprise. “You look so good! What are you up to now?”

I looked her up and down. She had aged well, still stunning, still carrying herself like she owned the world. But I was no longer the timid girl from secondary school.

“I work in oil and gas,” I said simply.

Her eyes sparkled with interest. “That’s amazing! I’ve been trying to get into a good company for months now. It’s been hard finding something stable.”

Then came the part that made me laugh internally.

She asked me to help her submit her CV.

Imagine that.

The same girl who made my school days unbearable was now standing before me, hoping I could change her life.

I smiled, asked her to send the pdf to my email and nodded. “Of course, Anita. I’ll see what I can do.”

That night, I laid my phone opened to her file on my table, lit a black candle, and whispered the spell.

As long as she print CV from the file and submit it around, she would never get a job. Not until she broke my yoke.

The next day, I went to work like any other day.

The office was its usual chaos—phone calls ringing, emails flooding in, colleagues chatting by the coffee machine. I walked into my corner office, set my bag down, and powered on my laptop.

“Good morning, ma,” my assistant, Amaka, greeted.

“Morning. Any updates?”

“Yes, we have a meeting with the regional director at noon, and the legal team needs your approval on a contract.”

I nodded, scrolling through my emails. Work was always busy, but I loved it. My position in the company gave me power—real power. I controlled million-dollar deals, made high-stake decisions, and had people who answered to me.

But the real power came from the unseen forces I controlled.

I had everything Anita wanted. And yet, she had the audacity to think time would erase the past.

She might have forgotten, but I didn’t.

And now, I had taken my revenge.