The next morning, Jide walked into school with the envelope's weight pressing against his conscience. He tried to act normal, but every glance from a teacher or student felt like suspicion. Aisha noticed immediately.
"Yo, you look like you've seen a ghost," she whispered, nudging him during assembly. "What's up?"
Jide forced a smile. "Nothing. Just… didn't sleep well."
Aisha wasn't convinced, but she let it slide. Ngozi, on the other hand, was too sharp to miss the tension in his shoulders. She caught up with him after classes, her notebook in hand.
"Jide, you're hiding something. I can tell. You know I'm working on a piece about Mr. Adewale's ten years as principal. If you've got something, you need to tell me." Her voice was low but firm.
Jide hesitated. He trusted them, but the secret felt too heavy to share. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. As they stood by the old library, a teacher's aide, Mr. Bello, passed by and gave Jide a long, cold stare. Later, during lunch, Mr. Bello slipped a folded note onto Jide's desk. It read:
_"Some doors are better left unopened. Stop before it's too late."_
Jide's hands trembled. Someone knew. And they were warning him.
That evening, Jide finally opened the envelope in his room. Inside was a single sheet of paper—an old newspaper clipping from over fifteen years ago. The headline read: *"Local Teacher Arrested for Exam Fraud – Faces 10 Years."* Below it was a grainy photo of a younger Mr. Adewale, handcuffed and being led away by police.
Jide's breath caught. The respected principal, the man everyone looked up to, had a past. And it wasn't just any past—it was criminal.
He stared at the clipping, his mind racing. This wasn't just a secret. It was a buried crime. And now, Jide held the key to exposing it.