Brenda, 26, and Love, 26, had been best friends since secondary school. They went to university together, knew each other's families, and had spent almost a decade building a friendship Brenda thought would last a lifetime.
For Sunken Ships, Brenda opens up about what living with her best friend was like, the disagreements that ruined their friendship, and how that has affected her perspective on friendships.
How did you and Love become friends?
We met in secondary school. We were classmates from JSS2, but we didn't become close until SS1. We had another friend, and the three of us became a popular trio in school.
After secondary school, Love and I both got into the College of Medicine at university, although we studied different courses. Our third friend moved to the US, but Love and I stayed in touch.
How would you describe your friendship?
We were very close. I knew her family and the challenges she faced at home, just as she knew mine.
We'd seen each other through so many phases of our lives that I considered her family. I felt we could be honest and open with each other, which was why I didn't think living together would be a problem.
Why was that an option in the first place?
After university, Love struggled with her family's expectations. She often complained about having to do household chores even when she had other things going on. I understood her frustration, but I also felt her parents were being realistic. She wasn't working at the time, and her siblings were still in school, so I didn't think it was unreasonable for her to help out at home.
Still, I encouraged her to leave our hometown after her NYSC and find her feet elsewhere, but she returned home instead. She eventually got a remote job, but she still complained about her living situation. I kept telling her that she needed to move out and experience some independence.
So when I had to move houses during an internship, I invited her to stay with me. My internship salary had been unreliable, and I thought sharing an apartment would reduce the financial pressure on both of us. My dad and siblings were helping me out, so I only planned to stay there for six months. I told Love she could move in, save up and eventually get her own place when she was ready.
That's so sweet. What was living together like?
I was genuinely excited about living with my best friend. I imagined we'd have an endless sleepover, but I soon noticed little things that irritated me.
My mother often sent foodstuffs from home, and I once asked Love to help me collect a delivery from the park. It would have cost only ₦200 to get them home, but she refused, claiming she was busy. I ended up calling a dispatch rider instead. When the foodstuff arrived, Love didn't help bring it inside. She left everything outside until I got home. It annoyed me because we shared those provisions.
We also disagreed about our living arrangement. I had practically furnished the place, but Love seemed to have a different understanding of our arrangement. At one point, she called herself a squatter, even though she contributed to the rent. I found that strange because I'd invited her to stay with me.
But our biggest issue started when she developed a lice infestation.
Oh. How did that affect your relationship?
Earlier that year, I had suffered a terrible lice infestation. It took a lot of effort, medication and money to get rid of it. I even threw away some of the things I used on my hair because I didn't want to go through that experience again.
So when Love found out she had lice, I was worried. We shared the same bed, and I kept asking her to treat the infestation and cover her hair so it wouldn't spread, but she kept putting it off. I suggested different treatments, including medication that worked for me, but she wouldn't take my advice. At one point, I even arranged for someone to treat her hair for free, but she still refused.
I eventually got tired and told her that she couldn't continue sleeping on my bed until she treated the infestation. She got upset and reminded me that we were both paying rent.
I explained that although she contributed to the rent, practically everything in the house, including the bed, furniture, pots and plates, belonged to me. I wasn't comfortable sharing my bed with her while she ignored a problem that could affect both of us.
When she still refused to do anything about it, I told her we couldn't continue living together. Either she'd leave, and I'd refund her share of the rent, or I could move out, and she'd refund mine. We had to go our separate ways.
Did that threat change anything?
She said she needed time to think about it, and I agreed. However, I insisted she couldn't sleep on my bed while we figured things out. She had to sleep on the floor.
The following day, she packed some of her important documents and her laptop, and left the house. I assumed she was going to sort herself out, so I didn't think much of it.
Later, I went out to buy some eggs and pepper because I wanted to cook. On my way, an older man who lived nearby warned me to be careful of Love. I thought it was strange, but I didn't take it seriously. I didn't know what he'd heard or what Love might have told him.
When I returned home, I went into the kitchen to fry my eggs. I usually light my gas lighter before turning on the burner, but that day, I reached for the gas knob first. I immediately realised that the gas was already running at its highest setting. Then the foul smell in the kitchen immediately registered.
That sounds scary.
I was shaken. All I could think about was what would have happened if I'd followed my usual routine and lit the lighter first.
I quickly opened the windows and tried calling Love, but she wouldn't answer. I eventually borrowed my neighbour's phone to reach her. She picked up, recognised my voice and immediately hung up.
I sent her a message on WhatsApp and asked if she had left the gas running when she left the house. Even then, I still didn't want to believe that she'd done it intentionally.
Did she respond or explain what happened?
No. I kept messaging her, but she ignored me. Then I moved to asking when she planned to pick up her remaining belongings, but she didn't acknowledge those either.
At that point, I'd shared what was going on with my sister. She insisted on being around whenever Love returned for the rest of her things. I eventually changed the locks too because I no longer felt comfortable leaving the house accessible to her.
Weeks later, I returned home to find the locks broken and Love's belongings gone. I hadn't seen who moved them, so I couldn't say for certain that it was Love. I went to the police, filed a report, and documented the missing items.
But even after that, I couldn't stay in the house. I started hearing strange sounds at night. Sometimes, I felt as though someone was breathing right beside me. I became so frightened that I started spending the night with my cousins and friends just to see if I would experience the same thing in their homes.
When I couldn't take it any longer, I booked a flight to Lagos to stay with my sister.
Before leaving, I arranged for someone to deep-clean the apartment. While cleaning underneath the bed, she found some items that scared her. When she showed them to me, I saw what looked like a fetish arrangement. I suspected Love had put it there to disturb my peace, and that was when I decided I'd had enough.
What did you do?
I swept it away, and that night was the first time I'd slept peacefully in the house in a long time. I slept so deeply that I almost missed my flight the next morning.
After that, I moved in with my sister. Love and I haven't spoken since.
I don't think we can be friends again.
Has this experience affected how you approach friendships today?
It has changed how much I'm willing to give in a friendship. I used to be the kind of friend who would drop everything for someone I cared about. I didn't think twice about showing up when they needed me.
When Love's boyfriend broke up with her in university, for instance, she called me late at night. I walked across campus to be with her because I knew she needed someone.
Looking back, I can't imagine making that kind of effort for anyone now.
I'm also much more guarded about letting people into my personal space. After everything that happened, the thought of having someone stay in my home makes me uncomfortable.
I understand that it isn't fair to the people who have done nothing wrong, especially the good friends I've made since then. But I'm still working through it.
I don't think a few bad experiences should make one give up on friendship entirely. At the same time, I've learnt that I need to have stronger boundaries.