I used to tell her everything. The fears I kept buried, the dreams I was scared to say out loud, the money worries, the relationship mess, even the plan to move to a different part of Nairobi. She listened without judgment, so I thought she was the one person I could truly trust.
Then strangers started knowing things. A colleague casually mentioned my debt. Someone else brought up an argument I’d only told her about. At first I laughed it off as coincidence. But the details kept coming, too exact, too private. The worst was the business idea I’d been quietly building. I’d shared the weak spots with her, asking for honest advice. Weeks later the whole thing collapsed.
A potential partner pulled out and, without thinking, mentioned that someone had warned them about my “issues” and offered extra details for a fee. That someone was her. When I asked her directly, she shrugged. Said people were willing to pay good money for information, and I shouldn’t have told her so much in the first place. No apology, just that cold explanation.
The hurt went deeper than I expected. It felt like my life had been stripped bare, not just to friends but to anyone with cash. That night I woke up gasping, convinced unfamiliar voices were arguing in the next room. The air felt thick, oppressive. I knew then the damage wasn’t only emotional—something heavier had settled in. Betrayal like that leaves you exposed in ways you can’t always see. Read more https://drbokko.com/?p=35981
