The atmosphere in the estate shifted from communal peace to a low-frequency dread. After the "glitch" at the gym, the air felt thin, like a fabric stretched too tight. While the community went about their business, I was the only one who saw the stutter in reality, and the weight of that secret felt like lead in my chest.The bully, a boy named Tunde who usually walked with the swagger of a lion, was never the same. He didn't just fall; he became a shadow of himself. I watched him from across the church courtyard the next day. He was staring at his own hands, trembling, as if he no longer trusted his body to move when he told it to. The American Psychological Association explains how sudden, inexplicable shocks can lead to acute dissociation, but this wasn't just trauma—it was as if Mina had rewritten his code.Mina, however, was radiant. She sat on the church steps, peeling an orange with a pocketknife she shouldn't have had on church grounds. Every time she caught my eye, she gave me a look that said, "We have a secret, don't we?" It was the "selfish" side of her you mentioned; she didn't care that Tunde was terrified. She only cared that I was watching her.That evening, the "glitch" followed me home. I went to pour a glass of water, and for a split second, the water didn't fall—it hovered, vibrating in the air before splashing into the cup. My father's voice echoed from the study, "Deji? Is everything alright?""Everything's fine, Dad," I called back, my voice shaking. I quickly cleaned up the spill, my mind racing. It wasn't just Mina; whatever this was, it was contagious, seeping into my own reality.Later, during evening prayers, my father's sermon was even more pointed. "Beware the influence that makes the unholy seem holy," he boomed, his eyes sweeping over the congregation and landing, for a brief moment, on Mina in the back pew. She didn't flinch. She just smiled, a private smile meant only for me.The aftermath wasn't about a grand reveal, but a creeping paranoia. Tunde was broken, I was seeing things, and my father was preaching spiritual warfare. The air was thick with unspoken accusations and the certainty that my "problem" had officially become everyone's problem. Mina had drawn a line in the sand, and I had already stepped over it.