Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.

Itunnu*, 28, spent December hosting her cousin, Shewa*, 27, as she does every year, until a night out, excessive alcohol consumption, and a run-in with an ex ended in an argument that cut their holiday short and left her wondering if she failed in her duty as family.

When you’re done reading, you get to decide: did she fuck up, or not?

This is Itunnu’s dilemma, as shared with Adeyinka

December is the only time Shewa and I get to spend quality time together.

She lives in Abuja. I live in Lagos. Every Christmas, she comes to stay with me for two or three weeks, and it’s as if no time has passed. We attend concerts, go out almost every night, and spend long hours gossiping in my living room. She’s my cousin, but we’ve always related more like sisters.

This past December followed the same pattern. From the moment she arrived, we were outside. Detty December had Lagos in a chokehold, and we were not trying to miss anything. Concerts, house parties, beach hangouts — if people were going, we were going too.

One afternoon, we went for a beach hangout with some friends. It wasn’t anything serious, just drinks, music, and people milling around. While we were settling in, Shewa suddenly went quiet. Her ex was there.

I knew about him. They’d dated before, and things didn’t end smoothly. They also had mutual friends, so seeing him there wasn’t impossible, but it still caught her off guard. At first, they stayed apart. She stayed close to me, and he kept to his own group.

As the evening went on, people started moving around. I was with a friend of mine who lives abroad and was in Lagos for a short visit. It was his last night in town, and we were deep in conversation, catching up on old memories.

At some point, I noticed Shewa was drinking more than usual. Shewa drinks, but this was different. She kept ordering shots and cocktails back to back. Her laughter got louder, and she seemed dingly when she stood up. I pulled her aside and told her to slow down, but she laughed it off.  She wanted me to make sure she got home in one piece if she got drunk. 

I remember feeling irritated. She wasn’t a child. I told her to take it easy, but she brushed me off and went back to her drink. I decided not to push it further. In my head, she was responsible for herself.

As the night went on, the crowd thinned out. People started pairing off or making plans to leave. I lost track of Shewa for a bit. When I finally saw her again, she was talking closely with her ex. I tried calling her phone, but it rang unanswered. 

My friend told me he didn’t want to spend his last night in Lagos alone and asked if I wanted to come over. I hesitated. I tried calling Shewa again, but still nothing. I assumed she was fine. She was with someone she knew, so I left with my friend.

The next morning, I woke up to missed calls from Shewa. When I got home, she was already there. She didn’t greet me properly, and the air felt cold.

At first, I thought she was just hungover. I tried to joke about the night before, but she didn’t respond. When I finally asked what was wrong, she snapped.

“You really let me go home with my ex like that?”

I was confused. I asked what she meant, and that’s when she let everything out. She said I wasn’t a sister’s keeper because I abandoned her. She said I should have stopped her from leaving with her ex because she was drunk, and anything could have happened.

I reminded her that I had warned her to slow down, and she told me to just make sure she got home safely. I asked her if her ex did anything to her, but she said no.

“But it could have,” she kept saying. “That’s the point.”

That’s when I got defensive. I told her she’s an adult and makes her own decisions. I told her I didn’t force her to go anywhere, and it was unfair to put all the responsibility on me when she chose to drink that much and leave with him.

We ended up arguing back and forth until we were both exhausted. After that, she completely withdrew. She stayed in my house for two more days but barely spoke to me. Then she booked an earlier flight back to Abuja.

She usually stays through the New Year. This time, she left without much conversation. I tried reaching out after she left. She responded with short, dry messages. Eventually, she stopped replying altogether. I stopped calling, too.

It’s been almost a week, and it feels like we’re not as close as we used to be. We talk, but the warmth is gone. I keep replaying that night in my head, wondering if I should have done more. If I should have insisted we leave together. At the same time, I feel conflicted.

Shewa is not a child. She made her own choices that night. I warned her and also checked in with her. I didn’t abandon her on purpose. But I also know that if something had gone wrong, I would never have forgiven myself.

Now I’m stuck, wondering if being right matters more than being protective. I don’t know if I failed her or if she’s projecting her regret onto me.