Compliments of the season and for those who were expecting a chapter earlier, here's my written excuse. 😭

If you ask me how my Christmas was I'll put it in a brief dialogue.

(Eno picks up her phone to type)
Mom: Eno!!
Dad: Eno!!!
My twin: Eno!!!!

Whenever I decide to use my phone, one distant family member will call from nowhere and say she has been trying to call my parents but couldn't reach them and she would love to talk to them. As if that wasn't enough, my siblings called through my phone. As much I wanted to talk to them, they also had to talk to my parents too, the both of them!

Long calls!!!! The endless prayers!!! For a moment I was like, is it you guys birthday or Jesus' birthday? 😂🤣

That's how the whole community called me. 😂🤣

Worse, my twin's phone got stolen too and I have to use my phone for her business, confirming payments and talking to her clients.

The worst of it all- We had low voltage on the 24th -26th. The light couldn't charge my phone (I posted it on my status). Currently there hadn't been light since 27th till now.  I was supposed to drop the wedding chapter before 1st. That was the goal but unforeseen circumstances ruined it for me.

I've been managing my battery. 😂🤣

With this great Sacrifice I've made, please vote and comment.

I'll attend to previous comments. I've been too stingy with my battery that's why.

Let the comments flood in!

Chapter 68

Unedited

Monday

Kilahi packed her hair into a neat bun, feeling a lightness in her spirit, as if her prayers had been lifted into the heavens. She picked up her phone, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation, and dialed Aunty Abebi’s number.

“Hello, Kilahi,” Aunty Abebi’s voice echoed softly through the receiver, a gentle warmth that wrapped around Kilahi like a comforting blanket.

“Good morning, Aunty Abebi,” Kilahi replied, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. She wasn’t sure if Aunty Abebi would be awake at this hour.

“Thank God you’re awake,” She added, relief flooding her voice.

“The question is, could I sleep?” Aunty Abebi’s voice was laced with fatigue, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“Why?” Kilahi asked in curiousity .

“I woke up with a terrible headache, and apparently, it’s still here. Worst of all, the nausea. I hate vomiting, Kilahi. It feels like no matter what I eat, I still end up losing it. Right now, I’m in bed, craving chips and chicken without sauce. The last time I had sauce, it was horrible. But I can’t go to work to get it because I’m calling in sick. I’ve never called in sick before, but I don’t want anyone giving me those strange eyes.”

Kilahi creased her brow at the thought of Aunty Abebi feeling unwell. “I’m sorry, Ma. Funny enough, I had a dream about you last night.” “Oh? What dream?” Aunty Abebi’s tone shifted, intrigued.

“Don’t be offended, Ma, but you and I were having a conversation when we got interrupted by baby cries.”

Aunty Abebi burst into laughter, the sound brightening the room. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I’m serious!” Kilahi insisted, her voice playful yet earnest. “Did Aisha put you up to this? I already told her that I’m not pregnant. It’s simply menopause; my period is going through a phase, a natural disappearance.”

“Nine months phase, you mean?” Kilahi teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Kilahi!” Aunty Abebi exclaimed, her voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“I didn’t even know you had any conversation with Mrs. Aisha. Can I say congratulations?” Kilahi pressed, her tone light but her heart heavy with concern.

“Aunty Abebi, that was a clear message from God. I’ve been praying for you, and today I feel light. I don’t know what God has in store, but there’s something happening. You were so happy in the dream, Aunty Abebi. You were glowing.”

“It’s menopause, Kilahi,” Aunty Abebi insisted, her voice firm yet tinged with uncertainty.

“You’re a rational person, Aunty Abebi. Be rational and get a pregnancy test, then,” Kilahi urged, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Ugh! The shame! Where do I start? How? It has to be menopause. It has to be,” Aunty Abebi replied, her voice trailing off as she ended the call. Kilahi smiled at her phone,  mischief dancing in her eyes.

“Menopause indeed,” She muttered, glancing up at the ceiling as if seeking divine guidance. “She said it’s menopause. God, I don’t know more than you. That message was clear enough.”

Feeling a pang of hunger, she stepped out of her room and into the sitting room, where the aroma of breakfast filled the air, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Aunty Mabel and Sewuese were seated at the dining table, their laughter mingling with the clinking of cutlery.

“Good morning, Mom! Good morning, Sewuese!” Kilahi greeted, her voice brightening the room. They responded in unison, their smiles infectious.

“Today feels like a good day,” Kilahi declared, her spirits lifting.

“Yes, a good day to eat,” Aunty Mabel replied with a determined glint in her eyes,  “And don’t even tell me you’re fasting. I’ve spoken to God already. Whatever fast you’re on, I’ll help you continue, but you see this week, you must eat something.” She continued authoritatively.

“I ended my fast already,” Kilahi answered, a playful pout forming on her lips.

“I know you’re going to argue, but no matter your argument, you’re still going to eat this food and take these drugs, whether you like it or not.” Aunty Mabel paused, her hands on her hips, a serious expression on her face.

“I said I ended my fast already,” Kilahi reiterated, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Oh. Was that what you said?” Aunty Mabel raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face.

“Yes, Ma. I’m starving,” Kilahi admitted, her stomach growling in agreement.

Sewuese chuckled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Thank God! I bought some good supplements for you and a blood tonic. You’re going to be looking fresh and healthy before Saturday.”

Aunty Mabel, with a flourish, opened a plate revealing six golden pancakes, two boiled eggs, and a steaming cup of tea. “Mummy, thank you, but I can’t eat six pancakes,” Kilahi protested, her eyes widening at the sight.

“My dear, you will eat,” Aunty Mabel insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“I was expecting fried eggs and plantains,” Kilahi confessed, taking her seat at the table, her expression a mix of disappointment and hunger. She glanced at Sewuese, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Hey, I’m going to need a favor from you if you don’t mind.”

Sewuese leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued. “What is it? You know I’m always here to help.”

Brenda watched Sefa try out one of her clothes."It looks good on you. Except the arm." "Let me go and beg Aunty Kilahi to help me slim fit it. Thank you Aunty Brenda."

"You're welcome." She replied getting a notification from her phone. She finally got a response from Tommy.

Hey Tommy. How are you? I called, but you were picking up. I suppose you're busy. Remember I said we had something to talk about after you get back? I need to discuss your proposal. I can't sleep peacefully; I need to get this off my chest. I think you're a great guy, and the woman you marry will be so lucky, but the truth is, I'm not that woman, I'm someone else's woman. This isn't a conversation I should be having via text, but I need to get this off my chest. Tommy, I'm really sorry. Please call me; we need to talk.

You're right, this isn't something we can talk over the phone. We'll talk better when I get back.

Brenda arced her brow, she wondered why he wasn't getting angry. She had to go over her message again. Wasn't it enough to make him angry?

Emmanuel whistled a lively tune as he stood at the sink, suds bubbling around his hands while he scrubbed the dishes. The kitchen was bright and airy, sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow on the tiled floor. The scent of spices lingered in the air, remnants of the meal Magda had prepared earlier. Just then, Magda walked in, her hands planted firmly on her hips, her expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing?" she exclaimed, her voice rising above the clatter of dishes.

Emmanuel chuckled, glancing over his shoulder with a playful grin. "Ogini, what does it look like I'm doing? Tapping palm wine?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing, but Magda rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Sochi!!!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the kitchen. A moment later, Sochi rushed in, his hands pressed against his chest as if he had just sprinted a marathon.

"What's the emergency?" he asked, breathless and wide-eyed.

"Have you seen your Emmanuel?" Magda asked, her tone incredulous.

Sochi nodded, pointing at Emmanuel, who was still scrubbing away. "I can see him; he's right here."

"What is he doing?" Magda pressed, her brow furrowing.

"He's..." Sochi trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "Emma, why you dey wash plate?"

"Now you've seen it," Emmanuel replied, rolling his eyes with mock exasperation.

Sochi crossed his arms, a bemused smile creeping onto his face. "Call it future investment in case I stay too long and you guys get tired of me in this Lagos."

Magda blinked, her expression shifting from confusion to irritation. "What?"

"Guy, why will we get tired of you?" Sochi chimed in, his tone light-hearted.

"I don't know; that's why I call it an investment. There can be rainy days," Emmanuel replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Is that how badly you view us? I thought we were friends," Magda shot back, her voice rising slightly.

"Mag," Emmanuel began, but she cut him off.

"You know what? Save it!" She snapped, turning on her heel and storming out of the kitchen. Emmanuel scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Why she come dey vex now?" He muttered, glancing at Sochi.

"Pregnancy hormones," Sochi replied, stepping further into the kitchen and leaning against the counter, arms crossed. "Nuel, you sef, why you go dey wash plate?"

"Why do you make it sound like I've committed a crime?" Emmanuel retorted, a playful smirk on his face.

"You're a guest in this house," Sochi reminded him, his tone serious.

"A guest who doesn't know how long he'll be staying. I don't want to be a bother to you guys," Emmanuel replied, his voice softening.

"Who is complaining? You know that Magda doesn't like all this. She's your friend too, just as you're my friend."

"I just don't want you guys to get tired of me," Emmanuel said, his expression earnest.

"Please, no repeat am abeg. I think you should talk to her," Sochi suggested, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Make I finish the plate now," Emmanuel insisted, his hands still submerged in the soapy water.

"Leave am," Sochi said, shaking his head.

With a resigned sigh, Emmanuel approached Magda, who was seated on the chair, arms crossed and a frown etched on her face.

"I'm done washing the plate," He began, trying to sound casual.

She shot him a look that could melt steel. "I was expecting that," She replied, her tone sharp.

"Why are you being annoying?" She asked, her voice laced with frustration.

"I was going to ask you why you were angry. Is it the pregnancy hormones?" He ventured, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You're washing plates," She shot back, her eyes narrowing.

"As an investment," He replied, his tone light.

"I swear, if you talk that thing again, I go just vex for you. Which kain useless answer be that?" she retorted, her hands now on her hips, her posture defensive.

"You know my point," he said, trying to keep the mood light.

"What point? Am I a bad person? Is Sochi that horrible to send you off?" She asked, her voice rising again.

"I don't know how long I'll be staying," he admitted, his expression softening.

"Even if you'll be staying a year! I wouldn't be where I am if not for you. You've always been that correct senior colleague. You gave me your textbooks, all those tutorials, you part-paid for law school even though poverty was dealing with you. Remember when Sochi wanted to travel to Lagos and he needed that urgent cash? Who gave him? You did. All the fights I had with Sochi those times in school, you stood as an intermediary. I probably wouldn't have been here if not for you. Sochi wouldn't have had that job if you didn't support his transport that year. Nuel, we owe you this much. We didn't invite you here as a manservant. That's why I have a house help; even children are old enough to wash some kind of plates. Andrew and Harmony are 9 years old."

Emmanuel chuckled, shaking his head. "They're still small," He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I'm not raising spoilt brats," She shot back, her tone firm but with a hint of a smile creeping in.

He paused, glancing at her belly, the reality of her pregnancy settling in. "I was actually surprised when I saw this one," He said, his voice softening.

"Sometimes you don't plan these things. They just happen," She replied, her expression shifting to one of warmth.

Emmanuel chuckled again, the tension easing between them. "I don't want to inconvenience any of you," He said, sincerity lacing his words.

"You're not," she assured him, exhaling deeply as if releasing the weight of her earlier frustration. "But Emmanuel, Abebi Salami? Like really? Of all people, Abebi Salami. That woman is not even in our class."

"I love her," He said simply, a smile breaking across his face.

"For you to leave Ebonyi for a woman," She teased, breaking into Igbo, "The woman has to be really special." They both burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

"She is. I'm scared. I don't know what she'll say or do when she sees me," He admitted, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, the laughter fading as he thought about the uncertainty ahead.

Magda softened, her expression turning sympathetic. "Nuel, just be yourself. That's all she needs to see, there was someone saw that made her agree to date. You’ve always been genuine, and that’s what matters."

As Kilahi stepped out of the Revive Foundation's gate, where she had gone to resolve a mix-up, a black car pulled up abruptly in front of her. The window rolled down, revealing Big T.

"Are you following me?" She asked in surprise. She raised an eyebrow then she  crossed her arms defensively.

"No." He replied.

"Then how did you know I’d be here?" She pressed, her tone accusatory. "The coincidence is not normal. I’m actually on leave. I only came to sort out a few things, how did you know I'll be here. "

"I didn't know. I don’t know where you live," He replied, "I only know your workplace. I had no idea you were on leave. It’s just a coincidence. I was hoping to get your contact information from the workers."

Kilahi scoffed, "No one would have given you that." "Not willingly," He shot back, a knowing smirk playing on hiz lips. She imagined him intimidating someone into giving out her number.

"Get in," He demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kilahi shook her head defiantly. "No." "Get in," He repeated firmly.

"Absolutely not! If there's anything you want to say, say it."

"While you're standing?"

"I'm not complaining. This is my wedding week, and I’m not about to get wrapped up in any kidnapping drama. The police checkpoint isn’t far from here. I’ll scream if I have to."

"If I wanted you dead, you would already be."

"Can you stop with the ‘if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead’ threat? It’s getting old. My life is in the hands of God, not in yours. You might be feeling high and mighty but you're not mightier than God himself."

"We got off on a wrong foot, I just want to talk," He said, his voice softening slightly.The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. What could he possibly want to discuss?

"Fine. I’ll listen. But I’m not getting in your car."

Big T exhaled deeply, as if gathering his thoughts. "Three years ago, my mom received a hit on my behalf. She fell into a coma at first, and when she woke up, she was... different. The doctors said she had to be on life support or she wouldn’t survive. For three years, Maami has been on life support. For three years, I haven’t seen her smile or heard her call my name." He paused, emotion thick in his voice.

Kilahi felt a pang of sympathy. "I’m so sorry." She could see the weight of his story pressing down on him, and for a moment, her worry faded, replaced by empathy. Underneath that tough exterior, he’s just a son who loves his mother. But that doesn’t excuse the choices he’s made. He was definitely in the streets when his mother took the fall for him.

"Whatever you did, whatever God you serve, He really heard you. For the first time in three years, Maami talked. She.. she called my name." His voice trembled as he fought back tears.

Kilahi smiled gently, "Jesus!" Her hands flew over her lips, "Oh my God. Thank God for that." She said then she added, "Will you let Godswill off the hook?" She asked, het eyes searching his.

"Will my mother go back to being a vegetable if I don't?" He countered, his voice rising with desperation.

Kilahi shrugged, "It’s not in my power to decide that. God is not a man; He extends His love even to those who don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve His love. Who am I that He honors my word? I'm just a small girl."

"With a capital God." He answered and she chuckled. "What do you say about Ladi?" She asked and he shrugged.

"I’ll consider it," He answered.

Kilahi smiled warmly. "Do you have a minute or two? I’d love to share the word of—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Big T started the car and drove off, leaving her standing there, mouth agape.

"God... Word of God." She concluded then she sighed, "God be with you," She called after him, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"At least I tried," She muttered to herself, a smile breaking through her frustration when she remembered his testimony. "Yes! Thank you, Jesus!" She rejoiced, her heart swelling with gratitude.

Kilahi knocked on Aunty Abebi's door then she exhaled looking up around the compound. She could hear the faint sound of dogs barking. After a few moments that felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing Aunty Abebi, still wrapped in her plush bathrobe, she had a hair net on.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am," Kilahi greeted, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Good afternoon, Kilahi," Aunty Abebi replied in fatigue. She leaned against the doorframe, her brow slightly furrowed. "I’m so sorry for the delay. I heard the knock, but I struggled to rise. I’m trying to control every step so I don’t... well, you know." She paused, her eyes darting to the branded customer bag Kilahi held. A gasp escaped her lips as she snatched it from Kilahi’s hands. "You got Chips for me! Thank you so much!" She said walking into her living room.

Kilahi followed her inside. "Lock the door behind you," She instructed, Kilahi complied.

Aunty Abebi shuffled to the dining table, her movements careful, and plopped down into a chair, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she opened the bag.

Aunty Abebi dove into the bag, her fingers eagerly pulling out a stick of gmFrench fries. She took a bite, her eyes closing in bliss. "This is it," She declared, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. She glanced up at Kilahi, gratitude in her eyes, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Ma," Kilahi replied, her heart warming at the sight of Aunty Abebi enjoying her meal.

"How are you Ma? I was worried when I heard you weren't feeling well."

Aunty Abebi sighed in frustration, "Where should I start? I woke up with a terrible headache and this nausea that made me stay put in bed. It's like if I move to too much, I'll throw up and I hate throwing up."

"Wow."

"The only thing I've been able to eat is fried yam. You had to go to work to get this didn’t you? Sorry for the stress," Aunty Abebi apologized.

Kilahi shrugged, "I had to do something at work too."

Aunty Abebi raised an eyebrow playfully ,  "You’re on leave, remember?"

Kilahi chuckled lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Miss Didi sent some things to my email. I had to sort it out. I miss work." Her gaze drifted to Aunty Abebi’s stomach.

Aunty Abebi caught her gaze and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Kilahi, I’m not pregnant."

Kilahi smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, I knew you’d say that. That was why I got my sister to get this." She pulled out a pregnancy test kit from her bag, holding it up like a trophy.

Aunty Abebi’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as she processed the unexpected revelation.
"Did you and Aisha plan this?" "No." "It’s menopause," She insisted, her voice rising slightly in disbelief.

Kilahi leaned forward, her expression earnest. "There’s no harm in having a test. Let’s know what kind of menopause it is. Let’s figure out if it’s your period that's really receding, whether it's malaria or a little baby forming in you. Although I know the answer already."

Aunty Abebi shook her head, "Kilahi!" "There’s no harm in trying." Kilahi’s voice softened, her tone coaxing.

"Aunty Abebi, you’re one of the smartest women I know. I’m honestly shocked you’re not considering this. Let’s be rational and logical here. If you’re having malaria symptoms or pregnancy symptoms, what’s the logical thing to do?"

Aunty Abebi crossed her arms, her brow furrowing in thought. "Go for a test," She whispered.

"Exactly!" Kilahi exclaimed, lifting the kit triumphantly, she was determined to make her do the test
"Let’s just find out. It’s better to know than to wonder."

Aunty Abebi sighed, "You always know how to push my buttons, don’t you?"

Kilahi grinned, her heart swelling with affection for the woman who has been a guiding light in her career. "Only because I care, Aunty. Now, let’s get to the bottom of this."

Emmanuel stepped into the Revive Foundation's lobby.  As he approached the reception desk, he noticed a diverse group of people seated in the lobby, each absorbed in their own thoughts or activities. In one corner, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile was flipping through a stack of brochures about the foundation’s various programs. Her fingers traced the colorful images of community events and health workshops, her brow furrowed in concentration as she considered which one might be most beneficial for her family.

Nearby, a young man in a white shirt was seated, tapping , away on his laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration. He occasionally glanced up, his eyes darting toward the reception desk, as if waiting to be called in.

In another area, an elderly couple sat side by side, their hands intertwined. They were there to seek assistance.

Emmanuel approached Moni, who was seated behind her reception desk, her fingers dancing over the keyboard.

"Good morning Sir." Moni greeted, With a subtle bow, he greeted her too, "Good morning to you, Ma."

Moni looked up, her expression shifting from concentration to warmth. "How can I assist you today? Do you have an appointment?"

Emmanuel shook his head, a hint of formality in his tone. "No, I would like to see Miss Abebi."

Moni's eyes widened slightly, and she cleared her throat, leaning forward slightly as if to share a secret. "With all due respect, Sir, please don’t add ‘Miss’ to her name when you see her. It really annoys her. Just call her Aunty Abebi. I’m sure you were not informed."

A smile crept onto Emmanuel's face, "I was informed, actually. I thought since this is a formal establishment, it would be a bit different."

Moni chuckled, her laughter light and infectious. "Aunty Abebi is the same in all establishments. The only title you can add is ‘Barrister.’ Call her ‘Miss’ and she might just chop your head off!" She winked, her playful tone easing the formality of the moment.

Emmanuel laughed, imagining the fierce look in Aunty Abebi's eyes. "I can already picture her shooting bullets from those eyes," He said, mimicking gunshot sounds with exaggerated flair, causing Moni to burst into laughter.

She quickly stifled her laughter, glancing around the lobby to ensure no one was watching too closely. Clearing her throat, she returned to a more professional demeanor. "Don’t get me in trouble, Sir. You seem to really know her."

Emmanuel shrugged, a casual smile still on his lips. "You could say that. Is it possible to see her?"

Moni's expression shifted to one of regret. "No." "Is it because I didn’t book an appointment?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not exactly, Sir. Aunty Abebi isn’t in the hospital at the moment."

"Hospital?" Emmanuel echoed, confusion knitting his brow.

Moni hissed softly, shaking her head. "Sorry, Sir, I meant the office. She won’t be coming in today."

"Why? That woman is a workaholic. I’m sure she has other business to attend to."

Moni leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a confidential piece of information. "I wish. She called in sick."

"Really? What happened?" Emmanuel's concern was evident, his brow furrowing deeper.

Moni exhaled, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Don’t ask me. I don’t know, but if you ask me, she needs rest and a visit to the doctor. The woman has been playing strong since last week. She’s exhausted, but… you know how Aunty Abebi can be." She paused, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized Emmanuel. "Why am I even talking to you like I know you?"

Emmanuel grinned in confidence, "People tend to open up to me. Call it a good aura."

Moni chuckled again,  "I must say, you do have that effect."

Emmanuel sighed, glancing around the lobby as if searching for answers.  Each person, still waiting for their turn to engage with the foundation's services. He wouldn't mind being on the waiting list as long as he got to see Abebi. He exhaled turning his gaze at her, "I guess I’ll check back some other time."

Moni nodded, her pen poised over her notepad. "So, who should I say came in to see her?" "Emmanuel Chidiebere Oliver," He replied, enunciating each name clearly.

Moni quickly scribbled on her notepad, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Emmanuel… Chidiebere Oliver. Okay, Sir." She looked up, her expression brightening. "What’s your name?" He asked and she smiled, "MoniJesu," She replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Thank you for being so kind to a stranger," Emmanuel said, his tone sincere. "You remind me of my secretary."

"You're welcome, Sir," she replied. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

"You too." Emmanuel turned to leave, he felt disappointed. He would find a way to check on Aunty Abebi, even if it meant coming back again.

Kilahi watched Aunty Abebi whose heart racing with anxiety. The bathroom they were in seemed to be closing in on them. The air thick was with anticipation.

Aunty Abebi's eyes were glued to the pregnancy test kit, her brow furrowed in disbelief.

"My goodness," Aunty Abebi gasped, her own breath hitched in her throat. She turned the test towards Kilahi, her hands trembling slightly.

Kilahi leaned in closer, then she quickly glanced at the instructions printed on the back of the kit again, her mind racing. "Two lines means pregnant. So... you’re pregnant. I knew it,"

Aunty Abebi's expression shifted from shock to fear. "This can't be," She murmured, her fingers brushing against her temple as if trying to erase the reality before her.

Kilahi took a deep breath, her eyes softening. "The circumstances are quite flawed, but I don’t want to judge based on my beliefs. What has happened has happened, and you’re pregnant. There’s a miracle growing inside you." She smiled gently, trying to reassure her.

Aunty Abebi shot her a sharp look, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It’s not an immaculate conception, Kilahi. I had sex."

"I know," Kilahi replied, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I meant, what should have been a menopause has become a baby. It’s a miracle," she teased and Aunty Abebi rolled her eyes,  a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sorry, Ma," Kilahi added then she chuckled.

Aunty Abebi placed a hand on her belly, the soft fabric of her bathrobe brushing against her skin. "Is this real? I feel like I’m in a dream," She whispered, her voice trembling as she closed her eyes, lost in thought.

Kilahi leaned against the bathroom counter, crossing her arms as she watched Aunty Abebi. "I heard babies crying." She teased,  "Don’t scare me," Aunty Abebi replied, her eyes widening in alarm as she shot Kilahi a wary glance.

"I’m not saying you’re having multiple children," Kilahi laughed, shaking her head. "I’m just saying, when I saw that revelation, I knew you had to be pregnant. You need to call him Aunty Abebi."

Aunty Abebi’s face fell, her expression clouded with worry. "I can’t," She said.

"Why not?" Kilahi asked, "You guys are going to make me sound like a broken record," Aunty Abebi sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I can’t move to Ebonyi!"

Kilahi stepped closer, her eyes earnest. "One of you will have to shift boundaries anyway. But he has to know you’re pregnant," She insisted.

"For a long while now I've been seeking God's face concerning some people around my life especially you Aunty Abebi. My wedding gown doesn't fit cause I've been fasting for you and myself but generally for others. I felt at ease this morning like everything was settled. It was a beautiful revelation I had Ma, you were happy. God has something in stock for you. It all depends on you."

Aunty Abebi rolled her eyes again, but this time, it was accompanied by a reluctant smile. "You think God gives a hoot about this mean woman? I've been on the fence for years now. Mom being a Christian and their father a Muslim, I just never stuck with any. I haven't even prayed in years, not since Mom died. I believe there's good and bad choices and I stuck to what my mother taught me. Apart from my career, I've never believe there's anything there for me; like an happy ending, where Abebi can be truly happy." She paused blinking her tears in.

Kilahi smiled, "God is working something out. I don't know what but I feel like He is but the result boils down to the choice you make. You deserve to be happy and you need to open up your mind to that possibility Ma."

"You make it sound so easy," She replied and Kilahi reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It’s not easy, but you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together." She answered embracing Aunty Abebi who cried in her arms.

Temi sat in her cozy office, reviewing notes from her last session, jotting down insights and strategies to help one of her clients navigate an emotional challenges. There was a food flask and a bottle of fresh juice on the table. Just as she was about to take a sip, her phone buzzed with a message notification. It was from Nancy. She was surprised being that she has been the one trying to reach her all week!

Hey Nancy, how are you?

Nancy: Horrible.

What’s worse than horrible?

That bad?

Nancy: I need my family. 😭😭

You can call your sister.

Nancy: She told me to fuck off.

What about your mom?

Nancy: Same. It’s like nothing I do is satisfactory for her. The pain I feel is invisible in her eyes. I’m hurting, and I just want someone to hear me out.

You have my attention. What’s going on?

Nancy: I can’t tell you.

Why not? You do know I’m a therapist, right? You can tell me anything. I’ll help in whatever way I can. I can provide you the emotional support you need.

Nancy: Mommy said I shouldn’t.

Your emotional health should  also come first.

Nancy: For Mom, it’s the social status and money that comes first.

There's a need to prioritize health too. Even God prioritizes our well being.I hate to sound religious but, the third book of John clearly states God’s intentionality and priority over our health too. God’s wish above all things is that we prosper and be in health, even as our soul prospers. What’s the component of your soul, Nancy?

Nancy: The heart?

Temi dropped a voicenote.

🎙️Actually , it's our mind, Our emotions and will. They are essential aspects of our soul. Apart from financial prosperity, God desires for us to maintain emotional health and balance. Just as we regularly examine our physical health, we should also assess our emotional state. It’s crucial to ask ourselves: Are we emotionally healthy? Is our will strong and resilient? Are we succumbing to unhealthy pressures or influences? Are we experiencing stress or coercion of any kind? Even seemingly minor issues like peer pressure can indicate a weakened will.

Nancy: Wow.

Are there any areas where you feel pressured or influenced in ways that don’t align with your values or goals?

Nancy: Yes.

Care to discuss? No pressure, Nancy.

After a long pause, Temi could sense Nancy hesitating.

Nancy typing .....

Nancy: Nothing.

Temi smiled, knowing hmight have erased the message she was about to send.

Are you experiencing stress, anxiety, or coercion that may be impacting your emotional well-being? Is it about your baby?

Nancy: 😭😭😭😭

I’m sorry for bringing it up.

Suddenly, Nancy switched to a phone call. Temi could hear the sadness in her voice as she spoke. She felt a wave of concern wash over her.

“Temi, I’m tired of life,” Nancy began, her voice trembling. Temi quickly rushed to make a screen recording of the call since she couldn't record directly. “Life has been so unfair to me since I got married. In between the trips to Dubai and all across the world, it hasn’t been the best. I have to pretend on social media like I’m living the perfect life when it’s been far from it.”

Temi leaned back in her chair, her heart aching for her “What are you experiencing? It might be PTSD from the trauma of losing your baby.” “That’s just a tip of the iceberg,” Nancy replied, her voice cracking.

“I can’t help if you don’t open up to me,” She urged gently, hoping to break through the walls Nancy had built around her emotions.

“So you can mock me, right?” Nancy shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone, "Just like I did."

"Water under bridge." Temi replied.  Then she took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I want you to know that I’m not someone who mocks people’s vulnerabilities. I’m aware that you’ve had to make bad decisions because of the negative influences in your life. No offense, but your mom’s behavior has likely had a significant impact on you, and I want to acknowledge that not everyone handles situations the way your Mom does.”

Nancy sobbed softly, the sound breaking Temi’s heart further. "Nancy! Talk to me." “Why are you being nice to me? All I’ve done is act like a bitch around you. Remember how I’d join Mom in mocking you for dating Alade for so long?”

“You didn’t know better,” Temi replied, her voice soothing.

“That’s just an excuse. I knew what I was doing. I’ve called you ugly for being fat. Mom, Tati, and I would sit and make your family a topic of ridicule, laughing about how cursed you guys were. Now look at you all; I’ve never seen my mother so pained in a long time. I heard every son from Aunty Temi is engaged already. You're married and you're glowing, you look happy. Your life looks beautiful, even brother Gbadamosi..." She trailed, "I haven't called him that in a long time."

Temi chuckled softly, “God makes everything beautiful in His time." “Maybe God is punishing me,” Nancy confessed,  “Why do you say that? What are you experiencing? I need clarity here.” Temi pressed, sensing the depth of Nancy’s despair.

“Is marriage ever perfect? My dad is a quiet person, and my mom controls him. I just thought maybe I could have a man like him.”

Temi nodded, even though Nancy couldn’t see her. “No marriage is perfect, but it takes two to make it work. Alade and I have arguments once in a while, but the approach couples use to settle disputes matters a lot.”

Nancy let out a small laugh, a sound that was both sad and relieved. “My husband prefers to use his money, well that usually comes after...” She trailed off, the weight of her unspoken words hung in the air.

“After what?” Temi prompted gently.

“Forget it,” Nancy said, her voice heavy with resignation.

“Nancy, if you’re going through an abusive marriage, you don’t have to wait until it’s too late to leave. I know how you lost your baby; he doesn’t have to repeat that before you take action.”

“No marriage is perfect, you said it yourself,” Nancy replied, her tone defensive again.

“You deserve better,” Temi insisted, her voice firm. “Any man who hits his wife is an animal and needs to be caged and tamed. But you don’t deserve to be in that cage with him, and you’re certainly not the one to tame him. There are authorities in charge of that. You can report to human rights and get the support you need. I can help if you want.”

“People will mock me,” Nancy said, her voice trembling with fear.

“Would you rather die in his hands?” Temi asked, her heart racing.

“I’ll be fine, Temi. Thanks for the offer. The shame and the impact it will have on my mother will kill me faster! I’d rather commit suicide than leave my home. Thanks for talking to me; I really appreciate it.”

“Nance...” Temi started, but before she could finish, Nancy ended the call.

Temi sat in silence, she picked up her phone and began to type a message, hoping to convey her unwavering support but she didn't respond.

Her heart raced in concern, she feared for Nancy's life.

IVORY HEALTH CLUB

Kilahi sat opposite Gbadamosi sipping from a plastic cup of smoothie. "Mrs Akpata called, she said your bridal fittings didn't go well." He revealed and Kilahi rolled her eyes.

"She called you."

"Yes, you're stressing her. She wants you to work on adding weight."

"I'm working on it. I ended my fast yesterday."

"May God give me your kind of grace and passion for fasting." He teased and she laughed, "Did God reveal who the next president of the country will be?" He asked and bit her lips thinking of creative and mischievous things to do to him.

He could see it in her eyes.

"I feel light anyways. Most of all, I embarked on this fast to seek God's face concerning Aunty Abebi. Something just happened that I can't talk about just yet. It's not looking like the best thing but I feel God has put some parastatals and parameters in place for Aunty Abebi." She answered then she waved her fingers dismissively.

"Let's talk about something more important."

"More important than fitting into your bridal gown."

"That's why I have a sewing machine. Mrs Akpata is such a perfectionist, she's working with the first measurement. I can't understand why I reduced that way in the first place."

Gbadamosi smiled.

"What about you? Have you gone for your fittings?" "All my clothes are ready."

Kilahi gasped, "I feel so ashamed right now. Why am I even ashamed? What special about male dresses? It's like you guys sew the same style." 

Gbadamosi laughed, "Oh really?" "Either plain senator or agbada, nothing spontaneous." "Look at this damsel, should I show you?"

"Oya show me the style." "I'm angry, until the wedding day."

Kilahi pouts, "You know that it's a simple style that's why. How was your day Kilahi?" "It was fine. I just want to say thank you for praying with me that day. TantoOluwa came to the office."

"Tanto.. wait, the thug?"

Kilahi nods.

"What did he want? Kilahi, are you sure I won't have to put you under one security program."

Kilahi laughed, "Like have a bodyguard?" "Yes!" "And waste money?" "For now." "Except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain."

"I know but must this Cultist be after you?"

"Don't blame them, i am a city set up on a hill that cannot be hidden." She managed to reply through a racking laughter. "Oshey, watch tower."

Kilahi laughed, "He said for the past three years, his mother had an injury to the head that kept her comatose, she has been on life support. Choicest, he said his Mom has never spoken a word in all these years but she finally did on Saturday."

Gbadamosi sighed, "Praise God."  "It's unbelievable." "Through God, all things are possible. The effectual prayer of the righteous maketh tremendous power available. I thank God for using you." He answered and she blushed.

"I thank God for making us yield. We did it together." She answered, "Thank you so much Sir. Thank you for helping me grow, thank you for the impartation. I can't thank you enough. God bless you Choicest."

"Amen."

"Guess what?" Aunty Abebi asked her sister over a call, her mouth full of spicy suya meat. The flavor danced on her tongue.

"What are you eating?" Mrs. Aisha inquired, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Suya," Aunty Abebi replied, a grin spreading across her face as she savored another bite.

Mrs. Aisha chuckled, "Is there ever a moment when you're not munching on something these days?"

Aunty Abebi laughed, but beneath her amusement, she felt a twinge of self-consciousness. Was she really that predictable? How long has it been since she started craving?

"I believe it's called cravings. It makes sense now, but isn’t it a bit early to be craving?" She said, trying to brush off the concern.

"Yeah, that’s what menopause can do," Mrs. Aisha shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Menopause."

QAunty Abebi felt a mix of irritation and amusement. "You're obviously mocking me," she said, feigning indignation but unable to suppress her laughter.

"The whole idea of you believing this menopause story is just too funny," Mrs. Aisha confessed, her laughter ringing through the phone. She couldn't believe the ridiculousness of her sister's thought. Aunty Abebi had always been a smart woman, but her decision to cling to the idea of menopause was both disturbing and amusing to her.

"Guess what?" Aunty Abebi said, her tone shifting to something more serious.

"What?" Mrs. Aisha asked, intrigued.

"Turns out the menopause I thought I had is actually a pregnancy. I’m pregnant, Aisha!" Aunty Abebi revealed, her heart racing as she listened to her sister shriek in excitement.

Mrs. Aisha's reaction was immediate, but Aunty Abebi felt a pang of bitterness. "Why are you so excited? It’s not like I have a husband to pin this on," She said playfully. She felt the weight of societal expectations pressing down on her, and it stung.

"You do have Emmanuel, even if he’s miles away. Wouldn’t it be romantic to take a trip down to Ebonyi to share the news?" Mrs. Aisha suggested, her voice bright with enthusiasm. Aunty Abebi couldn't help but shrug at the thought, overshadowed by doubt.

"Really, Aisha?" Aunty Abebi replied, rolling her eyes. The idea of a romantic gesture felt so far removed from her reality, yet a part of her longed for that kind of connection.

"You’re not thinking of hiding this from him, are you?" Mrs. Aisha pressed, her tone turning serious. Aunty Abebi fell silent, the weight of the news settling heavily on her shoulders. She imagined the awkwardness of telling Emmanuel, the man she had shared a week with, about this unexpected turn of events.

"Aunty Abebi!" Mrs. Aisha called out, breaking the silence. Aunty Abebi rolled her eyes again, feeling the pressure of her sister's expectations. "You’re not saying anything," Mrs. Aisha added, concern creeping into her voice.

Aunty Abebi switched to her native tongue, "I hope you’re not planning to hide this from him." The thought of keeping such a monumental secret felt wrong to her.

"Maybe," She whispered.

"That’s not fair!" Mrs Aisha snapped switching into English, "He’s the father of your baby, and he deserves to know," She firmly insisted. Aunty Abebi felt a surge of guilt wash over her. Deep down, she knew her sister was right, but the fear of how Emmanuel would react paralyzed her.

"Don’t speak to me that way," Aunty Abebi retorted, feeling defensive. She didn’t want to be scolded; she was already grappling with her own emotions.

"This is crazy," Mrs. Aisha said, exasperated.

"Honestly, I don’t know what I plan to do with this news." Aunty Abebi admitted, rubbing her free hand over her tummy. It was hard to believe there had been a life growing inside her all the while she claimed menopause. She felt a mix of excitement and fear, she was utterly unprepared.

"You’re not thinking of... you know, taking it out, are you?" Mrs. Aisha asked, her voice trembling at the thought.

"God forbid! I could never do that. I wouldn’t even dream of it," Aunty Abebi replied vehemently. The very idea made her stomach churn. "This is unexpected. A month ago, motherhood seemed impossible, but now I have a chance to change that notion. I finally have the opportunity to be a mother. I don’t want to blow it, even if I’ll die of shame when people see me pregnant without a spouse. I worry it will affect my career." The conflicting emotions swirled within her.

"All the more reason to tell the father," Mrs. Aisha urged, her voice steady and insistent. Aunty Abebi felt a flicker of rebellion at the suggestion. Couldn’t she just navigate this on her own? Why does her sister have to be so insistent?

"Maybe I’ll just tell everyone I got a donor sperm instead," Aunty Abebi suggested, trying to inject humor into the situation, but she could sense the disapproval radiating from her sister.

"I still stand by you telling Emmanuel you’re having his baby," Mrs. Aisha insisted, her tone unwavering. Aunty Abebi felt a wave of frustration.

Easier said than done!

"This is the best thing that has ever happened since..." Aunty Abebi trailed off, lost in lovely memories of her time in Ebonyi, where everything felt possible and love was palpable. The nostalgia brought a bittersweet smile to her face.

"Let’s say I tell him. What next?" Aunty Abebi asked, overshadowed by the  uncertainty. The thought of the future felt daunting, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

"Marriage, or some sort of agreement," Mrs. Aisha replied bluntly. Aunty Abebi felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Marriage? Was that really what she wanted?

"What if he doesn’t agree to come to Lagos? What if..." Aunty Abebi trailed off, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. "What if he comes after the child after I give birth?"

Mrs. Aisha exhaled, worry etched in her voice. "See, I don’t know Emmanuel personally, neither do I have a relationship with him, but you know him better. Do you think he’s the kind of person who would take your child away just because he finds out you have one?" Aunty Abebi shook her head, even though Mrs. Aisha couldn’t see her.

"I don’t think he would have the heart or stomach to do that. Emmanuel is a good man; he has a kind soul. But people change, sis and he's Igbo, they don't joke with their offspring. I just don’t know Aisha, I don't know." The uncertainty gnawed at her.

Mrs. Aisha sighed deeply, "How do you think he’ll feel if you go through this pregnancy without telling him?"

Aunty Abebi pondered the question, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision.

"I... I don’t know. I’ve been so caught up in my own fears that I haven’t thought about how he might feel." The realization hit her hard!

"Think this through, Aunty Abebi. You need to consider what’s best for you and your baby," Mrs. Aisha advised gently, her voice softening. Aunty Abebi sighed again, rubbing her tummy as if to comfort the life growing inside her.

"It’s just so overwhelming. I never imagined I’d be in this position, and now I have to figure out how to navigate it all." The enormity of her situation felt suffocating, and she wished for a moment of clarity.

"You’re not alone in this.  You can do this," Mrs. Aisha reassured her and  Aunty Abebi took a deep breath.

"I have a date with Professor Folorunsho." "When?" "This week." She answered with a sigh, "I have to return his ring. Maybe I should just tell Emmanuel,It’s only fair, right?" The thought felt both liberating and terrifying, but deep down, she knew it was the right thing to do.
The prospect of that conversation loomed large in her mind, and she felt a wave of apprehension wash over her.

"Just be honest. That’s the best way to start," Mrs. Aisha suggested, her voice filled with warmth. Aunty Abebi smiled faintly, feeling a little bit pressured.

Kilahi returned back home and Ossy embraced her, "Hey!" What are you doing here?" "Mum is in the room."

"What happened?"

Ossy shrugged.

She entered into her room to find Hilary, Sewuese and Brenda. "What's going on here?"

Hilary smiled, "Good evening to you too." "Sorry if I forgot to greet when you're all giving me this scary look. What's going on here? Did I do something wrong?"

"Call it an intervention."

"What kind of intervention? The only intervention I know is the divine one." She joked and Sewuese rolled her eyes.

Kilahi Agbo," Sewuese called out with so much seriousness, "I wish your name was longer; it would add a touch of drama to this." She paused for effect, then added, "Alas, it's your wedding week, and we've decided to put your plans on hold."

Kilahi's eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't do that! I have important things to do! There's my visitation to the-"

"Shut up!!!" Brenda, Sewuese, and Hilary chorused in unison, their voices echoing off the walls. "No one gives a hoot about your visitation this week." Brenda snapped, "Even though you're visiting angels, we don't care." She added.

"Even though it's a visit to heavens headquarters even the Bible says there's a time for everything under the sun and the last time I checked, we are still under the sun." Hilary snapped.

"But. I have to visit Mercy and.."

"Seriously Kilahi, shut the fuck up!" Brenda reiterated with laughter. "No one is saying your visitations are not valid, I'm sure they are but till after your wedding and honey moon, you have to think of yourself." She added.

Sewuese smiled, "That's why we have decided to put your plans on hold because we have a lot planned out for you this week." She explained pushing the stool in the middle of the room then she pushed Kilahi gently on it. "Sit still and look pretty, while we unbox and unravel all the plans we have for the week."

Kilahi sucked her lips, "Okay. I'm all ears." "First thing first," Brenda began clapping her hands, "We'll be getting you that baby girl treatment, a visit to the spa, a waxing experience. You'll be waxing every hair on your body. It's not called the baby girl treatment for nothing. Your body is going to be as smooth as a baby butt. We're leaving now stones unturned. How long have you shaved down there?" She asked and Kilahi gave it a thought.

"She's not a shaver." Sewuese revealed and Kilahi screamed in shame. "I shave!" "Only your armpit." "It's still part of shaving now." "She only shaves down there like five times in a year."

Kilahi laughed, "That a lie! Sewuese, why are you exaggerating now. At least seven times in a year, not like I have anything doing and I'm not comfortable being naked around people so, it's not like I was preparing for anyone to see me." She confessed am watching everyone stare at her in shock. "What now? You guys are making me feel bad."

"You're waxing it."

"There's no one I'm going naked for someone to see it."

"It's going to be a woman."

"I'll use shaving stick, period! Let's not dwell on this, how will I sit for a stranger to wax my private part? Next agenda!"

Brenda shrugged, "Ugh let's schedule a full body wax a few days before the wedding. I have a plug I go to occasionally, but I'm currently broke, I'm sure she wouldn't mind putting it on my tab."

Hilary burst out laughing. “Just remember, no one wants a surprise bush when it’s time to unveil the goods!" She chipped in and Kilahi gasped, "Ouch!" "You want him to think he’s unwrapping a present, not a garden!”

Sewuese slapped her hands against Hilary in agreement, “Good point!” She chuckled. “They’ll make sure you're as smooth as a baby’s bottom!”

Kilahi forced a laughter then she imitated her, "Baby's bottom." She imitated and they all laughed.

“Secondly, ” Hilary said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You need some killer lingerie for the wedding night! Something that’ll make you feel like a goddess.”

Brenda leaned in with a devilish grin. “Oh, honey, you need something that’ll make Bada drop to his knees! Something that will make him ask, ‘Where's Kilahi and what have you done to her?’”

Kilahi raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and curiosity on her face. “Why would I want him to ask that?”

The room erupted in laughter, and everyone slapped their foreheads in disbelief. Kilahi was so naive!

"Ignorance is not bliss Kilahi! That's why you have us!" Brenda answered rolling her eyes then she continued. “He's going to be asking that question because he’ll be so mesmerized by your transformation that he won’t even recognize you!” Brenda exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. But before she could elaborate, Hilary interjected, “Let’s not corrupt our bride just yet.”

“Corrupt? Please! She needs all the influence she can get right now!” Brenda shot back, undeterred. "Brenda is right" Sewuese agreed, "We want her to have a memorable first time and not a horrible one."

With a flourish, Brenda pulled out a stunning piece of lingerie from her bag—a sultry black lace short gown. "This one is called Take My Breath Away.' She announced eliciting excitement from Hilary and Sewuese.

"She'll literally suck the air in the room with this piece." Hilary chipped in.

Brenda held another a blue colored lingerie piece up, her eyes sparkling. “This piece is called, All Eyes Are on me. This is the kind  that will leave him speechless! "

Kilahi bit her lip, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through her.

Brenda revealed a red satin chemise lingerie, "This one is called Take Me to the Moon and Back.'"

Kilahi laughed, "Awn, I like the red one. He loves.... red too." She answered clearing her throat, "Now you're talking!" Brenda replied in excitement.

Sewuese turned one of the big paper bag upside down revealing some pants. "You guys went to the extent of getting me pant." "Yeah! So you can finally throw away those other ones."

Kilahi scoffed, "Throw away what?" She whispered then she moved close lifting some lacy panties up. "Cotton pants are the best." She complained and Hilary grabbed the pant, "Good day Mrs Chairlady, accurate time keeper and no co-debators, with this few points that I've not raised, I hope youll be able to understand that no one is debating with you on whether cotton pants are the best or not. It's necessary to get this kinds of underwears for theatrics. Trust me, it won't make you lose your anointing Mama." She argued and Kilahi laughed.

"How will it make me look like?"

Brenda smile, "Like his hot wife. This is not up for debate Kilahi. It's necessary to set the mood for what will be coming next." 

Kilahi lifted a G-string with a dramatic flair, her laughter ringing out. "What did you guys buy?" "It's a thong!"  "Am I supposed to wear this on my wedding day? Over my dead body will I put on this catapult or parachute, I'm finding it hard to put a description to it. This looks like something Brenda would pick out." She assumed turning towards Brenda.

"Brenda, did you pick it out?"

"I did, ask me why?"

"This has to be interesting, why?"

"I've noticed how ugly your panty lines are in almost every cloth you wear. There are some dresses."

"No way!" Kilahi screamed.

"You're getting married, Kilahi!" Sewuese shot back, hands on her hips. "You need something to up your game, you need something more than those... those 'pampers' you keep wearing."

"Those pampers are comfortable."

"Those pampers are turn off, they are giving 'my housewife of thirty-five years.'" She replied and Kilahi rushed off pulling out the drawer she keeps her panties. There was nothing there. She rolled her eyes giving Sewuese a look. She turned her whole underwear on the bed and  Hilary held on to one.

"This is my privacy guys, I feel like someone just invaded my privacy."

Sewuese clasped her hands, "Babe I'm sorry but this was necessary and If I know you well, you were planning on cross over with everything."

Hilary laughed, "This one has black and red thread on it. That means at some point, it got torn and you used black thread and then another day you used white." "It was the white thread first before the black thread." Kilahi explained and everyone laughed.

"I wouldn't have taken that one."

Brenda lifted a blue cotton pants, "This one? Looks like a air blow parachute. If you travel on air with this pant and something happens to the plane, it's enough to suspend you in the air." She teased and everyone laughed including Kilahi.

"Haba!"

"Say goodbye to your beloved 'pampers" forever!" Sewuese noted packing the underwear into a bag and Kilahi jumped on the bed. "God forbid! You know what they call 'painful exit', unless you want to see me mourn over these underwear."

"I'll hand you an handkerchief." Hilary proposed and she gasped,  "Twinnie!"  "The number you're trying to call is unavailable at the moment Kilahi. We need to burn this thing so you can start again."

Kilahi held up a pair of underwear like it was a trophy. It was a white and yellow shorts underwear, "You see this one? I can't say goodbye to it! You know when they say, 'for better or for worse'? I think I've sworn an oath with this pant. It's been my loyal companion during my period-it understands my bumbum, and my period understands it. They've been through thick and thin together!"

The room fell silent for a moment, everyone cringing at the mental image.

"Iew! Burn it!" Brenda yelled, her face twisted in horror.

Kilahi, feigning a gasp, clutched the pant to her chest. "You wouldn't dare! This pant has seen things! It has stories! You'll have to burn me first."  She threatened in a way that made her seem paranoid.

T h i r t y   m i n u t e s   l a t e r

She leaned against Hilary while watching Sewuese set her underwear on fire as though she has a personal vendetta with it. She was still clutching to her favourite pant. Hilary laughed as she watched Brenda and Sewuese burn the underwear.

"The way Sewuese is burning this thing like she has a score to settle with them." She joked and Kilahi chuckled softly. "Shey?"

"It's a bon fire guys.... Let's make wishes!" Brenda yelled.

"Toor, making wishes while you're burning my pants, my pants will avenge you guys!" She answered playfully and they all laughed.

Wednesday

6:03 am

Mrs. George gasped as she jolted awake, her heart racing. The dim light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. Her husband, seated at the edge of the bed with his Bible open, glanced up, concern etched on his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice a soothing balm in the stillness of the morning.

“Honey…” she trailed off, scratching her neck as if trying to erase the remnants of a troubling dream. “How long have you been awake?”

“Less than thirty minutes,” he replied, his brow furrowing slightly. “Oh, is everything alright?”

She met his gaze, her eyes wide with worry. “That should be my cue. Is everything alright? You seemed to be having a nightmare.”

“There’s trouble looming somewhere,” she murmured.

“God forbid! Is it related to the wedding?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of alarm.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s Salome. I took flowers to her house to give my condolences for the loss of her daughter.”

“Which one?” he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

“It doesn’t matter which one,” she snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I wouldn’t wish that on her or any mother!”

With a sudden urgency, she reached for her phone on the bedside shelf, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed Salome’s number.

“Isn’t it too early?” Her husband asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Too early for a mother to pray?” she retorted, her voice firm.

“Hello?” Salome’s sleepy voice echoed through the line, thick with irritation.

“Good morning, Salome,” Mrs. George said, forcing a calmness she didn’t feel.

“Can you call back? I don’t understand why you’d call so early. Don’t you know people are sleeping by this time? If you’re sleep-deprived, I am not!” Salome snapped, her tone sharp.

Mrs. George rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Sleep while your house is on fire.”

“What kind of nonsense talk is that? It’s your house that will be on fire!” Salome shot back.

“That was an analogy!” Mrs. George exclaimed, her patience wearing thin.

“Back to sender,” Salome replied curtly, "See, biko biko, I don't have the patience for this." She added.

“Can we not fight this morning?” Mrs. George pleaded. “I called for an important reason." "Me Kwanu, (What?), what is it this early morning?"  "I want you to wake up and pray concerning your daughters. I saw something bad happening. God showed me a revelation.”

“Weldone, Temi. You didn’t tell me you’ve now turned into Joseph,” Salome scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mrs. George sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Come on! Can we set aside whatever dispute we have and reach a consensus? This is a grave matter.”

“It’s you and your family that will have grave matters,” Salome retorted. “You didn’t dream about Gbadamosi and his wife. God jumped Temi, he jumped all your family members that have problems, and then showed you a revelation about me and my family. I’ve always known you don’t wish my family well. Newsflash, Temi: my family is doing well. Tatiana is happily married, Nancy is happily married, and guess who has grandchildren and is bound to have more? It is I, Salome Igbokwe! Guess who doesn’t have grandchildren? You!”

Mrs. George felt her heart sink at the harshness of Salome’s words. “Salome, please—”

“So after you’ve had a revelation on when Gbadamosi will be giving you his first, you can now give me a call. For now, let this be the last time you call to tell me nonsense about my children. Good night!” Salome snapped, ending the call with a finality that left Mrs. George staring at her phone in disbelief.

Her heart raced as she gasped, shaking her head. "Look at someone I’m worried about," She murmured, the weight of Salome's words hanging in the air. Her husband placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Honey, maybe it's best to let her be for now. You can’t force someone to see what you see."

"But what if I’m right?" She countered, her voice thick with emotion. "What if something terrible is about to happen? I can't just ignore it. How can she just dismiss it."  "Then pray, my love," He urged gently. "Pray for her and for her daughters. That’s all we can do sometimes."

Mrs. George took a deep breath, feeling the tension begin to ease slightly. "You’re right," She conceded.

"Good morning my love." Gbadamosi's voice came through the line, smooth and warm, sending shivers down Kilahi's spine. "I’ve been thinking about you all morning." He confessed.

Her heart fluttered at his words. "I’ve been thinking about you too," She replied, her cheeks flushing. She could feel the heat rising to her face.

"I need to tell you something," He added with an serious but yet tender tone.

Kilahi's heart raced. "What is it?" She asked worried, "I’m trying to find the right words," He continued, "I have a confession." "What happened? What do you want to say?"

"I just want to say Iyawo mi, ọkàn mi, ìfẹ́ mi, my beautiful bride-to-be who has captured my heart. The one that takes my breath away, the masterpiece created by God to complete me, my missing ribs."

She felt her heart pounding in her chest, each beat echoing his confession then she chuckled, "You scared me." "Today, I stand to celebrate the incredible woman you are and the bright future that awaits us together."

"Awn."

"Yes. You are like a llight in my life, a treasure that I hold dear. From the moment we met, I knew there was something extraordinary about you. Your laughter is like music to my ears, and your smile, You are not just my future partner; you are my inspiration, my joy, and my greatest blessing."

Kilahi's heart swelled with emotion.

"As we prepare to embark on this beautiful journey together on Saturday, I envision the family we will build. You will be an incredible partner, and I can already see the warmth and love you will bring into our home. Your nurturing spirit will create a safe haven for our future children, and I know that they will thrive under your care. Together, we will instill values of love, respect, and kindness, creating a legacy that will last for generations."

"Amen." She replied with a smile.

"You just made my day."

"You made my life, God bless the day we met. Five more days to go love, I wish it could be tomorrow."

"Why?"

"That speech will be given in the bedroom, I don't want you giving me the carnal look." He replied and she laughed nervously. "I insist why?"

"I want to get to hold the hand of the one God has sent without raising brows. I want to open my eyes to God's goodness, so that when I'm counting my blessings, I'll thank God for the blessing of waking up close to a blessing. And that's just the spiritual version." He answered and they both laughed.

"Ohaha nyme (My love), oko mi." She paused and he interrupted with a chuckle. "How long have you been practicing that Yoruba?" He asked, "I love the sound of it, it has a nice ring to it, with your accent."

"I don't have an accent." She replied rolling her eyes playfully, "Mabinu (Don't be crosses), continue your speech."

"It's not a speech, it's just a five word summary. I love you Gbadamosi George." "I love you Kilahi Agbo, I'm tempted to put my name."

"You've paid the traditional rites sha."

"Kilahi Gbadamosi George. Mama K." He teased and she chuckled with a sigh. "Your day is blessed Kilahi, the face of the Lord continually shine upon you."

"Amen."

"May the Lord apportion wisdom to carry on with the day."

"Amen."

"His goodness and mercy follow you like a sweet smelling perfume in Jesus name."

"Amen." She replied and then he ended the call. She quickly sped to Whatsapp. She posted a picture of Gbadamosi.

My heartthrob ❤️🥰
Counting down to forever 🎊

Kilahi scrolled through statuses then she stumbled upon Garba's status.

Happy birthday to my son and I. ❤️

Kilahi arced her brow in surprise. She quickly slides in to wish him a happy birthday.

Happy birthday Garba and Happy birthday to your son too. The best is yet to come!

Good morning Kilahi.😊

Good morning Garba.

Thank for the birthday wishes.

I pray your son grows in stature and wisdom. How old is he?

Assume much?

Huh?

You just assumed he's my son.

You called him your son.

Those who know me know that I call him my son.

I'm sorry for assuming. Who is he?

My nephew, his name is Tariq. He's four years old.

Oh wow. Apologies.

Apology not accepted except.

Except what?

You come for my birthday party.

Kilahi paused then she shook her head.

I'm sorry, but I can't.

Even on my birthday?

Even on your birthday. I'm sorry Garba  but I was serious about giving you a space.

💔💔

Kilahi rolled her eyes.

I have to go, enjoy your day.

Sharon sat on the bed then a call came in from Tokunbo who had just seen Sharon's status.

Happy birthday dear Tokunbo. I pray this years brings you bliss! Enjoy this phase!

She answered with a smile, "Good morning birthday man." She said then she went ahead to sing the happy birthday song, "How old are you now?" "15." "15 plus 25." "Oh please! I'm not even 38, I'm just 36."

"Is that the age you declared in your affidavit or the one you have in your birth certificate?" She asked and he gasped, "What do you mean?"

"Old man." She teased and he chuckled.  "How are you celebrating?"

"Well, there'll be a party this evening, will you come?"

"No." Sharon declined.

"Why?"

"Cause I'm dating Muyiwa. I'm sure you're aware since you're an expert at tracking people."

Tokunbo scoffed, "Just because you're dating Muyiwa shouldn't end your life. It's just a harmless party. " "Harmless party right? I would have come if I trusted you enough."

"So it's Muyiwa you trust."

"You know what they say, better the devil you know."

Tokunbo scoffed, "Someone that probably cheating on you right now. I'm sure he's out there right now screwing someone's daughter." "Muyiwa is not a Saint but I'm trusting him to make the right decisions. Muyiwa is a lot of things but one thing he isn't is sneaky. He's a straight forward man, you on the other hand Tokunbo, you're sneaky, deceptive and manipulative."

"I'm not.."

"Why must every conversation with you boil down to you painting Muyiwa as some sort of monster. Right from the first day we met, you've always been quick to bad mouth him?"

"He's not a Saint."

"And you're not one either! I'll take a honest man over a hypocrite any day! And that's what you are Tokunbo. And please respect my boyfriend, the next time you call to make insinuations without solid proofs, I'll block your ass on this Green app.
Happy birthday and I wish you a happy celebration but I'm not coming for your birthday party, thank you, don't mention." She snapped ending the call then she hissed.

Salome sat in her living room checking through varieties of aso-ebi, "I love the texture." She complimented, "I knew you will, you know I only pick out the best."

"How much for a yard?" She asked and the woman laughed.

"70,000 naira Ma."

Salome widened her eyes, "70?" "It's Rasha organza oh. The strings my vendor had to pull to get me the bundles. You know I don't shop locally."

"In order words, if I want to buy like five yards now, it will be 350,000 thousand."

"Are you not capable? I'm sure only Nancy can handle this bill, not to talk of Tatiana. Someone that I heard travelled to South Africa over the weekend."

Salome faked a smile, "You should see the gele Ma, it's screaming luxury." Her friend commented on pulling out some sets of gele from the box she brought.

"How much is the gele?"

"Very cheap Ma, it's just 20,000 naira Ma. I'm just using that one as bonanza because of how expensive the material is." 

Her phone rang, when she saw it was her daughter Nancy, she excused herself to answer the call. "Just the person I was thinking of it." "Really?" Nancy asked, "Yes." "Mom, I .." Before she could dish complains to her mother, she cuts her off.

"Mummy Derin just brought Aso-ebi for Derin's wedding. It's 70,000 naira per yard, you know I usually get 5 yards so I'll need about 350,000 naira."

Nancy scoffed, "Was that why you were thinking of?" "What else?" "Aso-ebi is supposed to be sold to family members, hence the reason why it's called Aso-ebi. You're not even a family member, you're not even a distant cousin!"

"I'm a friend."

"Why does it look like you care about the Aso-ebi than your own family?"

Her mother scoffed, "Did you call me to insult me this morning? Because of 350, 000 naira. Only 350, something you can ask your husband." "Maybe you should ask your own husband about it."

"Nancy!"

"Mommy!" She screamed in tears, "Mummy I'm hurting! I need someone to talk to," "Maybe you should get a parrot."

"Really? I need a friend, I need my mother right now cause I'm at the verge of killing myself if this doesn't stop. I was even thinking I could get you to please come to my house to talk to my husband. Make him give me some time."

Salome shook her head, "Ying ying ying ying ying, that's the only thing I hear when you call these days. So I should come and tell your husband to hold back from having sex with his own wife because of what? I paid your bride price right?"

"Mummy, you know what I mean."

"Is it the 350,000? Don't worry, I'll ask Tati." "Mum you know what I mean."

Salome ended the call hissing loudly. "What kind of problematic person is this one? Does she think the world revolves around her and her problems?"

Sunlight flooded Hilltop View Interiors' board meeting room, as Hilary, prepared to address her team.

Zoe, with her natural hair pulled back into a neat bun, flipped through a stack of design proposals, her brow furrowed in concentration. Uju, was doodling ideas in her sketchbook, her fingers dancing across the page. There was a client and two new team members, Benjamin and Amara, who were seated at the far end of the table.

“Alright, everyone,” Hilary began, her voice steady and authoritative. “Thank you for coming in early today. We have a lot to discuss, especially with the Mrs Zara's  projects on the horizon. I want to ensure that Benjamin and Amara feel welcomed and integrated into our workflow.”

Zoe looked up from her papers, a smile breaking across her face. “Welcome aboard, everyone! We’re excited to have you here Ma."

"I'm excited to be here to. I've known Hilary for years. I've worked with her when she was working with Tee decor on small projects. Feels good to be here and working with her once again."

“Thanks, Ma'am.” Hilary replied, her voice warm and friendly. She smiled, appreciating the compliments. "Now, let’s dive into our agenda. First on the list is the upcoming residential project in Lekki by Zara homes. Uju, I know you’ve been working on the initial concepts. Can you share your vision with us?”

Uju sat up straighter, her eyes lighting up. “Absolutely! For the Lekki project, I envision a blend of contemporary and traditional Nigerian aesthetics. We can an international standard design and also incorporate local materials, like woven baskets, pots and handcrafted furniture, to give it a unique touch."

Mrs Zara nodded, “That sounds promising. What's  the budget for sourcing those materials?”

Zoe flipped through her notes, her expression serious. “We’ll need to allocate a significant portion for quality local artisans. However, I believe it will pay off in the long run."

The atmosphere in the board meeting room shifted abruptly as the door swung open, revealing the newly employed secretary, her face flushed with urgency. “Um, Miss Hilary, there’s an eager visitor who won’t be able to wait for long,” She announced, glancing nervously at the assembled team.

“Who?” Hilary asked, her brow furrowing.

“Mrs. Tatiana,” The secretary replied, hesitating for a moment. “She didn’t drop any surname.”

Hilary’s heart sank,  “What does she want?" She muttered, her mind racing. How did she find out about her location?

“Wait…” Uju paused, her eyes widening. “Is it our old boss?”

Hilary exhaled sharply, glancing at the secretary. “Tell her to wait.”

But before the secretary could respond, Tatiana strode into the room, clad in a shiny blue sequin gown that shimmered under the overhead lights. Her presence was commanding, and the air thickened with tension.

“Ma!” The secretary exclaimed,. “I told you to wait!” “I don’t like to repeat myself,” Tatiana snapped, her tone sharp as a knife. “I don’t have that time. I’m a busy woman!”

The secretary opened her mouth to argue, but Hilary lifted her hand, cutting her off. “It’s fine,” She said, her voice steady but laced with tension. She turned to Tatiana, her expression a mix of defiance and caution. “What do you want?”

Tatiana’s gaze swept across the room, landing on the faces of Hilary’s team and Mrs Zara. "Good morning Tatiana." Mrs Zara said and a scoff escaped Tatiana lips, dripping with disdain. “So you’re stealing my clients now, are you?” She spat, her voice rising. “I can’t believe you’d sink so low! You’re a fucking thief!”

Hilary gasped, "Ma! Maybe you should ask questions before." "Shut up Hilary! You're now stealing my clients aren't you?"

“Stealing? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Hilary replied. “Mrs Zara came to us and we’re simply doing our job.”

Tatiana stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You think you can just waltz in and take what’s mine? I built my reputation from the ground up, and you think you can just take my clients with your little startup? You have to be fucking delusional!”

Uju shifted uncomfortably in her seat, while Zoe rolled her eyes.

"Listen Tatiana or whatever name your mother gave you." Zoe said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing in front of them.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"You're going to listen anyway cause we didn’t start up this company to steal anything. Hilary left your company to create something of her own." Zoe continued in support of Hilary.

"That explains why I have my client here right?"

Mrs Zara rolled her eyes and Hilary exhaled ready to explain, "Mrs Zara here came to." "You don't owe her any explanation Hilary. Cause I wouldn't be here if your team had done a perfect job." "We did a perfect job."

"You call that rubbish design a perfect job?" Mrs Zara snapped.

Hilary lifted her hands, "For emphasis, we're just doing a correctional job." "Correctional my ass!"

Tatiana’s face flushed with anger. "I’m not interested in your drama," Hilary confessed lifting her hands in surrender. “Drama? You think this is drama? You’re playing with fire, Hilary!" "Is that a threat?"

"No. Okay, I’m offering you a chance to merge our companies. You work with me, and I’ll pay you double what you’re making here. You can’t possibly think you can survive on your own!”

Hilary’s resolve hardened. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested in merging with you. I want to build my own legacy, not ride on the coattails of yours.”

Tatiana laughed in mockery. “Legacy? You think you can build a legacy with a handful of clients and a couple of inexperienced employees? You’re fucking kidding yourself! You’ll be begging for my help before long.”

“Maybe you should take a look in the mirror, Tatiana,” Zoe shot back, her voice rising. “You’re the one who’s obviously desperate. You’re here because you’re scared of competition, and you know we're good at what we do.”

Tatiana’s eyes blazed with fury. “You think this ruin of an organization is better than mine? Hilary is nothing without me!" She yelled pointing at Hilary, "I made you who you are!”

“Actually, I'm grateful for the beginning,” Hilary retorted, her voice steady. “And I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished without your help.”

Tatiana stepped closer, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Hilary. I won’t forget this. You’ll regret turning me down, and I’ll make sure you fucking pay for it.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Tatiana. I’ve moved on, and I’m not looking back.”

Tatiana’s expression twisted with rage as she zoomed out of the room. With that, Hilary turned to her team,  "Where were we?"

R e v i v e  f o u n d a t i o n

Emmanuel approached Moni, who was seated behind the reception desk, her lips pursed in disappointment at the sight of him. "Good afternoon, Sir," she greeted, recalling that she hadn't even informed Aunty Abebi of his visit on Monday and the previous day.

"Good afternoon, Moni," He replied, his voice laced with concern. "I take it Abebi isn't in today?"

Moni nodded, her expression guilty, "No, she’s not. She’s still unwell." "Is she still sick?" He asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

"Yes, Sir," Moni replied curtly, crossing her arms defensively.

"Is there any way I could get her home address?" Emmanuel asked, his voice softening as he leaned slightly closer, desperation creeping into his tone.

Moni shot him a suspicious glare. "I can't do that," she said firmly, her eyes narrowing.

"Please, I'm genuinely worried about her," he pleaded, his voice earnest. "I promise I’m not a stalker."

Moni raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "No. Now I really doubt your intentions."

Emmanuel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Don’t do that, Moni. I have Abebi’s best interests at heart. I just want to make sure she’s okay."

"Can you please wait with the others?" Moni suggested, gesturing toward the five people seated in the lobby. "Mrs. Aisha will be the best person to attend to you."

He turned back to the group of waiting individuals, then faced Moni again. " Mrs. Aisha has engagements, so no, those people are not waiting for her," She countered and a hint of a smile broke through Emmanuel's worry.

"Not like I have any appointments to attend to, but thanks anyways," He added, trying to lighten the mood.

Moni sighed, her resolve wavering slightly."Don't make me regret this," Moni warned, her tone softening just a fraction.

"You won’t," Emmanuel replied.

Tatiana climbed down the stairs, but her attention was drawn to flyer plastered on the wall. It featured Gbadamosi, his warm smile, and beneath it, a bible quote that read, "All hard work brings a profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty."

As she stood there, her heart raced, and she felt an inexplicable pull towards the image. She tightened her fist, her nails digging into her palm as she fought against the swell of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Her fingers traced the contours of his face on the flyer, a bittersweet ache blooming in her chest. Why did she suddenly feel heartbroken? Memories flooded her mind, vivid and unrelenting. She recalled the excitement that would bubble within her whenever she learned of Gbadamosi's impending visits to Nigeria. Those were the days when her heart danced with hope, when she would eagerly anticipate his return.

Tatiana remembered the way she would dress up, carefully choosing her outfits, hoping to catch his eye. She would accompany her mother to his family’s home. Gbadamosi has always been the lady killer but most of all,  he was a listener; it was one of his many charms.  He would listen to her complain about anything and she would feel relieved.

She could use that relief once again!

She felt the weight of regret pressing down on her. Would things have been better if she had waited? If she had been patient, perhaps she could have nurtured the bond they shared instead of letting it slip through her fingers like sand. The thought gnawed at her, a relentless whisper in the back of her mind.

Her ring tone interrupted her, she answered a call from her sister. "Hey, Sis." Nancy said, and Tatiana rolled her eyes, she knew her sister would start complaining if she doesn't stop her. She wasn't in the mood to hear her dish complains about her husband. "Nance, not now," She snapped, her patience already wearing thin.

"I really need someone to talk to. I'm exhausted. My husband came home last night and"

"Not now Nancy , I'm not in the mood!"

"I'm tired sis, I’m still trying to heal from losing the baby, and now this... I feel violated."

Tatiana groaned, frustration boiling over. "Can you just shut the fuck up for a second? The world does not revolve around you! Do you think you’re the only one with problems? Can you even handle mine? Do you think you're the only one that wants to vent?  My business is going down the fucking drain, I can’t keep up with my expenses, my husband is cheating on me and wasting our money on bullshit. And my daughters? Ugh! I have two whiny daughters, and Princess is the absolute worst! I regret naming her that; she’s just like her father—a damn liability. Hilary, the only sensible employee I had, is stealing my clients! She's  stealing my... My life is a fucking rollercoaster of pure disaster, and Gbadamosi is getting married, posting those stupid happy pictures all over social media. I’m so fucking jealous and angry!" She complained in tears, "If Mom hadn’t convinced me to marry that idiot, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe it could have been me and Gbadamosi—who the hell knows? Now we’ll never know. All we can do is deal with the wreckage we’ve created. Your husband is raping you? Suck it up and deal with it! If you’re not happy, get a fucking divorce and leave me the hell alone!" She screamed, ending the call abruptly.

"Argh! Can you just fuck off already!" She snapped, her heart racing. Just then, another call came in from her mother.

"Tati," Her mother’s voice came through, calm and steady.

"Not a good time, Mommy," Tatiana replied, her tone sharp.

"Your daughter is not feeling well," Her mother said, "Take her to the hospital, sell her, do whatever the fuck you want! I’m tired! Does she have to be sick all the damn time? Is she the only child on the planet? Her baby sister doesn’t even get sick like this!" Tatiana’s voice rose, frustration spilling over.

"What’s biting you?" her mother asked gently, but Tatiana didn’t want to hear it. She ended the call, her heart heavy with the weight of her own turmoil.

As she sat in silence, her eyes fell on the flyer that seemed to mock her. Tears streamed down her cheeks,  anger, jealousy, and despair flooding her heart. She felt trapped in a life that seemed to spiral further out of control with each passing day. She quickly made way out of building and into her car then she scrolled through her contacts in search of Gbadamosi.

Gbadamosi's phone rang just as one of the church members, Sister Joke walked into the church office, taking a seat in the chair adjacent to him. He quickly glanced at the screen, noting the strange number, and answered the call.

"Hello," He said, "Hey," came the reply from a female, a voice he couldn't really remember.

"Who is this?" He asked, "Ouch!" The voice responded, slightly offended. "I have your contact, and you don’t have mine?"

"The voice sounds familiar though. Who is this?"

"It’s Tati," She answered, in a playful tone.

"Huh?" Gbadamosi furrowed his brow, trying to place the name.

"Tatiana! I believe your favorite name was Ada of the Igbokwe," She answered jogging his memory.

Gbadamosi's eyes widened in recognition. "Tatiana? Wow, it’s been ages! I’m surprised you called."

"Yep! I needed someone to talk to."

"Can you call me back later? Now isn’t a good time," He replied, glancing at Sister Joke, who seemed lost in her thoughts.

"Wow, how quick you are to end the call," Tati replied, a hint of disappointment creeping into her voice.

"That's not it! I’m in church and—"

"Forget I called," She interrupted, ending the call quickly. Gbadamosi sighed, shaking his head. "Still the same Tati," he muttered to himself, exhaling as he turned his attention back to Sister Joke.

"Good morning, Papa," She greeted softly.

"Good morning, Sister Joke. " He said, noticing her eyes were puffy and red, evidence of recent tears.

"Have you been crying?" He asked gently, concern etched on his face.

She shrugged.

"I heard you’re supposed to solo the song for Saturday, for myy wedding oh but you announced that you’re not fit to sing. Why is that?"

"Daddy, I can't bring myself to sing a love song when my love life isn't balanced. My heart isn't in the right place. I'm broken."

"Let God fix you."

"I gave him another chance, Papa," She confessed, her voice trembling. "And he broke off our engagement again. Is there something I’m doing wrong? My friends say It’s because I’m not compromising! I spoke to one of his friends, and he said if I give in to his sexual demands, he’ll marry me. He wants to test if I’m up to the task. He knows I’m not a virgin, but he refuses to respect my values."

"Are you contemplating it?" Gbadamosi asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

Sister Joke shook her head vehemently. "No! My consecration is a promise I made to God. Olumide wasn’t even there when I made that vow. How can I break it? I can’t sin against my body and against God. I just wish there was another way. Papa, the shame... everyone already calls me Iyawo Josephu, Iyawo Olumide." Her voice broke, and she burst into tears. Gbadamosi quickly handed her a handkerchief.

"Ah! All our plans to travel out of the country," She lamented, wiping her tears.

"One of the prayers I usually offer for my daughters is, 'God, scatter whatever relationship needs to be scattered.'" He teased and she opened her mouth in shock.

"Is this your way of saying, you caused it?" She asked and he laughed, "Maybe this is God’s way of finally letting you know that he’s not the one for you," Gbadamosi suggested, trying to offer comfort.

"We've been together for three years Sir, three years! I prayed for God to embarrass my blessing, not embarrass me for real," She complained, frustration mingling with her tears.

Gbadamosi chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood."
Sister Joke pouted,  "Daddy, you’re still laughing."

"Sorry.." He apologized trying to hold back his laughter, "God embarrassed you with blessing This might be a blessing in disguise," He said, his tone turning serious. "Sometimes, what feels like a loss is actually a path to something greater. Trust in God’s plan for you." He smiled gently,"You are stronger than you think, and God has a purpose for your life. This moment, painful as it is, could lead you to a future filled with joy and fulfillment. Keep your faith close and remember, every setback is a setup for a comeback. "

Sister Joke nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "Thank you, Papa. I needed to hear that."

"Are you taking the solo part? Talk so I'll start marking my enemies." He teased and she laughed.

"Papa, you're gaslighting me oh. Okay fine. I'll take the solo part." She replied and he smiled.

"Good. Let's talk about rehab conference."

Mrs. Aisha strode purposefully from her office, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Just as she reached the lobby, Moni, her assistant, called out, "Ma!"

Mrs. Aisha paused, irritation flickering across her face. "Whatever you have to say can wait, Moni. I’ve already told you I have plans later."

Moni hesitated, her expression shifting from urgency to concern. "I’m sorry, Ma, but it’s about that man." She gestured discreetly toward Emmanuel, who was seated a few paces away, his demeanor calm yet expectant. "He wants to see you."

A deep sigh escaped Mrs. Aisha’s lips. "Reschedule him. I have somewhere important to be."

Moni bit her lip, glancing back at Emmanuel. "He specifically asked to see Aunty Abebi. He requested her address."

Mrs. Aisha’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" She turned to look at Emmanuel, who was now watching her intently, his eyes filled with apprehension.

"Do you know him, Ma?" Moni asked in curiosity.

"No, I don’t," Mrs. Aisha replied, her tone clipped. "Why would he want her address?"

Moni shifted nervously, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her blouse. "He came on Monday looking for Aunty Abebi. I thought it was just a casual inquiry at first."

"Did you call my sister to confirm this?" Mrs. Aisha pressed, her voice rising slightly.

"I’m sorry, Ma. I guess I forgot in the rush of things," Moni admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Mrs. Aisha’s expression hardened. "Why would he want her address? This is highly unusual." "Should I call security Ma?"

Mrs Aisha shook her head quickly. "Wait, what’s his name again?"

Moni furrowed her brows in concentration, recalling the details. "Emmanuel Chidiebere Oliver, that’s what he said, Ma."

A slow smile crept across Mrs. Aisha’s face, transforming her earlier irritation into intrigue. "Did you say Emmanuel?" "Yes, Ma, that was his name," Moni confirmed, her confusion deepening.

Mrs. Aisha exhaled slowly, her mind racing with memories. "I’ll be in my office. Please let him in," She instructed, her tone now more measured. She turned on her heel, her thoughts swirling as she made her way to her office.

As Moni approached Emmanuel, she couldn’t help but feel confused. She shrugged, after all, she wasn't paid to get confused! "Mr. Oliver, Mrs Aisha will see you now," She said, gesturing for him to follow her.

Emmanuel straightened, a flicker of relief washing over his features. "Thank you," He replied.

Aunty Abebi found her hands instinctively rubbing her tummy, a gesture of acceptance as she thought of the little fetus growing in her womb. She imagined the tiny fingers and toes, the soft cooing sounds of a baby, and wondered if it would be a girl with her big, expressive eyes or a boy with Emmanuel's charming smile. For her, it was another day to take a rest from nausea.

"For someone who claims she doesn't want to get pregnant, you sure are rubbing your belly like it's a good luck charm," Kilahi teased, and Aunty Abebi burst into an infectious laughter.

"I'll be leaving soon, Ma," Kilahi said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Can't you stay a little while longer? I could really use a gist partner," Aunty Abebi replied.

Kilahi shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "I wouldn’t want to take Emmanuel’s place in your life. Or maybe you could call Professor Folorunsho for some intellectual banter."

Aunty Abebi frowned momentarily, then her laughter returned, brightening the room. "Will you be going to see your handsome trainer, Garba?" She asked, her tone teasing.

Kilahi shook her head, a hint of regret in her voice. "No. I didn’t tell you, but I changed trainers. He’s no longer my trainer."

Aunty Abebi raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one of suspicion. "Why? What happened?"

"Conflict of interest," Kilahi replied, her voice steady but her heart racing.

"I hope that conflict doesn’t have anything to do with his notorious womanizing," Aunty Abebi said, her tone half-serious, half-joking.

Kilahi chuckled nervously, her cheeks flushing. "I was naive, I guess. I played along with all his flirting until I realized that I love Gbadamosi too much to let something as flimsy as another man's feelings for me come in the way. So, we reached a mutual decision to maintain a professional distance."

Aunty Abebi nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "I like Gbadamosi better too. Garba has always been a womanizer."

"Your cousin." Kilahi chipped in.

"No, he’s from Aisha’s mother’s side," Aunty Abebi clarified, rolling her eyes.

"Oh," Kilahi replied, her curiosity piqued. "I thought you would be visiting him in the hospital."

Kilahi blinked in confusion. "Hospital? Why?"

Aunty Abebi’s expression turned serious. "Yeah. Aren’t you aware? He got shot in Niger on Sunday. He’s actually been going through treatment at the moment."

"In Niger?"  "No, Nigeria," Aunty Abebi corrected.

Kilahi felt a wave of worry wash over her. "What kind of deadly mission did he embark on?"

Aunty Abebi shrugged, "I’m glad he got shot. He was always feeling too invincible." "Aunty Abebi!" Kilahi exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. "That’s not fair!"

"I don’t mean to sound insensitive," Aunty Abebi replied, her laughter bubbling up again, though it was tinged with concern.

"Where is he?" Kilahi asked, her heart racing, her thoughts now consumed with images of him lying in a hospital bed, vulnerable and hurt.

"At the hospital. I heard they’ll be throwing a small birthday party for him," Aunty Abebi answered.

Kilahi exhaled slowly, her mind racing. "I already cut ties with him."

"You don’t have to go if you don’t want to," Aunty Abebi said, her voice gentle.

"My conscience won’t let me," Kilahi replied, her brow furrowing in thought. "Why didn’t he tell me he got shot?"

"Maybe he’s trying to respect your decision to keep your distance," Aunty Abebi suggested.

Kilahi shrugged, her heart heavy. "What harm will one visit cause?" She asked, but suddenly, an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. She placed her palm on her chest, trying to calm the rapid beating.

"Are you okay?" Aunty Abebi asked, concern etched on her face.

"I just lost my peace," Kilahi admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I feel like I shouldn’t go, but not visiting someone who’s been shot because of my fears… it feels heartless." She thought about how Garba would have been there for her if reverse was the case and the idea of abandoning him now felt like  betrayal.

Aunty Abebi shrugged, her expression softening. "You’re too soft, Kilahi. But that’s what makes you, you." "What hospital is he in?" Kilahi asked, Aunty Abebi hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I’ll get you the details."

Emmanuel stepped into the office, his posture slightly hunched as he bowed his head respectfully. "Good afternoon, Ma'am," He greeted, a bit nervous.

"Good afternoon, Mr Emmanuel, right?" She replied, her tone warm yet inquisitive.

"Yes, Ma," He confirmed, his heart racing.

"I heard you want to see my sister, Aunty Abebi. Is that true?" She asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him.

He nodded eagerly, desperation evident in his expression. "Yes, I really need to talk to her." "Who are you to her?" Mrs. Aisha inquired.

Emmanuel shrugged, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "It's a complicated relationship. I can't lie. We were friends, but I don't know where I went wrong. I'm here because I have questions for her. I promise, I'm not a stalker or an assassin."

Mrs. Aisha raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Are you in any way from Ebonyi?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know?"

Aisha chuckled softly, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "It's nice to meet the man who managed to sweep my sister off her feet."

Emmanuel shook his head, a bitter smile forming on his lips. "I doubt that. I was the one who got swept off my feet and then dumped." The confession hung in the air, and Aisha felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"I have a place to be at the moment," She said, glancing at the clock on her phone. "I had to make time for you when I heard your name was Emmanuel. I had to be sure."

He leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "The secretary mentioned that my Ababy, I mean, Abebi— hasn't been feeling well since Monday. I'm worried. What's wrong with her?"

Aisha's lips curled into a secretive grin. Your Ababy is having your baby! she thought, her heart swelling with the news she held.

"She blocked me on all lines," Emmanuel continued, his voice tinged with frustration. "Can I get an address? I need to see her."

Aisha exhaled slowly, weighing her options. "My sister will have my head for what I'm about to do, but we’ll need to make plans first. Proper planning is essential. I don’t have much time; we could have spoken even more."

Emmanuel bowed his head again, gratitude washing over him. "I appreciate the audience, Ma."

Aisha smiled warmly, her demeanor softening. "The name is Aisha, please call me Aisha."

Ossy sat comfortably in one of the chairs at Domino's Pizza, his eyes lighting up as he spotted Manny approaching with a tray that held three cups of Cold Stone ice cream and a box of pizza.

"Thank God! Something to cool my head after so much reading," Ossy exclaimed, clapping his hands in excitement.

Manny chuckled as he placed the tray on the table and took a seat across from Ossy. "How was your exam generally?"

"Fine! The last one we had was ICT and English composition." Ossy replied, reaching for a small cup of ice cream.

"Overall, what are your expectations?" Manny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty much confident."  Ossy said, rolling his eyes playfully, "Pride is that you?" He asked and then both laughed.

"Thanks, Dad," He added, taking a spoonful of ice cream.

"You're welcome," Manny replied with a grin. "How was your day?" Ossy asked and he smiled, "It was adventurous! I went shopping," Manny said.

"For what?" Ossy asked and Manny leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "You have to promise me not to tell your mom."

Ossy nodded eagerly, "Okay! But Mom always says I should tell her everything that happens with me."

Manny reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red box. "Well, this is a secret," He said, opening it to reveal a beautiful ring.

Ossy's eyes widened in surprise. "What's..." He trailed off, "That's a ring, Daddy, do you want to ask Mommy to marry you?"

"Smart! Yes, I plan on proposing to her," Manny admitted, a smile spreading across his face.

"When? Today?" Ossy pressed, bouncing slightly in his seat. Manny could see the excitement in his eyes..

"No. I don't know yet. Your mom has her reservations about it," Manny replied, his expression turning a bit more serious. "What's reservation?"

"Like her personal opinion on the matter. We've spoken about it."

"And?"

Manny shrugged, "She's not ready yet. She doesn't want to get married just yet." "Why? Aunty Kilahi is getting married right?"

"Yes."

"But Mommy loves you! I don't understand." Ossy exclaimed, his innocence shining through.

Manny chuckled softly. "Is it that obvious?" He asked, and Ossy giggled in response.

"It would be really really really nice if you two got married, and... and we all lived together in one house. And.... I .. I wouldn't have to visit you or wait to see you on Sundays. It would be really, really nice!" Ossy said, his eyes sparkling with hope.

"I would love that too," Manny replied, his heart warming at the thought.

"But your Mom wants to settle down first. She wants to get her business on the right track. She's just starting out, and a lot of investments have gone into it, with more still to come," Manny explained.

"I don't understand," Ossy said, furrowing his brow.

Manny sighed, trying to simplify it. "Think of your mom's business like a super-hard video game level. She needs to focus on beating that level before she can move on to the next one. If she gets distracted, she might lose her progress. That's how she sees it."

Ossy pondered this for a moment. "So, getting married is a distraction." He said trying to understand the analogy, "For now." "So Mom's business is like a video game level, and she needs to beat it before she can have a party... like a wedding, right?"

"Exactly!" Manny affirmed.

"Daddy, you know, there are some video game levels that are very very very hard that you can be on it for hours, and it will still look like you're not going to pass," Ossy added, his face scrunching up in thought.

"I'm actually stuck on one," Manny confessed, and Ossy smiled knowingly.

"There's one game on Mommy's phone that, if you try to follow how hard it is, it will just forstate you," Ossy said, mispronouncing the word.

"Frustrate," Manny corrected gently.

"Is that what they always say? Hm, I thought it was 'forstate.' Who always send me to use big grammar?" He asked eliciting laughter from Manny.

"Like I was saying, someone will just get angry."

"No more frustrate?"

"I don't want to bite my tongue." He confessed and they both laughed.

"Someone will get angry while playing the game and sometimes you may almost  pee in  your pants because you don't want to leave the game, you think the next move will make you win, but sometimes you can still be stuck on the game for another one hour and not win!" Ossy exclaimed with a tired sigh.

Manny laughed, relating to his example. "I can relate." "You know, sometimes I feel like we just have to stop the video game, so we can do what we need to do, like eat, pee, and then go back. Sometimes it's after I've done those things that I finally win. Maybe Mommy needs to stop worrying. Just like the way she feels when she sees you, even after a bad day, she will still smile. Mummy needs that thing every day."

"She feels like that way with you too."

"Yes. So the day that I'm annoying her, you can always make her happy like you always do."

Manny chuckled, "She's determined, and I admire that. I just want to put a ring on it so everyone knows that beautiful woman has been taken by me."

"It's true oh! There's this teacher who loves asking about Mommy," Ossy chimed in.

Manny feigned a frown. "Is he as handsome as I am?" He teased.

Ossy burst into laughter, shaking his head. "Maybe!" "When's your cultural day again? I'll come so I can see this wonderful teacher," Manny joked, and Ossy erupted into another fit of giggles.

Just then, Hilary joined them, letting out a sigh of relief. Manny quickly hid the ring back in his pocket. "The relief I feel right now! Someone could just die, and they'd think it's stress; they wouldn't know it's because of my poo!" She confessed, provoking both Manny and Ossy into laughter.

"Really, Hilary?" Manny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm serious! I almost fainted! The way I was sweating in the car... it was like a race against time. The pressure was unbearable! Thabk God their toilet was clean!" She exclaimed.

Ossy giggled, "Mommy, are we really talking about poo right now?"

"Who doesn't have to deal with poo?" She shot back playfully, then exhaled dramatically. "Guys, I almost died! The doctor wouldn't have been able to figure out the cause of death because..." She trailed off, bursting into laughter again, and Manny joined in.

"What were you guys talking about before I came in?" Hilary asked, her eyes shinning in curiousity.

Ossy smiled brightly. "How beautiful you are!" He declared, and Hilary's cheeks flushed.

"Aw, baby, that's sweet," She replied, her heart swelling with affection as she looked at Manny. "We were also talking about that teacher at Ossy's school who keeps asking about you." Manny revealed to her surprise.

"Mr. Steve?" Hilary laughed, recalling the teacher's interest.

Manny feigned jealousy, crossing his arms. "She even knows his name!" he teased.

"He's the ICT teacher, and he's genuinely concerned about Ossy's growth," Hilary explained, "And you dare complained about Kilahi and Garba."

Hilary laughed, "I'm not even giving him face. I think we spoke twice in their school concerning my baby's studies. No contact shared and I won't even think of giving him, I know my boundaries. Are you jealous?"

"Yes." Manny answered, leaning closer to Hilary, his eyes sparkling.

Hilary smiled coyly,  "Well I only have eyes on one man already," She replied, stretching her hand across the table, which Manny eagerly took.

She let out a tired sigh, feeling grateful for the company. "How was your day?" She asked, turning her attention to Manny.

"Fine. Madam Tatiana came over," She replied casually.

Manny scoffed, "For what?" He asked, and she shrugged, her expression turning serious. "It's a long story, and I don't want to talk about it right now, but I'm sincerely worried about her."

"That bad?" Manny asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"My dear, it's worse than you can imagine," She confessed, her brow furrowing as she thought about her friend. "She has always been insensitive and incredibly proud, but now it feels like she's lost her grip on reality."

Manny scoffed,  "Sometimes people go through things we can't see, remember you were once in that position." He said softly, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"True," Hilary replied, grateful for his support in her growth. "I just hope she gets better."

Ossy, sensing the shift in mood, chimed in, "This talk is making everywhere sad? Can we talk about something else like the pizza and ice cream? We haven't even opened the pizza."

Manny and Hilary exchanged smiles, grateful for Ossy's ability to lighten the atmosphere. "Yes, let's dig in!" Manny said, lifting the pizza box with joy.

Kilahi approached the hospital room where Garba was recovering with a gift bag in her hand.  The lively chatter of family members spilling out into the corridor. The familiar tune of the "Happy Birthday" song floated through the air, and she hesitated at the door,  uncertainty swirling within her.

As she stepped inside, she found Garba seated on the hospital bed with bandages  extended from the curve of his shoulder, down across his chest. A bright smile lighting up his face despite the circumstances. His four-year-old nephew, Tariq, was perched beside him, wearing a colorful birthday outfit. His family members, about five of them. The moment Garba noticed her, his smile widened.

"Happy birthday to you, Garba! Happy birthday to you!" the family chorused, their voices filled with joy. Kilahi's presence drew their attention, and Mrs. Aisha quickly approached her with open arms.

"Hey, dear!" She exclaimed, enveloping Kilahi in a warm embrace. "I didn't know you would come!"

"Aunty Abebi told me," Kilahi whispered back, and Mrs. Aisha chuckled softly. "I was beginning to wonder what she wanted to do with the hospital address," she replied, sharing a knowing smile with Kilahi.

Garba's gaze remained fixed on Kilahi, as his sisters exchanged glances, their curiosity heightened to know who she was. "This one you're staring at her like this, is she your girlfriend?" his elder sister asked in Hausa, and Kilahi shook her head firmly.

"No, I'm not," She replied in Hausa, surprising the sister, who hadn't expected her to understand the language. Intrigued, she pressed on.

"Are you Hausa? What state?"

"No, I'm Igede," Kilahi answered.

"If she's not your girlfriend, what is she?" The sister continued, her tone teasing.

Mrs. Aisha interjected with a smile, "She's my staff, everyone meet Kilahi Agbo, one of my most efficient staff members. Garba is just an acquaintance, her trainer—was her trainer," She corrected, and Kilahi nodded in agreement.

"These are Garba's sisters and my distant cousins, and this is his nephew, Tariq," Mrs. Aisha introduced.

Tariq flashed a cute smile and Kilahi waved, "Hey."

Garba's little sister giggled, "I'm disappointed because apart from the trash he keeps sleeping with, this one looks decent," She commented in Hausa, causing Garba to frown.

"Can you guys just leave me alone? I'd like to talk to Kilahi alone, if you don't mind," He said firmly.

Kilahi cleared her throat, feeling the tension in the air. "There's no need for that. I only came to check on you and to give you this gift," She said, waving the gift pack in her hand.

"Can you guys leave us alone?" Garba insisted, and the family members reluctantly exited the room, his eldest sister leaving a cake beside his bedside before closing the door behind her.

"You didn't have to chase them away," Kilahi said, folding her arms as she moved close to him.

Garba groaned, adjusting a pillow behind him. "The room was getting crowded already," He replied, exhaling deeply as he watched Kilahi. "Happy birthday once again." "Thanks for coming."

"Why didn't you tell me you got shot?" She asked, her voice laced with worry.

"You wanted me to keep a distance right?" He countered, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"This is a gunshot we're talking about. When we spoke today, you didn't say anything," She pointed out.

"I told you to come see me, but you declined," He reminded her.

"I didn't know..." She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I guess you're only here because you heard I got shot."

Garba feigned a victim's pout. "Yes" She admitted, "I'm not going to lie. I just thought it would be unfair not to visit you. If the roles were reversed, you would have come to see me," She replied with a sighed. She felt sorry for him.

"What happened to all the Martial arts you've learned all these years, imagine my own trainer getting shot. I'm embarrassed." She teased and he laughed.

"How long I've you been waiting to use that?" He asked, "I just thought of it now. Sonwhat happened in Niger Republic? What kind of mission would require you to get shot?"

"I was running an investigation on one of Nigeria's corrupt politicians. I won't mention his name, but I got caught in a crossfire," He explained, his voice steady despite the pain.

Kilahi cringed at the thought, her gaze lingering on the bandages. "I'm so sorry. That must be painful," She said softly.

He chuckled lightly, despite the discomfort. "I'm hanging in there. It's not my first time."

"Maybe this is a sign to slow down and take a breather," She suggested, her brow furrowing with concern.

"This pays my expensive bills," He replied, a hint of defiance in his voice.

"Your dead body won't pay the bills, will it?" She shot back, and he laughed.

"Thank you for coming," He said sincerely.

"You're welcome. I wish you a speedy recovery. I ask that God's hand rest upon your tendons, your muscles, your veins, your tissues, whatever has been hurt in the process. I pray that God fixes it," She said earnestly, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"This is where you answer 'Amen.' I was being considerate of your religion; it's a prayer, Garba," She added, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Garba chuckled, "It's a gunshot, I'm not seeking a miracle," He replied.

"And so? There's nothing He can't do. There's no limit to His healing capacities. He says in the book of Jeremiah, 'I am the God of all flesh; is there anything too hard for me to do?' Even when your flesh is failing, He has the capacity to give life to any man," She explained passionately, her voice rising with conviction.

Garba watched her in awe, captivated by her fervor. "I miss you," He confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Kilahi's expression shifted, her heart tightening at his words. "Garba," She said softly, "I have to go now." She turned to leave, but he gently grasped her wrist, stopping her.

"Wait. I feel empty, Kilahi. It's been empty without you. It's like you left this big vacuum that's hard for anyone to fill. I don't know how in the world I'm going to find a girl with your mindset and moral standards. I don't even care about the religion; I want you," He admitted, his eyes searching hers for understanding.

Kilahi scoffed, pulling her wrist away and he groaned in pain. "Can we not have this conversation?" She replied, her voice firm.

"Are you really happy getting married to Gbadamosi? Do you really love him?" He pressed desperately.

"Happy and love would be an understatement. Yes, I am. I love Gbadamosi in ways you can't imagine, in ways you've never loved any woman. You're obviously a practical womanizer, and your footprint has been imprinted in the sand of time; everyone testifies about it, even your siblings," She shot back, her voice rising with indignation.

"Are you sure you love him?" He challenged, his gaze unwavering.

At this point, she was getting irritated and frustrated by his questions, "Yes! Why are you asking stupid questions?" She retorted.

"I know you like me too. Why else would you avoid me?" He countered, a smirk creeping onto his face.

Kilahi rolled her eyes. "My feelings for you are no more than those for a dear friend. No strings attached," She insisted.

"You're wrong there. There's a string; there's always a string, and I'm willing to pull on that string," He assured.

"You must be delusional from that gunshot," She snapped, her anger flaring as she took a step back.

"Do you really have to get married?" He asked, his voice softening.

"What part of 'I love Gbadamosi' don't you get?" She exclaimed, her frustration boiling over. "Look into my eyes and tell me you love Gbadamosi," He demanded, his gaze piercing.

The ring on her finger seemed to mock him, a symbol of the obstacles separating them. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder: what if? What if he could bridge the gap, erase the boundaries, and claim her heart as his own?

Kilahi's eyes lifted, meeting Garba's intense stare. For an instant, time suspended for Garba, leaving only the unspoken desire that hung in the air like a challenge.

"I love Gbadamosi, and I can admit it with my whole heart," She said firmly.

In a sudden, impulsive move, Garba leaned in, his lips motioning towards hers. She quickly swerved, and the kiss landed awkwardly on her cheek, shocking her. "Jesus Christ!" She gasped, slapping his cheek in disbelief.

"How dare you?" She exclaimed, her heart racing.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't... I wasn't thinking," was he stammered, rubbing his cheek where her hand had struck.

"And the Holy Spirit warned me about coming here. I came out of pity and general love for humanity, not out of love for you!" She snapped, tears welling in her eyes as she turned to leave.

"I've never kissed a man in my life, and one of my low-key expectations and guilty pleasures is kissing Gbadamosi for the first time on Saturday. You almost did that," She confessed, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Geez! It's just a kiss, not a big deal! Just chill, not like I kissed you," He replied, trying to downplay the situation.

Kilahi lifted her hands, ready to slap him again, but she restrained herself, her breath coming in quick bursts. "It might not be a big deal to you, but it is for me! It's my wedding week, and I feel like I just cheated on Gbadamosi, thanks to you!" She exclaimed, her voice breaking.

"I'm sorry," He replied, his tone shifting to one of genuine regret.

"Get out!" She snapped, her emotions boiling over as she turned to walk away. But then, in a moment of frustration, she walked back in and threw the gift pack at him. "I can forgive you after this, but I don't want to see you afterwards," She said, her frown deepening as she stormed out of the room.

As Kilahi left, Bella, who had been lurking nearby, quickly hid until she passed.

Kilahi stepped out of the hospital room, her heart racing and her mind swirling with outbursts of emotions. The encounter with Garba had left her feeling vulnerable and conflicted. She needed to talk to Gbadamosi, to ground herself in the reality of her upcoming marriage. As she walked down the corridor, she pulled out her phone and dialed his number, her fingers trembling slightly.

The phone rang a few times before Gbadamosi picked up, his voice warm and familiar. "Hey, Choicest! You sound a bit off. Is everything okay?"

Kilahi took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "Hey, Gbadamosi. Can we see each other? I really need to talk."

"Of course! Is it something serious?" He asked, concern lacing his tone.

"Yes, it is," She replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can we meet somewhere?"

"Sure, but I’m with Papa Benny right now. I can’t leave just yet. How about after today’s Bible study? I can meet you then," He suggested, his voice filled with understanding.

Kilahi hesitated, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. "I’m sorry, Gbadamosi. I really need to talk to you now."

"Is it urgent? I don’t want to rush you, but I might not have ample time because of Bible study which will be in about an hour and half from now." He said, his voice tinged with worry.

"Let's meet and talk after Bible study."

She sighed, her heart heavy.

Once the coast was clear, Bella entered Garba's room with a grin. "What is it?" Garba asked observing her, he wondered how long she has been there?

Had she seen the whole thing? Damn! She probably has evidence. His heart raced in concern.

"How long have you been here?"

She shrugged, "I just saw Kilahi. Was she here?" She asked and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Why are you sighing? If I didn't know better, I'll say you were relieved about something. Whatever, what was she doing here?"

Garba rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed . "She seemed pissed off. What happened?" She asked,  "I kissed her," He admitted, his voice low.

Bella gasped, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "That's it, Garba! You've just acted like a man who means business, a man ready to go for what he wants. That's what I call a real man!" She exclaimed, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Where's the picture evidence?" She requested, her eyes glued on his phone which was in bed.

Garba scoffed, "It was a kiss on the cheek." "Who cares? Leave it to my blog to twist the news," Bella answered.

"There was no picture," He replied, clearly getting frustrated.

Bella frowned, "What do you mean there was no picture? Are you stupid? What was the aim of this seduction plan in the first place? Wasn't it to have evidence against her?"

"You can go to hell with your seduction plan. I'm done," He snapped.

"You can't be done," Bella insisted, "Says who?" "Ugh! You can afford to get soft."

"I just lost a friend! I just lost a damn friend. I call the shots, Bella. I'm done! You can go to hell with your fucking seduction plan, which I doubt will ever work because, newsflash, appears Kilahi really loves Gbadamosi," He admitted feeling the pains of his confession.

Bella's expression hardened. "No." "As hard as it is to admit, it's the truth," He replied, his gaze unwavering.

"Shut up!" She snapped, her frustration boiling over. "Newflash too, no matter how you try, I don't think you'll ever get Gbadamosi to fall, except you have to climb the pits of hell to achieve it. Been there done that, there's no dirt to pin on him, he's as clean as glass."

"I'll find something, even if I have to climb the pits of hell to get it."

"Bella, you're young, beautiful, and attractive. Any man would want you. I can't say they'll be lucky to have you because, you're crazy in the head. In this world, there are the ugly ones and the beautiful ones, the Kilahis and the Bellas. The sweeter and sensitive the heart, the more attractive they appear. Kilahi is ten times more attractive than you'll ever be, and I'm sure that's how Gbadamosi sees it. He mined gold and isn't ready to let go of it or let anything come between it; Kilahi too. It took a wrong move to open my eyes. I'm done!" Garba said, filled with conviction.

What do you guys think of this chapter?
Me:  💔❤️👀🙏🏼💃🏼😭

Garba has finally given up.

Who was relieved after Bella said, "I just saw Kilahi "...?
How many of us thought she had video evidence? 😂

Has anyone ever been in a situation where you had to visit your ex because of an accident? Did you go? Or will you go if such arises?

Garba needed that factory-resetting slap, I think worked some magic. 😂

Who wished the slap was more than once? 😂🤣

One of the most selfish cast in IMU has to be Salome! 💔

Happy new year in advance !!!!!