I posted something earlier and was banned. Hopefully, it won't happen again. I pray

Rosemary33:
I posted something earlier and was banned. Hopefully, it won't happen again. I pray

I though as much, had came here 3 times today already, and did not see the post

Rosemary33:
I posted something earlier and was banned. Hopefully, it won't happen again. I pray

No wonder 🤔. I noticed you posted something around 5 yesterday. But it didn't reflect. Well we are still waiting

Rosemary33:
I posted something earlier and was banned. Hopefully, it won't happen again. I pray

No wonder 🤔. I noticed you posted something around 5 yesterday. But it didn't reflect. Well we are still waiting.

Eight
Ife


“Fine chikala...”

Chikala. Who still addressed women with that street endearment?

It was so crude, so unculture, like the Port Harcourt street words for ladies; Barnie and Bambie. It should grit on my nerves and make me delete the message without reading to the end. But for some shocking reason, as I kicked my shoes off and walked into the kitchen to boil a kettle of water for my bath, my eyes remained glued to my phone.

If there was any more surprise thing I was anticipating after Preye took me to his house without preparing me for the visit, it wasn’t this funny, yet well-articulated message from bro Oghene. Like...what? Dude said he wasn’t gifted with sweet words to capture a girl’s heart but this...these words could make a girl melt so fast like an ice cube under a scotching sun. His words, the way he tried to impress yet fell out after a few lines, it was so beautiful.

Placing the kettle under the sink’s running faucet, I laughed as I imagined him constructing the massages. Seriously, I couldn’t place his innocent, handsome face side by side with the words I was reading. They were...reading them, the way he described me—though with tiny bits of exaggeration, I felt as if he was drawing me on my skin with the feather end of an old-fashioned goose pen, as if hundreds of butterflies had settled all over my face and were softly opening and closing their wings.

I dropped the phone on the sink to put the filled kettle on top of the electric stove and turn on the heat, then I walked back to continue reading.

Hilarious. That was what I could call this surprise. Hilarious and sweet. Oh, I didn’t believe I could admit this but...it was a little romantic too. I guessed it was because I’d not received a love message in a while. Or maybe because I still had a glimpse of what he looked like today at the party, his shy smile that complimented his cute face. Arg... not that. I was simply in a romantic mood tonight. Thanks to Preye.

—I should warn you that this message may not be perfect. Juoshi, the small girl here said it isn’t. But it is sincere, even though I feel that you will not read it. These words have been like a weight in my chest for a long time, I can no longer hold them in, or my heart will not be able to go on beating with such a burden in it.
I am attracted to you. I sleep and wake up consumed with thoughts of you. Your image left my senses in disturbance. Beautiful Ifenkili, what a strange effect you have on my heart. I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking...

Ah! Bro Oghene! This one don pass be careful o. I understood if he admired or even felt attracted to me, but love? No, no, no. I shook my head as I switched the stove off, heaved the hot kettle and left the kitchen to go to the bathroom. But wait oh, what if it wasn’t bro Oghene that sent this message but someone who got hold of his phone and decided to play a stupid prank on a random female on his WhatsApp contacts?

Dropping the kettle on the bathroom floor, I sat on the WC and continued reading.

Ife, you may think you don’t belong with a man like me. I won't even blame you if you think that way because I know you deserve the best of men. But a common man like me can still dream. I want to hold you, to look into your eyes and kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and weep out of pure joy. I want to dry your joyful tears with my lips. If only you knew how I crave for you to give me the chance to treat you right.
I want you in my arms.
I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than all these things I said to you. But I can't stop thinking about them. I need too much of you. A lifetime spent observing you from afar would never be enough for me.
You would say it's too odd to feel this way. You would ask how I could be so certain of what I feel since you’d never led me on. But some things can't be measured by time. Ask me an hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime. The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of every bell that will ever be cast. If only you—

And there it stopped. So abrupt. As if whoever took his phone saw him coming and sent the message uncompleted before handing the device over to the owner.

I sat staring at my phone screen longer after I’d decided he wasn’t the one who wrote the message, because apart from the first few ones where this person tried to imitate what bro Oghene would sound like if it was him writing the message, these last lines were too clean, too perfect. Too intimate.

What if it was him?

Could it be...did he voice his emotions to someone who helped him put them into words?

I should laugh at this realization. Instead, my head dug up an image. A scene. That brief connection we had at the party that made my heart bit a thousand sound for a brief moment. It was a joke, those skips. Even now, this feeling like a lost child hearing a song somewhere afar, was also a joke.

I finally laughed at this joke and stood up, placing the phone on the WC tank and proceeded in peeling off my dress. Then I remembered, I promised Preye I was going to let him know I’d arrived home. Picking up the device again, I dialed Preye. He didn't pick. I dialed again. Same result. With a sigh, I made to drop back the device, but a thought crossed my mind. Quickly, I opened WhatsApp and wrote a short but straight to the point reply to bro Oghene;

“Bro Oghene, who did you give your phone to? Or has your phone been hacked?”

It was good he knew that someone had played a fast one on me with his phone. But if it was his idea, his thoughts put in words, then...

Did I wish it was him?

Me? Wishing Bro Oghene had written that to me?

Such a ridiculous thing to even think of, especially not today of all day that I finally saw a glimpse of light in my romanceless life.

Today, Preye had proven that he meant business with me. He’d shown me how serious he was with me by showing me his house and speaking about his plans for us.

He wanted a wife and had continuously described me as that woman he would be spending his life with. What else could a husband-hunting woman ask for?

The water in the kettle had gone lukewarm by the time I checked it. I poured it into a bucket, added a little tap water and proceeded to having my bath. At intervals, my heart would go back to the message and I would shake my head. As the hours crept by, the moon bleached my room to gray and cold breeze from my opened window caressed my skin while I waited for Preye to return my call or at least send a message, I thought of Oghene again, about that brief moment we locked gaze and he gave me a shy smile, Even though it shouldn’t, my mind dwelt on that short moment that I thought I'd found heaven and grabbed it as tightly as I could, but it was unraveling, an insubstantial thread sliding between my fingers, too fine to hold. It was also stupid and senseless, so I’d let it go.

Maybe there was something...for him, he’d always felt something for me. I knew. Maybe he did write that message to finally tell me about his feelings. He’d asked me for a date once, hadn’t he? And I declined.

Such a fine gentleman, I thought, turning to my side. It was a pity I had someone I had my hopes on now. Preye. Even if I didn’t, Oghene wouldn’t be my best choice. He knew this himself. Not because he wasn’t good-looking enough. I simply wasn’t his kind of girl, neither was he my kind of man.

He...seemed soft. I needed a strong man, while he could do with a calm, plain girl.

But today, that stare. That shyness hidden in his simple grin had stirred a feeling of being torn open, not like a body being ripped, but like some ripe fruit that slitted on its own accord. It was as if something in me was waiting for that moment, that splitting of his face into a grin.

I’d seen him smile uncountable times before. In fact, Oghene was a bundle of smiles. In church, one would notice his curled-up lips first before noticing him.

Ehm...why was I even thinking about bro Oghene now—this night of all nights?

The universe heard me and came to my rescue by making my phone ring. I picked it. It was Preye.
Finally, I sighed and settled for a long, interesting night.
`



****



I strongly doubted my capability in doing this relationship talking stage thingy because Preye and I officially kicked things off last night, and this morning, I was already apologizing for sleeping off while my less than one month old man was talking to me on the phone.

“Babe I am so, so sorry,” I said again, putting the call on speaker so I could get ready for work while speaking to him.

“You slept off on me!” he said for the umpteenth time. “I was still speaking and you—”

I slept off. But it wasn’t my fault. I was rather getting bored with his many questions about me and my past life. I thought we had skipped that part of relationship 101. AKA the initial talking stage. After spending time at his place, I was convinced we had graduated to a higher level, only for him to call last night and began asking me jamb questions.

Seriously, na why talking stage dey tire me like this. “Tell me about this, tell me about that,” for more than an hour. Abeg, I didn’t have anything to tell. I was boring, my past life was boring. He should leave me alone biko. Daughter of Zion had to sleep and wake up early enough to make it to work before 8 O’clock.

“Do you realize that I took the pain of calling you when I did. You think I don’t feel sleepy too?”

Oh Chineke God. See me see wahala. “Oya, don’t be angry. How can I make it up to you?” Because I didn’t want to continue this back and forth. I had to hit the road. Waking up a little later than 5 a.m., feeling a strong sense of betrayal by my alarm that had conspired with the rest of the world...

...to make me late today was bad enough. I didn’t need a grown-ass man going from ‘Bridgeton’ last night to ‘marketed and distributed in Alaba international market’ on me this morning.

“Preye, please. I’ve said I’m so sorry. I was tired.”

“You think I wasn’t tired myself? But I had to call you because that is what relationships are about. Care.”

“Okay, I’ve heard. I won’t do it again, Daddy.”

“Better. When are you closing from work?”

The conversation ended with me promising to meet him up at the Mimi’s Bar, Rumuobiokani, after work. I would be buying dinner. That was my punishment for messing up at the talking stage.

My head of department wasn’t on sit when I arrived at work, thank goodness. I exchanged pleasantries with the ladies and gentlemen at the counter, and asked Manuchi, one of our customer service personnel about her upcoming wedding, diplomatically declining her offer of me being one of her bride’s maids. “Not again, devil.” Besides, I was two years older than she was. While a lot of people would feel it didn’t matter, me...I no dey do aso-ebi for a girl I was older than.

In fact, I no dey do aso-ebi for anybody again.

I settled on my desk, at the pension corner of the bank, and started my day by sending reports. When that was done, I moved to putting some calls across to both old and potential customers. Some were agreeable, others cursed the daylight out of me. As soon as I got that part of the day’s job done, I moved on to the next one; processing pension forms in fund fusion and retrieving payment schedules. Now and then, a customer would walk to my desk to demand my help in banking issues; online banking, unconfirmed debit alerts, ATM card retrieval, as if they didn’t see the ‘Zenith Pensions Custodian Limited’ boldly written on the flex banner by my desk.

My sisteren my brethren, my job was under pension. Pension o. Not to count money or solve banking problems. Yet these people won’t leave me the hell alone to face my work.

“Excuse me ma—”

Hah, Jesus.

“Ma, I need help with—"

I lifted my head and was about to snap, ‘Go to customer care,’ when the realization hit me. The short man standing in front of me, looking like a rickety bicycle, was the last person I ever expected I would come across after many years of parting.

Chidi Emos. Our NCCF pastor during my NYSC at Nonwa. The idiot that asked for my hand in a godly relationship and ended the thing even before it stood on its feet.

First date, “Where do you see yourself in the next five years.”

Second date, “How many motivational messages and books do you read in a month? Me I read at least four books in a week.”

Third date, “List the causes of bradycardia.”

Fourth date, the one that broke Carmel's back, “If we eventually get married, you’ll be giving me 60% of your salary to plan with.”

I had asked him, “If you’ll be planning with my 60%, what then will you be doing with your own 60%?”

“You mustn't question a man’s decision, Ife. In a godly marriage, the man is the head and must not be questioned. Your duty as the wife is to submit. Go and read about the Proverb 31 woman,” he said.

That was the day I decided I wasn’t doing again ooooo. And Chidi Emos didn’t take my rejection lightly. The NCCF papa in the Lord made sure he used his position to rain disgrace on me by deciding to conduct an impromptu deliverance section on a typical bible study program.

I had just walked into the auditorium and took a seat at the back because I was late, only for this Shekelekebangoshe to announce from the altar that he had a revelation in broad daylight.

“One of our sisters had made herself a weapon fashioned against men. She allowed the devil into her life, and she is now breaking the hearts of men who love God.”

Descending from the elevated platform, he had walked down to the back while I was busy gazing around, wondering who he was referring to. It was when I felt a heavy hand on my head that I knew I was the sister he was referring to.

Chidi Emos had called me a devil’s tool and wanted to clothe me with shame because I refused the stupidity he tagged as a godly relationship. As he burst into tongues, asserting pressure on the hand he had on my head so I would lose my balance and fall, I thought of the disgrace, the shame. I remembered that girl that was made to admit that she was a serpent sent to disrupt the service last month, and how everybody had avoided her since then even though she later confessed that she said that because she wanted to be left alone. I quickly began to fight o. No be me this idiot go push for ground like this.

While he screamed, “Out Satan, out!” I was beating the hell out of him, Tearing his face and his neck with my newly fixed nails.

I must have really looked like a demon-possessed Jezebel, but I didn’t care. Like that serpentine girl, I was avoided by brethren after that incident. Thanks to Chidi Emos.

Now, After...how many years? He stood before me looking like a sorry case of Cholera?

“Ife...Ifenkili from NYSC Nonwa?” he asked.
Of course, Bunkum. It is I, Ife. “Chidi Emos?” I replied with a forced smile.

“My God! What are you doing here?”

“Working, as you can see.” He was battling with the right thing to say, I noticed. He should start with an apology. But of course, I didn’t need his apology. Seeing him this sickly was enough appeasement offering for me. He wanted to catch up on those years after the program, but ain’t got no time for that. “What can we do for you?” I asked.

“Ehm...I... I mean—”

“Money transfer problem?” Typical.

“Yes, I made a transfer to some—”

“That’s not my Job. Go and meet Manuchi, the lady at customer care,” I directed and returned my eyes to my system.

He stood there for a while, then, “It’s a long line there. Can you...you know...help me?”

No. I wasn’t going to lift a single finger to help Chidi Emos. Oh shut up conscience, he played me dirty so don’t play that ‘forgive and forget,’ card on me now. Yeah, I know...I know. I’m a child of God. A daughter of Zion even though I was among the heavenly backbenchers, the crazy ones among the saints of God, the one stubborn sheep he came after while leaving the other 99 behind.

“Ife, please—”

Would I be tagged a terrible person if I told this guy to go to hell?

“This is not my Job, Chidi. But—leave your details with me and go. I’ll make sure Manuchi sorts it out before the end of the day.”

“Thank you,” he enthused, scrambling something on a paper and handing it to me. “I am so grateful, Ife. Can I, eh, have your number—to call you sometime later?”

Hei, Chineke God. I don give this one my hand, now him wan grab elbow. “It’s not—”

“I don’t mean anything o. Just...At least I can call to ask you if your friend has looked into my matter.”

He had a point. I handed him my card instead and watched him exit the bank before I lowered my head to my work again.

I was so lost in my work and didn’t notice when my colleague pushed her chair backward and got up. It was when she mentioned she was going for lunch and asked if I’d like her to get me something at the canteen that I lifted my head.

“A plate of chicken salad and a medium-sized cup of yogurt,” I said with appreciation.

I checked my phone when she left. Ale sent me some hair samples, she wanted to know if I’d be interested before she sold them all off. I missed a call from my brother and an SMS from my AYF prayer group leader. The group would be visiting the motherless baby’s home and needed support. I was about to go back to my work when I saw someone that made my heart skip a beat. Forget about a skipped beat, my heart skipped a whole song. Ignoring the stupid organ, I trained my eyes on the figure.

Bro Oghene.

He was standing in front of the customer care desk. With both arms balancing on Manuchi’s table, he was leaning close to the soon-to-be-married lady and smiling up her face so innocently but intimately that one would think he was the supposed groom-to-be.

He was in a gray coverall, with patches of grease here and there. His hair was unkempt. His feet that were slipped in a pair of old slippers were dirty. But unlike other times, before last night, I noticed that his disarray work look fitted together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, created a complete picture.

I watched him interact with Manuchi for a while, wondering why the other customers in the line weren’t making fusses about his maneuvering because he had jumped the line. Then I saw him look back and mutter something that made them laugh.

Bastard.

He was using his innocence and softness as a charm on them. And it seemed to be working. It had always worked on a lot of people anyway. He accepted a piece of paper and a pen from Manuchi, scrambled something down, and handed the items back to the lady who had her eyes on his face all the while.

He was seducing Munachi without even trying, and the fool-headed girl had fallen flat for his smiles. Not just her, but almost everyone there. They were all grinning and nodding at whatever he was saying.

Without thinking, I got up, straightened my dress, left my corner, and walked towards customer care. I didn’t realize how awkward my decision was until I got to Munachi’s desk, bent over the girl’s system as if I wanted to check something while I had no idea what I was looking for, straightened up and my eyes landed on his. Right there, at that moment, I couldn´t remember what a stressful and bad day felt like.

Instantly, he caught me in his sweet snare.
Like he did the other customers in line, like he did Manuchi, he made me get lost in his bright demeanor.

He called my

...He called my name, “Ife.”

And I held on to that name instead of his face that was…as if it wasn't any more his than it is mine, as if he knew something about me that I didn’t know myself, like he saw a fragments of my inner life that were deeply repressed. Terrifying thing, you know? I couldn't say I'd felt that sort of intimacy with anyone. And I’d not been this close, keenly staring beyond those brown eyes. Now I understood why people felt themselves drawn to him even before they realized. His eyes made a person think that he heard things that no one else had ever heard, that he knew things no one had ever guessed before, and he had answers and comfort at the tip off his tongue.

But I must push this new discovery out of my head. If I could achieve that, I would be okay.

“Ife, you dey work here?”

I was shivering. I never shiver before any man. I Never thought I would no matter how much I was into the man. And definitely no when standing under the scrutiny of a simple nice guy like Oghene.

“I no know o.” He lowered his head and stoked his nape, then lifted his head again. That smile was there.

My bones squeezed, pinched, pressed against my muscles.

“I had a debit alert that I didn’t initiate. I am here to ratify it,” he said is perfect English, placing his hand on my arm and Jesus... Who was this man and what had he done to the bro Oghene I knew?
He withdrew his hand almost immediately, as if something reminded him that touching me was a wrong thing to do.

“Oghene," I said after he thanked Manuchi and turned to leave. "Thank you for the message last night.”

And… that was the last thing I wanted to say to him.

Hanging my embarrassment like a badge of honor, I left him gaping at me and walked straight to the bathroom to weep for my foolery.

This is excellent. I can't get enough of this. Thank you for this episode Rosemary33 🌹. Keep it coming.

Thanks for the update, it was a good one

Thank you for the update. It was awesome 👍

Thanks for the update.....weldone

Aunty Rosy do children's day for us na 😊😊😊

Nwiboko26:
Aunty Rosy do children's day for us na 😊😊😊

. Eweeehhhh. Me that is here eating children's day Chin-chin and drinking Yogurt

Rosemary33:
. Eweeehhhh. Me that is here eating children's day Chin-chin and drinking Yogurt

Aunty Biko nu🙏🙏🙏🙏🥴🥴🥴🥴

Rosemary33:
. Eweeehhhh. Me that is here eating children's day Chin-chin and drinking Yogurt

Ahhh3, you go children's day leave us for here, it is not fair oooo

Please Where's Rosemary33?? Please tell her to post update abeg.

do4luv14:



Ahhh3, you go children's day leave us for here, it is not fair oooo

IkeIgboNiile:
Please Where's Rosemary33?? Please tell her to post update abeg.

I done come back o

Nine
Oghene


I could still smell her like a memory of another world. I was drunk with it, with the scent of her like one would the scent of dawn, the half-recalled cadence of her voice, the feeling of her skin against my fingers. Every bit of me sang with the memory of her closeness.

“Thank you for the message last night,” she had said.

My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand.

While she walked off, I waited. Until the customer care lady tapped my hand and announced that she was done with me. I ran a wanting finger over the hard surface of the woman’s desk, and walked out of the bank while thinking, 'She was there, right within reach.'

“Thank you for the message last night...”

Sandwiching my lips between my teeth to stifle a grin, I waved down a Keke, negotiated the price, and stepped in. Two more passengers joined me after the driver had run a short distance.

“Thank you for the message last night...”

Na in be say she confam the message. She read am. I nibbled on my lower lip and allowed my mind to analyze what this confirmation meant. I dey feel say she even liked my yarn for that message. She had looked at me with...interest—something more? I wasn’t sure. I had dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from her, I caught sight of my reflection in the opaque glass of the man-trap door of the bank’s entrance, and saw myself, suddenly, as she might have seen me, my rough face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. The way the baggie coverall hung loose on my slim body. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I wished I was more put together the same way I was at Shukudi’s party.

She still had her eyes on me when I returned my attention to her. Maybe she was as afraid as I was that there was something being passed between us. Or she was breathing me in just as I was letting her come into my lungs, my eyes, my heart. I pushed my feelings of not being good enough to the back of my mind. After all, na hustle I dey, na shedas I dey find make I follow my mates them clean. And for person to clean up na money dey baff am. Nobody dey wear Prada for mechanic workshop.

It was that look, the confusing thing I saw on her face that made me touch her, but I had to withdraw my hand immediately because there was a subtle bolt shot through that contact to the rest of me. It was almost like it didn’t happen, but I knew it did. Iink she knew too.
I still remembered that feeling of watching her walk away, of me turning to leave too while I imagined that she might turn to watch me. I had placed one leg before the other just fine… but also felt like I was going to stumble.

As I stood outside, I finally registered what she was wearing. It was a beautiful skinny black suit with a shiny sheen. The skirt was short, exposing the lower part of her thighs.

I didn’t believe I would one day say this but...I loved it. That short shirt on her, I would totally want her to wear it every time, to show her legs. In my mind, I dared to explore her skin, thinking of how nice it would be to run my fingers from her legs up her thighs. I knew it was wrong to think of her in such a manner but for a while, I had been possessed by the imagination of her. She had been distant and closed away, and my imagination’s work had been all to make her present, all of her, to my mind and senses, the quickness of her and the mystery, the smoothness of her beauty, which was part of her extreme magnetism, and the warm look of those beautiful eyes.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted her, the more my desire rose and swelled into something unholy and not expected of a child of God like me. I closed his eyes and imagined the sweet disturbing way with which she had stared at me when my hand touched her arm before she walked away. I felt a little proud that she could feel something at that touch. I wasn’t sure about the intensity, but I knew it was there, and it made me happy the same way it made the thread pulling me to her, tug, tug at my heart—so hard, it hurt me. It was crazy to say that I had never been able to not think about her.

From the moment I really took notice of her in church, I developed a keen awareness of her presence in any space, any room. I hadn't been able to stop it, to block it out, no matter how much our situation suggested otherwise. That hurt too.

“Oil Mill,” the Keke driver announced, reminding me that I’d reached my destination.

I got down, paid for the ride. Oga Emeka said he would be waiting in front of the Bank by the Bus stop. Glancing around, there was no trace of him or the said vehicle, so I decided to give him a call.

“Nna eh, something came up o. One of the boys at my shop stole from me. Na police station we dey since. But I’ll be there soon. You don reach?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oya give me five...no, ten minutes.”

I had this feeling that the ten minutes would eventually turn to twenty or even thirty, as per say under normal levels na. Oga Emeke na kpoko for late coming, an unrepentant African timer. If the phrase ‘African Time’ had a face, it would be him. Him and his family. They always came late to church and functions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they missed the heavenly bus when the saints would be called.

Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I decided to stroll along the market and shop for fruits; Cucumber and watermelon way I wan use do smoothie. I blended the remaining ones and drank last night before sleeping and had woken up with the thought of Ife together with one kain cold and fever wain be like say I wan faint. I concluded it was malaria because e don teh since I treated malaria. But as I rush kitchen cabinet make I grab paracetamol, it occurred to me that I mustn’t take drugs on an empty stomach, and as I didn't like tea, I decided to warm Shukudi's wife's soup and eat small eba. O’boy eh, it was hunger o. Na hunger been hook me for neck like an undersized bowtie. As I dey swallow the eba, I begin dey breathe well. Come dey even reason Ife matter wela. See ehn, anybody that told you that being in love makes one lose appetite, my brother, no reason that person. Chop. Chop o, make your eyes clear so you fit plan your next strategy.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned.

“Sarima!” The lady that served Bro Abraham of the sanitation department breakfast because ‘God told her to end the relationship,’ and got married two Saturdays later. Indeed, Jehovah Ebenezer dey quick arrange marriage partners for some special people. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” she said, raising the sack bag in her hand for me to see. “You?”

“I’m supposed to meet with Sir Emeka here, but he is running late,” I hoped she still remembered Oga Emeka though, it’d been almost two years since she left St Andrews after her wedding to this man who had appeared from nowhere, joined the youth fellowship, attended for a while and then approached her with a marriage offer.

“Sir Emeka...Oh, the one in the church’s council? How is he and everyone?”

“He is fine, and we are all good.”

We allowed a short silence. A man hurried past me, roughly brushing my shoulder and sputtering profanity as he walked by.

“You decided to get yourself some things while you wait,” she asked.

There was a sad smile on her lips, and that look on her face, like person wey life don dash several slaps come barb am bololo join.

“But bro Oghene is it not a woman that is supposed to be doing this for you?”

“I told you I just want to get a few things for myself instead of standing by the road. But no, I am not married yet, I know that is what you want to hear.”

She laughed. There...that sadness she was trying to hide. And as I looked deeper, I saw how much she’d changed, her skin looked shrunken like a plant lacking water, and her cropped hair had more strands of gray than my maleh own.

“Samira, are you okay?”

She didn’t reply, I felt she was struggling inside. But that smile was still on her lips.

“How is your family, your husband and children?”

“Husband?” she shook her head and lowered her gaze, then looked up again. “We are not together again.”

The confession shocked me to my bones that when a load carrier brushed my leg with the Jaggard rim of his wheelbarrow, giving my coverall a little tear, I didn’t make a fuss. “I-I am so sorry, Sarima.”

“Hm-Mm.” she shook her head. “No, Bro Oghene, don’t do that. I saw this day coming. He was an alcoholic like you warned me—”

I did warn her. Not because I suspected that there was something off about that guy even though he was doing pass himself, trying to be everywhere in church when, looking closely, he was covering up for his rot. I knew about his secret like I always knew about things I was privileged to know, I dreamt of filthiness and couldn’t hold my disapproval when Samira was insisting that it was God who told her to leave Abraham.

“He cheated on me too. On several occasions before marriage.”

“But why did you go ahead with the marriage still?”

“My family. He was very generous to them. He bought a Camry for my brother which he is using for bolt rides now. He renovated our house and also opened a business for my father. I saw how happy they were and didn’t want to take that away.”

“Eiy, Samira...”

“I thought I could change him—”

“Which kain figure of speech be that? Sarima?”

She hissed, “Bro Oghene it’s a long story.”

And I would have loved to hear every bit of it and probably know what was going on in her life now, but my phone rang. Oga Emeka had arrived, and I had to leave.

“How is bro Abraham?” she asked as I made to leave.

“He is fine. Married now.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Can I... Can I have your number again? I lost my former phone so I...I...”

“No problem. We need to talk.”

...

“No problem. We need to talk.” I took her phone, typed my number, gave it back to her, and walked off.

O’boy, which kain kasala Sarima enter so? Sarima! Sister in the Lord. How was it that she knew who this guy was and still ended up with him? Tell me about; “Though he drinks and chases women around, I know he will change when we finally settle down.” What kain agbasa bridge be that?

Then, for some disturbing reason, I thought of Ifenkili and the man she met at the wedding, the same man she left Shukudi’s party with.

Based on base, e clear say the guy na correct junki way person suppose change am for am.
Were they still together? After that slight connection at the bank today, I doubt if she was serious with him. Or she hadn’t made up her mind about him yet.

Still, she had followed him yesterday.

Maybe they parted ways somewhere...nothing really happened.

What if something actually happened between them?

What if so—why would that cause me pain?

Because I wanted to be the only one touching her. I fear I would even be envious of every dress she ever wears, the tops, the trousers going soft where they rub her inner thighs. Every rain that ever falls upon her lips, every piece of bread upon her tongue. I wanted to breathe her, let her fill up my chest until my ribs strained and I broke open like ripe fruit beneath a paring knife. I might get wounded in the process, but I would teach my body to regrow my heart each time I gave it to her, over and over and over again.

But then I thought, this was useless. The vexation of heart like the bible called it. I should stop getting so worked up over Ife before it would begin to give a negative vibe and scare her away from me. Though I was so much attracted to her, she was a grown woman capable of making decisions and taking responsibility. However...I thought of Smira and frowned. I didn’t want the same thing to happen to Ife.

It would not happen to her because she was mine. I’d end up with her.

What if that never happened?

God forbid. I brought out my phone as I crossed to the other side of the road. My intention was to dial Oga Emeka and ask him where he was, but I dialed Ife instead, and she picked at first ring.

Hei, Jesus!

“Bro, Oghene,” she said distractingly.

“You must be busy,” I said, sounding stupid to my ears.

“Mm.”

“What are you doing this evening?” What? Why was I asking her that? I definitely didn’t have any plans for her.

She paused for a while, then. “I have a date.”
With a guy? I wanted to ask but I dared not.

“Don’t go,” I said, shocking myself.

“What?” She was surprised too.

“I said, you shouldn’t go.”

I cut the call before she replied, my heart beating gbim-gbim. My hands trembling.

Oghenevowede, what have you done?

Thank you very much for this wonderful update. You are exceptional

Thank you for this update. Bro Oghene is getter bolder i like that. Rosemary33 please i hope this isn't the last update for the week. Biko i hope it's not.

Rosemary33
I done come back o

Welcome back. We've really missed you.

IkeIgboNiile:
Thank you for this update. Bro Oghene is getter bolder i like that. Rosemary33 please i hope this isn't the last update for the week. Biko i hope it's not.

Oliver twist.

Abeg make una bvy my books o
Many Waters
Akwaugo
God Michael and Me
Paradise
My latest is Amongst A Thousand Stars

Help my ministry by supporting this author o

Thank you❤️

Rosemary33:
Abeg make una bvy my books o
Many Waters
Akwaugo
God Michael and Me
Paradise
My latest is Amongst A Thousand Stars

Help my ministry by supporting this author o

2 details Miss from the list

by the way you need a site for your stories, let we your fans and readers push traffic to there so you can make cool csh,

buh no forget you numero uno fans ooo 😁😁😁🚶‍♂🚶‍♂

Wait oooo whatchama seeing so, devilspenis Ahbi what is that mods name again,

what's happening biko

Rosemary33
Oliver twist.

I want some more 😋

Rosemary33:
Abeg make una bvy my books o
Many Waters
Akwaugo
God Michael and Me
Paradise
My latest is Amongst A Thousand Stars

Help my ministry by supporting this author o

Which site can one access and buy?