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{8}

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    Things would have been better, I said, if I had not remarried but stayed single. Ha! Scratch that out. Things were even better now Amos and I had gotten so close. He no longer got angry. . . And everything was going pretty well.






**






“Jenna, bring me my bag. It’s upstairs.” I got ready to go to class. It’s been four years already. Hm. Time flies.


“Ready for class?”


“Mm, not without you driving me,” I rubbed my protruded belly, and smiled halfway.


“Come here,” he pulled me closer. . . The man I promised to love and cherish to the very end.


“What now?”


His hand was on my stomach.


“Oh! He kicked.” I gave a slight groan. I smiled, as he lowered his head to listen to the baby go on inside. “He’s just like his father…”


“And stubborn like his mother,” Amos teased. He wiggled my nose, and I laughed. “Hon, I’m going to be late.” I kissed him and watched Jenna come down the stairs.


“Here, mom,”


“Thanks, dear.” I collected the classy brown leather bag from her; a gift from one of Amos’ many cousins, abroad. Giving Jenna the usual instructions. “Make sure you close all doors properly. The backdoor especially. Feed your brothers. Make sure they bathe early. You know how they are. And also don’t forget to keep the place in the right order. It’s important…” she saw us to the front door, and asked, “Anything else?”


  Amos answered before me, “Not one she can mention when she’s late,” He looked down at my belly, and exhaled. “Whoo!” he said, “Women sure hell tries.”


  “You and your fancy accent,” I teased and made to step out. “Wait, hon,” I said, and slid my fingers into my bag, reaching for the zip on one side of its interior. “Here, Jenna. For you and the kids.” I pulled out a one-thousand naira note, handing it to her. “Make sure you buy some snacks with it. Don’t open the door oo. Give Usman through the window. Okay?”


  She nodded.


  Amos and I walked to the car, and Usman made to open the gate. We were about to get into it, when a woman in a cute jacket and dashing pants, pushed Usman out of the way and made toward us. “If it isn’t the slutty one night stand—”


  “Gabrielle!”


  “Missed me?”





________°°°°°°°°°°°°
                °°°°°°°°°°°°

{7}

  My lips quivered as he said. “B-but why?” I asked.

  Brother Jerome pulled up in front of a white building—Amos’s house. “Daddy, we’re here,”

   My fingers trembled.

  “Call Evangelist Tayo,” Daddy instructed. “Tell him we are on a dangerous mission!”

  Brother Jerome agreed. “Okay, Daddy.”

  Pastor Vincent called again. “Sister Bisi?”

  Sister Bisola answered the call.

  Put a call through to the rest of the band. The prayer band,” he said, “Make sure they are here… in not less than 20 minutes.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  They got busy. Sister Bisola put a call through, as Brother Jerome went about swiping the screen of his phone. With it put close to his ear, he groaned and moved his fist in the air, and brought it down.

  “What is it, Brother Jerome?” Daddy noticed his anxiety.

  “Daddy, Evangelist Tayo is not picking.”

  I lowered my face. “What did daddy mean by ‘we’re on a dangerous mission’? Has the case gotten worse?”

  “Daddy, Sister Kemi and the rest of the band are coming. They’re on their way. “Sister Bisola informed.

  Daddy told everyone to come down and requested for a bottle of olive oil to be brought. The olive oil was brought and we walked to the gate. Daddy poured half of the oil on the ground right there, and he made to knock.

  “Who be that?!” Usman called. “Na now I wan sleep una know say you go come.”

  I almost laughed but held it in. Usman opened the gate and we walked in. “Ah! Madam! Long time oo.” He said with hands raised.

  “Oga dey house?” I acted like I had no clue.

  “Er… erm… erm…”

  “Let’s just go in,” Pastor Vincent cut him short. He led the way, and we followed. Looking at the white building, with its two pillars standing out in front, he stood, as though admiring the beautiful design, shook his head, and signalled to us to follow, with his five fingers moving lightly in the air.

  “Stop!” he halted, and we did.

  All these delays, I thought within me and blew the air with my mouth.

  Daddy sprinkled oil on the ground and asked us to walk over it. “Do not let your feet touch it,” came his instructions.

  The front door was left wide open, and two kids came running, as angry groans filled the air.

  “We cannot stay here, Jenna. Daddy’s gone mad.” The little one said.

  “Where is your mother?” I asked, stunned.

  “We don’t know.” Jenna, the girl, replied. I could tell her age now by looking well. She looked not more than 15.

  “You don’t know where your Mom is?” I was shocked Gabrielle had left them.

  “Auntie?” the little one called to my hearing. “Why is father acting that way?” the way he asked made me emotional.

  “Ah!” Pastor Vincent cut his question short. “Where is he? I need to see him.” He went off in a flash and was in the large living room before we knew it.

  I told the kids to wait outside so they wouldn’t witness a thing. I walked behind and let Brother Jerome and Sister Bisi go in before I did.

  Amos was on the floor, spitting and growling. He was gnashing his teeth along, as he sat, bound to the balusters.

  “Oh, my husband!” came my cries. Hot beads of sweat trickled down, as my face laid wet from the hotness the skin around that area emitted. My husband was in a terrible condition, I could see. Pastor Vincent began praying, and in time—the rest of the people joined.

  Minister Ubaka… thank God! One of the Ministers in the church walked right in: A big bible was stuck in his hand, and a bigger bottle of oil lapped perfectly in his pit. He began speaking in tongues, as Amos snarled and uttered loudly. “Where is your mother?!” Minister Ubaka asked. “Step forth!”

  I had no choice but to do as commanded.


  “Oh, your mother is evil,” Minister Ubaka started—I shuddered. Mom had been this prayerful Christian. What changed?

  “Haha. Your mother is back home conniving with the devil—”

  I was lost. How could she possibly be conniving with the devil, when—” I remembered Baba. Is Baba at our house?

  “Kneel down!” Minister Ubaka ordered. “Kneel down!” he shouted again.

  I knelt and looked up at him. He opened the bottle of olive oil and poured its content on my head, letting it pour down. “That native doctor you went to see… hahaha! His time is up!” he began rubbing my forehead with his hand, as he laughed and shook me on the floor. I was starting to feel dizzy from the exercise, though I remained strong. Whatever Baba did to me, I needed it to be removed.

  “What do you mean by Mama is conniving with the devil in our house…?” I wanted to ask.

  “Oh… Jesus!!! Jesus!!!” Minister Ubaka started shouting.

  “I will not let you free the boy,” a voice said.

  I opened my eyes and saw Mom and the native doctor standing beside my husband. Mom was dressed in red—a gown that covered her toes, while Baba was half-naked.

  “Mom, what did I do to you?”

  “This is not your fight, Habibat!” she stamped her foot on the floor and looked at Baba. “Do to him whatever you want.”

  Everyone gathered around me, including Minister Ubaka, started speaking in tongues.

  “No! No, he is mine…!”

  “Mom…” I was too weak to pray. I could only watch as light and darkness wrestled—something I’d never seen.

  Mom blew up in flames before my eyes, after much prayers, and Baba Iyati roared and disappeared into the ground. It was as though everything that was going on was being played on a screen. Only that it was happening for real. . .It was very real. Mom’s burnt flesh lay on the floor.

  “H-Habibat?” Amos called sanely. He looked at the chains he was bound in, and at me, making heavy tears drop from my eyes.

  “A-Amos?” I couldn’t believe it. I rushed towards him and crouched beside him. Pastor Vincent instructed for the chains to be removed.

  “The Lord has done it!” Pastor Vincent praised.

  “He has done it again. . .Yes, he has—” I put my arms around Amos and smiled joyfully.


**


  A year had gone by since Mom died and Amos and I got back together. We were living happily as a family. With Jenna. Henry. The twins. And sometimes Dad who came to visit. Things were going well, though I wished it wouldn’t have been this way, with Mom not in the picture. Mom took a different path. A path never meant for someone who called herself a ‘true’ Christian. Amos had known about everything, thanks to me. I spared no details, telling him what had transpired between Baba and me, and how temporary mad he had gone. He was dumbfounded on hearing it all. I doubted if he was ever going to forgive me, but he did. Things were going well for the both of us, and I wished we’d never have to drift apart.



—-_—


  “Here’s your food, honey,”…it had seemed like a dream. The sound the tumbler made—that clinking sound—made me realize it was all ‘real’.

  “Hon, what’s this?” I smiled, as I asked.

  “Don’t tell me you forgot?” He arched his brows at me, and I laughed.

  “Forgot what?”

  He reminded, “Today is the day I asked you to marry me. May 23rd.”

  I remembered. I was blushing all this while, staring down at the tray, fingers itching to check what Amos had in store.

  “Don’t forget to pray first,”

  I was surprised he said the ‘P-word. “You said ‘pray’?”

  He winked at me and got up from beside me.

  It was true Amos and I had had so many ups and downs. But we were getting to stay without any disagreements. And even getting to know each other… pretty well.

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{6}

They said you get what you want if you give your all. I can really testify. You all don't want to miss this great story. Trust me, it's worth reading

  Amos couldn’t stop pestering me, even after that day—to the extent mom called and sat me down: “We need to get this man to completely forget about you,” she said, “I know a man who can help.”

  I followed her advice and walked with her. Mama had taken me to one Baba’s place. His name was ‘Baba Iyati’—a powerful man, as made known by her. His charms were known, and everyone who went to his refuge spoke of how he worked miracles. I, for one, hoped they were right.

  “We have arrived,” Mom said and pulled over in a narrow path. “This should lead us to Baba’s place.” She continued.

  We got down and followed the narrow path, lined with bushes. The scorching sun was beating our necks, our feet sore after walking for something that seemed for hours, though it was some minutes… if well checked.

  Baba was doing some incantations when we arrived. He looked up with a grin on his face, and Mom asked me to wait before going to meet him. “I am coming, my daughter—” she said and entered the tent. I wouldn’t exactly say it was a ‘tent’. It had some white nylons covering it to the very top. The skulls and the dolls—scary, creepy dolls—some without legs, showing it was the place.

  “You can come in now,” Mom’s voice led me in. I sat on the ground, with my legs placed on each other. Baba looked at me, then at Mama. He looked me to the clouds and hummed in a tone that sent shivers up my covered spine. Mom was busy staring at him, beaming with smiles. I knew what her smile told—my daughter was going to be finally free!

  “Take this bottle,” Baba said. “Make sure you rub the content on your body at exactly 3.” He handed me a brown bottle as soon as he was done humming. He had taken the bottle out of the mortar beside. He took a chalk and asked me to come closer, made a circle on my head, and spat on my face—the grossest thing ever!

  “Mom, this was never in the plan…”

  “Just do as Baba says.” Mom said.

  We stood up and thanked him, left the place, not looking back, as instructed. Baba had told us to follow a different path from the one we followed. Doing as we were told, we came upon a crossroad, where a man stood with his hand stretched out. “A path has been made for you,” he said. His eyes were rolled, and his lips visibly chapped. His left hand signalled for us to follow, and we did, though scared. We met some maidens on the road. Three. They were fully clothed in white and none talking to us. We said nothing… but passed, reaching a road where Mom’s car stood waiting. “Finally!”

××××

  “Babe, I’m sorry. I mean it,” Amos had come at exactly the time I’d rubbed the substance.

  The substance was smelly—and milky. It had mixed with my body to my surprise, turning brown at every rub.

  I’ll see if he’s going to pester me further after this, I thought and grinned on the outside. “Babe?” I called.

  “I swear, I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

  I left the door and moved closer. “Anything?”

  He replied speedily, “Yes, anything,”

  I said, and hugged him. “It’s okay, baby. It’s fine.”

  He pushed me roughly. “What-what am I doing here?”

  I acted, though happy. “W-what are you doing here?”

  “Where… where am I?”

  Baba Iyati, you’re the best! I chuckled and grinned inside.

  “Where is everyone? Mom? Dad? Gabrielle?”

  I stopped grinning and looked at him. “A-Amos?”

  “Gabrielle!” he took off his clothes in seconds. “Gabrielle!” Amos had gone mad.

  I was unable to hold him. He was out on the streets, loose and miserable. I shouted like never before, alerting everyone, including Mom. “Mom, you see what you’ve done? Amos has gone mad!”

  “I did it for you, my daughter. I did it for you.” She said.

  “Did it for me?” I asked, “how is making the man I love mad… ‘doing it for me’?”

  “Habibat, calm down…”

  I yelled: “Don’t tell me to calm down! Amos is outside!”

  Dad came out. “What is happening here?”

  I folded my arms and tried not to look at him.

  “Is the kids’ noise not enough? Why do you two have to add to it?” he went mad with rage.

  I was ready to explain what had happened from the beginning. Mom kept giving me signs. One to show that I shouldn’t talk. But I ignored her and went right ahead in telling him. “Dad, just imagine what Mom did,”

  “Habibat!” Mom called.

  My face was drenched—” Mom had the guts to lie to me, daddy. She took me to one Baba’s place and deceived me into thinking I was going to get my husband off my back….”

  “Habibat, shut up!” Mom yelled.

  “No, Mom. I won’t shut up,” I said. “I won’t shut up until Dad knows everything that went on.” I wasn’t going to keep him in the dark. I was going to tell him everything from the very beginning.

  “Latifah, so this is what you have been doing?” Dad was shocked when I was done narrating. He couldn’t believe Mom and I had gone to a native doctor’s house.

  “My husband,” Mom made to explain. “I only did it for our daughter. Ọmọbinrin wa.”

  “You did it for yourself, mother. Yourself!”

  “That’s a lie!” Mom growled. “I told you to wait outside while I talked with Baba,” she said, “I was the one who told Baba to give you a different charm. Yes! I did!”

  I shook my head in pain. “Mom, how could you?”

  “That boy was so foolish to send me away…”

  “So this is all about that day?” I replayed the time Mama had left Amos’s house.

  “And yet you call yourself a Christian?” Dad listened with face twitching. “Ah! I am disappointed.” He said, and left.

  Mom made to touch me… and I pushed her away. “You and Baba better know what you did to Amos.” I thought after that and made for the couch. I took up my leopard print bag, and made for where Mom kept her keys. It was on the table—in the middle of our medium-sized living room. I seized it and hurried out, got into the car, and zoomed off.

  I was driving when my phone rang. And I checked to see who the caller was, seeing an unknown number, as I made to answer. “Hello?”

  “Where is my husband?” Gabrielle’s voice rang.

  “G-Gabrielle?”

  “Where is my husband, you bitch? What have you done to him?”

  “Y-your husband?” I pretended not to know. “Um, h-how d-did you get my number?” I stammered.

  “Amos’ diary has your fingerprints everywhere,” she said, “He hasn’t come home for days.”

  “D-days?”

  “Yes. Two days, actually. Have you seen him?”

  My mouth went dry. “N-no.”

  “Alright. Will hang up now.”

  My phone went beep. I breathed heavily where I was, keeping my eyes on the road. I could see the path clearly now; the place which had led to Baba’s house. “I’m going to set things right,” I said with all certainties. I was ready to confront Baba, determined to do anything just to have my husband back.

  “Where are you going?!” A voice called behind. I was glued to my chair.

  “Jesus!”

  “That name cannot save you. You have soiled your hands and harmed the pure.”

  “Take up your bible and confess your sins. Only God has the final say!” A voice echoed in my head, and I did as I was told. I remembered Mom had a bible she usually kept in the car. It was next to the brake; the perfect timing to have it grabbed. Jehovah has the final say. Lord, I am really sorry for my sins, I said in my mind, with all sincerity. It was never my intention to harm Amos. Mom had misled me, and now the innocent was suffering.

  “Hahahaha! Hahahahaha!”

  “You lie!” I raised the bible in the air and turned to confront the devil. She was shining like the morning sun, completely different from the devil said to be black and with a long tail. She was beautiful; her face beautified with rings—and hands having bangles that dangled and made rhythmic sounds with every move. I wasn’t scared a bit looking at her. Not when I was in Christ. I’d confessed my sins and changed my mind about confronting Baba. This was a battle I needed to win. “Your words are no match for mine!”

  Her words echoed all over; my lioness’ side activated, as I began speaking in tongues.

  “Hahahahahaha! Hahahahaha!”

  I continued praying. I’d prayed for what seemed like hours, though it was barely some minutes. I opened my eyes to find myself alone, and the place quiet.

  “Now, go. Go and never come back here.” The voice came again.

  I wasted no time starting the car, leaving a pack of dust behind at the kick. I was back home again, contemplating whether to call our pastor. My phone jolted me… and I saw the same number that had called before. “Gabrielle?” My heart skipped; shaky thumb made to swipe, as a voice came in…

  “You monster!” I was taken aback by the sound.

  “What have you done to my husband?”

  I wondered how she had found him. “You mean Amos? How-how did you…?”

  “You did this to get back at us, didn’t you? What has my family done to you?”

  “Gabrielle, calm down!” I yelled into the phone.

  “You’re telling me to calm down?”

  “Grrh!”

  “My husband’s in a terrible condition and you’re telling me to calm down?”

  Amos’ voice was echoing in the background.

  “Where are you now?” …it was stupid to ask.

  “At the mansion.”

  I heaved a sigh and looked at the heavens. “O-okay. I’m coming.”

  “You can save that for God knows when. I’m done with this marriage!” she ended the call.

  I was shaken a bit, hating myself, and wishing I had never listened to mama. I picked up my bag and walked back to the car, got inside—and drove off in a haste.

  I went to Pastor Vincent, our area pastor, told him everything—from how I had gone to Baba Iyati’s house to how I’d applied the milky substance, confessing my sins once again, as we prayed. We drove to Amos’ house, with Sister Bisola and brother Jerome following in the van. We hadn’t even gotten to the mansion when Pastor Vincent burst into tongues and lit the whole place up. Brother Jerome kept driving, as Pastor Vincent went on conversing. And then suddenly, he said, “We need more people—”

Not many changed, but this is my signature story cause it's known all over. (Whispers) I got something for y'all

{5}

  Amos and I had had another argument—the street of Abiodun heard our voice.

  “What do you mean she can’t stay here?”

  “Habibat, your mother has stayed longer than I expected. This isn’t what we planned.”

  “Well, this is my house and I can bring in my mother whenever I want. My husband’s house. What has come over you?”…the house was on fire.

  Mama heard us arguing from her room and landed in ours. She could tell Amos didn’t want her.

  “My daughter, it’s okay. I don’t like how you are talking back at your husband,” she said.

  “Mama, I must talk!” I retorted. “He’s the one who started it,” I said in Yoruba. “Ah-ah. What is it?”

  “My decision is final, Habibat. It’s either your Mom leaves or…”

  “Or what?!” I asked deeply. I was drenched with sweat, panting wildly. What has come over him? I asked out loud, “Babe, what has come over you?” I rolled my eyes and said, “This isn’t you, I must say,” I added, “Ever since you got back from London you’ve been acting weird.”

  “Habibat, it’s okay!” Mom’s voice calmed me down. “It’s okay.” I could see she was almost crying.

  “Mom…”

  “It’s okay, my daughter. I don’t want to cause problems between you and your husband.” She said in pain.

  I glared at Amos as she left, then followed her. Her belongings were already packed. I couldn’t help but show my surprise. “H-how…?”

  “I was planning on telling you,” she said.

  “Telling me wh-when?”

  “I noticed your husband wasn’t comfortable having me here…”

  I called. “Mama?”

  “It’s okay, my dear. I know it’s the devil’s work.” She sniffed.

  I hugged her and buried my head in her neck. “Everything will be fine,” I said.

  Mama left our house and I watched with a broken heart. I knew Amos and I weren’t going to be the same again—countless arguments, every day.

  There was a time I was in the kitchen, preparing the kids’ lunch bags—for school. Amos had come in, and with an angry look on his face, had requested that I dropped them and attended to him. I wasn’t expecting what came next. He took the bags from me and threw them away when I pretended not to hear. “A-Amos…” his anger ruled him. He gripped me and flung me to the opposite side, where the kitchen stand stood. I fell and hit my head on the edge, remembering nothing, then—

**

  “Ah!” I woke up to the stinging pain, as a voice called.

  “You’re awake,”

  I shifted back. “A-Amos,”

  He went on to apologize. “I’m sorry, baby,” he placed his right hand on mine.

  “You’re sorry?” I felt my head, groaning in pain. “You’re sorry?!”

  “Please forgive me.”

  Tears fell from my eyes. I’d never have believed if one told me—Amos laying his fingers on me—totally out of this world! I was in our room, a wrapper covering my legs. The kids were nowhere in sight, getting me scared. “My kids. Where are they?” I asked panic-stricken, dreading Amos had done something to them.

  “They’re in the living room,”

  “Do they know…?”

   “No.” His Adam’s apple moved, as his head turned.

  “How could you do such a thing? Pushing me like that?”

  “It was never what I intended,”

  “Amos, haven’t I been nice to you? What changed?”

  “You have been nice to me.” He got his eyes on me. “I’m so sorry, honey. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “You don’t know?” I tried not to get angry but it was hard. “Amos, you know I can deal with the fact that you’re not religious and you get angry at some point… but touching me?” I paused. “That’s just far.” I looked away, jaw clenching. Several times I had told myself that it wouldn’t reach the level of him touching me; my heart was filled with heaviness, pain—and even more. I wanted him out of my sight but dreaded saying it, then I found courage: “Please leave. Go!”

  “B-babe?”

  “If I had known you’d turn out like this, I wouldn’t have married you.” We both looked at each other, and then he left.

  I sat, crying on the bed, wishing I’d be healed from the pain and never have to think of what had happened.

  And then came regret…

*    *    *

  “I want a divorce. We’re not compatible.”

Amos took the paper and signed it, and I was finally free.

  “Hon—” someone shook me. “Hon, wake up. You haven’t eaten.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I muttered and opened my eyes. “Amos!”

  “Are you still angry with me?”

   I gave no response. If he’s trying to make up for what he’s done, he should know it’d never work.

  “Habibat, please…”

  I turned my head to the side. “Please go. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” I turned down his gesture. I fancied having breakfast in bed but wasn’t feeling it. I could hear my stomach rumbling, but I didn’t want to get up and let him win.

  “Your food is here,” …I heard.

  The door came close and I sighed where I laid. “He thinks he can buy me back with his pretentious ways.” I locked my eyelids back.

  I got up later and went to where the food was placed. “Rice and turkey. Hm.” I closed it back and shrugged my shoulders. I won’t let you win, Amos, I remembered the dream. I loved my husband so much, so what would make me think of getting a divorce?

  Maybe you should forgive him, my mind rose. “Forgive him?” I thought aloud. I didn’t think forgiving him would be a better option. I was going to hold onto the grudge and make him feel miserable just how he made me when we quarrelled and I went begging. I won’t forgive him until three weeks have passed, I thought.

  The fourth day came…

  “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you for days. Can you please forgive me?” I was the one asking for forgiveness. It was funny, cause I wanted to torture him.

  “It’s okay, hon,” He said and rose to his feet. We hugged and kissed, and then he caressed my cheeks. “We’re cool.” He said as a knock came on the door.

  “Who’s there?” We asked at the same time.

  “Oga, na me,” We pulled away, hearing Usman, our gateman.

  “Usman?” Amos went to open the door.

  “Oga, na one woman carry me come,” Usman said, as Amos opened the door.

  “Hello, handsome—” a woman with a fine accent greeted.

  “Baby, who is that?” I marched forward and slid my arm under his.

  “His wife, b***h!”

  Does Amos have another woman? My heart sank in my boots. “W-wife?”

  “Henry? Jenna?” The woman called. Two lovely kids appeared as she did; one about the size of my kids, and the other—can’t say.

  I looked at Amos and he looked at me. “Babe, what is this?”

  His lips were frozen.

  The weird lady pushed me out of the way and marched in like she owned the house. “Wench, help me with my bags!”

  Amos had lots of explanations to do.

  The woman walked to one of the sofas and sat down. “Get me a bottle of water, will you?” she said to me.

  “Huh?” I stood speechless.

  “Mom, we have a bottle in one of the bags, remember?” Her son reminded. His sister handed him one and he passed a bottle to their mother.

  “Thank you, son.” The woman said.

  It was as if I was watching a Zee World series.

  “What are you doing here, Gabrielle?”

  So that was her name? Gabrielle—

  “I missed my hubby, that’s what,” The fair woman replied.

  “Amos, how could you?” I finally got myself. “How could you lie to me? Tell me, how could you?” I remembered when he had gone to London. So it was his family he visited there? “You completely made a fool out of me, Amos. I trusted you!” I burst into tears. My mind was messed up and I was starting to see double.

  “Oh, dear girl,” Gabrielle said. “You see, hubby here told me about a girl he had a thing for… sort of a one night stand… that he got pregnant.”

  “A one night stand?” I looked at Amos.

  Gabrielle had her four fingers over her lips, leaving her thumb. “Hubby wasn’t lying, was he?” she stood up and walked to me, looking at my stomach. “You nasty liar,” she turned with shoulders raised. “I thought you told me she was preggy?”

  Her kids said with a British accent. “Daddy’s a liar.” They laughed.

  So they’ve been in touch, too?

  Their mother’s voice drowned my thoughts out. “Oh, no matter, my dear ones,” she chuckled and walked back to the sofa. “So,” she said, “Nigeria’s changed!” she looked at us both and got her legs crossed. “Which one of you would like to fill me in? It’s been ages, my darlings!” she took up the transparent bottle and drank from it. “I’m sorry, did you not hear me?”

  I was lost and short for words. I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. What…? How?!

  “Perhaps you’ve gotten an ear blocked—”

  I looked at Amos, snapping out of ‘shock land’. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” I said, and made for the stairs. I hurried to our room and shut the door—slam! Amos came in. “Habiba-at, I can explain,” he said shakily.

  “You’ve been lying to me all this time, Amos! What’s there to explain?” I gritted. I told no one in particular: “He’s been lying to me. He’s been lying to me—” it seemed I was running mad. I made for my box. A large purple box which stood at the far end. I’d planned on getting something inside but instead saw myself packing.

  “Habibat, you have to listen to me…”

  “Listen to you?!” I thought about my kids—and felt an even greater pain. All I could think of was getting them out of there and going back to my father’s house. My eyes were greatly blinded: By hurt—and by pain; the love I was once felt, now vanishing into thin air.

  “Babe! Babe!” Jerked back and forth, I was made to stare the devil in the eye.

  “A-Amos?” It was all happening so fast. The man I loved and cherished above all men. . .Nothing but a liar! “Touch me one more time and I’ll push this in the very place you least expect!” I took up the scissors after hurriedly pulling away. It was in the net of my box.

  “Babe, just listen to me,”

  “You have five minutes to explain. Go.”

  He began: “I wanted to tell you…”

  “Tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to find out like this…”

  “That you had a wife and kids abroad? Wow!”

  “I-I’m sorry,”

  “Sorry for yourself!”

  “Really, I am.”

  “I swear, I’ll drive this into you if you don’t stop!” I showed him the end of the scissors. I was dead serious.

  There were no photos or signs to tell he was married to some woman abroad. I’d gone from bad to worse! “It’s like I said,” I told him, “I wouldn’t have married you.” I remembered what I said days ago, and my tears flowed once more.

  It was true Amos was the one seeing me through school… but I had cut all ties and gone my way. He kept coming back, for reasons I do not know. Seeing him only made me angry.

“Please, my love. Please come back. I miss you.” Amos had visited some days after.

  “Seriously? You’re still here?” I asked with furious brows.

  “I’m here, honey,” he said. “And I’m not leaving until…”

  “Do you not get it?” I laughed. “Honey?” I laughed again. “You know, you have some nerves coming here, Amos. I could hit you with this broom… but I won’t! Please leave now or I’ll call the neighbours. . .And even release our dogs on you!” I meant every word. “You really have no shame, Mr Adeoyi. No shame at all.”

  He made to kneel—

  Then I shouted. “Ah-ah! Wetin?”

  “Habibat, please come back. I’ll explain everything,”

  I said in Yoruba. “Mr Man, stand up and stop disgracing yourself. Just look at you.” I’m sure he felt embarrassed. “Ah-ah. This one you come here… be like say your wife don japa…” I joked in pidgin.

  “Habibat…”

  “You still dey talk? Whisky!” I started calling my dog. There were three. One was Bruno, the other Whisky. And the last… Fine Girl. She was named because of the way her skin glittered. She was white and beautiful.

  Amos still stayed, pleading on the ground. His black trouser was dusty, I could see. He was sweating all over despite the slight breeze that was blowing. I could tell he was scared, though determined to get me back.

  “I won’t leave until you come with me, Habibat. You’re my life… my gold…”

  “Mm. You go soon say silver,” I laughed and threw my head backwards, and back again.

  “I miss you and the twins.”

  I was getting bored with the whole ‘miss miss’. Will someone get those dogs? I thought angrily.

  “Mommy…”

  “Oya, get out!” I said to Amos, not caring if he was hurt. I pushed the door, and he stood up abruptly, holding it.

  “Habibat, please…”

  “I said ‘Get out!’ ” I shouted to the hearing of everyone, finally getting it closed.

  “Habibat!” Memories came crawling back. “I’ll be leaving for London, honey. Uncle and coz need me.” I’d believed everything. Even believed he was taking a course over there… as stated. I landed on the floor as hot tears escaped their glands. The twins came forward and held me—they were the ones who strengthened me.

{4}

  For days Amos ignored me. He slept in the visitor room and avoided me. Our quarrel began when I hadn’t revealed the pregnancy on my own. I had to sleep in the bedroom all by myself, sulking and wishing that I could talk to him, and even show him how much he hurt me.
  “Amos—” the coldness written all over his face made me stop. The ceramic plate in the plate rack caught my eyes, and I shifted, taking it. “You haven’t eaten since morning. . . Are you hungry?” I asked, observing him for a moment.
  “No.” he said and left the kitchen.
  My heart felt heavy, watching him leave. Cold, shaky, and with my breathing beyond normal, I kept the plate back in the rack and made for the sink—got the water running, and began wetting my face. O yẹ ki o ti sọ fun u…you should have told him, a voice rasped in my head. This is really my fault, I sighed with deep regret, turning and backing the sink. I wished I had told Amos on time, about the pregnancy. Looking down at my stomach, feeling a sharp pain cut across, I bit my underlip and clasped the sink, yelling at my loudest, as Amos and the twins came running. “Babe. Babe, what is it?”
  I was too weak to talk, grinding my teeth. The sight of the blood on my straight, house gown made my body congeal. I could only watch as Amos raised me. “Kowe, bring me my keys!” his voice loudened.
  My mind spiralled, and my throat tightened, as I groaned. I was taken to the car, one hand on Amos’ shoulder—taken in, I was made to lie, while my abdomen contracted. “You will be okay, babe.” My husband’s voice caught me, the remaining of it drowning away, as my eyes slowly shut.

  The constant beeping of God knows what woke me and I arose, though weakly. I looked around consciously, making out where I was. A hospital? I panicked, remembering the event that had happened last.
  “O ti kọja,”… you passed out. . .Amos’s voice came.
  “What?”
  “It was the moment you entered the car,” he narrated in English.
  I gaped even more and asked. “W-well, what about the b-baby?”  I stammered, eager to know how our baby was.
  He remained silent, and averted his gaze, forcing me to ask again, “Is he okay?” I’d hoped he was a boy, and he was really fine.
  “Habibat, you would have to brace yourself for what I am about to tell you,” Amos said.
   A string of worry laced my brows. “What’s wrong?”
  “You had a miscarriage—” the news came as a shock. I began crying, and Amos held me. “Eyi ni gbogbo ẹbi rẹ.” I found myself saying.
  “What?”
  I continued lamenting “Eyi ni gbogbo ẹbi rẹ—”…this is all your fault!
  “How is this my fault?” He asked.
  I clenched my teeth, agonized. “You ignored me for days and made me worry much,” I said. “You didn’t think for once that your actions would hurt me. . .All you cared about was me not telling you about the pregnancy. I’m sure you’re happy now it’s gone.” I blinked, realizing what I said. “Amos…”
  “Please—”
  A feeling of sadness and self-hurt grasped my mind and made me its slave. “I’m sorry,”
  “I’ll be outside.” He left, not looking back.
  I’d lost my child, he should understand. Omo wa. . .Our child! Things were taking a different turn and I certainly didn’t like it.

  “The doctor said you’d be discharged in the morning. For now, you have to rest.” A voice got my head lifted. It was him—

  “Amos, are you still mad at me?”

  His voice was hoarse, and his face turned. “We will have to talk about it when we get home,” a smile relaxed on his face, as he made to leave. “Get some rest.”

  “A-are you going somewhere?”

  “To buy you something to eat.”

  I said, “Alright.”

  Amos had one attitude that I was starting to hate—getting angry at the slightest of things.
I was discharged the next day and asked not to do anything. At least until I was completely healed. I called mama to come stay with us. . .And that was where the problem began.

  “I thought you said your Mom was only staying for a week?”

  “My Mom?” I was surprised at the way he addressed her. “Babe, what is really your problem?”

  “My problem?” He asked.

  “Yes, your problem.” I shrugged, getting in bed with him.

  “Well, my problem is, your Mom…” he corrected, “…mama,”

  I eyed him for a second before relaxing my head on the pillow. “Unh. Kini nipa rẹ?…hm. What about her?

  “She has stayed far too long than we talked,”

  I yawned. “So three weeks is far too long for you?” I raised my head slightly, then placed it back on the pillow. “So three weeks is far too long?” I asked with my palm supporting my head, yawning once more.

“Yes.” He shrugged, nd took up a file from the stool.

  “Do you always have to work?” I sighed, staring at him.

  “Yes.” The hoarseness in his voice could be sensed.

  “Unh. Please don’t tell me another quarrel’s coming. Wasn’t it last week we mended?”

  The loud hooting of an owl hovered and I shuddered. “Did you hear that?”

  He didn’t look at me. “Perfectly.” He said.

  I frowned on seeing this, lifting myself up so I’d draw his attention with a kiss.

  “Habibat?” he called with a stern look.

  “Just one,” I pouted my lips.

  He pushed me lightly and I laughed, watching him turn. Dropping his files unconsciously on the stool, he leaned forward and possessed my lips.

  “Thanks, baby.” I made to withdraw, but then he held me.

  “You really didn’t think you could…”

  I sealed my lips back on his before he could talk.
“I thought you weren’t in the mood?” I asked, smiling halfway.

  “When have I ever not been in the mood?” he kissed me passionately again, then stared into my eyes before leaning in a third. He caressed my cheek and made both sides lit. “Ready for baby number…”

  Tck—the lights went out.
  Amos and I laughed as we reached for the torchlight on the stool. Our hands touched and we quickly withdrew. “So… where were we?” Amos grabbed the torch before me.
  “We—” he halted me to a stop. “What’s that?”
  “What’s what?” I asked, trying to understand.
  “That?”
  My ears captured the sound. “Oh, it’s just mama praying,”
  He asked, “Praying?” the light illuminated his face, showing his expression.
  “Yes. Praying,” I wanted to ask if there was a problem, but stopped. The anger on his face vanished, and a vague expression—one I couldn’t tell—surfaced. “Why are you…?”

  He interrupted as always. “By this time of the night?”

  I looked confused, watching him get out of bed. “Wh-where are you going?” I called and got out alongside.

  “Why will she be praying at this hour? Doesn’t she know the time?”

  “I-I don’t understand,” my brows furrowed. My forehead wrinkled, and my eyes rolled in their sockets. Showing how I felt, irritated by his unnecessary rage, I asked him to calm down, not wanting an outburst—I walked behind him and let him open the door.

  “What time is it?”

  I had no idea.

  “I2:47,” he looked at the wall clock, reminding me it was there.

  “12:47?!” I said out loud and followed him. “But she’s just doing her usual vigil. You don’t have to take it as anything.” I said to him as we got to her room. “You don’t have to make a fuss about everything. It’s just prayers.”

  He turned. “Prayers?”

  I accidentally brushed my lips against my teeth. “Prayers!” I felt a slight pain.

  Amos knocked on the door of Mama’s room, and called her name—’twice’

  Mama opened the door and, with a scarf around her head, asked us to come in.

  Amos said, “Mama, there is no need—” the tone he used was annoying and made me want to talk.

  “Babe!”

  He ignored me. “Please lower your voice. The kids are sleeping.” He said, not smiling.

  “Amos, what is wrong with you?” I asked.

  Mama signalled to me to be quiet and gave a faint smile.
 

  “I don’t like the way you talked to mama,” I said the minute the door came close.

  “How did I talk to her?”

  Unbelievable! “How did you talk to her?” I gaped at him, raising one brow. My mind went to the time it was Christmas, and how he had behaved—

  “Kowe, go and call your dad. His phone is ringing.” I called from the kitchen and wiped my hands on the downside of my cloth.

  “I’m here! Hello?”

  I made to turn the stew, while Amos talked with the person on the phone.

  “Who was that?” I came out when he was done. The call was brief.

  I remembered hearing him tell the caller that he was going to call him back. Or her—

  I pushed the dining chair out and sat down, settled my gaze on him, and asked interestingly, “Is it the man you talked about when we were in the room? Mr Hassan?”

  He answered shortly. “No one.”

  “Mommy, are we going to kill chicken?” Kowe’s voice made us realize we weren’t alone.

  “Chicken for what?” Amos’s voice grew hoarse.

  “For Christmas!” Kowe replied in a jolly tone, which was cut short.

  “No one’s killing any chicken.” Amos thundered and left the living room. Kowe ran to me, lips puckered. “Mommy, why doesn’t daddy like Christmas?”

  My brows pulled down, and sadness overrode my face.

°°°°°°

  “You’re a hater for Christmas… a hater for prayers,” I said with arms folded. I had not liked the way he talked to mama, so I decided to bring up the subject. “You made her notice you didn’t like she was praying…”

  He yelled: “Her voice was so loud!”

  Huh?”

  “Yes!”

  “You’re unbelievable,” I used the ‘U’ word again.

  “You’re the one who wanted your Mom to stay here—” I thought I heard him mumble. And I gasped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He ignored me. It was clear he didn’t want mama staying with us. The man I married has completely changed. Wow!

Y'all don't go making this thread looking like a graveyard again, okay? Got a bunch of new stories now. Y'all in?

{3}

  Two years had passed since Amos left Nigeria. I was missing him so badly, that I couldn’t wait for him to get back home in time for Christmas.
  “How are the twins?”
  “The twins are fine.” My response came.
  The loud ringing of his cellphone jolted him. “I will call you back.” He said and hung up.
  A bit of sadness strung my heart at the slight beeping of my phone. I heaved a sigh, and rubbed my cheeks—it was lonely being in the mansion with only the kids. Though I had everything, it was boring being holed up inside.

  Two years. Two years… going to three! The kids kept asking me when their dad would return. It seemed I wasn’t the only one missing him; we all needed him. And I prayed the Lord brought him home safe.

  “I’ll be coming back next week—” Amos announced on the phone.
  “Really?”
  The twins came forward on hearing me yell. “Mommy, what is it?”
  “Daddy is coming back,”
  “Yay!!! Can we talk to him?”
  I handed them the phone and they began talking.
  “E kaasan, daddy,”
  “E kaasan.”
  I left to tend to the dishes.
  My prayer was answered—Amos came home at exactly the time the kids were at home. We happily welcomed him, the kids much happier. I helped him with the luggage, and after much kisses, we went into the bedroom, and he carried me onto the bed.
  “You didn’t miss me much, did you?” our eyes locked, then our lips met.
  “You know I missed you… so much!” we kissed again. The neatly spread bedsheets rustled underneath us as we moved, my hips arching, with my legs clasping his waist. My heart pounded, as I watched him remove his clothes. I stri**ed to my underwear, and let him between my legs.

  “I thought they said s*x renders one unconscious?” I asked after much series of hot m*ke o*t.
   “No.” He chuckled, and my lips spread. I felt comfortable in his arms, purring like a kitten.

  The year was almost ending and Christmas was fast approaching. It was going to be our first as a family. Each time I talked about it, Amos would say no word but act like it didn’t matter.
  “Why don’t you like it when I talk about Christmas?” something in me made me ask.
  He ignored me and glued his eyes on the paper. The headline was boldly written on it, the name clearly visible.
  “Vanguard—” I read, trying to distract myself.
  “I don’t know. I just don’t see why we should celebrate it.”
  I said, “Only someone who’s not religious would say that,”
  He fixed a stern look at me… and I asked, “You’re not going to say anything?” He looked back at the newspaper. “Keep pushing me.” His face had gotten another look.
  Please, Lord, don’t tell me I’m married to a non-religious person. All this won’t make sense, I prayed silently, hearing the rhythmic thumping of my heart.

  The following day was a weird one. I woke up to the hard straining of my head and the bad rumbling of my stomach.
  Feeling the urge to vomit, I quickly went into the bathroom and poured every content out in the sink. I was feeling pale—sick. And I spent time in the bathroom, alerting Amos.
  “What’s wrong?”
  “I’m fine,” I didn’t want to look at his face. Not after what had gone on yesterday.
  “But you’re vomiting…”
  “I said I’m fine, Amos!” I gritted, banging the bathroom door.

  The doctor confirmed that I was pregnant. While handing me the result, he asked if I was married… something he had done before. “Thank you.” I ignored his question, thanking him instead.

  Amos had gone to work when I’d arrived. It was a relief; one I couldn’t help but give a sigh since I wasn’t ready to tell him about the baby. I kept the envelope in the drawer and made to slide out of my gown. Making for the bathroom, I got in the bathtub and got the shower running, letting the water cool me from my head, down.


The weather was cold and the harmattan got my nose all blocked. I couldn’t breathe or move due to the cold and was freezing, my blood constricting. The hairs on my skin weren’t left out; they were raised, with the blood narrowing the road to where it laid. My teeth were clenched, and my eyes partly closed; the image I could make out—it was Amos observing me, his question coming next. “Cold?”
“Y-yes,”
“It’s half-past eleven. Want me to fix you breakfast?”
The urge to vomit came again, but I held it in and sat up.
“I’m not hungry.” I said and slipped my feet into my slippers. I took my brush and went into the bathroom next—brushed, bathed, came out, then—“When were you going to tell me?”
  I was confused at first, then I remembered. The envelope! My eyes rolled in their sockets. I’d forgotten I hadn’t removed it from the drawer. Lips dry, mouth not having anything to say, I gaped, heart racing, blood pulsing. He drew closer and showed me the paper he had taken out. “This!”
  I gulped, not knowing what to say. “I was going to tell you—” my lips finally moved.
  “Tell me when?”
  I said nothing but watched.
  “Habibat, so this is how you want it?”
  I was lost. “Want what?”
  “You’re pregnant and you couldn’t even tell your husband?!”
My mouth was jammed.
“How long have you known?”
  I replied, “Since yesterday,”
He thundered. “Yesterday?!” he stood akimbo, rolling his eyes at me. “And you want me to believe?”
I shifted back in fear. “I swear, it was yesterday,”
He tossed the paper on the bed, along with the envelope. “I really cannot believe you!” he said and left.
  My heart was heavy and filled with regret. You should have told him in the first place, millions of voices echoed in my head. I sat shakily on the bed and took up the paper, with my fingers running on its plains and eyes directed on my tum. I let out a frustrated sigh, scared to think I had gotten on his angry side. “Oh, what did I do?” I breathed heavily and got up to dress.

{2}

Would have love to mention but...

Is Sir Dodo still here? I don't know, it's been ages

  The morning cock crowed, and the early birds chirped, signalling it was daybreak. Sluggishly getting out of bed, I gave a scratch at my hair and looked idly to where the partly broken mirror stood. I was tired, not wanting to go anywhere but lay back in bed. I was also sore, with every part of my body looking like they had been beaten.
   Kowe and Ayo were still sleeping. Today is a big day, I thought as a smile crept up my face. The sudden reminder of what the day held made me want to freshen up and get dressed before he came.
  Amos had proposed that we went out. The last he came, I was overjoyed.
  Maybe he was going to ask me out—my mind made. Just maybe…


  “Heh. Let me help you with that,” a chair was pulled out, and I sat down, looking nervous. I looked to where my date had gotten seated, swallowed the awfully large lump in my throat that seemed invisible to the eyes, and clasped the table, gulping again.
  “So…”
  We made eye contact—
  “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself. I want to hear.”
  A waiter approached.
“Oh, what would you like to have, my dear?”
  “Anything,”
  He looked at the waiter, then at me. “Do you like salad on your rice?”
  “Salad?” I felt disgusted by how it sounded. “Y-yes.” Though I wanted not to sound local by agreeing to eat, the thought of having it in my plate made me crinkle and groan, tasting it in the air.
  Amos’ voice drew me back, and he repeated his question, bringing back memories.
  “My life is a bit…” I drew my breath. “…complicated.” I halted to a stop.
  “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell. I don’t want to—”
  My thoughts drowned his voice out…
  “Habibat, this is were you’d be staying,” the filthy mat was made ready for me.
  “Here?”
  “Yes!”
  I heaved deeply, my tears wanting to drop. I’d forgotten I was still at the fancy restaurant. Amos noticed this, and he asked me if everything was alright. “Y-yes,” the waiter came and dropped the trays nicely on our table.
  “I’m sorry if I’d upset you,”
  I faked a smile and asked him not to worry.
  “Remind me to always bring you here,” Amos joked amid the situation.
  I laughed and went digging into my dish.

  Amos was really nice. He took me shopping and bought me lots of clothes, not leaving the twins out, as we went to the Kiddies.
  That same day, he had also bought me a phone—an android, to replace my small one.
  My Nokia was put out of sight, and I had Amos to thank. “I really can’t stop thanking you, Amos,” the thought of having to call his name, without any title attached, got me laughing inside.
  “What’s making you smile?” he was fast to observe.
  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I quickly asked, giving my lips a slight lick.
  “Yes, tomorrow.”
  I took a deep breath, and shifted my gaze from him.


  Kowe and Ayo were having fun playing with their friend. He had arrived just in time, handing the bags out to them.
  “Toys!!!” Ayo cried out. “Mommy, see!”
  It was undeniable saying Amos was going to make a perfect father… for them.
  “And this is for you,” a sparkling necklace stood in the air.
  “What?” I spoke excitedly.
  “Here. Let me help you put it on.” He offered, as I smiled admirably.

  “Have you ever thought about, you know, us?” the kids were asleep, so it was time for us to talk.
  “N-nah…”
  “Surely, you must need a man by your side. Raising two daring kids…isn’t easy at all.”
  A brief silence hovered, then I broke it. “It’s not…easy!” I high-pitched.
  “Don’t you want a man?”
  I took a brief pause and gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know,” I got up from the little bed. “Um, why don’t you like talking about yourself?” I did what I did best.
  “Um…”
  “Yes, you hardly talk.” I glued my eyes on him, wondering why.
  “Well,” he heaved a sigh. “I felt I shouldn’t be boring you…”
  “Boring?”
  “Sort of,”
  “Well, now you’re not. I’m interested to hear.”
  The chair at the adjacent side creaked, as he made to stand. “My parents are dead, actually. They died in a car crash.”
  A sudden chill overshadowed me. “They’re d-dead?” I regretted requesting him to talk, apologizing immediately. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
  A faint smile eluded his lips, then it disappeared. “Would you like something to eat?”
  I shook my head. “No,” I said quietly.
  I turned and walked back to the bed, feeling his hands on me, as I stopped.
  “Don’t beat yourself up,” a soft whisper came lightly. “It’s in the past.”
  I gulped, feeling the air around me get hot; nervous at the same time.
  “You’re all sweaty…why?” he made me face him, lifting my chin slightly, as he held my gaze.
  “Say you love me, Habib. I’ll give you the world and everything in it as long as you say those words.”
  My heart skipped.
  He leaned closer and nuzzled my neck.
  Feeling his touch, a cold sensation passed through me, getting me all hot, as a ‘moan’ escaped my lips.
  He reached for my zip, dragging it down. Stripping me to the feet, he let his eyes linger for a minute before cupping my petite breasts, planting a kiss on each, as I purred, melting in his arms.
  “The twins,” his voice called me out.
  “Oh, they’re asleep,” I replied, not in my right senses. All I wanted was to be lost in his arms.
  “Later.”
  I shuddered as he pulled away.

  Amos and I hadn’t made love, for reasons I do not know. Aside the fact the twins were there, he asked me to put my clothes back on and left without saying a word.

  Three years had passed since the incident. Amos and I began dating in the later months, and while the twins were celebrating their fifth birthday, Amos and I were celebrating our anniversary.
  “Don’t you like how time flies?” Amos raised a glass and winked at me.
  “Mm, time,” I inhaled the lovely air. Being in the outdoors, on a not so sunny day, was the one thing I looked forward to, as long as it came with no suffering.
  Ever since Amos came into my life, things had been way better. I never stayed in the sun, working myself out in the market, trying to make ends meet. I even had my own boutique, and our one room apartment was pushed aside. My kids and I left for our whole new home. A 3-bedroom flat, with a toilet—inside! Things were definitely going well for us.
  Amos was to leave for London soon. But before he did, he did the last thing I never expected he would so soon—”Marry me—” his voice had graced the air that fateful day.
  “Marry you?”
  “Yes, marry me, Habibat. Make me the happiest man on earth.”
  I stood speechless for a moment, looking at the scattered roses on the floor of his living room.
  “Say something, Habib. Do not let the poor man’s heart break.”
  I laughed slightly, then said, “Of course, I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you, Amos—”
  A court wedding was set. A little party was thrown with a few friends invited and of course my parents, alongside Yemisi and Mama Iya. Their joy knew no bounds.
  My kids were the happiest–having Amos as a father was the one thing they never expected. It was a dream come true after all, and they were going to live to tell the tale.


  “Packed everything?”
  “Yes,”
  “Passport?”
  “Got everything, honey!” hot lips found mine.
  “Mm, I’ll miss you,”
  “Not when I’ll miss you more…”
  I couldn’t let go of him.
  The twins and I saw him to the airport. Bidding him goodbye—a tear dropped, and onto my neckline, it fell. “Make sure you use the money and enrol in school. I’ll be calling from time to time—” hearing his voice gave me some kind of comfort. Having no choice but to let it ring, I clasped my kids’ hands, caressing them both. “I will.” I smiled and watched him leave.

Copyright © 2022 Jessica Duru
All rights reserved

The right of Jessica Duru to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in conformity with copyright law. No part of this publication may be reproduced l, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the permission in writing from the author.[/b]

GENRES: Romance, tragedy

  I don't own the images I use for my stories. They're all from Pinterests.




...a MARRIED TO AN ATHEIST rename

I always leave my signature wherever I go. LOL!


Back_from_vacay Old account a bore


HABI ✍ BAT

Jessica Duru ~





















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  Things would have been better if I hadn’t remarried but stayed single. My life has been perfect. It’s been that way, not until a man forced himself on me and impregnated me. I was only thirteen. I was really pure when I had to go through the horrifying blow that ruined my life.

  He was a family friend; a trusted one as at that. When my parents had found out, they forced him to marry me, and that was when my problems began.

  Alabi Ijenu was an owner of many estates in Ibadan. People knew him for what he was—a philanthropist—and a rich lawmaker. Everyone who heard of the terrible thing he did despised him. Some going on to lose the respect they had.

  Alabi Ijenu had four wives. Marrying me made it five. I was devastated because I never wanted it to be. Having a child at the age of thirteen was nothing I bargained. It was my plan to finish school, travel the world, and be a veterinarian. Marrying an amazing man was also part of that dream, but unfortunately, Alabi Ijenu came in…

















CHAPTER ONE

  When Alabi Ijenu died, I sought refuge in the outskirt of Ibadan, with my two kids. Kowe and Ayo were their names. I didn’t bother going back—and by that, I mean home— to where my parents kept begging me to come. I wanted to start anew. A fresh start for my adorable kids.

  Raising them wasn’t any easy. Though my co—wives treated us not any less, I thought leaving the big house was a much better choice. Over there used to be a bit… shall I say, less filled with work? Now I had to labour all day just to make money, to be able to feed our hungry mouths.

  Kowe and Ayo were growing up really fast. I couldn’t wait for them to be much older so they’d join me alongside.

  The daily sales brought so little. With the economy hard, and the country’s situation, we hardly made enough money to last us through the day.

  I sold peppers in the market alongside tomatoes. The suffering wasn’t really paying, until one day a man passed by and stopped in front of me.

  “Buy your fresh tomatoes. Your fresh, fresh tomatoes here!”

  “Um, excuse me?”

  He looked pretty good-looking. I doubt he’s ever been in the sun for days. “Your fresh tomatoes, Sir,” the ‘sir’ or ‘Ma’ word had been a way I liked to address the old. Not that this man was old. I chose to address him, since I knew so little about him.

  “Forget the tomatoes,” I thought I heard him say. “What is a beautiful girl like you doing out here?”

  I felt embarrassed. I wondered why he was speaking in such way. Is he not from here? I gave a half smile and said, “I do this to feed my kids. Do you have a problem with that?” Mom and dad had taken me to a well-polished school before that awful man ruined it all. It wasn’t hard blending in. I’m sure he was surprised, from the way he looked at me.

  “Amos,”

  I wasn’t sure if I should tell him mine. “Habibat.” I said, smiling.

  The perfume Amos wore was choking me. And the moping eyes from the people around was almost suffocating me, making me unable to breathe.

  He asked me to wait, and I did. Appearing again, he handed me a big basket—one so blue. Asking me to place almost two thousand naira tomatoes in the basket, I looked at him, stunned, still going on to fill the basket to the brim. He didn’t look shy at all taking the basket from me. Taking a card out of his breast pocket, he handed it out nicely and asked me to give him a call.

  Yemisi my co seller, poked her elbow in my belly side and eyed me. “Habib, you don turn big woman o. Ehn ehn! Show me way!” she said and laughed.

  Yemisi was a woman in her prime. I took her as a big sister and liked her because of the way she treated me.

  Yemisi was staring all along. I hadn’t noticed this.

  I’d completely forgotten that she was there, while Amos went on talking. I must have felt a blush. The hotness of my cheeks made me realize. Blushing because of a stranger? Unbelievable!

  The evening light was swiftly coming. I was done with Thursday sales. Having packed all things, I got ready to pick up my kids from the place I had them stay. On my way, I met who had turned out to be the man I’d seen hours before. A car had stopped and wound down. Popping out, two thrilling eyes drilled me from head to toes, two magnificent lips pulling giving way to produce a smile. “Mind if I give you a ride?”

  I hesitated for a moment, getting betrayed by my legs. “Good evening,” I said and got in.

  The way he smiled made me uncomfortable. “Manners and beauty!” his voice made me nervous.

  “48 Idimotu Street…off Siani.” I kept my eyes on the road, dreading make eye contact with him.

  The first few minutes was filled with a tiny bit of awkwardness. None of us said a word or even whispered—then;

  “Kids… your kids.”

  My eyes met his. “Yes?”

  “You mentioned kids earlier, didn’t you? How many are they?”
  I counted my teeth, just to add a fine touch. “Two,” I said. “They’re two.” I looked back at the windscreen.
  “How old…?”
  “Two.”
  “And your husband?”
  I looked at him again. “Why the questions?”
  He shrugged and pulled up in front of a white building.
  “Why are we stopping?”
  “I like you, Habib,”
  I felt my sweat drop as he went further to say. “Erm, 48 Idimotu—” his hand touched mine. My countenance fell, and I quickly withdrew. Wanting him to stop, as I said, “Please stop!”
  “Are you afraid of me?”
  “Can you please drive?” I thought for a moment then made to open the door.
  “I’m sorry…”
  “I will take it from here,” I got down, and he held my hand. “Don’t go…!”
  I yelled in my local dialect—Yoruba, “Please stop touching me!” I said with teeth clenched.
  I’m sure he understood perfectly, as he let go of my hand, and watched me leave.
  Wasting no time to walk, I moved hastily, having been free, walking downtown, dreading looking back, taking the next turn, as I hurried to where my kids were.

  “Ka a ale,” I greeted.
  “Ka a ale, omo mi.” Mama Iyabo replied. “Bawo ni?” she asked.
  Good evening, my child—how are you?
  I replied in English. “I am fine.”
  “O dara,”…okay. “Let me go and wake up the kids “
  Kowe came out before she could go inside. He looked drowsy while rubbing his eyes. One could tell he had slept to his heart’s content. “Mommy…”
  “Eh-eh! You don sleep nah? See your eyes!” I exclaimed.
  “He don sleep well, belle full. Na only food remain.” Mama Iyabo followed, handing me their bags. She threw a stern look at me, and said, “Habibat,”
  I answered.
  “Don’t you think it’s time these boys started school? Their mates have started ooo.”
  “But mama,” I scratched my hair. “you know how things are these days. E no easy ooo.” I hung the bags over my shoulder. “Eh-heh, Kowe,” I made to change the subject. “Where is Ayo?” I diverted the woman’s mind, as she said, “He is inside.”
  Mama Iyabo was in her sixties. She was one of the women that came through for me, whenever I needed something. She had tribal marks on one side of her face. Although sixty—sixty-five, she had grey hairs and some on the frontal part of her neck.
  Kowe said after Mama Iyabo, “Mommy, he is sleeping,”
  Mama Iyabo and I, along with him, went inside, finding Ayo on the floor with a pillow supporting his head.
  “Ayo!”
  His baby eyes slowly opened.
  “Jii dide!”…Wake up!
  A smile lapped his face and he arose. He yawned sleepily and looked at the three of us. Making out who we were, and where he was, he rose to his feet, almost falling, looked back, as though looking for something, and said, “E kaaro.”
  Mama Iyabo and I laughed. “It’s evening,”
  He led the way, and we tagged along, surprised.

  Kowe and Ayo dozed off immediately we got home. It gave me more time to tidy up the place and keep it clean. It wasn’t minutes long, when someone knocked at the door of our one room apartment and I went to open it.
  “Hello?”
  Our unexpected guest—
  “Amos?” It was the guy from the market…he was at our house.
  Afraid to let him in, I came out, wearing a worried look on my face. “How were you able to find me?” I asked wanting to know, and he said, “Habibat, please listen to me,”
  I went further to ask, “Did you follow me?”
  He clasped my hand and let his ebony eyes linger. “I can’t take my mind off you. Ever since I met you…” 
  I hushed, and shifted to avoid getting touched. “Please leave,” I pleaded with him. “Leave or I’ll shout and alert the neighbours.”
  He asked softly, “Why are you treating me like this? Am I not good enough?”
  I placed a finger across his lips. “Please bring down your voice!” I didn’t want him to wake the kids. “We do not want to wake up…”
  “Mommy!” Ayo called from inside.
  I didn’t want him seeing some stranger, especially one I had met a couple hours.
  I wanted to be out of this man’s sight—but unfortunately leaving my house would be just odd. “What do you want?” I drew a sigh.
  I want you,” He sounded ridiculous.
  “Who told you that you could come here?” I crossed my arms and asked. “Wait—” I said halfway. “How were you able to locate here?” I asked with my pointy raised.
  “Your name.”
  I shrugged, not convinced.
  “Mommy…”
  “We’ve woken somebody up,” Amos said.
  “Great!” I huffed and turned around.
  Ayo made towards us and I carried him, looking back at the stranger. “Good evening,” he greeted tenderly.
  “Say ‘Uncle, good evening’.” I corrected him.
  Feeling shy, he buried his head in my neck.
  “Hey…boy!” Amos looked pleased seeing him. He took his hand and shook it cutely. I couldn’t resist smiling. He looked like a kid-lover. “Not going to offer me anything?”
  I asked, not being able to hold—”Are you a Nigerian?”
  He laughed and nodded affirmatively.

•* *

  Meeting Amos was the best thing that happened to me this year.
  2015…
  …a stranger turned friend!
  Amos visited more often. Seeing him get along with my kids just right, was the best I’d seen in years! Kowe and Ayo had never felt more comfortable around anyone than with him. Each time he came, he made sure they had plenty of things and never lacked.
  The kids looked forward to seeing him and, whenever he missed a day, they’d be all sad and ask why he hadn’t come. “Mommy, why isn’t uncle Amos coming today? Is he sick?” their tiny voices would tell that they were missing him.
  Amos was a lawyer. His work often held him, but when whenever he had the chance, he never missed coming.
  It seemed I was starting to miss him anytime he didn’t show up. Sometimes, I’d intentionally wait outside, with the hope his car would finally pull up in front.
  “Have you been waiting?” a voice called suddenly.
  I looked in the direction, acting surprised, getting my arms crossed, as I said, “You’re here,”
  “I know you’ve been waiting,” said a tender voice, so nice. His lips spread and out came a smile. A blush coated my cheeks, my face twitching. His scent captured my nose, and my heart leapt with joy. “I love your perfume—” I stopped myself from saying. “Where is your car?” I noticed he hadn’t come out of it.
  “It’s at the mechanic,” even the way he said it sounded cute. Isn’t he sweet? Butterflies fluttered in my tum.
  “Hope it isn’t giving you much trouble?”
  He asked, “Hm?” then said, “Oh, no, it’s fine. How are the twins?” we chatted as we went inside.