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Copyright © 2026 Ayomide David
‎All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author.
‎
[b]‎Disclaimer: This work is a blend of real-life inspiration and fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional.
‎
Dedication
‎To every lover of literature.
‎
‎Note: This is my first book, so it may not be error-free. Please bear with me.
‎   Have you ever felt like a bystander in your own story? As if everything happens to you, like you’re just a background character with no say in your own life? You can’t make decisions for yourself, and it feels as though an unseen hand is controlling everything. Sit up — you might find a solution in this story. It may not be the sweetest story you expect, but I assure you, it will be engaging, and you’ll learn a thing or two. Let’s begin.
























‎*Chapter One*
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‎Ever since I can remember, people have always said “good morning.” But if I may ask, what is good about the morning? To me, it is the beginning of another agony. I am telling you of a life filled with sorrow. In my entire life, I can count the days I would call happy. Maybe I am the only one who feels this way, but nothing seems good about mornings.
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‎Don’t let me burden your day with my bitter story. My name is Daniel — Daniel Adesakin. My friends call me Dan. It is not that I particularly enjoy their company; I simply try to survive stories that would break your heart. If you were in my shoes, you would understand. Some people call me a sadist. They do not know that inside, I burn hotter than fire. But my situation has thrown me into a pit so deep that no one can hear me.
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‎You may wonder if I was born into royalty. I cannot recall any kings in my lineage, because my family is poor — poorer than a church mouse. Actually, forget the church mouse; we were worse off than that. I am a typical Yoruba boy from a family of six: my father, Mr. Samuel Adesakin; my mother, Mrs. Shola Adesakin; myself; and my three siblings — two girls and one boy. I am the first child. My immediate younger sister is Blessing, followed by Christina, and then Samson, the last born. You know how last-borns can be — sometimes they act like little mischief-makers. You’ll understand what I mean as we go on.
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‎I have seen a lot of hardship in my life. It all began in primary school. My first day at Surprise Nursery and Primary School was filled with expectations. I had transferred from my old school, where I was never below third position in class — if not first or second. But at Surprise, the school lived up to its name. I went from the top three to second to last, or even last.
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‎Perhaps it was the saying, “the elephant of one place is the ant of another.” Or maybe it was the change of environment. I do not know. What I do remember is that the happy boy became a loner. I could no longer summon the courage to speak to my classmates. I stopped playing.
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‎My father was a carpenter, but I could count on one hand the number of jobs he got in a year. He did not live with us, though he visited every weekend despite his financial struggles. He was a great man, but very strict. My mother was a trader. She ran a small kiosk in front of our house, selling foodstuffs at retail — gari, groundnuts, rice, and beans — never more than twenty cups in total. If you know, you know.
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‎Yet with all this, both parents tried to give us a sound education.
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‎I was in Primary Four, eight years old, when my brother Samson was born. Blessing was five, and Christina was three. My mother was heavily pregnant that November. She gave birth to Samson just before Christmas.
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‎Samson was only two months old when my father left this world. Daddy died in January, just after New Year, following a brief three-day illness. All their savings were exhausted in those three days. My mother even borrowed money, but it was in vain.
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‎After that, every problem fell on my mother alone. No support. No extended family. Just her and four children. None of us could comfort the other — we each carried our own pockets of tears. I knew we would suffer, but I did not know what was coming. I did not realize that the struggle we had known was only level one. After my father’s death, we were about to enter level seven.
‎To be continued...

Copyright © 2026 Ayomide David
‎All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author.
‎
[b]‎Disclaimer: This work is a blend of real-life inspiration and fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional.
‎
Dedication
‎To every lover of literature.
‎
‎Note: This is my first book, so it may not be error-free. Please bear with me.
‎   Have you ever felt like a bystander in your own story? As if everything happens to you, like you’re just a background character with no say in your own life? You can’t make decisions for yourself, and it feels as though an unseen hand is controlling everything. Sit up — you might find a solution in this story. It may not be the sweetest story you expect, but I assure you, it will be engaging, and you’ll learn a thing or two. Let’s begin.