₦airaland Forum

Not ready to follow the requirements of Option means:


Be ready to lose the present 10% stake


Hand over the Lexus car given to you.


Resign as GM of the business by the end of this month, December.


Make your choice.


I read and reread the message. Had it come to this? Had it got to a point where Ms. Morgan


would be threatening me?


Option A was fantastic and desirable. The requirements were all well with me, but there was serious issue with number 4. I knew by that, Ms. Morgan meant I should be ready to play to her sexual whims. That, I was not ready to do.


I called her number. It rang on and on, without her picking it. This was serious. Did she really mean everything she had written?


In the afternoon, I called her number again several times but she would not pick the call. I sat down to think over the options. Why not forget about these your so-called principles and go fo the first option? My mind said. Many guys would go for it. You'll be eating your cake and at the same time having it.


Besides, I didn't need to rush at marriage again, with any woman. I didn't need any child again beside the two I had from Busola. Why should I not relax and get the best from Ms. Modupe Morgan?


But another inner voice said I should not try it. Resign your appointment and leave the rest to the Lord, the gentle voice said.


I decided to take option b. The following morning, I rose to write my letter of resignation. I first drove to the Opebi store where I had my office to tie up loose ends and write handover notes, before I drove to Ms. Morgan's Ilupeju residence to hand over the documents and the Lexus car to her.


It was amazing how things had changed so fast in the last twenty-four hours. Maria welcome me to the house.


"Where is madam?" I asked.


"She's upstairs, but she said she doesn't want to be disturbed. Will you wait for her in the sitting-room until she comes down?"


I shook my head. "There will be no need for that. Just give her these." I handed the documents and the car keys to her. "That's the key to the Lexus car. Bye."


Maria didn't know that would be the last time she would be seeing me in that house, for a long time.

She waved back at me.

PASS ME NOT, O GENTLE SAVIOUR

1. Pass me not, O gentle Saviour,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

CHORUS:
Saviour, Saviour,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

2. Let me, at Thy throne of mercy
Find a sweet relief;
Kneeling there in deep contrition,
Help my unbelief.

3. Trusting only in Thy merit
Would I seek Thy face
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by Thy grace.

4. Thou, the spring of all my comfort,
More than life to me.
Whom have I on earth beside Thee?
Whom in heav'n but Thee?

TAKE MY LIFE, AND LET IT BE

1. Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord to Thee;
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in endless praise,
Let them flow in endless praise.

2. Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee,
Swift and beautiful for Thee.

3. Take my voice and let me sing
Always, only, for my King;
Take my lips and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee,
Filled with messages from Thee.

4. Take my silver and my gold;
Not a mite would I withhold;
Take my intellect, and use
Every power as Thou shalt choose,
Every power as Thou shalt choose.

5. Take my will and make it Thine,
It shall be no longer mine:
Take my heart, it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne,
It shall be Thy royal throne.

6. Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure store;
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee,
Ever, only, all for Thee.

Is it not better that Obi and Adeyanju settle this out of court?

PRAISE MY SOUL THE KING OF HEAVEN
1 Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;
to his feet your tribute bring.
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
evermore his praises sing.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Praise the everlasting King!

2 Praise him for his grace and favor
to his people in distress.
Praise him, still the same as ever,
slow to chide, and swift to bless.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Glorious in his faithfulness!

3 Fatherlike he tends and spares us;
well our feeble frame he knows.
In his hand he gently bears us,
rescues us from all our foes.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Widely yet his mercy flows!

Ms. Kay was waiting.

I had promised her.

What was I going to do now? Walk back to her room and say, “Sorry, the bra vanished into thin air?”

The very thought made my stomach turn. I had never been more confused, more utterly lost, than I was in that moment. My thoughts scrambled for a rational explanation, some anchor to hold on to.

And then a memory surfaced—dim, but gaining clarity.

Wait... Damilola.

My breath caught.

I had given Damilola a spare key to my room weeks ago. It wasn’t a big deal at the time. We were close. I trusted her. She stayed over sometimes. And I had told her that if she ever came around and I wasn’t there, she could let herself in. Simple. Casual. Convenient.

But now...

Did she come around earlier? While I was at the main building talking to Madam Landlady?

My eyes widened. That would explain it.

Had she seen the bra? Had she taken it? Maybe she thought it was hers? Or worse—maybe she saw it and got the wrong idea. A man's room. A mysterious bra. A missing girlfriend. The story practically wrote itself.

My mind raced with a hundred possible scenarios, each more chaotic than the last. I reached for my phone with trembling hands and checked for missed calls or messages.

Nothing from Damilola.

But if she had taken it, I needed to confirm it—fast. Because right now, Ms. Kay was sitting across the hall, waiting for me to return with an item I no longer had. And every second that passed made the hole I was in feel deeper.

I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen like it held answers. What now? I asked myself.

What was supposed to be the end of a tense chapter had now twisted into something more confusing, more urgent.

The bra was gone.
Damilola had a key.
Ms. Kay was waiting.

And I had a sinking feeling this was just the beginning.


---



I stared at the empty white polythene bag lying uselessly on my bed like a shed snake skin and felt my heart beat louder than the ticking wall clock. My mind was spinning. I had promised Ms. Kay I would return in just a few minutes with the missing bra—her missing bra, the one she had just reluctantly agreed might be hers after an exhausting conversation. I had felt so sure, so confident, so relieved.

Now? I was staring at nothing. The bra had vanished. Completely.

There was only one person who might’ve had access to the room.

Damilola.

I picked up my phone with shaky fingers and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. My thumb hovered over her name in my call log. She hadn’t answered when I called earlier, around noon. I wasn’t sure what that meant—was she ignoring me, busy, or just not in the mood to talk? I didn’t know. But now, I had no choice.

I pressed call and held the phone tightly to my ear, praying silently. The line started ringing. Once... twice... three times.

“Oh, Damilola, pick your call... pick your call,” I muttered like a chant. Each ring only increased my anxiety. My room suddenly felt hotter. My shirt clung to my back with nervous sweat.

Still ringing. No answer.

I let out a heavy breath and quickly redialed. The phone rang again.

This time, I went a step further.

“Oh everlasting Father,” I muttered aloud, “make Damilola to pick this call. Please, Lord, just let her pick.”

And just like that, a click.

She answered.

“Goodness!” I breathed. “Damilola! Hello!”

Her voice came through, dry and unimpressed. “Yes? What is it?”

I didn’t waste time. “Were you in my house not too long ago?”

A brief pause.

“What are you saying? Of course I was there in the morning,” she replied flatly.

“No, no, I know about that,” I said quickly, already grimacing. “I mean after that. Did you come back to the house when I wasn’t there? Maybe when I went to the main building? Did you... did you take the bra?”

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line. Then her voice came back, sharp and loud.

“Bra?!” she shouted. “What nonsense! What nonsense bra are you talking about?!”

Interesting.

Zizi was the fat and lively housemaid.
'Come in.'

The latter gently opened the door and stepped inside.

Zizi grinned at her. 'Sorry to disturb you, but that your friend, sister Abi is around to see you.'

'Where's she right now?'

'She's in the sitting room downstairs, ma'am.'

'Please tell her to come up.'

Abi was Helen's good friend. They were the same age, but Abi had successfully settled down. About four months ago, Abi was joined in wedlock in a very lavish ceremony. Helen had been her best lady and had promised that her own wedding would be grander than Abi's own.

Abi knocked at the door and without waiting for an answer came in.

'I should have been here since yesterday.' There was apology over Abi's face. 'I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I'm so sorry to hear the news. What did you say happen to him?'

Helen told her.

Abi shook her head in sympathy. 'My condolence. Please, take heart.'

'Thank you.'

She sat next to her friend on the bed and sighed. 'I've been thinking about the incident since yesterday. Helen, don't you think this thing is not ordinary?'

Helen appeared to think over it. 'I don't understand what you mean.'

Abi moved closer to her friend.

'Listen carefully. This is your second fiancé to die within a period of two years. If I could recollect, you would've done your wedding before mine. Your first fiancé fell ill and died before the engagement could come up. Now, this has happened again. Don't you think something is wrong somewhere?'

Helen had a far-away look. 'So, what d'you think is wrong?'

'I think it has to do with something spiritual. This kind of thing doesn't happen ordinarily. There's something mysterious about the whole thing.'

Helen appeared thoughtful. 'What can I do now?'

Abi's voice dropped to the level of a whisper. 'There's a baba I know. He is very powerful. Once you agree and I take you there, the mystery will be unraveled.'

Helen looked defiant. 'But, I don't believe in such things. I've never gone to such people before.'

'O.k. I didn't know you prefer that this mysterious occurrence should continue. No problem. Have your way as you wish.'

Helen could sense the impending indifference. 'No, Abi, don't talk like that. I know you're trying to help. But this thing you're suggesting sounds ...it sounds strange and... and...'

'Strange or not strange, this man I'm talking about will unravel the whole thing.'

Helen was in thoughts for some moments again. 'Alright.' She shrugged. 'Let me think over it. In a few days’ time, I'll let you know my decision.'

"I'll suggest that you act fast. The longer you delay, the more the problem deals with you. Remember that delay is dangerous.'

Helen nodded. 'I agree that indeed delay is dangerous. Thank you, my friend for the timely advice.'

Laji flipped from one channel to another. He loved music and entertainment and would spend hours watching one station or the other. It was a summer afternoon, his best weather since he came to live in the U.S.

His flat in Indianapolis was a moderate but cozy one. Laji, alias L.A, liked it like that. Laji was the first and only son of Leke LaVos, the business mogul from Nigeria. His siblings were Helen and Damilola LaVos.

PASS ME NOT O GENTLE SAVIOUR

1 Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry,
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

Refrain:
Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

2 Let me at a throne of mercy
Find a sweet relief;
Kneeling there in deep contrition,
Help my unbelief.

3 Trusting only in Thy merit,
Would I seek Thy face;
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by Thy grace.

4 Thou the Spring of all my comfort,
More than life to me,
Whom have I on earth beside Thee?
Whom in heav'n but Thee?

MY HOPE IS BUILT ON NOTHING LESS

1. My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus name.

CHORUS:
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

2. When darkness seems to veil His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

3. His oath, His covenant, and blood,
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

4. When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

'TIS SO SWEET TO TRUST IN JESUS

1. 'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to take Him at His Word;
Just to rest upon His promise;
Just to know, "Thus saith the Lord."

CHORUS:
Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I've proved Him o'er and o'er!
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust Him more!

2. O how sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to trust His cleansing blood;
Just in simple faith to plunge me
'Neath the healing cleansing flood!

3. Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just from sin and self to cease;
Just from Jesus simply taking
Life and rest, and joy and peace.

4. I'm so glad I learn'd to trust Thee,
Precious Jesus, Saviour, Friend,
And I know that Thou art with me,
Wilt be with me to the end.

*The Benefits of Not Drinking Alcohol*

Choosing not to drink alcohol can have a significant impact on one's life, from improving physical health to enhancing mental well-being. Some benefits include:

- *Better Physical Health*: Not drinking alcohol can reduce the risk of liver disease, heart disease, and certain types of cancer. It can also improve sleep quality, boost energy levels, and support a healthy weight.
- *Improved Mental Health*: Abstaining from alcohol can help reduce symptoms of anxiety and depression, promote a sense of calm and clarity, and improve overall mental well-being.
- *Increased Productivity*: Without the hangovers and crashes that can come with drinking, individuals may find they have more energy and focus to pursue their goals and interests.
- *Financial Savings*: Not spending money on alcohol can lead to significant savings over time, which can be used for other purposes, such as paying off debt, traveling, or investing in personal development.
- *Better Relationships*: Not drinking can help individuals build stronger, more meaningful relationships with others, free from the potential negative effects of alcohol on relationships.
- *Improved Self-Esteem*: Choosing not to drink can give individuals a sense of pride and self-control, which can translate to other areas of life.

These benefits can vary from person to person, but overall, not drinking alcohol can lead to a healthier, happier, and more fulfilling life.

Being secret lovers required a kind of discipline neither of us had ever practiced before. It wasn’t just about hiding kisses or avoiding long stares — it was about mastering silence, learning when to act like strangers, and when to be everything but.

In public — around the house, during meals, family errands, or casual Sunday gatherings — we were casual acquaintances. Friendly, distant, proper. We never lingered too long in conversation, never sat too close. If anyone watched, they’d see nothing suspicious. But behind that careful performance, every glance held meaning, and every passing touch was a quiet flame.

We developed our own silent language. A look across the compound that meant "Meet me later." A faint smile that said "I miss you." The deliberate brushing of fingers as we passed each other in narrow passageways. Tiny things. Things only we noticed.

In the evenings, when the house grew quiet, Fiyin would sometimes slip into the boys’ quarters after everyone had turned in. The air between us would change the moment the door closed behind her. She’d sit beside me, sometimes without words, and lean into my arms like she’d been holding her breath all day.

“This is the only part of the day that feels like mine,” she said one night, curled up against me.

I kissed the top of her head. “Mine too.”

We didn’t always kiss. Some nights, we just lay on the bed talking in whispers, fingers intertwined. Other times, we’d listen to music through one earbud each, or she’d scroll through my old articles and tease me about my serious journalist voice.

We carved out intimacy in quiet ways. Secret ways. A relationship that lived in the spaces between other people’s expectations.

But none of it was easy.

There were moments that left our pulses racing and our nerves frayed. Close calls that felt like the universe testing how much we were willing to risk for stolen time together.

One afternoon, her sister knocked — sudden, sharp — while Fiyin was still inside my room.

We weren’t doing anything dangerous. Not technically. Just lying on the floor listening to music, limbs tangled, fingers occasionally finding each other in the spaces between songs. Her head was on my shoulder, mine tipped lazily toward hers. We’d been laughing — the kind of laughter that bubbles up from the gut and feels like freedom. But even that was too much. Too close. Too telling.

The knock sent lightning through my spine. I bolted upright.

Fiyin’s eyes met mine — wide, alert. No panic, but close. There was that quick flash, that electric flicker between survival instinct and desire, the split-second where two people silently agree to move or freeze. We both knew what this looked like. What it could look like.

Without thinking, I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the tiny bathroom tucked into the far corner of my room — barely more than a narrow rectangle of old tiles and faint mildew. It didn’t fit one person comfortably, let alone two. But we squeezed in, breathless and pressed so close our shadows blurred together on the door.

I twisted the lock with trembling fingers, the sound of the latch falling into place much too loud.

“Stay quiet. Please,” I whispered, the words skating out on a breath I barely had.

"The supper will soon be ready. Won't you wait to take it?" she quickly said.

I shook my head. "I won't eat anything again today. I'm belleful as it is."

She stood up. "Give me a minute."

She left me for about five minutes. She returned with a polythene bag and handed it to me.

"There's little something for you there."

"Oh, you shouldn't have bothered. Thank you a lot. Good night, ma'am."

"Good night, Seyi."

I left the, feeling glad that I visited. On getting home, I checked the package Big Aunty had given me. In the big nylon bag were two smaller ones.

When I opened the first I saw pieces of fried chicken. In the second one were fried plaintain chips. I put a call through to thank Big Aunty.

The following, day, Monday, things went smooth in the official. On Wednesday afternoon, Big Aunty called and asked if I could come to her residence at the close of work.

"No problem, madam," I replied.

I got to her residence around six p.m.

"Hope your work is not stressful," she said like a person that really cared.

I smiled. "No, madam. I enjoyed the work. Thanks for your concern."

"Follow me. I want to show you something."

I followed through a passage to a room that she unlocked and opened. It was more of a store room.

There were bales of big sacks. She opened one of them and started bringing out clothes. There were shirts, t-shirts, trousers, jeans, boxers and so on - all looking new.

"I want you to pick as many as are your size," she said.

“That's very generous of you, madam," I said. I checked the sizes and the size tags to see which ones were my size. I had to go through many of them and it took time.

At the end, I took five shirts, three t-shirts, two boxers and three jeans trousers.

'Is that all?" she asked. "Are you sure your size is not among the rest?"

“These are okay for now," I answered modestly.

She asked Kubrat to get me a large shopping bag to put them.

"That's why I asked you to come," she said.

I thanked her profusely for her magnanimity and left. On my way home, I kept thinking of her. Why was she so generous to me? What was the intent of this? Did she have the mindset of sugar mummy?

Did she not state clearly at the begining that the relationship would be platonic? You were the one having wild fantasies, another part of my mind declared.

As if she could discern my mind, I got a Whatsapp message soon as I got home that read: Whatever I give to you is based on the dictates of my conscience. I will always maintain my dignity, morals and values.

I had to read the message almost three times. I replied that I really appreciated her and prayed God would pay her back. The rest of the week went smoothly.

On Saturday morning, I asked if I could come to her place.

"You don't need to ask Seyi. You can always come around to this place," she replied.

I wore a t-shirt, jeans trousers and sneakers. With my Versace perfum, I knew I looked and smelled good.

I got to her residence about ten in the morning. Kubrat ushered me into the sitting-room. She went to inform the madam that I was around.

A minute later, Kubrat came with the message that madam said I should come. I followed Kubrat to Big Aunty's bed-room.

It was a large room with king-size bedroom, two-seater leather chair, array of wardrobes, a large dressing table, a giant mirror and a flat screen television.

At the extreme right of the room was a sporting stationary bike with a sport mat spread on the floor not far from the bike.

She was on top of the bike and she paused as soon as I entered the large room.

"Good morning, Big Aunty," I greeted.

"Good morning, Seyi. You can sit on the seat."

Kubrat retreated from the bed-room, closing the door gently behind her. The rhythm of my heart beat changed as I stared at Big Aunty.

What a body to look at. How was she able to do it? According to her, she had not engaged in any intimate relationship with a man since she lost her husband about two years ago.

How was she able to keep ravenous men off from having this bewitching body? She must be a super woman. She must be super resolute. There must be something very special about her.

She was wearing a sky blue active sports bra, a navy blue tight shorts that started just below her navel and moved down to the middle of her thighs, and a pair of black canvass wears that covered her feet.

I had seen many ladies in sports and yoga wears before, but this one struck me as captivating. I nodded as if in approval.

PRAISE TO THE LORD, THE ALMIGHTY, THE KING OF CREATION

1. Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation;
O my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation;
Join the great throng,
Psaltery, organ, and song,
Sounding in glad adoration.

2. Praise to the Lord, over all things he gloriously reigneth:
Borne as on eagle-wings, safely his saints he sustaineth.
Hast thou not seen,
How all thou needest hath been,
Granted in what he ordaineth?

3. Praise to the Lord, who doth prosper thy way and defend thee;
Surely his goodness and mercy shall ever attend thee;
Ponder anew,
What the Almighty can do,
Who with his love doth befriend thee.

4. Praise to the Lord! O let all that is in me adore Him!
All that hath breath join with Abraham's seed to adore Him!
Let the Amen
Sum all our praises again,
Now as we worship before Him.

I will not fall into the pitfalls of sexual lusts in Jesus name.

Amen.

Surely, His mercies will be upon me all the days of my life in Jesus name.

Amen.

He must go to the bank the following morning to block the account! How he wished he could lay his hands on that Wendy.


* * *


Rather than taking Clara to a hotel, Manu decided to take her to his house. She had decided to yield to his demand with the hope that he would fulfill his own part of the bargain. It was the second time he would be bringing her home. He took her in his old Mazda car. It was a car he had hoped to replace but he could not effect the replacement so far.

He lived in a two-bedroom flat at Ogba-Ijaiye. Within minutes, he was parking at the compound. There was a shocker awaiting him: mama was sitting on a traveling bag right at the front door of his flat.He looked at the woman closely. There was no mistake. The woman was his mother.

'Mama!' he said in surprise. 'You're around? Why didn't you tell me you were coming to Lagos?'

'Manu, my son,' the woman said, coming to hug him.

'You should have told me you were coming to Lagos,' he said. 'It's not good that you were kept waiting for me like this.'

'I wanted to give you a surprise visit,' she said. 'After all, I didn't need to seek approval from my son before I visit him.'

Manu shook his head. Sometimes, he could simply not understand his mother.

'And who is the lady with you?' mama asked, turning her stare to Clara.

The latter had been bemused by the scene and had not uttered a word since she got down from the car.

Manu grinned. 'Er, mama, this is Clara and ...'

'This must be your wife-to-to-be,' mama interrupted. 'Ah, God be praised that my son has finally got a young pretty lady as his wife-to-be and very soon will be his wife. My daughter, how're you?'

Clara was aghast. Wife-to-be? No, no. This woman was making a big mistake.

'I'm just his ... ' Clara was saying, but mama interrupted again.

'I know. I know you're just his fiancé. But I trust God. I trust that as long as the almighty God is alive, very soon - very, very soon - the two of you will be wedded before my own eyes. I also trust that your child, my grandchild, is on his way.'

Now, Clara was confounded. Before she could say anything further, Manu spoke: 'Why don't we all go inside? Outside is not the best place to say important things like this.'

They moved to the door of his apartment. He brought out a bunch of keys from his pocket and opened the door.He then helped mama to carry her bag inside.

'Let me quickly go to the toilet,' mama said. 'I've been pressed for some time now.'She needed no direction to the toilet as she was no stranger to the place. When she was out of earshot, Clara turned to glare at him.

'What's all this about?' she demanded.

He tried a wan smile. 'Mama has been pestering me to bring a wife home,' he replied in a voice scarcely above whispers.

'But you should have told her who I am. You should have made her know I'm not who she thinks I am.'

He shook his head. 'See, since she has presumed you're the one, let's just play along. In fact, let me tell you that it will save me from a lot of hassles from her. So, please, let's play along.'

'But, ... ' she wanted to protest.

She stopped as mama was back in the sitting-room.

'O ya, o ya,' mama said. 'Let my daughter-in-law go to the kitchen and prepare nice dinner for us.'

Clara glanced at him. He smiled and winked back at her. He took her to the kitchen, but there was a big snag.

'I'm not good in cooking,' she blurted out.

'What?!'

'I don't cook in my house. It's either the house girl does it or my mum.'

He looked worried. 'This is serious.'

'Since yesterday afternoon? That was long ago. That's about twenty four hours ago now.'

He laughed across the line. 'Once again, my apologies.'

'Apologies accepted, but don't do it again o.'

'Yes, your Lordship.'

The two of them laughed.

'Don't worry. I'll make it up. This weekend, I promise to make it up.' His voice over the line was very unambiguous.

'O.k. That'll be nice. So, how's everything at your end?' She could even predict what his answer would be.

'All is well, dear. Every thing's cool.'

She nodded. 'Alright. Bye for now.'

'Bye bye.'

Damilola cut the line. The office assistant knocked at her door and brought in the burger she had ordered for.

'Thank you.' Damilola took the pack from her. Just then, her cell phone rang. It was Josh on the line again.

'Hello. I called to fulfill my promise to call.' There was a short laugh and he seemed to find his action very funny.

'Not so fast, mister. I expect you to call in a couple of hours’ time.'

'This one too is a call, darling.' He was a smooth operator but Damilola would not fall for that.

'I know, but I'll still be expecting the other call in a couple of hours’ time, or so.'

'You win.' He laughed again. 'Alright, till then.'

She cut the line again, smiling to herself. She decided to have her breakfast. As she munched the burger, she opened the plastic bottle of carbonated drinks she would take with it.

Her mind went to five months ago when she first met Josh. She was at Maryland ShopRite where she had gone for some shopping. She did not know he had been observing and following her inside the expansive shopping hall.

As she was about to pay through the POS, he came to her side and offered to pay for everything she had bought by cash. She was pleasantly surprised by the offer, but he insisted he should be allowed to do it.

Later, he chatted her up briefly at the car park. He appeared to be a bit overbearing from the on-set. He had introduced himself as a petroleum engineer and the son of a prominent politician. He got her number and they had started dating since then.

At twenty-eight, Damilola had started looking forward to a lasting relationship. She would not mind having someone that would propose marriage to her, the one she would finally marry.

Josh had not made any such proposition. Damilola was still studying him, but he, so far, looked like someone who did not have marriage idea in his lexicon. But she might be wrong. Maybe he too was studying her and would soon make the move.

While Damilola was thinking about her relationship with Josh, her sister, Helen too was ruminating over her past relationship with Richard. Helen had already started dreaming of settling down with him.

Richard was a consultant in pediatrics. He had looked so promising, but an automobile accident had put an end to any further dream of him.

There was a gentle rap at the door and Helen was brought back from her reverie.

'Yes, who is it?' She sat up and looked towards the door.

'It's me, Zizi.' Zizi was the fat and lively housemaid.

'Come in.'

ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME

1. Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.

2. Not the labors of my hands,
Can fulfill Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone,
Thou must save and Thou alone.

3. Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to Thee for grace,
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Saviour, or I die.

4. While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyes shall close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgement throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN JESUS

1. What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear;
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer.

2. Have we trials and temptations?
Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged,
Take it to the Lord in prayer,
Can we find a friend so faithful,
Who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness,
Take it to the Lord in prayer.

3. Are we weak and heavy laden,
Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Saviour, still our refuge,
Take it to the Lord in prayer,
Do your friends despise, forsake you?
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
In His arms He'll take and shield you,
You wilt find a solace there.

'Come, let me explain.' He beckoned at her.

As soon as she came within his range, he grabbed her breasts. Shocked, she hit his hands and recoiled from him the way she would do to a mamba.

'I didn't mean to hurt you.' The explanation was gratuitous. 'See, I really like you and I will do all those things I said I would do. Just cooperate with me.'

Sename stared at him. The shock was still on her face.

He tried what he thought was a disarming smile again.

'I did that because I like you so much.' His smile broadened. 'See, if you prove to be a good girl, you will really enjoy in this house. I can promise you that.'

She still looked at him uncertainly.

'Don't you want me to take care of you? Don't you want me to treat you special?' He was intent on setting the booby trap.

'But, madam...what of madam? She no go like it.'

Her reference to madam buoyed him up, rather than dampening him.

'Who will tell her? Are you a baby that you'll tell her such a thing? Listen, even if she gets to know, am I not the master of this house? You have nothing to fear, my dear.'

The use of the last expression seemed to work on her.

She appeared to relax. Nonso noticed this and capitalized on it.

'You don't have to doubt me.' He touched his chest to give her assurance. 'I always do what I say I will do.'

He said it as if he was God.

'Listen, to show you how serious I am, come and take this.'

He brought out some naira notes of five hundred denomination.

Sename's eyes popped out when she saw the money. She first stared at the money, then at him.

'More of this will come if you cooperate. Come and have it.'

There was another slight pause.

He knew he would win. There was a leer on his face as he beckoned at her again. ‘Come on.’

Like a toddler with unsteady steps, she moved over to him and he grabbed her again. This time around, there was only a feigned little resistance.



The following morning, after the devastating news of her fiancé, Helen remained in her room. Her mother came to meet her and enjoined her to take things easy.

'You need to cheer up.' She gave her daughter a pat. 'If he would not be, somebody else would be. Come on, cheer up. It's not the end of the world.'

Julie ordered the maid to bring beverage drinks for her.

Damilola too popped in to see her sister before she left for her place of work.

She wasn't there for long as she was conscious of not getting late to work.

She was soon in the school. She immersed herself in her work and forgot about any remote or immediate source of worry. During the long break, she decided to call Josh, her heartthrob.

'Na so you dey do?' There was sarcasm in her tone. 'You didn't even bother to call me since yesterday.'

'I'm sorry, my dear. But I called you yesterday afternoon.'

'Since yesterday afternoon? That was long ago. That's about twenty four hours ago now.'

What is the essence of this?

Why are some people bent on deviating from nature and natural life?

She didn’t flinch or pull away, but neither did she respond. Her silence lingered in the room like incense smoke after a prayer. I didn’t push further.

I stepped out into the corridor with a strange lightness in my step. The compound seemed suddenly friendlier, as though the air itself had shifted. The heavy silence that had once hung over everything like a bad omen now felt more like a gentle hush, the calm after a minor storm.

Amazing, I thought to myself, a small laugh catching in my throat. Women must truly be remarkable creatures. Just minutes ago, Ms. Kay had been adamant—certain that the bra I’d found wasn’t hers. Her voice had been firm, her gaze steely. And now, after a bit of sincere explanation and what I could only hope had been genuine transparency, she had agreed. Just like that. It felt like a minor miracle.

Wonderful! I thought. May God bless Madam Landlady, wherever she is now! Her words of wisdom, cryptic as they had initially seemed, now rang with quiet clarity in my head: “Just be honest and calm. Women know when a man is telling the truth.”

I reached my door, unlocked it, and stepped into my room with a profound sense of victory. The end was in sight. The long, bizarre hassle of a missing bra—an ordeal that had caused more drama in this compound than three months of faulty plumbing—was nearly behind me. I was moments away from bringing it out, laying it before Ms. Kay, and saying, “Here it is. Case closed.”

The white polythene bag sat right where I had left it: on the edge of my bed, half hanging off, like it had been waiting patiently for its cue in a play. I walked over to it confidently, reached for the handle, and picked it up.

And then—I froze.

The bag was too light.

Much too light.

I opened the flap and peered inside.

Nothing.

I blinked, frowning. I turned the polythene bag upside down. Not even a thread dropped out.

Empty.

Jesus.

I stood still for a second, my brain not quite ready to accept what my eyes had just confirmed. A dull panic began to rise inside me. Wait… wasn’t it in here? I’m sure it was. I turned the bag inside out again, checking the corners, smoothing it out against my palm. Still nothing.

“Where did I keep the bra?” I muttered aloud, suddenly frantic.

I moved to the wardrobe and began pulling it open with jerky movements. I tossed shirts and trousers aside, yanked open the bottom drawers. Nothing. I crouched down, yanked up the mattress, shoved my hand along the corners of the bedframe. My heart was beginning to pound like war drums.

I checked behind the cooking gas cylinder, beneath the bed, under the pillows, behind the curtain rod. Still nothing.

Then I did something absurd—I opened the fridge.

Of course there was no bra in there. Just leftover stew in a plastic bowl and half a bottle of soft drink. But I was past the point of logic. I opened the pots in the kitchen rack. Empty. I went to the laundry basket and shook out each item. Still nothing.

The bra! Where the hell was the bra?!

In the peak of desperation, I even lifted the hem of my T-shirt and stared at my own chest, as if by some supernatural mishap I might have worn it without realizing.

I laughed aloud—a dry, frantic sound. That’s preposterous, I thought. How could I, a grown man, possibly wear a bra and not know? But that only served to emphasize how desperate I had become. I was unraveling.

Ms. Kay was waiting.

I had promised her.