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"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.

Gambling is addictive and destructive.

I will not be against banning it.

I agree that sportsmen should save when the goings are rosy.

But calling for a jail term for broke former players is outlandish.

You may as well call for a jail term for all those who make money but lost it!

Indeed, sexual temptations are common. The good thing is that they can be overcome. The renewal of Mind can help one to overcome.

The truth is sex is OVERRATED.

Princess Betty laughed too, though her eyes never quite left me. “It’s a very private affair,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “Just the four of us. No fanfare, no noise. Just truth.”

The table was set on a low platform beneath a series of delicate pendant lights. As we sat, two maids moved quietly between us, setting down plates of peppered goat meat, grilled lobster, jollof rice with prawns, and steaming bowls of yam porridge laced with truffle oil. The wine was French—old, expensive, and silky on the tongue.

Conversation flowed easily, with Princess Betty steering the mood like a conductor. She asked about my family, my background, and even my opinion on the current state of Nigerian cinema. Jolade mostly listened, Daniel occasionally chimed in with humor.

But I couldn’t ignore the way the Princess kept looking at me—curious, assessing, almost… familiar. As if she were seeing something in me that even I hadn’t discovered yet.

After dessert—coconut cream with caramel drizzle—Jolade excused herself to take a call, and Daniel followed shortly after, stepping onto the terrace to give her privacy.

That left just the two of us.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind Jolade’s voice, sealing the room like a vault. The sounds of music and laughter from the garden faded until they were little more than background static—like a memory already slipping away.

Princess Betty stood at the bar and poured us both another glass of deep red wine, the kind that moved like velvet and smelled like black cherries and smoke. She handed me one without a word, her fingers brushing mine for the briefest second—cool, deliberate, unreadable.

She returned to her seat, curling into the armchair opposite mine with a grace that felt instinctual. No pretense. No theater. Just presence. The firelight from the nearby hearth cast warm shadows along her cheekbones, softening her edges. But her eyes—those eyes remained sharp as ever.

The silence that fell between us was deep. Not awkward. Not tense. It was… full. Like the moment right before a confession or the second before a storm breaks.

“You know,” she said finally, swirling the wine in her glass, “I’ve had more lavish birthdays than I care to remember. Gold-leaf cakes. Champagne flown in from Reims. Six-course dinners curated by Michelin chefs. Presidents. Royalty. Entertainers trying too hard to be seen.”

She took a sip, her gaze distant, then glanced over at me. “But tonight—this? Just a few voices, no cameras, no agendas? This is what I wanted.”

I nodded slowly. “It’s… intimate. Peaceful.”

“Yes. And rare.”
Her tone changed on that last word. Something weighted. Intentional.

She looked at me—fully now. No smile. No mask.

“But rare things,” she continued, “are often misunderstood. Feared. Or worse… broken by people who think they know what they're handling.”

Her words settled like dust on glass—fine, almost invisible, until the light hits at just the right angle. I could feel there was more beneath them. A deeper story unspoken.

“I invited you, Femi,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “not just because I admire your work.”

I looked up. Her voice had shifted. Lower. Steadier.

“I admire your eyes,” she said. “The way you see the world. Not just the grit or the pain—but the beauty in it. You don’t look away. You don’t romanticize it either. You just… witness.”

She paused, wineglass resting against her knee. Her gaze didn’t falter.
“And I miss that,” she said quietly. “In people. That honesty.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “You think I see you clearly?”

“No,” she said, barely above a whisper. “But I want you to.”

That line hit me like a blow I didn’t expect—soft but staggering. It wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t seduction. It was something far more dangerous.

It was trust.

Or the beginning of it.

The space between us grew charged. Not romantic. Not sexual. But electric in a different way—like the quiet tension between two people who had just stepped off the edge of something irreversible. A bond was forming, subtle and risky, in the places where most people build walls.

I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was going to say, when—

“Mummy!”
The voice from the hallway shattered the moment like glass dropped on tile.
Jolade again. “Daniel and I are heading out!”

Princess Betty stood immediately, her gown whispering across the marble floor. The moment snapped shut. Whatever had been stirring between us folded itself away—quietly, efficiently.

“Alright, darling,” she called out. “Drive safe. Call me when you get home.”

I rose, wine glass still in hand, my heartbeat trying to make sense of everything that hadn’t been said.

She turned to me, smiling again—but it was the public smile now. The one she used for diplomacy and boardrooms. Not the one from before.

“Thank you for coming, Femi,” she said, extending her hand once more. Polite. Professional. But her grip lingered half a second longer than necessary.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I said, still searching her eyes for the woman who had whispered I want you to just minutes ago.

Outside, the air was cooler than before. The kind of Lagos night where even the wind feels like it’s carrying secrets. I walked back to my car slowly, the envelope still in my coat pocket, the taste of wine on my tongue, and something else sitting deeper in my chest:

A truth that hadn’t yet revealed itself.
And a woman who had just opened a door.
The only question was—what waited on the other side?


“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

She knew the kind of person he was and was not very pleased about some past deeds and misdeeds.

But she continued to wonder how Biyi got her number in the first place. Perhaps a mutual friend had given the returnee.

Her mind hovered on telling her husband about the call, but – again – she quickly dismissed the idea. She would handle it all alone, she thought. Indeed, it seemed unfair to bring him in. she had involved herself in a mess, which – she believed – she must get herself out of, all by herself.

Femi forgot the unanswered call and made passionate love to his wife. He was always good in that. Unlike him, she was only pretending to be enjoying the act. Her thinking was distant and troubled.


* * *


It wasn’t until ten o’clock the following morning when Biyi called again. Femi had left for office about four hours ago and Julie was alone in the house apart from the maidservant. Femi’s brother had also gone out.

When her phone rang, she could see that it was an unknown number which turned out to be Biyi’s own.

‘Were you the one that called last night?’ she asked tersely, uptight There was a short laugh.

‘Yeah. I just wanted to hear your voice.’ ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

He became all serious again. ‘That’s why we’ve got to talk.’ He allowed a brief silence. ‘Do you know the Accordia Hotel?’

She had heard of the name, but she couldn’t place where it was. ‘I think I do.’ He gave her the address. ‘Let’s meet there in the lobby at 11.00 this morning.’

‘What kind of mischief are you up to?’

‘There’s no mischief. We’ll only talk, okay? That’s the rendezvous.’

She thought briefly. ‘Okay.’

The line was disconnected. She felt a little bit feverish. An hour to go, she thought, musing over the person she was to meet. Something told her she should not go on with it, but – on a second thought – she shrugged it off. No harm, she thought. If ever he was preposterous in what he was going to say, she could easily tell him to go to hell.

Biyi was her first love, her heartthrob during her under-graduate days. They were in the same department, doing the same course and striving to excel in the study of linguistics. Julie could not avoid being enamored to his handsome and vivacious mien.

Besides, he had an easy smile and laugh that were infectious. She liked his idea of romanticism.

He had given her the name, Princess. Effusive as ever, he had described that she was greater than Cleopatra and Mona Lisa combined. In his words, Julie was like Venus who diffused aura of love, affection and passion. So, he called her Princess of the universe. Not that she minded, though.

Trouble had started in the third year. She had been hearing that he was fraternizing with one secret cult or the other on the campus, but there was no way those fleeting words could be affirmed. Then, one day, she had challenged him about it, demanding for nothing but the absolute truth. He confirmed her worst fears, but promised that in a matter of short time, he would renounce the damnable thing.

He never did. Rather, he went ahead to become ‘the capo.’ All the while, he didn’t stop effusing words about his endless love for her. She was in a serious quandary but her mind urged her to play along. The hammer finally fell on him when he was rusticated from the university.

..

*Jesus: The All-Sufficient Provider*

In a world filled with uncertainty and scarcity, Jesus offers a profound promise: He is the all-sufficient Provider. From the bread of life to the living water, Jesus demonstrates His ability to meet our deepest needs.

*Scriptural Foundation*

- "I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst." - John 6:35
- "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." - Philippians 4:19

*Attributes of Jesus as Provider*

- *Omnipotence*: Jesus has all power and authority, enabling Him to provide for our every need.
- *Omniscience*: Jesus knows our needs before we ask, demonstrating His infinite wisdom and understanding.
- *Love*: Jesus' provision is motivated by His deep love for us, shown through His sacrifice on the cross.

*Experiencing Jesus as Provider*

- *Trust*: Trusting Jesus as Provider requires faith in His goodness, love, and power.
- *Prayer*: Bringing our needs to Jesus in prayer, trusting in His ability to provide.
- *Gratitude*: Expressing thankfulness for Jesus' provision, acknowledging His faithfulness.

*Benefits of Relying on Jesus*

- *Peace*: Trusting Jesus as Provider brings peace, knowing that He cares and will supply our needs.
- *Contentment*: Focusing on Jesus' provision leads to contentment, rather than discontentment or anxiety.
- *Hope*: Jesus' provision gives us hope for the future, knowing that He will always be with us.

In conclusion, Jesus is the all-sufficient Provider, meeting our every need according to His riches in glory. May we trust in His goodness, love, and power, and experience the peace, contentment, and hope that come from relying on Him.

And it sounded like oga's own. Sename was surprised. She looked through the latch to confirm. Realizing that he was the one, she quickly opened the gate.

'I've been horning the car for some time.' The man didn't find the delay funny. 'Until I banged the gate. Why didn't you answer me on time?'

'I'm sorry, sir. I no hear. Madam say you travel.' It was unmistakable that she spoke in faltering English.

'Yes. Person wey travel no dey return? I’m back.'

He went back to his car to drive in. Sename helped him to carry his bag and some sacks of foodstuffs from the boot of his car to the house.

'Is there bread and eggs in the house?' He looked towards the kitchen.

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Fry some eggs for me. I'll like to have fried eggs and bread.'

Nonso went to have a shower and change of clothes. For the past two days, he had been to Benin city on business. Unlike before when his trip could take weeks, he hardly travelled now, and whenever he did, he would be back within a couple of days.

He was a successful transporter who had made his mark in passengers’ transportation business. His fleet of buses was doing well. At sixty, Nonso had travailed the north, east, south and west of the terrain called Nigeria. He had four children, all grown up. The first two were in Europe while the third one was in Malaysia. The last born, twenty-two years old Hilda was studying Business Administration in a private university in Ogun state.

Nonso relaxed in the sitting room, awaiting the food being prepared by Sename. He was yet to tell his wife that he was back in Lagos. No need to do that for now, he reasoned.

'Food don ready, sir.' Her hands smelled of onions.

From his seat, he looked up and nodded. Of course, he had been had been waiting for the announcement.

He moved to the dining table. The taste of the food was as good as the aroma. Since Sename was employed, she had not disappointed in her culinary skills. Nonso ate the food with relish.

'Bring the fruit juice in the fridge here.' He always asked for juices. He would sip the drinks after the food.

As Sename cleared the table, something caught his attention. He had seen it before, but pretended not to have done so.

Surreptitiously, he had been staring at her boobs and bums. Now that he was home alone with her, he felt it would be a good opportunity to explore.

'So, you prepared this food or madam did?' He smiled at her.

It was an unnecessary question but she must answer it.

'I did, sir.' She curtsied.

He nodded his head approvingly. 'You cooked very well. Ever since you came, I've noticed that. Did you say you still want to go to school?'

'No, sir. I want to learn fashion design.'

'Oh yes, oh yes.'

He sat back on the chair relaxingly.

'See.' He tried to look sincere. 'All those things that you want are small things. They're things I can easily get for you, plus a big modern shop.'

Her face lit up in excitement. 'Thank you, sir. I go be grateful, sir.'

'Don't worry. It's a small thing.' There was smugness on his face. 'I've done things much bigger than that for people in the past. It's not a big deal, as long as you're ready to cooperate.'

The girl paused and looked at him. 'Sir?'

'I said it's a small thing, but you must cooperate.'

'I no understand, sir. What you mean by cooperate?'

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

Keep it coming.

For how long will the government do the lockdown?

Are there no other decisive actions government can take?

Nothing Goes for Nothing







Lanre is a hardworking and diligent young man who desires an equally diligent lady for life partnership. He picks on an unusual character and has to go through a lot of travails before he could achieve his lofty desire.





Sename was washing the plates in the kitchen when her madam called her. She quickly stopped what she was doing and wiped her hands with the table cloth.

'Sename!' The voice came louder.

'Yes, ma.' Sename, without further delay, moved to the sitting room to attend to her.

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Don't forget to wash those my clothes I said you should wash.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Madam Pauline picked up her handbag. She was ready to leave. Sename made to help her with the bag, but the madam brushed the offer off.

'Just come and lock the gate. The madam briefly looked around the sitting-room, as if trying to see that all was well. They stepped out of the sitting room. The morning sunshine was bright. Madam went to her SUV car.

'Don't also forget that no visitor or stranger must be allowed inside the compound. Do you understand?' Pauline looked at her sternly.

'Yes, ma'am.'

Sename opened the gate for the car to pass out of the compound. Then she bolted it and went back inside the house.

The madam would probably not be back until late afternoon or evening, as it had been in previous days. As for madam's oga, that one had travelled and Sename did not know when he would be back.

She went back to the kitchen to complete her task there. Sename was an eighteen years old Togolese who recently started working for madam's family. The journey of life had taken her from her village to Lome, and from Lome to Lagos. She still had the ambition to be a fashion designer but she must do this domestic job for now.

She was about to start work on the laundry when she heard hard knocks at the gate. Wondering who it could be, she went out to find out.

'Who is that?' She moved to the gate and stopped short.

'It's me.' It was a male voice. From the tone, the man was becoming impatient.

Love is not always what it seems to be.

Sometimes, love is nothing but ephemeral feelings that disappear with the passage of time.

The New Testament records approximately *37 miracles* performed by Jesus Christ. These miracles are documented in the four Gospels - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - and showcase Jesus' divine authority and power over nature, disease, and even death. Some notable miracles include¹ ² ³:
- *Healing Miracles*:
- Healing a man with leprosy (Matthew 8:1-4, Mark 1:40-45, Luke 5:12-15)
- Healing a paralytic (Matthew 9:1-8, Mark 2:1-12, Luke 5:17-26)
- Healing a woman with an 18-year infirmity (Luke 13:10-17)
- *Nature Miracles*:
- Turning water into wine (John 2:1-11)
- Feeding 5,000 men plus women and children (Matthew 14:13-21, Mark 6:30-44, Luke 9:10-17, John 6:1-15)
- Walking on water (Matthew 14:22-33, Mark 6:45-52, John 6:16-21)
- *Raising the Dead*:
- Raising Lazarus from the dead (John 11:1-44)
- Raising Jairus' daughter (Matthew 9:18-26, Mark 5:21-24, 35-43, Luke 8:40-42, 49-56)

These miracles demonstrate Jesus' power and authority, fulfilling Old Testament prophecies and showcasing his divinity.