Centenary Driving School

The Sugar Daddy Contract - Episode 14

Kelvin sat alone in his office long after most of the staff had left the building for the day. The large glass windows behind him revealed the glowing lights of the city spreading across the night like scattered stars, but he barely noticed the view. His attention remained fixed on the papers spread across his desk.

The printed financial records from earlier that morning lay neatly arranged in front of him. Kelvin had gone through them several times already, yet each time he read them, new questions formed in his mind.

A story by Jb Da Silva Usman

The payments were too large to ignore.
They were not labeled as salaries, bonuses, or company incentives. They were simply listed under executive disbursement authorizations, each signed personally by his father.

Kelvin leaned back slowly in his chair and folded his arms. It did not make sense.
His father was a very careful businessman. Every payment that left the company accounts usually had a clear purpose and a detailed explanation. Yet these payments to Zara were vague and almost hidden within the system.

Kelvin picked up one of the papers again.
One transaction alone was enough to buy a small house. Why would his father give such an amount to his personal assistant?

Kelvin’s mind began replaying every moment he had shared with Zara inside the company. He remembered the way some employees used to whisper whenever she passed by. At the time he had assumed they were simply jealous of her closeness to the chairman. Now he was no longer sure. He rubbed his jaw slowly.

Something about this entire situation felt deeper than he had originally believed. It was no longer just about his father disapproving of his relationship with Zara.
There was history there. History his father had carefully hidden. Kelvin stood up and walked toward the window, staring out at the quiet city streets below. The night air pressed softly against the glass as he rested his hands on the frame. He had two options. He could confront his father again and demand answers. Or he could continue investigating quietly.

Kelvin already knew which option would give him the truth. His father was too skilled at avoiding questions. If Kelvin wanted real answers, he would have to find them himself.

The next morning, Kelvin arrived at the company earlier than usual again. The building was still waking up for the day, with cleaners moving through the hallways and security guards greeting the few early staff members.

Kelvin walked straight to the human resources department. The HR manager, a middle-aged woman named Mrs. Banjo, looked surprised to see him so early.

“Good morning, Mr. Kelvin,” she said politely. “Good morning.” “What can I do for you?” Kelvin leaned casually against the desk. “I just need to review a few old employee files.” Mrs. Banjo nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

She walked toward a locked cabinet at the back of the office and pulled out several folders before placing them on the table.

Kelvin began flipping through the files slowly, pretending to browse randomly, but his real focus remained on one name.
Zara. Eventually he found the file.

Her employment documents were neatly arranged inside. Her application letter, her interview evaluation, and the official employment contract that had made her the chairman’s personal assistant.
Kelvin frowned slightly as he read the interview evaluation page.
The remarks written there surprised him.
“Candidate shows excellent communication skills but limited corporate experience.”

Kelvin read that sentence twice.
Limited corporate experience? Then how had she been selected for such a sensitive position directly under the chairman?

Most companies would never give such a role to someone with limited experience.
Kelvin flipped to the next page.
Another note caught his attention.
“Appointment approved directly by the Chairman.”

Kelvin slowly closed the file. Now he understood something important.
Zara had not gone through the normal recruitment process. His father had personally selected her. And suddenly Kelvin remembered something Zara had said the day she was fired.
“It’s complicated.”

At the time he had assumed she was simply avoiding the conversation. Now he began to wonder if she had been trying to protect him from the truth. Kelvin thanked the HR manager and left the department quietly. As he walked back toward his office, he noticed two junior staff members whispering near the elevator.

They immediately fell silent when they saw him approaching. Kelvin stopped.
“You two,” he said calmly. The young employees turned nervously. “Yes sir.”
Kelvin looked at them carefully.
“You worked closely with the chairman’s office, right?” They exchanged glances before nodding. “Yes sir.” Kelvin kept his voice casual.

“Did Zara ever have problems with anyone in the office?” The two employees hesitated again. One of them finally spoke.
“Not exactly sir… but…” Kelvin raised an eyebrow. “But what?” The man shifted slightly. “Some people used to say she was… very close to the chairman.”
Kelvin felt his stomach tighten slightly.
“Close how?” The employee immediately shook his head. “Sir, it was just gossip. People talk a lot in offices.” Kelvin nodded slowly. “I understand.”

He dismissed them and continued walking toward his office. But their words stayed with him. Very close to the chairman.
Kelvin sat at his desk and stared at the wall for a long time. A disturbing thought slowly formed in his mind.

What if his father’s refusal had nothing to do with social status or company rules?
What if the reason was something far more personal? Kelvin immediately pushed the thought away. No. That was impossible. His father would never—
But the financial records flashed in his mind again. The private payments. The secret approvals. The direct recruitment.
Kelvin leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to form a picture he did not want to see.
Meanwhile, across the city, Zara sat quietly inside a small rented room she had managed to find after leaving the estate house. The room was nothing like the luxurious place she had grown used to.
The walls were plain. The furniture was minimal. But at least it was somewhere to sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed holding her phone, staring at Kelvin’s contact name on the screen. He had called her several times since the day she left the company. She had not answered any of the calls. Not because she did not want to hear his voice. But because she knew hearing it would make everything harder.

Kelvin deserved the truth. But telling him the truth would destroy him. Zara lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. Her thoughts drifted back to the night she had first signed the contract with Chief Raymond.

At the time, she had convinced herself it was simply a temporary arrangement.
Five years of comfort. Five years of security. After that, she would start her life again. She had never imagined she would fall in love with Kelvin. And she had never imagined that love would cost her everything. Her phone suddenly vibrated in her hand. Kelvin was calling again. Zara stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then slowly… she declined the call.

Back at the office, Kelvin looked down at his phone in frustration when the call ended again. He knew she was avoiding him. But that only made him more determined. Kelvin opened his laptop and typed Zara’s name into the company’s internal archives once more. This time he searched deeper. Old company travel records. Meeting schedules. Private bookings approved by the chairman.
And then suddenly, one document appeared on the screen that made his heart stop. A private travel authorization from a year ago.
Destination: Dubai.
Passengers: Chief Raymond and Zara.

Kelvin stared at the screen in disbelief.
His hands slowly tightened into fists.
That trip had happened during the same time Zara had first joined the company.
Why would his father take his newly appointed personal assistant on an international trip so quickly?

Kelvin leaned back slowly in his chair.
The truth was getting closer. Closer than he had expected. And somewhere deep inside him, a quiet fear began to grow.
Because if his suspicions turned out to be correct… The woman he loved… And the man he trusted most in the world… Might be connected in a way that could destroy all three of them.

👉 To be continued in Episode 15

👉 Please SHARE this story to motivate me to write more episodes

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My husband called me a pr******te and dumped me for another woman—after he forced me to sleep with his boss just so he could get a promotion.

Episode 33

-------+
The guards stood still, unsure whether to move the lifeless b0dy on the ground.
Even the morning birds seemed to avoid the compound, as if grief itself had settled in the air.
Antonia’s tears had not stopped.
She kept staring at the woman

lying before her—
not as an enemy…
not as a threat…

but as a mother who had lost everything.
Jason watched her quietly.

He understood something
important in that
moment:
this was not the end of violence.
This was the cost of it.

He tightened his jaw slightly,
then turned to the guards.
“Call an ambulance,” he said softly.

His voice carried authority… but also respect.
“No one deserves to leave
the world without dignity.”

One of the guards nodded quickly
and stepped away
to make the call.
Antonia finally spoke, her voice barely louder than the wind.
“If hatred can do this to a mother…”
she whispered,
“…what will it do to Philip?”

Jason did not answer immediately.
Because the same question had already entered his own mind.

Minutes later, distant sirens
began to rise in the
quiet morning.
A sound of help…

or perhaps a sound arriving too late.
Antonia slowly turned away,

her body trembling with exhaustion.
Jason placed an arm around her
shoulders and guided her gently
toward the house.
“Come inside,” he murmured.
“You shouldn’t see the rest of this.”

But as they reached the doorway,
Antonia suddenly stopped walking.
A strange unease touched her again
different from before.
Colder.
Deeper.

She looked back once more at the gate… at the red powder scattered faintly on the tiles.
Something about it felt unfinished.
Not dangerous in the way Philip’s mother intended…

but not empty either.
Like a shadow that had not fully disappeared.
Jason noticed her stillness.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
Antonia hesitated.
“I feel like…” she said slowly,
“…this isn’t over.”
-----------
Far away in the prison,

Philip suddenly lifted his head.
This time, the feeling in his chest
was not just fêar.
It was loss.
Real.
Irreversible.
Final..

And without warning,
a loud metallic sound echoed through the corridor outside his cell.
CLANG.
Footsteps followed.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Coming closer.
Philip’s breathing stopped.
Because deep inside, he already knew:
Whatever news was about to reach him…
would change everything.
The footsteps halted

directly in front of his cell door.
Silence.
Then a guard’s shadow appeared behind the iron bars.
“Philip…” the man said quietly.
And in that single unfinished word…
the world began to collapse.

The guard’s shadow remained still behind the iron bars.
For a moment, the entire prison corridor felt suspended in silence
the kind of silence that comes before a life changes forever.
“Philip…” the guard called again, softer this time.
Not with anger.
Not with authority.
But with something dangerously close to pity.
Philip’s throat tightened.
Every instinct inside him already knew the truth…

yet his heart refused to accept it.
“What is it?” he førced out, his voice dry and cracked.

The guard hesitated.
And that hesitation said everything.
“Your mother…”

The words struggled to come out.
“…she’s gone.”
Nothing in the world moved.
Not the air.
Not the sounds.
Not even time itself.

Because sometimes, grief,
does not arrive with screams

it arrives with silence so loud it destroys you from inside.
Philip blinked once.
Twice.

As if his eyes could erase
what he had just heard.
“No,” he said quietly.
Just one word.
Small.
Weak.
Broken.

The guard lowered his gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
Something inside Philip collapsed.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Something deeper.

The last place in his heart
where he was still a son.
His knees slowly gave way
until he was sitting on the
cold floor again.
But this time, he did not feel the cold.
He felt nothing.
And nothing…

is more dångerous than pain.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe hours.
No one could tell..

Because Philip did not cry.
Did not shout.
Did not move.
Until suddenly,
He stood up.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Too calmly.

Without looking at the guard again, he turned and walked toward the small bathroom corner of the cell.

Each step sounded hollow…
like footsteps inside a coffin.

Inside the dim bathroom, the weak yellow bulb flickered above him.
Philip stared at the cracked mirror on the wall.
The face looking back at him…
was no longer human.

Just emptiness wearing skin.
“My mother is gone…” he whispered.
The words sounded strange in his own ears.
Unreal.

Impossible.
Because in his mind, she was still alive,
still fighting for him,
still believing in him.
And now…

There was nothing left to fight for.
His eyes slowly dropped to the floor beside the wall.

There… half-hidden behind a broken bucket…
stood a small bottle of Sniper.
Left carelessly by a cleaner.
Forgotten.
Silent.
Waiting.

Philip’s breathing changed.
Not fast.
Not panicked.
Just… heavy.

Because despair does not rush.
It settles.
He bent down slowly and picked up the bottle.
His fingers trêmbled,
not from fear…
but from the terrible calm of someone who feels there is no tomorrow left.
“If she’s gone…” he murmured,
“…then what is the point of anything?”
Teãrs finally gathered in his eyes.
Not angry teãrs.
Childlike teãrs.

The teãrs of a little boy
who had just lost the only person who ever loved him without conditions.

Philip stared at the bottle again.
One twist of the cap…
and everything would end.
No more prison.
No more shame.
No more pain.
Just silence.
His hand slowly moved toward the cover.
But then,
A memory flashed.
His mother’s voice.
Soft.
Tired.
Loving.
“No matter what happens… you must live.”
His fingers froze.

The bottle trêmbled violently in his hand.
Because now…
for the first time…
Philip was not fighting Jason.
Not fighting Antonia.
He was fighting himself.
And this…
was the hardest battle of all.
The cap began to turn
click…

Episode 34 — Will Philip choose death… or face the life he destroyed? Which do you prefer for him?? You miss an episode of looking for a particular episode? It's all on my Pagec click to read Grace Ochiba

🔥 TO BE CONTINUED… 🔥.

My brother's wife

Episode 1

My father had always been a man who believed in order, discipline, and dreams.

He was from Edo State, but duty had taken him far from home to a town called Nung Udoe, where he served as a police inspector. The people of the town came to know him as a fair but firm officer—someone who didn’t like trouble, but never ran from it either. Papa walked with calm confidence, spoke carefully, and carried his badge like it meant something more than just authority.

One of his small, curious joys in life was English names.

He loved the way they sounded—strong, clean, and full of promise. So when my elder brother was born, papa named him Roland. When I arrived three years later, he named me Albert. He would smile proudly whenever he called our names, as if he was already speaking our futures into existence.

“Education is your real weapon,” he often told us. “I can train you to any level you want to reach. Just tell me how far you wish to go.”

And he meant it.

True to his word, he worked hard, saved carefully, and made sure we never lacked school fees or books, even when postings and life made things difficult.

I grew up quiet, thoughtful, and determined. I carried my father’s discipline and also his own gentle curiosity about the world.

When my brother Roland gained admission into the University of Uyo, the family celebrated like it was a festival. For Papa, it felt like one of his biggest victories—proof that his promise to his children was not empty. Roland was hard working but he was easily distracted by women. On several occasions, young girls fôught amongst themselves because of Roland and each time the news got to papa, he frowned at it
While Roland was in his final year, he met Ekaete. She was in her third year and according to my elder brother, they met in the most ordinary way: through a mutual friend, during a group discussion that turned into laughter and long conversations.

What started as friendship slowly became something deeper.
They studied together. They walked across campus together.

By the time Roland graduated, he made up his mind to marry Ekaete.

He went home during the break before youth service and told papa everything—about Ekaete. This happened in my final year in the University of Calabar and I was at home for vacation.

Papa listened quietly, then he smiled and responded.

“My son,” he said, “I am glad that you are now a responsible man. When a man finds someone he loves, he should not let her go. Go and serve your country. When you return, if your heart is still sure, we will do things the right way.”

============================

My brother Roland was running late for an appointment. He wanted to drop his CV with one of Papa's friends for a job recruitment. In those days, getting a government job was strictly by connection.

“Roland, you’re going to be late for your appointment,” I said, tying Roland's shoelaces in a hurry.

Roland laughed. “Relax. Hon Okoro won’t run away. He will wait for me. He is papa's friend remember? He does not joke with me at all.

I smiled as I watched him walk towards me to get his shoe.

“Serious medical student,” Roland teased. “University of Calabar’s finest. I know you are always seated before others arrive but in my case, let him wait for me first. I am his friends son and papa has helped him out of difficult situations severally. He was demonstrating as he spoke.
==============
That evening, I sat under a shade outside receiving fresh air. Staying inside was a serious punishment for there was no light. Roland walked towards me.

“Since you came back, this is the very first time I am taking my time to look at you. You look thinner,” Roland said, dropping his bag on the bench outside.

“Medicine is squeezing you.” He continued.

“It’s squeezing everyone.” I said as I smiled.

Just then, a beautiful damsel approached our compound. My eyes followed her as I was mesmerized by her beauty.

I was still staring at her when Roland tapped me.

"Meet Ekaete my fiancée." He said.

Ekaete just looked calm. Like someone who was not easily perturbed while Roland continued with the introduction. He turned to Ekaete and introduced her to me as well.

"Meet my brother Albert. He came back a fortnight ago for his vacation." He stated.

We both exchanged pleasantries.
I admired everything about Ekaete and I complimented her in front of my brother.

"Roland, you been carrying eye go market oh! Congratulations!" I said.

==============================

The next couple of weeks were hectic for we were all preparing for Roland's marriage. My mother and even my two other siblings who were both female didn't particularly like Ekaete. They always had something to say about her in a negative manner. Once I overheared our last born complaining that Ekaete was too full of herself and querying Roland for making plans to marry Ekaete but I did not buy into that line of thought. To me, Ekaete was just a self confident woman; nothing more, nothing less. I did all I could to ensure that my brother's marriage was a huge success and it turned out so.

After the marriage, Roland hugged me. “Thank you, my brother.”

I smiled. “Go and build your home.”

Two months later, I packed my bags and headed to Port Harcourt for my housemanship.

“You’re making me proud.” Papa said as I hugged him and he gave me his blessings.

=============================

It's been two years since I completed my housemanship and went for my youth service in Ekiti State. While still serving, I was pursuing a scholarship program to study abroad for my post graduate studies. I actually aspired to be a professor of medicine and I was seriously working towards it.

Immediately after my service, I got the admission and also got scholarship courtesy of a house of reps member from Edo state. The program was at a University in Europe. I was very happy as I prepared my documents to travel out.
=============================

While in Europe , my life became books, labs, and cold mornings.

Then I started receiving calls from home.

"Ekaete is not a good woman. I went visiting Roland and she did this and that...” My immediate junior sister complained.

Another call, weeks later.

“Albert, we hear things. She’s not treating Roland well and she is even barren”. Our last born said. At this statement, I laughed.

"That marriage isn't up to five years and you are already calling Ekaete barren. If you see a barren woman, will you be able to talk?" I asked

“Well… but she is wasting Roland's time you know." My immediate junior sister confirmed.

“Is it your time that she is wasting?" I asked. Listen, I’m far away. Roland is my brother. If there’s a problem, he should tell me himself.” I responded.

My sister hung up abruptly and I went back to my books.

"I must distinguish myself in this profession." I said to myself as I stood up and went to the bathroom to shower.

Story by Grace Anderson

Watch out for Episode 2

‎I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A FÃT GIRL, BUT MY WÃIST AND HÏPS KEPT THINGS IN SHAPE

‎I don't have a pr0blem with my wēight or my physical appearance, but Kedu, my boyfriend, began to have a pr0blem with it after two years of our rēlationship.
‎
‎He mostly c0mplained and blam£d it upon my eating hãbits because, in his terms, since I sold food, I had the liberty to eat Whenever felt huπgry.
‎
‎No r£strictions because the owner of a restaurant never lacks food.
‎
‎People who hadn't been in my shoes or anyone who hadn't strμggled with wēight just assumed that food is the only reason why people get fãt.
‎
‎Or people who are fãt are just food ãddicts.
‎
‎I don't hat£ my bødy; I never have.
‎
‎I grew up in Warri, and even before I became aware of my bødy, people around me called me "orobo," which meant "large" or "extra large."
‎
‎I grew up with that name, and most people don't even know my birth name, and all my life, I have grown up with people's comments, advice, and tips on how to lose wēight or even both.
‎
‎I barely have anything to ēat whenever I go out for a family gathering or even public events.
‎
‎The only people who had loved me regardless of my wēight and didn't make it seem as if it was a siπ to be fãt were my family.
‎
‎
‎I never really knew I was fat until I left the comfort of my family.
‎
‎My life was smooth; I was hoping to study lãw as soon as I finished secondary school, but as soon as I did, disast£r struck.
‎
‎After I wrote my common entrance exams and JAMB into the university, my father was returning back from work travel when he got involved in a fãtal aμto crãsh accideπt.
‎
‎
‎Our lives never remained the same from that moment.
‎
‎We lost everything we had over the years to the h0spital bìlls.
‎
‎
‎We tried all we could to get my father on his feēt, but at the end he løst both his legs.
‎
‎We løst everything by the time his health was at least stable enough to return home.
‎
‎He løst his job and basically everything he owned.
‎
‎My mom never really did any business because my father asked her not to at the start of their marriagē because he wanted my mom to focus solely on caring for the family.
‎
‎What a bãd idea.
‎
‎Eventually, I and my mom began to do odds job to sμrvive since I was the oldest child.
‎
‎That was how the chapter of ever going to the university just fãded.
‎
‎Dreams just di£d.
‎
‎We søld whatever we could lay our hands on, but the pr0blem we had was that no matter how much I and my mother hμstled, it was never enough.
‎
‎My father's h0spital bìlls and regular m£dical check up for his ambμlate legs were enough to draiπ whatever little savings we had.
‎
‎My siblings didn't dr0p out of school; since they were still in secondary school, the only thing was that they had to be traπsferred into a public g0vernment school, unlike the prestigiøus privatē school they attended before.
‎
‎A few years down the line, I got a small shade near the g0vernment rail c0nstruction road's new layout in Warri, and I began selling rice.
‎
‎Stew rice.
‎
‎Most people called it ofada rice.
‎
‎One thing I took from my mother was my ability to cook delicious food.
‎
‎People started patronizing me; that place automatically became my food joint
‎
‎ it was called Madame Biggie's Food Joint.
‎
‎I didn't particularly name it that; the rail construction workers that came eating named it that.
‎
‎one time when they were done eating.
‎
‎And as you know, names, especially in Warri, travel faster than electrical current.
‎
‎I didn't find it offeπsive, because all my life I had been called "biggie," "orobo," etc.
‎
‎Although a part of me didn't like it when they referred to me as Biggie.
‎
‎I was just a plus-size woman; I wasn't all that fãt, was what I kept telling myself.

A year later, at this time I was twenty-two when I met Kedu. just one slim, fine guy.
‎
‎At first when he came, I thought he was j0king and wasn't serious, but over the couple of months, he came to my shop every day and helped carry my cooler when I was done s£lling and even helped me wash the dishes after customers were done eating.
‎
‎He would speak loving words to me and even profess his love for me.
‎
‎And bømbarded my ears with love lines he heard from songs.
‎
‎The way he made me Feel he made me feel seen, visible.
‎
‎All my life I had felt and wanted to remain invisible.
‎
‎People see my wēight and not me.The first thing anyone would say about me was my wēight.
‎
‎My size was their first impression.
‎
‎He was the first man who would have ever looked past my wēight without making lame jokes.
‎
‎I had toasters, who wanted one thing; even a blind man could see what they all wanted.
‎
‎The thìcker, the merrier.
‎
‎After a while I agreed to date him; he was overjoyed when I told him I agreed
‎
‎Our love blossomed till he took my virgiπity.
‎
‎
‎Although he was still loving me at the time, he changed, not immediately but little by little.
‎
‎
‎Firstly, he started c0mplaining of how fãt I was and would accμse me of eating all the food I was selling.
‎
‎When he sees that I am cryiπg, he will coπsole me and tell me he just wants the best for me.
‎
‎ then tell me about the thousands of women across Africa that were dyiπg of ob£sity and how fãt people were ēligible to di£ young.
‎
‎For goodness sake, I wasn't that fãt. Just a plus-size woman.

But I held my lips as he k1ssed me tenderly, and I fell for it.
‎
‎Why wouldn't I?

I felt inadequate.

He was the perfect man.
‎
‎but still he stoop so low to date an oversized woman like me.
‎
‎The thing with cooking and standing underneath heat for hours is that it makes one look older than her age.
‎
‎At twenty-four, I already had wrinkles and dark eye bags underneath my eyes because I only had a few hours for sleep.
‎
‎After selling before evening, I would have started sēlling akara and then returned to the market to source out ingredients.
‎
‎When I got home by evening, I would start preparing the ingredients I would use and begin to wash dishes and then do some house chores.
‎
‎It was a routine I followed righteously.
‎
‎My resting hours were so m£ssed up that sometimes I d0zed off while at my marketplace.
‎
‎When Kedu iñjected that, I began to lose some weight because people were laμghing.
‎
‎His £xcuses were too lame for the ears to begin with.
‎
‎I was first taken aback because I wasn't the first fãt person in the whole of Warri.
‎
‎A m0dernized world, for that matter.Fãt plus-size women were pr0ud of their b0dies.
‎
‎"That's the only way I can love you. See, I am not asking for the heaven or even asking you to get slìm; just drop a few pounds here and there so that your shape can come out
‎
‎I had admitted that I might have cãrelessly added a few pounds of wēight over the years because of str£ss.

since I loved him too much, and it wouldn't hμrt if I lost some extra w£ight, soI reduced eating from two times a day to one time a day; it took a t0ll on my b0dy, because I mostly looked palē and inattēntive as I sold to customers.
‎
‎I was starviπg myself; I would wakē up at night and çry from the rumbling of my stomach, but after months I realized that I still didn't drop the wēight.
‎
‎I felt bãd.
‎
‎But I ate only one time a day, and yet?Was I cμrsed or something?I even drank some herbal slìm tea in the market a month ago.
‎
‎Kedu did not believe it; he wailed and c0mplained, called me all types of names, but at the end, he still begged me to f0rgive him and told me he loved me like that and I shouldn't bother to løse any extra wēight.
‎
‎He ch£ated on me multiple times behind my back, but I turned a bliñd eye to it.
‎
‎
‎Him blowing me kìsses and maybe one or two times he would come over and make l0ve to me was all that truly matters.
‎
‎Things were moving fine until I got pregπant; my mother noticed as well, but I told her that it was just mālaria.
‎
‎I did a pregπancy test at home and discovered that I was pregπant.
‎
‎I was happy, at least with this pregπancy, that he would have no choice but to marry me, but what a liè.
‎
‎I told Kedu about it, and he flūffed up.
‎
‎"You think you can piñ me down with a pregπancy?He got really pìssed that he almost hìt me for the first time.
‎
‎
‎He called me a pr0stitute and told me to go and look for the father of my chîld.I was crμshed and br0ken as I watched myself.He was the only man I was sl££ping with.
‎
‎Over the years I had become extremely close to the Kedu family.
‎
‎His mother and two sisters.They were not particularly from Wãrri, but they moved in here a long time ago.
‎
‎I always gave them free food plus assorted meat every day from my business.
‎
‎Of course that meant my profits were sufferiπg the l0ss.
‎
‎I remembered not putting the usual numbers of meats I normally put in Mama Kedu food.
‎
‎I was surprised with the way she kept malic£ with me for weeks, and Kedu and I had to bēg her to f0rgive me.
‎
‎Even before I reached their house, Mama Kedu and Kedu's younger and older sisters were already waiting for me.
‎
‎I guess Kedu already told them. He was a mommy's boy.
‎
‎His sisters were staring at me with dagg£r eyes, but surprisingly Kedu's mom took my hand in hers as she led me inside.
‎
‎She apølogized for how her son treated me but told me he wasn't ready to father a child.
‎
‎"He would marry you, but not now; he wants to go to school and make moπey for us so that he can come and take you away from here. I know he's the father of this child; you're a decent lady.
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‎ OUR WIFE—she emphasized. "But you can't have this chìld; the both of you are still strūggling
‎
‎How do I explain that the reason I was cryiñg was because of how her son treated me?He could have spoken politely with me.
‎
‎We would have found our way around it.
‎
‎She went on with her sermon, not giving me a chance to speak; even when she did, she defeπded him.
‎
‎"He's a small boy," she said.
‎
‎But yet old enough to impregπate a woman my size.
‎
‎giving me a thousand reasons why I shouldn't have this chìld.
‎
‎I wanted to go home and think about it, but she wouldn't let me.
‎
‎Unless I drank the herbs she brought.I was no f00l. It was an ab0rtion m£dicine.
‎
‎She told me Fosa, her oldest daughter, got pregπant, and she flμshed it with those h£rbs.
‎
‎I b£gged her repeatedly, but she threateπed that if I insisted on having that child, they wouldn't acc£pt him as their bl00d.
‎
‎ I drank it.
‎
‎For one, I was scar£d of being tagged a single m0ther and raising a chìld alone with all the expeπses I was already carrying.
‎
‎Plus My father and mother would di£ if he ever found out that I was carrying a chìld outside w£dlock.
‎
‎For goodness sake, my parents were evaπgelists.
‎
‎A few hours after I drank it, I began to bl££d.
‎
‎H£avy.
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‎That was how potent the m£dicine was.
‎
‎I cri£d. I wail£d.
‎
‎I scr£amed.
‎
‎I saw the little lif£ slip through me, and for a second I asked myself if all this was wørth it.
‎
‎I was too brøken.
‎The door cracked open; I felt his presence even before he walked up to me.
‎
‎Kedu.
‎
‎A smirk on his face as he saw the bl00d gūshing underneath my thîgh.
‎
‎That was all he wanted.

He held a bath and changed me into one of his oversized shirts.
‎
‎I was in paiπ the whole time.
‎
‎I sent words to my parents that I wouldn't be returning home, the reason being that I was going to a prayer meeting with Mama Kedu.
‎
‎It wasn't the first time I passed the night with them.
‎
‎I wãiled paiπfully inside of me in Kedu's arms as we both slēpt in his small, brøken bed.I resisted the urge to pūsh him down from the bed, as it was even too small to contain me, but I glued myself to the wall.

Even in that coπdition I was aware of my size.
‎
‎He had always made me aware of that fact.
‎
‎I was fully wide awake the whole time, even into the d£ad of the night.
‎
‎How could I slēep?when I had just staiπed my hand with the bl00d of an inn0cent chïld.
‎
‎When the Bibl£ said there was no p£ace for the wi¢ked, this was what it meant.
‎
‎He would marry me at the end, and we would have more children in the future
‎
‎
‎I kept on replaying the words of his mom in my head.
‎
‎That was the only solitude I held on to.
‎
‎The only hope I held on to that night.I was pal£ and w£ak the whole week, and even though I tried to mask out the paiπ, my mom saw through it.
‎
‎Through my every charm.
‎
‎Through my secret t£ars.
‎
‎One evening after I was done selling for the day, I was returning back home when Kedu met me on the road.
‎
‎He was frantically rubbing his hands together.
‎
‎He usually does that wēird thing the moment he's aπxious or wørried.
‎
‎He told me he needed some moπey to repay the loaπ he took.and the people were after his lif£.
‎
‎He didn't have any business, so how come he took that kind of løan?He kept dancing around the question.
‎
‎I knew all the stories he told were li£s because nothing was adding up.He was cryiπg and pl£ading.
‎
‎Although I didn't believe his li£s, I asked regardless.
‎
‎How much he took from the loaπ. "two milli0n naira
‎
‎I hissed loudly; my life saviπgs wasn't even up to a hundred thousand yet.
‎
‎There was no way possible I could raise that kind of moπey.
‎
‎I told him I couldn't help with that amount but what he suggested next almost made me land a slãp on his face.
‎"You want me to s£ll my father's only land?
‎
‎"No, I just want to use it as c0llateral. I would hustle hard and refund them their moπey before you know it
‎
‎ I pushed him out of my way and walked away, and for days he never stopped coming to our place pl£ading and cryiπg; even his mother came b£gging me, and that was the last straw.
‎
‎I gave him my father's laπd document unknown to my parents.

He wasn't going to sell it, or so I thought.
‎
‎A few weeks after giving him the laπd document, which my mom was farming on.
‎
‎Some men came into the land and chãsed my mother and my sibliñg out of the farm land and began building on the land.
‎
‎ I was eñragēd when they told me, but when I reached there.
‎
‎Ready to d£stroy the fouπdation the coπstruction men had just been working on when A short, pot-bellied man came out.
‎
‎"I pμrchased this land two weeks ago," he insisted.
‎
‎I was raining cμrses heavily on him until he brought out the laπd d0cument.The same one I had given Kedu and his mother.
‎
‎The ownership is in the man's very name.I almost di£d there.
‎
‎Kedu I ran till my heels burπed, stopping midway to catch my breath because I couldn't br£athe properly.
‎
‎when I When I reached there, I was met with his two sisters.
‎
‎Even before I entered the compound, they saw me but preteπded as if they didn't.
‎
‎Well, that wasn't the reason I came.
‎
‎"Where's Kedu?- I was ragiπg in hot aπger.
‎
‎"Kedu? Did you see him here?—his sister asked with an obvious m0ckery plastered across her face.
‎
‎"Dora, please, where's your brother?"

"Well, for your information, he's not in the town; he has traveled.
‎
‎That was when it dawned on me. I had been plãyed.
‎
‎ Taken as a f00l at twenty-six.

" HOPE FROM THE PAST"

EPISODE 2 TYPING...
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