Every Move I Make

__________________________________________________

ALL OF ME: BOOK TWO

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 Based on a true story.
This entire story is undeniably rooted in reality, except for the aspects
that are utterly fabricated.

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 TITLES BY CAMAA PEARL
Lagos Lovin’ Novels
Gaga Crazy (Zoya & Manir)
Bottom Belle (Chiluba & George)
Goody Bag (Zena & Lékan)
All of Me Trilogy
Every Step I Take (Fifi, Book 1)
Every Move I Make (Fifi, Book 2)
*Every Breathe I Take (Winter 2024)
Yoruba Demons Billionaire Club
* The Complete Guide to Becoming a F*ck Boy (Spring 2025)
Standalones
Escape (Lola & Onahi)
Call Me Jemila (Jemila & Jidenna)
** Nine Hours Till Five (Funmi)
Flawed Perfections Novels
** First Impressions
** Crossroads
** Romantic Illusions
Short Stories & Anthologies
Velvet Tamarind (in the Hell Hath No Fury: An African Christmas
Romance Anthology)
Keeping Mima (in the Roses Aren’t Red Anthology: An African Romance
Anthology)
In Another Life: A Complete Short Story
***The Lady of the House (in the Nights at Club Nova: An Erotic
Romance Anthology)
* - Dates are susceptible to change
** - writing as Margaret Adetimehin
*** - writing as Temi Nenye
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 PRAISE FOR CAMAA PEARL’S
BOOK

Every Step I Take: All of Me, Book One

“A beautiful story that introduces us to the intricacies of Fifi’s life
through her insecurities, naivety, determination and journey of her growth.”
Aminat Sanni-Kamal, Author of The Smith Women Series

Gaga Crazy: A Lagos Lovin’ Novel

“Get Ready for a roller coaster ride of emotions!”
Maggie Smart, Author of Beyond Now
“Flaws and all, I need a Manir in my life.”
L. Leigh, Bestselling Author of The Lekki Club
“Read it in one sitting.”
Glory Abah, Author and Creative Writing Coach

Bottom Belle: A Lagos Lovin’ Novel

“Love this story a lot.”
Grace Omojola, Goodreads Reviewer
“Just one word: mind-blowing.”
Ejuh Rejoice, Bambooks Reader
“Splendid!”
Temitope Adeniran, Book Critic & Goodreads Reviewer
 Goody Bag: A Lagos Lovin’ Novel
“Everything you’ll want in a romance novel: entertainment, romance,
steam, friendship.”
Rosemary Okafor, Author of Akwaugo
“A perfect end to a beautiful, beautiful series.”
Nelly, Goodreads Reviewer
“Beautiful, witty, and sexy read.”
Adesuwa Oman Nwokedi, Bestselling Author of The Marriage Class

Call Me Jemila
“Jemila and Jidenna’s story will get you on different emotional stages.”
Aderonke Olubanjo-Adestosoye, Bambooks Reader
“I loved it a 100% and will definitely recommend.”
Aminat Sanni-Kamal, Author of The Smith Women Series
“Jemila and Jidenna’s story is that of a love that is enduring.”
Yetunde Ebosele, Goodreads Reviewer

Escape
“A breath of fresh air.”
Stanley Umezulike, Author of Ties That Bind
“An awesome read.”
Youcee Anaekwe, Goodreads Reviewer
“This book got me out of my reading slump.”
BooksXwine, Book Reviewer & Bookstagrammer

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Every Move I Make
__________________________________________________

ALL OF ME: BOOK TWO

camaa pearl
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Published by Irinajo House
irinajohouse.com

Every Move I Make © 2024 by Camaa Pearl

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any manner
whatsoever without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and
incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book may contain references to specific commercial products, process or service by trade name,
trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and/or trade names of products,
which are trademarks or registered trademarks and/or trade names, and these are property of their
respective owners. Camaa Pearl or her associates, have no association with any specific commercial
products, process, or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-
name products and / or trade names of products.

For more information, kindly visit margaretadetimehin.com

First Edition: August 2024
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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 To friends—old and new.
To new places and experiences, true.
To you daring to start anew.

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 TABLE OF CONTENT
TITLES BY CAMAA PEARL
PRAISE FOR CAMAA PEARL’S BOOK
TABLE OF CONTENT
A LETTER TO YOU (1 of 2)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PLAYLIST
What to expect
A New Chapter
Baby Oh, Baby
Lost in Wonderland
Data, Weed, and Time
How to Roll
Radio Silence
Love is a Beautiful Thing!
Friends or Acquaintance?
K-drama isn’t Life’s Drama
Always in my Heart
Coming for my Baby
Snowflakes
Another First Day
Next Level Stuff
Surprise, Surprise!
Early Morning Things
First Base
Visiting Homeland Glories Abroad
Just a Lover’s Spat
Everybody Loves Saturday Night
Photographs
Friends with Trobul
Choices
Homesick
Root Connections
My, My, Time Flies!
See and Be Seen
Role Model
Mohammed and the Mountain
Touchdown
Water No Get Enemy
Third Base
Another Day in Paradise
Sweets and Candies
Fifth Base
Spoilt People
3D Visions
Shattered Illusions
Echoes of Silence
Time Out!
My Apologies
Mirrors and Mirage
Dear John
Breakfast Served Cold
CAMAA’S RECIPE
A LETTER TO YOU (2 of 2)
ABOUT CAMAA PEARL
TITLES BY CAMAA PEARL

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 A LETTER TO YOU (1 of 2)
Dear Reader,
Thanks for continuing Fifi’s story! I’m excited to introduce you to a world
of love, ambition, and self-discovery. If you haven’t read the first book,
Every Step I Take (ESIT), please drop this and read that first for
clarity and context.
In this eagerly awaited sequel, I, as your favorite author *winks*, am
thrilled to reunite you with the beloved characters whose lives you’ve come
to know and cherish. You’re joining Fifi, now a fish out of water, as she
navigates the complexities of life as an immigrant, career aspirations,
family dynamics, sexuality, and matters of the heart.
Every Move I Make (EMIM) is not your regular love story. Unlike
ESIT, EMIM contains explicit sexual content that may be distressing to
some readers.

PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

As always, I eagerly anticipate your reviews, as they serve as an

inspiration for me and encourage others give my books a try.
Now, it’s time to read, Welcome back to Fifi’s world!

XoXO

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 MAILING LIST

Sign up to my mailing list!

New subscribers receive free extended epilogues.

Use the link below to join

bit.ly/camaapearl2

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 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank God!
To Kene and Stephanie for being a huge inspiration while writing this
masterpiece; thanks for sharing your trials, journeys and accomplishments.
To L. Leigh, Rosemary Okafor, Temitope Adeniran, Aminat Sanni-
Kamal, for being the first eyes to see this book at its roughest stage and
shaping it up with me, I am grateful!
Thanks to Ifeyinwa for the nickname, Speshie!
To my true-life book boyfriend, thanks for your unwavering support and
distractions.
And you, thank you for reading, reviewing, recommending, discussing,
and sharing your excitement about my books and the characters within.
Most of all, thank you Margaret, for pushing all-nighters, weird
schedules, and seeing this story through.

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 PLAYLIST
Toh Bad—Niyola
Foreign—Falz, Simi
Heartbeat—Nneka
Don’t Think of Me—Dido
EGO—Sarz, WurlD
Not The Girl—Darey
Never Far Away—Lagbaja
I’m That Girl—Beyonce
Stay apart for a While—Christy Essien Igbokwe
That’s Why You Go Away—Michael Learns To Rock

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 1
___________

A New Chapter
“How long are you staying for?” he asks, his eyes fixed on the computer
screen, an air of indifference surrounding him.
Is this officer for real? If he asks anymore questions, I swear, I’ll sit on
the floor and scream because I want to sleep! I want to sleep on something
that’s not moving through the sky. And be still. Yes, to stay still and pinch
myself about my reality, which is—
His throat clearing alerts me to how short a millisecond is in the
presence of a customs officer.
“I’ll be here for the duration of my course.” I blurt out before I can
control myself.
Oh shit.
This guy would deport me for being rude.
God, please. I beg you. Please…
 The officer stares down at me with an expression I can’t describe. He
presses his lips, as if preventing himself from frowning—or maybe smiling?
As he types something into his system, his colleague seated in the next stall
pokes his head at the screen, glances at me, then shakes his head.
What is it? Are they deporting me? If there’s any discrepancy in my
record, why not ask me directly rather than prolong this nerve-racking
charade? Instead, I’m forced to maintain my pleasant façade which I’m sure
they can see through. If the shuffling feet behind me was an indication, it’s
confirmation that I’m not the only one ready to get off this queue.
Perhaps I should tell him how long my course is instead of that answer I
gave. I’m about to add to my response when the officer glances up.
This is it. Ah… See my life. I’m sorry Mama Gee. I’m sorry I didn’t—
“Do you have health insurance?”
Huh? What has that got to do with—
The officer hands me back my passport and other school and
immigration documents I handed to him earlier, and I mechanically accept
them as he continues speaking. “You’ll need that for the duration of your
stay. Seeing that you’re a student, I think your school will ensure you get
covered. Enjoy your stay.” He ends his speech with a tilt of his head to the
exit line.
Is that it? Am I in?
“Thank you,” I mumble, clutching the handle of my suitcase. Don’t look
back. My heart beats faster than a drum at the mercy of a toddler as I walk
past the officers to become a certified Stamp 2 visa resident of Ireland.
Argh! God!
That was close.
After grilling me about my departure point, the purpose of my visit, my
academic pursuits, the duration of my course, my occupation, financial
status, and an endless array of other questions, the officer went on to ask
how long I’ll be here for. Eye roll—coming here is just a detour. Thank God
it’s all done.
Chei!
 I was so excited disembarking from the plane and joining the non-EU
line that I didn’t notice the non-EU line had a green and red line. I was one
person away from the customs officer when I read the signs about declaring
goods and the types of goods to declare. The pepper soup spice, stockfish,
melon seeds, crayfish and other ingredients in my suitcase started chanting
my name and the fraud that I am. The aroma of those things alone… I don’t
want to end up in prison or be deported because of common crayfish. Who
would listen to that story? Or believe me when I tell them I didn’t know
melon seeds can put me in serious immigration trouble.
That aside, I’m grateful a good Samaritan on the flight shared their
hotspot with me while we waited to disembark from the airplane so I could
speak to Ifedayo. Ifedayo said he was about fifty-five minutes away from
here. Being that he is doing me a favor, I don’t want him waiting longer
than necessary. That interview was unnecessarily long and uncalled for.
Using the airport signages to find the exit Ifedayo suggested I wait for
him; I navigate the crowded airport. I hope he hasn’t left. It’s been a while
since we last saw each other. Would he recognize me? I chuckle, looking
around, scanning my environment—cars keep coming and going, picking
up journey-wearied passengers. If Ifedayo doesn’t remember my face, in
this crowd, it would be extremely easy for him to decipher who I am.
This place is cold! Wrapping my arms around myself, I notice the
automatic sliding doors behind me keep vomiting people. A woman wearing
sunshades and carrying a backpack catches my attention. She flashes me a
smile, walks some feet away, and starts typing on her phone.
I press my lips, forcing myself to look elsewhere. Oh God… this cold. Is
this the summer Ifedayo was hyping? How would I survive my stay if I’m
already shivering like a fish barely ten minutes out here?
Spesh, please forgive me for laughing at you then. How did you survive
your first few hours in a foreign land?
Oh Special… Forget that I spoke to him before disembarking from the
plane what feels like hours ago; I miss him already.
While waiting for my Ireland visa, I took up an evening side hustle of
tutoring children privately; with the intention of using the income to support
my stay here. Special was so excited that I could come up with more ways
of making money instead of waiting for white-collared HRs to take a
chance on me.
You know the story of Special and I, the gas and fuel behind my
decisions. Like play, like play, I am in Ireland.
Just knowing he is less than two hours’ flight time away from me is
enough to warm me up. We’re doing this baby! I’ll be seeing you soon and
you’ll realize Ireland was the best choice after all.
Honestly, loving the right person would push your boundaries and make
you take giant steps that you never imagined. To all my girlies, never settle!
My lips are stretching into a wide smile when another chilly gust of
wind sweeps over.
What happen!
I clutch the handle of my suitcase tighter, like that would warm up my
entire body. How is the sun shining and I’m feeling this cold? How far is
Ifedayo’s place? Can I walk there? In this cold?
In this situation, what would Special do?
Ask that lady to share her Wi-Fi.
What if she’s also a foreigner?
I glance at the building and signs to confirm this is the spot Ifedayo told
me to wait. Peeking at the lady again, I struggle with my next steps. Should
I ask her to please share her Wi-Fi?
A black SUV pulls up, stops in front of the lady and… there goes my
chance at getting internet connection.
Once again, the bustling ambiance of the airport envelops me, the ebb
and flow of the automatic door opening and closing creates a sense of both
comfort and unease—I can run back inside to escape this chill, but at the
expense of missing Ifedayo.
Surveying the surroundings, I continue to wait, turning my attention to
prayers. I pray Ifedayo finds me well and warm because this weather is not
summering. I pray that Special and I can see before the end of the month.
That schooling here would be a life-changing experience, and that I would
make Mama Gee proud.
 Several cars and people move around me like we’re in a time-lapse
movie. Another SUV parks, picks up a family, then leaves. A Kia stops
some feet away, blinking its hazard lights. Then a Nissan pulls up, the
driver’s door opens, and my heart quickens as a melanated figure emerges.
Oh wow…
I stand still in awe, with my jaw probably slack, as Ifedayo approaches
with a radiant smile that mirrors the joy in my own heart. Our embrace is
warm and I hold on to him for dear life.
Tears threaten to form as I realize that it’s been less than twenty-four
hours since I left home, and I’ve never felt so alone in my life! Not when I
started secondary school with new classmates or when I moved over four
hours away from home to Hopewell University.
“Fifi, it’s—” Ifedayo starts as he pulls away to study my face, his eyes
are lit with genuine happiness which immediately turns to concern. “Fifi…”
I sniffle, grinning like a fool. “It’s nothing.” Looking around, I mutter
something about the nonsense cold summer weather being the cause,
quickly wiping the stupid tears that were pooling on the sides of my eyes.
“I’m just so happy to see you, jare.”
He smirks, pulling me for a tight side hug. “You’re sure nobody looked
for your trouble?”
His remark causes me to break into a wider grin. “No jor. You said you
were minutes away and didn’t you say it was summer? Look how cold it
is.” Thank God I had the sense to wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
“Welcome to Ireland.” He chuckles, shaking his head before taking a
glance at my luggage. “All yours?”
I nod.
“Sorry about the delay. It’s the airport traffic.” He tests the weight of one
box by lifting it, his eyes on me. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You have no idea how.” I sigh.
After being questioned by that officer, and coming out here not seeing
him, I thought I was lost and alone in a foreign land.
As we gather my luggage and make our way to his car, I admire his easy
gait. He’s lithe and tall like an athlete. What am I saying? He enjoyed
playing football with G-Ben and their crew. Does he still play?
Ifedayo is a childhood friend who had slipped from the recesses of my
memory until fate summoned him. I think I once harbored a childhood
crush on him. How old was I? Ten? Eleven? That’s irrelevant and
inconsequential right now; it was a long time ago.
In our earlier years, his family resided just a few houses away from ours,
with him being the eldest in the neighborhood pack. Somehow, with the
excitement, fears, and concerns about moving to a foreign land, Mama Gee
recalled that Ifedayo’s mom had once mentioned Ifedayo relocated to
Ireland years back. Thanks to our mothers, Ifedayo and I connected, and
while chatting he mentioned no one would let me into a leased space before
the official start of my rent. He generously offered his home as a temporary
abode.
Special wasn’t happy with the proposal. The alternative—rescheduling
my flight to a later date—came with a hefty price tag that made even
Special reluctantly consider the option of staying at Ifedayo’s.
As Ifedayo effortlessly lifts and organizes my luggage with calming ease
while I wrap my arms around myself, it’s apparent the weather has nothing
on him. Once we settle into his car, the familiarity of his presence becomes
a comforting balm after the long journey.
“First things first, Fifi, welcome to Dublin!” he exclaims, his laughter
ringing out as he gets onto a highway.
I chuckle as his enthusiasm deadens all my initial worries and fears. The
cityscape of Dublin unfurls outside the window, a stark contrast to the
narrow bustling streets of Ogba that I’d grown accustomed to.
“So, ready to trade the chaos of Lagos for the serene charm of Ireland?”
Ifedayo quips, a playful glint in his eyes as he spares me a glance.
I chuckle, shaking my head, tongue in cheek. “Oh, absolutely. Because
I’ve always dreamed of a life that lacks traffic and honking horns.”
Ifedayo’s laughter echoes through the car, and I smile.
We continue the lighthearted banter with me talking about the difference
between Lagos airport and Dublin’s, while he questions me about Ogba as
he hadn’t been there in years. It’s glaring that I’m going to love the comfort
Ireland has to offer and my being here is all thanks to Special who made me
see beyond the conventional path of merely graduating from university and
securing a stable job—you know, the works. There’s a depth to life that
extends beyond our initial perceptions, and Special opened my eyes to that
broader perspective.
Our conversation shifts to more serious topics. We talk about the state of
leadership back home, how they don’t care for the people, and although
well-travelled, they are not working to create positive change. Ifedayo
affirms my sentiments, adding that it’s the same story here. “Different
place, similar struggles. But hey, we can always dream, right?”
“Absolutely,” I agree, wondering how such a lovely place as this might
be going through similar struggles like Nigeria.
As the car glides along, I let out a yawn, unable to suppress the
weariness that came from the result of my distrust of a container suspended
in the air for hours.
“Jetlag kicking in?” Ifedayo asks, his gaze filled with empathy.
I nod, stifling another yawn. “Definitely. But you know what’s a relief?
The time zone here is quite similar to Nigeria’s. At least my body won’t
have to adjust too much.”
Ifedayo chuckles. “Small mercies, right? Just think, you’ll be well-rested
before you take Cork by storm. Don’t worry; I’ll let you know all you need
to know. First, I’ll need to get to the auto-shop to check on my babes’ car.”
“Oh.” auto-shop? “A mechanic shop?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry for dragging you along, but it’s far from mine and
closer to this route.”
“That’s fine.”
“It should take us around twenty minutes or so to get there. There are
some restaurants around. You can grab something to eat while we wait and I
can give you small run down of your school.”
“Perfect.” I grin, settling into my seat. “Thank you. I’m sleepy but need
to eat first.” I couldn’t eat the sugary pastries and meals they served on the
plane.
He chuckles. “I’ve got you covered. And get ready, because we’re
hitting a pub tomorrow night.”
 “A pub?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Clubbing,” he corrects, stealing a glance at me. “You do club, right?”
I don’t know about that… “Is it not too soon?”
“Look at you,” he teases, “your head will be buried in schoolwork soon.
Better enjoy all the free time you have now.”
I chuckle, slowly nodding my head and liking the idea. “Okay…”
“It’s my welcome gift to you,” he adds with a wink. “You can’t say no.”

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 2
___________

Baby Oh, Baby

A comfortable silence settles between us as Ifedayo’s car glides through the
streets of Dublin. The city’s sights pass by in a blur, a visual confirmation
that Nigeria has a long ways to go. I can’t wait to explore the school and
other interesting places I noted during my research.
“Hmm,” Ifedayo begins, “have you had a chance to call home?”
I take my gaze off the eye-pleasing sights. “Not yet,” I admit, smiling
sheepishly. “I’ve been distracted, and I don’t have network connection. Do
you—”
“Don’t worry about that. Once you’re rested, we could get that done
today. And I’d love to help you with a call to the fam. Let them know
you’ve landed and are with me.”
“Thank you. Let’s do it,” I agree, eagerly nodding my head. Can I call
Special instead? I told him I’ll let him know my movement.
Ifedayo reaches for his phone in the car’s console and sets up a video
call. As it rings, he places it securely in the dashboard phone holder. The
ringing screen transitions to display G-Ben’s familiar face, his smile
lighting up the screen.
After exchanging greetings with Ifedayo while I grin like a roasted goat,
G-Ben directs his attention to me. “Ei! You’ve finally left us,” he chuckles.
As the call progresses, I fill G-Ben with my experience so far, including
the customs officer drama. Although it’s been less than 24 hours since we
last saw each other, I’m already feeling a pang of something I can’t place
my fingers on. Is this a glimpse of what life will be like for the next 18 to
24 months?
Focusing on the here and now, I let G-Ben’s voice wrap around me like a
blanket, storing up his chuckles and joint teasing with Ifedayo for days
when I feel homesick. Not long, he stands and says, “Hold on a sec, Fifi.
I’m going to get the parents.”
Moments later, the screen shifts, and my parents’ faces come into view,
their smiles mirroring the familiarity I think I’m missing.
Calm down, Fifi! You’ve hardly spent a day here!
Our conversation continues with jokes and laughter, with Mama Gee
occasionally pulling Ifedayo into the conversation. When I tell her of the
customs brouhaha and how the spices and cooking ingredients she gave to
me are safe, she goes on to say, “Thank God they didn’t take them. At least
it would make sure you have a taste of home whenever you need it. If not,
I’ll have to Bluetooth them to you.”
“Bluetooth food?” I chuckle.. “Mama Gee! Thank you, ma.”
“Please focus on your studies, okay?”
“Yes, ma.”
Daddy’s voice booms through the speakers. “We’re proud of you,
Fiyinfoluwa. Keep shining over there.”
Warmth fills my heart at the audible confirmation of their love and
support. My decision to study abroad was so drastic, yet they stood by me.
And are still standing by me.
Before I know it, Mama Gee and daddy take turns in praying for me,
wishing me well, and blessing Ifedayo. Ifedayo’s hand tightens on the
steering wheel, gratitude evident in his eyes as he softly murmurs ‘amen’ to
their prayers. Why so emotional? Could it be due to the sense of unity my
parents are displaying? From what I know, his parents never seemed to see
eye to eye. After enduring years of heated arguments and embarrassing
conflicts, his mother eventually had to uproot their family and relocate with
him and his siblings.
As the call winds down, I assure them I’ll stay in touch once I get an
Irish phone number.
“Are you okay?” I ask immediately the call ends.
Ifedayo responds with a knowing smile, tapping his hand on the steering
wheel while we wait at a traffic light. “I’m good. You have a wonderful
family.”
Not knowing exactly what to say, I simply reply, “Thank you.”
In the humming silence of the car, I smile at the unique shape of a
building. I want to speak with Special. To let him know I’m safe with
Ifedayo. I can almost imagine he has tried calling me a thousand times.
My heart tugs in two directions as a quiet debate unfolds within me—
whether to reach out to Special while in the car with Ifedayo or wait until I
acquire the promised phone number. Considering the way the day is
unfolding, I’m not sure we’ll get to that today.
The prospect of hearing Special’s voice, even for a brief moment, feels
like an act that could diminish the two-hour flight distance between us. Yet,
there’s a hesitation, a very tiny voice of doubt—would it be okay to ask
Ifedayo to use his phone for such a personal call? Would Special be happy
with the arrangement, considering he wasn’t pleased with the setup from the
get-go?
“Um… Ifedayo,” I start, nervously licking my suddenly dry lips. It
dawns on me I hadn’t considered what I’m about to ask earlier. “Do you
mind if I make a quick call on my phone?”
His response is swift and accommodating. “Of course not.” He unlocks
his phone with his fingerprint. “Go ahead. You can use my Wi-Fi if you
like.”
“Thank you so much,” I reply, touched by his thoughtfulness. Tapping
into his Wi-Fi, I set up the connection and dial the number that’s etched in
my heart.
 With each ring, I hold my breath, waiting for the promise of a familiar
voice.
“Fifi baby…” His warm familiar voice makes me inhale deeply.
Speaking to my family made me happy. This… this is euphoria.
“Special.” I breathe, infusing all the emotions I’ve held within me,
forgetting Ifedayo is next to me. I want to scream, I made it! We made it!
I’m right here. Next to you. We can do anything and be anything!
“How’s it going? I guess you’ve met the guy, yeah?”
“Yes. We’re on our way to his place.”
“Good. Good.” He sounds distracted.
Skipping a sidelong glance at Ifedayo, I lean back in my seat and look
out at the passing scenery. I’m sure he’s tired of hearing me tell this story,
but, whatevs. “You won’t believe what this customs officer…” I start, going
into details about my close call.
“Oh, sorry about that. Um… can I call you back later?”
Not the reaction I was expecting. “Sure.”
“Sorry baby. I’m at work and don’t want my supervisor to—”
“It’s fine baby.” I want to share that I can’t wait to start planning our
reunion after over a year, but that can wait. And it’s not conversation for
extra ears. I press my lips with a cheeky smile, tossing a glance at Ifedayo
who is fully concentrated on the drive.
“Thanks. I love you.”
“Love you.”
“You said?”
“Love you…” Is that a smile I see on Ifedayo’s lips?
“Really?”
Oh, Spesh! “I love you.” I chuckle, catching up. See why I love this
mushy human? He can risk getting caught by his supervisor for this.
“Take care, love.”
Smiling, I take a deep, satisfying breath as I hang up. The journey ahead
may be challenging, but with the love we share, every step is worth it.
 I scroll through apps on my phone and find messages from Linda and
Alice in Nigeria, Ekene in Germany, and the handful of friends who knew
about my departure. It brings a smile to my face. I’ll call Alice later.
In the days leading up to my departure, Alice, Special’s sister, and I
formed a strong bond. I’m glad I took his suggestion on becoming friends
with her because she is something like a sister to me now.
Over time, our conversations evolved from polite exchanges to deeper
topics and even sharing of dreams. When I shared the news of my
acceptance to Charleston College and the scholarship, she was thrilled.
I’m resting against the windowsill, thoughts of Special and his family
bringing a smile to my lips, when Ifedayo’s voice snaps me out of my
reverie. “Is he back in Nigeria?”
“Huh? Who?”
“Your bobo?”
I press my lips into a smile. “No… he’s in the UK.”
“Oh, cool.”
“Yes…” He didn’t ask, but I’m just so excited everything is falling into
place. “He’s almost done with his studies.”
Tossing me a sidelong glance, Ifedayo teases, “Love you...”
Is he…? I roll my eyes with a mock sigh. “You’re impossible.”
With a laugh, he says, “I’m just stating what I observed.”
Smiling, I decide to shift the conversation slightly. “Speaking of which,
how much do you think a trip to the UK would cost?”
He considers the question, his eyes thoughtful. “It varies, depending on
when you plan to go, where you want to stay, and how you want to get
around. But let’s say you’re working, and you save up diligently, within six
months, it’s definitely an achievable goal.”
Six months… Hmm. I will save, work hard, and eliminate the distance
that separates me from Special. The thought of being with him, of sharing a
life here… it’s within my grasp. With my Naija spirit, give or take six
months. That’s very achievable.
 “Here we are!” Ifedayo announces as we drive into a garage and as I had
assumed, an auto-shop is the tush name for mechanic shop.
I listen raptly as Ifedayo drops valuable insights about Charleston
College—yeah, lucky me, he’s an alumnus. His anecdotes paint a vivid
picture, making the unfamiliar feel like a second home I can’t wait to
explore. He shares shortcuts to the best spots, recounts the hidden gems
where students gather, and offers advice on professors who inspire and
challenge, providing me with a head start only a friend who’s been there
could offer.
“And the library,” he chuckles, “you’ll practically live there,” he smirks.
“But don’t worry, you’ll make good memories.” He winks. “I trust you to.”

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 3
___________

Lost in Wonderland
When we arrived Ifedayo’s, I wouldn’t say I panicked, but for a moment, I
was concerned about sharing his living space with just him. I almost dialed
Special to admit he was right. In my excitement of staying in Dublin city
with Ifedayo before heading to my place, our living arrangement didn’t
cross my mind. It’s been years since I last saw Ifedayo, and there’s no doubt
he’s not the same person I knew growing up. He could be a completely
different individual now, maybe even someone involved in organ
trafficking. The thought of waking up with a missing kidney or liver had me
biting my lips and nodding my head with plans of how to escape as he
showed me around his space. It wasn’t until I heard her voice that my fears
began to dissipate.
She is the loveliest, his fiancé who he calls his babe, they actually live
together. Adding to the excitement of my stay is the fact that his fiancée's
younger sister, Itohan, is also beginning a session at Charleston College.
What an amazing coincidence!
 An interesting fact about Itohan is that back when we were teenagers,
she used to attend my church, albeit a different branch. We crossed paths
once during a regional choir practice. She’s one of those friends you make
during your teenage years, only to lose contact with over time.
I learn more details about Ifedayo as well. He works with one of the big
tech companies here. I jokingly suggest he should refer me before my
program ends. His response? He often does that, so it won’t be a problem. If
this isn’t God ordering my step, I don’t know who else. We all went
clubbing as Ifedayo promised, and you won’t believe who I met?
The customs officer!
I tried to avoid him. But one thing led to another, our eyes met
accidentally. He walked over, and we spoke briefly. He seemed different
without his uniform. Hmm… more humane? He asked for my digits, but I
said no. That’s all there was to it.
After my three-day stay at Ifedayo’s, I moved into the house I had rented
sight unseen back in Nigeria.

*****

A few weeks into my master’s program, I’m starting to see why Ifedayo
suggested I hang out with him and his friends at the pub. My days now
revolve around classes, the library, and my bed, with little else to remind
me of home except for conversations with Special.
My landlady, Bridget, is Irish, and she lives with her boyfriend and
daughter. I occupy the small room above their house, sharing the kitchen
with them. I’m grateful to have a bathroom to myself, especially after that
mishap that occurred less than two weeks into my stay.
I decided to prepare egusi soup and next thing I know; Bridget is
sending text messages informing me that she can’t leave her room because
of the outrageous smell emanating from the kitchen. It took me a while to
realize the source of the odor was the dried stock fish I had boiled earlier.
When I shared the incident with Itohan, she went bat shit crazy, labeling
Bridget as a hater. When I mentioned that before the stock fish incident,
Bridget was already giving me lessons on closing the front door because
she’d pointed out that I tended to either slam it shut or leave it ajar
whenever I rushed out of the house, Itohan gasped in disbelief. “Seriously?
And you’re paying rent?”
I shrugged, replying, “It’s her house, I have to respect it.”
“No way,” she replied, clicking her tongue. “That’s too much. You
should leave that woman’s place at the end of this month."
“And move where?”
“To my apartment, of course.”
Wow, this sweet girlfriend I just made wants me to break my lease and
move into her apartment.
Initially I was excited about the offer and even considered breaking my
lease immediately. But then, I reconsidered. Itohan’s place is quite pricey; I
wouldn’t be able to sustain covering the additional expenses of living with
her. However, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have that peace of
mind, because right now, I’m scared to cook, scared to move around, and
afraid of doing anything that would cause a rift in Bridget’s house.
The only time I get some sort of peace and reverie from the craziness of
everything happening in my life—because Special’s too busy lately for our
usual phone calls—is when I’m in the library.
The library, or should I say the school environment, is a whole different
world. It’s where I can almost be myself without stressing. Sure, I’ll ignore
the no-food rule, but that doesn’t detract from immersing myself in
studying. Afterward, I enjoy taking long walks with Itohan and Sarah (a
friend I made in class), then head back to that “prison” I pay for. Those
ladies have helped ease my transition to this new environment.
I spend most evenings in the library and tonight is one of those days.
Sarah and I have been at it for hours, trying to figure out this project
assignment and I think I’m making headway.
Although my focus is on this assignment, I promise you, I’m also
brainstorming ways to make money—legal ways. I need to secure better
accommodation and, if possible, visit Special soon. Ideally, I’d visit him
first, but my sanity is crucial—I must move out of that apartment ASAP.
I’ve never felt this way before, no matter how unsafe it was back home.
Never.
 My thoughts wander to the conversations that have sustained me through
these weeks—the late-night calls with Special. His voice, his laughter, and
the assurances—they’re the anchor supporting me through this pivotal
change.
Oh, how I wish!
I wish money was not a problem, because as a grown adult, I need it.
Money for anything I desire—like relocating to a spacious, airy
apartment without a live-in landlady dictating my every move or what to
cook! Money to purchase those perfect, adorable boots I spotted while
window shopping with Sarah and Itohan the other day. Money to travel at
will, so I can visit the love of my life and have the time of our lives.
Money to just be!
Itohan has her sister here, who supports her with real currency. Plus, she
has a guy in Germany who spoils her silly. Sometimes, her situation makes
me wish Special and I weren’t going through financial struggles. I try—
strongly try—not to compare myself with Itohan, but the reality of my
finances is a barrier I can’t overlook.
Itohan has no plans for the guy in Germany.
“But why are you leading him on?” I asked.
“That’s life,” she shrugged. “What will be will be. Besides, being
attached to someone when you move to a new country, especially if you’re
not married to them, would hold you back from achieving your dreams,
which is why I’m not in a hurry to get into a serious relationship.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look like that. I admire what you say you have with your guy.”
Unsure of how to respond, I force a smile.
“Special abi?” She winks. “He must be really special.”
“Hmm.”
Sighing back to the present, I lean back in my chair, fingers gliding
across the trackpad as I design my presentation slide. My relationship has
been destined to be long-distance from the start. Calls with Special are
cherished moments, you know, having someone from home who
understands everything I’m going through. Yet, they also remind me of the
miles that separate us. Some chilly nights, I long to reach out and touch, to
bridge the gap between “hello” and an embrace—it is a sentiment that
echoes in my heart.
Sarah’s voice breaks through my reverie. “Fifi, are you alright?”
Shaking my head, I smile at her.
“You seemed lost in your thoughts.”
I tsk. “Just reflecting on life’s journey. The challenges we face, the
dreams we chase—all that jazz.”
She nods in understanding. “It’s not always easy, is it? But somehow,
these struggles shape us.”
True... My mind wanders to the nights Special and I speak about our
dreams—of a future where our struggles wouldn’t define us, where we
could share more than just words through the screen.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” I murmur more to myself than
anyone else.
Sarah’s gaze softens with empathy. “And the journey’s far from over.
You know, sometimes all it takes is a leap of faith.”
I look at her, her wisdom cutting through my doubts. “You’re right. It’s
about believing that every step, every challenge, gets us closer to where we
want to be.” Which is true… I’m getting a master’s degree, and this close to
being with my man in a system that functions as it’s programmed to.
Evening fades into night and the library’s lights cast a warm glow as I
become engrossed in my studies. My fingers dance across the keyboard,
unraveling data patterns on my screen. Later, while chatting with Special
about his day, I go in search of a reference book.
It takes me some time, but multitasking between my chat and searching
the shelves, I find the book. I flip it open to confirm it has the section I’m
interested in, and, goodness me, it does!
Smiling in triumph, I turn around. Um… where am I? Clutching the
reference book by my side, I look down the aisle of bookshelves. I pace
back and forth between aisles, trying to retrace my steps. All this would
have been avoidable if I wasn’t head deep into my chat with Special. Are
the books conspiring against me for breaking the library rule of using my
phone?
My phone buzzes, interrupting my concentration. The illuminated screen
shows Itohan’s name and I let out a sigh of relief, answering the call as I
move to seat at a corner table. She had a late class and was supposed to
meet us here.
“Hey, boo...” her cheery voice prompts a sigh of relief from me. “Where
are you?” “Um, Itohan,” I smile, closing my eyes in amusement. “I know
this sounds silly, but I’m totally lost in the library. I can’t find my way out.”
She chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. Tell me where you
are.”
I rattle off the description of my surroundings. She prompts me with
clarifying questions and quickly pieces together my location. “I think I
know exactly where you are. Stay put, I’m coming to get you.” She tells
Sarah about my predicament and I hear them share a laugh.
Haha, very funny.
“See you in a bit,” Itohan chimes before hanging up.
I spot Itohan less than five minutes later—though it feels like ages—
after the call. Grinning, I stand to hug her. “You’re a lifesaver.”
She chuckles, sliding into the seat across from me. “You can say that
again. What happened?”
I roll my eyes with a playful sigh. “I got lost in that maze of shelves
while trying to find this reference book.” I push the said book in front of her
but Itohan pays it no mind. “It’s like the books conspired against me.”
A familiar voice chimes in. “Oh, I think the books just wanted to keep
you company.”
I turn to see Sarah, joining us at the table. She places my bag and hers on
the table and I feel so… I can’t explain the bubbly feeling in my tummy.
The only words that escapes my lips are, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention.” Sarah shrugs, settling on the seat beside Itohan.
We discuss briefly about schoolwork and projects, with Itohan saying we
need to live a little.
 Sarah smiles like she knows something we don’t before shifting her gaze
to me. “Perfect timing. I’ve got the precise solution for us. Oliver is hosting
a party this weekend.”
“Oliver from class?”
“Yes, one and the same. I just got the memo, and I think you should
come!” she whispers enthusiastically.
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the invitation. “A party, huh?” I look to
Itohan for support but she’s busy doing stuff on her phone.
“You would love it. Oliver is cool and doesn’t attract trouble. There will
be music, food, drinks—”
I hesitate, my mind instantly filled with thoughts of unfamiliar faces and
social interactions. If memory serves me right, Oliver and I are on a group
project, but I haven’t spoken to this guy outside of class. “I’m not sure,
Sarah. Parties aren’t really my scene.”
She chuckles, her enthusiasm undiminished. “Come on, Fifi! It’s a
chance to unwind, meet new people, and let loose a little. Itohan just said it,
we need to live a little.”
“A party?” Itohan chimes in, her eyes twinkling. “Baby boo, I think you
should go. Who knows what you’ll find?”
Itohan, ughh. Such a traitor! So she’s been listening to our conversation
all along.
Sarah’s head bobs in agreement. “Yes! You should totally come. And
you too,” she adds, glancing at Itohan.
Itohan looks between Sarah and me, her grin widening. “Sounds like a
plan to me. Come on, say you’ll go.”
Their combined persuasion wears down my resistance, and I find myself
agreeing to attend the party.
As we gather our things to leave, the anticipation of the upcoming party
sends me down memory lane. It reminds me of my undergrad years, back
when I was the one pushing Linda, Ekene and others to come with me to
parties hosted by G-Ben and Special. It’s been barely two or is it three
years? And it feels like ages ago.
Life…
 It’s been a while I spoke with Linda and Ekene, I will give them a call
tonight. There’s just something I think I’m forgetting but I don’t think it
really matters right now.

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 4
___________

Data, Weed, and Time

The weekend arrives with Itohan and I making our way to Oliver’s party.
For my outfit, I chose a pair of jeans and a simple dip-neck cropped top,
peeking beneath a leather jacket. On our way, Itohan lets me know she has
done a rethink and instead of me moving to her apartment, pending the
time, she can move to mine and then we’ll sort out where we want to move
to. Not the best option, but seeing that if I move into hers, I’ll be paying
way more than I am now, I reluctantly agree with her suggestion.
We arrive at the venue, a purposefully dimly lit hall-like room with
electronic music and the hum of conversations greeting us. I scan the crowd
for familiar faces, smiling when I spot a handful of my classmates. And
then, it strikes me—Itohan and I are the only black people in the room.
Wow… am I glad Itohan decided to be my plus one?
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, it’s just… I think what I’m trying to
express is that it’s odd being in the minority.
Itohan leans in, nodding to the music, her voice barely a whisper. “We
stand out, don’t we?”
 I nod, my gaze still taking in the room. “Yes, we do.” Glad I’m not the
only one noticing.
As we move through the crowd, Sarah spots us, greeting us with warm
hugs. “I’m so glad you made it, Fifi! Itohan, you too.”
She directs us to mini bar set up, which looks cute stocked with every
snack bag on a store’s shelf.
With the music pulsing, and conversation buzzing around us, I find
myself in various conversations, getting to know different classmates and
acquaintances. Conversations I thought would be painfully awkward flow
naturally, and I appreciate the effort to make us feel included. Like Sarah
and Itohan pointed out, I am meeting people I would normally never have
met in school.
I almost jump out of my skin when someone touches my back, saying,
“Having a good time?”
Turning, I find it’s only Sarah. I let out a sigh, holding the drink I’ve
been nursing for the last hundred years to my chest. “Yes,” I smile, “thanks
for inviting us.”
She giggles, looking more excited and animated than usual. “No Fifi!
It’s thank you, for coming.”
The party is pulsing with energy, music blending seamlessly with the
laughter and chatter all around. Not long after Sarah leaves, Itohan’s looks
across the room and mid-sentence, her eyes light up. “Um… forgive me
boo. I see Alex! I’ll be right back.”
I nod, waving her off. “Go catch up. I’ll be here.”
“See you…” Itohan says, heading off.
Nice. Fifi the sore thumb, standing alone near the makeshift refreshment
area, with the same drink that’s now literally sixty percent water. I really
want to drink and let loose, but this is my first time out in this environment.
I want to keep my wits around me.
Having a sip won’t hurt.
Occasionally moving my body to the beat, I am about to take a sip of my
drink when I feel a gentle bump from behind. Not again…
 Turning, I see Rian, an interesting classmate from one of my data
science courses, wearing a mischievous grin on his face.
“Whoops, my apologies!” he exclaims in a playful tone.
I can’t help the smile that curves my lips. “It’s no problem. Just a
friendly data exchange, I assume?”
He chuckles, raising an eyebrow in mock consideration. “Indeed, a
seamless transfer of information.”
We both laugh, our light banter a welcome distraction from the party’s
high energy. Rian loves using code to speak and is not-so-verbally termed
the “weird guy” in our class, but I like him. I never would have imagined
him spending his weekend at a party rather than studying.
“So…” he begins with a quirky grin, taking in our surroundings, and I
know I’m in for a fun conversation, “are you here to analyze the party’s
data trends?”
He doesn’t disappoint.
Chuckling, I raise my glass in a mock toast. “You caught me. I’m
monitoring Irish dance patterns and student music preferences.”
He leans in conspiratorially. “Ah, the ultimate data mining operation.”
We both share a laugh. As it always is with Rian, our conversation shifts
to a more serious topic—the power of data. Yep. That’s who I am now—the
Fifi that talks about data in parties because I’m loving my course and my
classmates.
I nod in agreement when he buttresses my points, and next thing I know
I’m sipping my drink thoughtfully.
Our conversation flows seamlessly, and his expression turns
contemplative. “And what about the future? How do you envision data
shaping our world?”
Taking a moment to ponder his question, I recall all the articles, books,
and materials I've reviewed and studied that have helped prepare me for this
path I chose to follow. “I think the future of data will involve a delicate
balance between innovation and responsibility. Because as data scientists,
we have a role to play in using data to drive positive change while
safeguarding individuals’ rights.”
 He smiles, a glint of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well said. Maybe
someday,” his eyes take on a distant look, “we’ll be analyzing data trends
that help create a more connected and equitable society.”
While others are partying and having fun, here I am engaged in a lively
discussion about the future of data—a topic that’s out of place at this party,
but which I’m thoroughly enjoying. I notice a shift in the atmosphere—the
music has shifted to a slower tempo.
Rian apologizes, excusing himself. Within seconds, a tall guy with dark
hair and mesmerizing eyes, whom I haven’t seen before, walks past me to
get a snack from the refreshment table. Hmm, if he loses about 10kg, he will
look very athletic.
Our gazes meet. He sidles up next to me, unaware of my judgment of his
unhealthy choices. He flashes a charming smile at me. “Hey there, enjoying
the party?” he asks in a smooth voice, a whiff of weed teasing my nostrils.
Who are you? Doesn’t look like a student for sure, but I appreciate his
friendly approach.
“Oh… yeah.” I tuck a stray braid behind my ear. What do you want with
me? “The party’s great.” To act normal, I sway slightly from side to side,
forcing a smile. “The music’s on point.”
He leans against the wall, his expression suggestive. “Definitely. And
speaking of being on point, I couldn’t help but notice you from across the
room.”
I chuckle, unsure of how to respond. “Oh, thanks. Yeah, it’s a fun night.”
He takes a step closer, the stench of weed growing stronger as he blocks
my view of other attendees. A frown mars my brow when I notice his gaze
lingering on my chest.
Umm… what is… going on here?
“You know, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new in
town?”
I force a smile, becoming increasingly aware his interest is more than
casual. “Actually, I’m a student at the university here. Just enjoying the
party.”
 “A student…” He smiles smugly. “I should have known. You know, your
presence stands out like a shining star. I guess that’s what pulled me over
here.”
Now how do I respond to that? Itohan and I have had this conversation
and experiencing this in real life is so weird. All I can say is, “Thank you?”
“No, seriously. Your smile could light up the entire city.” He leans
closer.
Uh-oh. I take a step away from him, and he doesn’t seem to notice.
“This city’s got nothing on you. Are you flying solo tonight? Because,
you see, I’ve never taken my coffee dark, but I’d be more than willing to try
if you’re up for the experience.”
I need to address this foolishness head-on.
Putting a hand on his chest, I push him from me. “I have to be honest,” I
say, my tone friendly but direct, “I appreciate the attention, but I’m in a
committed relationship.”
His eyes widen at the revelation, and he blinks in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t
realize. My bad.” He takes a step back.
Smiling tightly to ease any potential awkwardness, I say, “No worries at
all. It’s all good.” There’s no need to tell him I haven’t seen my boyfriend in
years or that he’s in the UK.
Pressing his lips, I watch as he speaks with his hands, his confidence
deflating. “Well, in that case, it was nice chatting with you. Enjoy the rest of
the party.”
“Thanks! You too.” I chuckle as he walks away.
That was easy… I lift my cup to take a sip of my drink when Itohan
reappears at my side with a grin, her friend in tow. Just in time. I shoot her a
grateful smile, glad for her return.
She bumps her shoulder on mine. “Fifi boo, did you miss me?” she
teases, winking.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, you know I was bored without you.”
Her friend laughs, caught up in our dynamic. “Alex.” He says as a
means of introduction, and I respond with my name. After a quick chat
about the party and some witty remarks from Itohan and I, he says, “You
two seem like quite the duo.”
“We try our best,” I reply.
Alex suggests we refill our glasses, but I raise my half-filled glass with a
smile, rejecting his offer. Since there’s a refreshment area right beside us, he
goes ahead to busy himself with mixing a cup, while I focus on Itohan.
“You won’t believe what just happened,” I start, excited to spill my recent
encounter. “Did you see that guy who was just talking to me? I mean,
making a pass at me?”
She raises an eyebrow. “That oyinbo guy? No way!”
I laugh, nodding. “He does not have sense jare. I think he mistook me
for someone who’s interested in exchanging…” leaning in, I say for her ears
only, “data.”
Itohan’s eyes twinkle with mischief, then she belts out a laugh. I join in
the laughter, realizing some of the edge I got from my banter with Rian is
remaining. Well… I smile smugly to myself; I think I like speaking in codes
now.
Itohan makes a face; I think she’s looking for the right comeback. “And
did you give him a thorough analysis?”
I shake my head, matching her humor. She’s learning pretty fast! “No
data transfer here. I informed him my connection status was fully
committed. Besides, the guy was already high on something.”
She bursts into laughter again and I smile. What happened was—no…
Whatever. Now that it’s in the past, laughing is the only way I can respond
to the situation.
“Oh, Fifi,” Itohan starts, “you never fail to entertain.”
“I didn’t know what I was walking into when I responded at first. I just
knew he made a mistake looking at me.”
Itohan rolls her eyes playfully. “Please, boo. You’re an intelligent and
beautiful lady, of course, guys are going to be drawn to you.”
I hiss, finally emptying my cup in one gulp. “The guy was oozing with
weed, feeling like he was the most fascinating person in the world.” I shake
my head in disbelief trying to put my thoughts together now that I can think
outside of the moment. “And it’s not about that. It’s just... he made a pass,
and I didn’t know how to respond. Or how to feel.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “Boo, you’re pursuing a master’s degree
in data science. You have your own dreams and aspirations.” She shrugs,
“You don’t need anyone to validate you.”
I don’t need anyone to validate me… Those words sink into my core as
Alex returns with two filled glasses, handing one to Itohan. I’m shocked
when she smiles, accepting the glass and takes a sip before continuing like
it’s okay to accept drinks from people at parties. Isn’t she scared he’s put
something in it?
“You know,” she begins, a mischievous grin on her face, as she carries
Alex along in our conversation. “I’ve been thinking. I would never date
anyone who isn’t African. In this life, I must end up with a Naija guy, last
las, an African man.”
If Alex is offended, he doesn’t show it. I arch an eyebrow, curious about
her sudden declaration. “Really? Why’s that?”
Her eyes gleam with determination. “Because, our cultures are so
different. I can’t imagine splitting the bills 50/50, and then one day, I’d be
the one having kids. How would that work?”
I burst into laughter. Itohan is a basket case waiting to happen! She’s so
good at this thing. I appreciate how she switched the conversation to
something completely different and hilarious. “So, it’s all about financial
planning for the future, huh?”
She shrugs, her smile unapologetic. “It’s a valid consideration,” she
takes a sip of her drink. “Alex, when you go out with a lady, do you foot all
the bill or split?”
Alex shrugs. “Split?”
“You see?” Itohan nods finalizing her argument. “Everyone chooses
what works for them.” Scanning the room, she adds, “At least, I know what
I want.”
“And that’s very important,” Alex says.
As they carry on, my brain, for some reason I don’t understand, is taking
extra note of Itohan’s words. For instance, I’m convinced that beneath the
surface of attraction and even connection to someone, there is a world of
nuances and considerations that shape our choices beforehand. Hmm.
Motivational thinker. I smile to myself, nodding at something Alex says.
Thirty more minutes, and I’ll be saying my goodnight.

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 5
___________

How to Roll
Music thumping, the party still in full swing, I feel a familiar vibration in
my pocket. Reaching for my phone, I grin, unable to contain my excitement
when I see Special’s name with an image of us on my screen. Excusing
myself from the conversation with Itohan and Alex, I step away to a quieter
corner, close to the bathrooms, eager to hear his voice. He’s been at work
most of the day, and we’ve not had time for a proper call. Not like we can
talk for hours in this loud place, but I’m giddy with what I can get for the
time being.
“Hey, Spesh…” I greet, excited, covering my mouth and the phone’s
speaker from the loud music in the background.
“Hey, love.” His warm and familiar voice comes through, comforting
me. I’m convinced he’s home and ready for the night, like I ought to be to.
He mumbles something, then adds, “Can you hear me?”
I tilt my head, trying to find a quieter spot. “Yeah, I can hear you. Sorry
about the noise.”
 “Must be quite the party.” He chuckles softly. “Want to tamp it down a
little?”
“It definitely is,” I reply, a smile tugging at my lips. “I’m out with some
friends.”
There’s a momentary pause on his end. Then his voice turns curious.
“Out with friends?”
“Yeah, I’m at a party—”
“You’re at a party?”
“Yes, I—”
“Did you tell me about this party?”
“I—” Oh no. I hesitate, backtracking and realizing that my excitement
might have taken precedence over the need to inform him. Oh shit, how did
I forget? “I thought—I’m sorry, baby. I should have told you. I thought I
did.”
“You thought you did? Jesus Christ!”
“I’m sorry…” Feeling cute and cheeky, I add, “it’s not like I keep tabs
on your goings and comings.”
“It’s not about me keeping tabs on you, Fifi. Someone needs to know
where you are.”
Okay. That didn’t pan out the way I thought it would. Now I feel guilty.
It wasn’t intentional I swear. With a lot of schoolwork, plans to move in
with Itohan and thoughts of making extra money, I was really looking
forward to being here tonight, that informing him slipped my mind. I knew
I was missing something the other day.
“What if something happens to you there?” he continues. “Baby, you’ve
been here for barely two months, there’s a way things are done.”
I sigh, pangs of guilt pricking my chest. “You’re right, and I apologize. I
should have let you know.”
His tone softens a bit. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”
Leaning against the wall, I furrow my brows, lost in thought for a
moment. “I understand,” I finally say. “And I promise to keep you in the
loop in the future.”
 He sighs, as though accepting the situation for what it is. “So… who are
you with?”
I smile, remembering my encounter with the weed smelling dude who
didn’t bother to introduce himself. When he’s all calm, I’m sure Special
would enjoy the gist and get fired up at how the guy sexualized me. “Sarah
from my class invited me, so I came with Itohan.”
Another brief pause, and then I hear his voice again, this time it’s laced
with irritation. “Itohan? You’re always with her.”
I blink, surprised by the edge in his words. “Speshie, she’s my only
Naija friend. It’s only natural for us to hang out together.”
He sighs heavily. “I just don’t get why you’re so close to her. And she
makes you end up doing things without thinking.”
Where is this coming from? Have I said anything to paint Itohan in a bad
light? All I’ve done is crack jokes about her being a Benin girl through and
through. “She’s a good friend. I’m not lucky like you to choose which Naija
friend I want to have, but I’m glad she’s my friend. We support each other.”
A tense silence consumes all our words, and when he finally speaks, his
tone is dismissive. “Well, I hope you’re having fun.”
“I am,” I reply softly, feeling sad at the iciness of his tone. I’m sorry,
nau.
“Um, I just got back from work. I’ll let you go so I can find something
to eat. Take care and let me know when you arrive home.”
“Speshie, I—” I start, but he’s ended the call.
Baby.... I feel bad for making him so emotional, he can’t stay on the
phone with me.
Curling my lips in displeasure, I stare at his phone number, tempted to
call back. The joy of being at the party dulls, replaced by a sense of conflict.
I don’t like this feeling. Everything he said, I agree with, except for that
part about Itohan’s influence on me.
When I rejoin a smiling Itohan and Alex, all it takes Itohan is one
perceptive gaze. “Everything okay?”
I muster a smile, as my attempt to appear fine is falling short. “Yeah, just
not feeling too well. I think I might head home.”
 She touches my arm gently. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, the turmoil within me intensifying.
I shouldn’t be here. I should have told Special about it. Now he’s over
there thinking I don’t care about his opinions or that I’m becoming a ‘loose’
girl. Back in college, I enjoyed partying because I loved it and Special was
the Director of Socials.
Truth? It was also an excuse to see him.
But ever since I graduated, I haven’t seen the need to head out into
spaces like this. Am I trying to become the girl I was? Who is this woman
I’m becoming?
Itohan exchanges a quick look with Alex. I don’t believe that stuff she
said about settling for an African man. I can see the connection she’s
developing with Alex. Once I get past this feeling eating my guts, I’ll tease
her about it.
“You know what, boo?” Itohan says, dropping her cup on the nearest
table. “I think I’ll call it a night too.”
I blink in surprise. “Oh, you don’t have to—”
Itohan shakes her head, “Hmm, hmm. I’d rather you not be alone right
now.”
Warmth bubbles in my chest, “Thank you, Itohan.”
As we gather our things and bid Alex goodbye, I can’t help but
appreciate Itohan’s support while at the same time unable to shake the
unease settling in my chest. Why hadn’t I been smarter and informed him
about my plans? Why did something that was supposed to be a fun night out
become a source of tension?
It’s so easy to get caught up in the excitement of the moment, to forget
that every action has consequences, even unintended ones.
Walking side by side, we step out into the night, the city’s lights casting
a soft glow on the pavements. We walk in companionable silence to the bus
stop, the rhythm of our footsteps matching the cadence of my thoughts.
When we get to the bus stop, Itohan squeezes my hand. “I hope you’re
okay,” she says, breaking the silence.
 Nodding, I press a smile to my lips. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for being
here.”
She offers a small smile. “Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”
After waiting for what feels like an eternity for a bus to arrive, Itohan
asks if I want to share and I shrug, giving her highlights of my conversation
with Special, leaving out the part that involves to her.
Looking into my eyes, she smiles like a sage. “When you told me you
had a guy, I was curious as to who would dare lock down a brilliant,
promising lady without being by her side? But then I’ve listened in on your
conversations and every other thing you’ve shared, Special is a good guy.
And every relationship has its ups and downs. Your love and dedication
makes me excited and I just want you to realize misunderstandings are
normal, okay?”
“Yeah…” What was I expecting? That Special and I’s relationship won’t
have normal hurdles? “You’re right, Itohan.”
She smiles, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “And for the record, I
think you’re both adorable. I could see the immediate mood switch when
you stepped back.”
We both chuckle.
“Ehen. Smile for me. But really, it’s fine. You love him and he loves
you.”
Nodding, I chuckle, feeling a lightness in my heart as a weight lifts off
my shoulders. “Thanks babe. I needed that.” I was just being silly, beating
myself up about the incident.
As though on cue, my bus arrives, and we bid each other goodnight.
“Don’t forget to ask your landlady if I can move in,” she reminds me.
“No problem. I’ll let you know.”
In the quiet of the bus, I reflect on the things that truly mattered—my
studies, my dreams, and my relationship with Special. The distance between
us is already a challenge, and I know communication and understanding are
the keys to overcoming it. With everything we’ve been through to be
together—even though we’re still not physically together—it would be
foolish of me to cause a strain between us. The goal is to, yes, focus on my
studies, on achieving my goals, and nurturing our bond.
I reach my room without interacting with Bridget and her family—if
they are out or in, I don’t care. The door closes behind me, and I lean my
back on it, letting out a sigh. Oh, Special! Hurriedly, I pull out my phone,
my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I compose a text message.
“I’m sorry for,” I start, but quickly delete that, settling for, “Hey love,
I’m home now. I hope you’re doing okay. What did you have for dinner?”
I hit send and wait for a response. My heart races like a stallion as I hope
for some form of acknowledgment. Seconds turn into an eternity, and the
message remains unread and unanswered.
Quickly, I go about getting ready for bed, the quiet surroundings a huge
contrast to the noise of the party that’s still reverberating in my head.
Occasionally I glance at my phone, the silence on the other end amplifying
my worries. The events of the evening play in my mind, and I turn every
response he gave left and right, searching for clues.
Clues to what?
Oh gosh, I’m going out of my mind.
Why am I acting like a woman from the oldies? I don’t want to call him.
I need him to call me back. With a deep breath, I decide to take a different
approach. Navigating to the voice messaging feature, I hit record.
“Hey, love… it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that I’m home now. I
understand if you need some space tonight. We can talk tomorrow, and I
really hope we can sort things out. I love you… umm. Goodnight.”
I release the button and it delivers to him.
That should do it.
To think we were supposed to talk about ways I can work and make
money remotely so I can sustain myself if and when I move apartments.
With a sigh, I set my phone aside and settle into bed.
Lord have mercy, it’s too quiet in here. Usually, I’m on a call with him
till I fall asleep. Is he punishing me?
It’s not like he’s read the message, I need to calm down and stop
assuming the worst.
 I close my eyes. Tomorrow…
Tomorrow, I’ll express my gratitude for his concern and reaffirm my
commitment to mend, nurture, and protect our love. With these thoughts in
mind, I drift into a dreamless sleep.

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 6
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Radio Silence
The following day arrives, with my sense of unease deepening with every
second. I’m checking my phone every few minutes, hoping for a message
or a call from Special. If he is trying to prove a point, I get it. He hasn’t
bothered to read or listen to my messages. The lack of communication is
gnawing at my nerves, leaving me restless and anxious.
Itohan calls and even comments on the change in my demeanor, but I
can’t bring myself to share my troubles with her. I appreciate her concern,
but admitting my fears aloud would make them feel all the more real. She
reminds me about the conversation I’m to have with my landlady and I put
it on my to-do list.
I go about my Sunday by joining an online church service on my laptop.
It helps in calming my nerves, giving me a sense of peace. The pastor’s
topic is centered around resilience, facing challenges with faith, and finding
strength in the face of uncertainty. It’s as though he knows what I’m going
through and is speaking to me.
 After the online service concludes, I go about cleaning my space, doing
laundry, washing my kinky 4c hair and styling it with crochet hair I’d
gotten weeks ago from Ali Express. Finding a place to style my hair is like
looking for needle in a haystack and I’m so glad I learnt to style my hair by
watching YouTube videos. God bless those YouTubers who take their time
to create detailed content.
It’s past four with still no word from Special. The need to clear my mind
is so strong that after reading articles online, I decide to do something I’ve
never done before.
Take a walk.
It’s strange, you know. Walking without a destination in mind. Walking,
just because.
Strange thing I tell you.
But people swear that it alleviates restlessness and I know there’s a lot
that’s unsettled within me.
I slip on a jacket and step outside, the cool evening air providing a
refreshing contrast to the thoughts swirling in my mind. As I walk down the
street, the rhythmic pattern of my footsteps offers a soothing cadence. It’s as
though a different side of my brain is opening, and I realize that I’m being
proud and foolish for not dialing Special’s number, which I do immediately.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t answer.
Okay… that’s strange.
I try again, and same thing.
I check, my messages are still unread.
What if something bad has happened to him? What if… pausing, I
search though social media apps and popular news site to confirm there was
no gang violence or knifing incident in the UK.
This is bad… I’ve never had cause to get the phone number of his
friends. Who can I call? Alice? Not a good idea. I’ll only make his family
members back home to be in a state of panic and also let them into our
business. No, not doing that.
I go through all his social media handles, and see he has been active on
one, making reposts and all.
 Ugh!
I resume walking, the therapeutic effect of walking no longer affecting
me. I need to let out steam. Talk to somebody. See if I’m overreacting or if
I’m justified for feeling the way I feel.
With each step, I consider reaching out to Itohan. Then Linda…the one
who knows and understand our history.
“Hello, Fii?” Linda’s surprised voice comes through.
“Hey, Linda.”
“Fii, it’s been a while! How have you been?”
Since my arrival here, we’ve spoken a couple of times, but not as
frequent as we used to. “I’ve been okay.”
“Hearing from Ekene?”
“Not really. Hope no problem?”
“None oh. Just wanted to know.”
“Oh, okay. Listen, I need to talk about something that happened last
night.”
There’s a brief pause on her end, and then she speaks, “Of course, I’m
listening.”
I share the events of the previous night, the message I sent with no
response, and the anxiety that has followed. She listens attentively, letting
me speak my mind and truth.
When I finish explaining, there’s a thoughtful pause before she speaks.
“Fii, relationships have their ups and downs.”
I get it, okay? I get it. But what do I do?
“It sounds like both of you are dealing with your emotions and someone
is being childish.”
“No, no one is being childish,” I rush to clarify. “Are you not the one
that just said relationship has ups and downs?”
“Ehn… still—”
“Still nothing.” I roll my eyes, annoyed I dialed her number. “Be like a
normal friend and advise me jare.”
 “It’s advice you want?”
“Linda.” I warn, pouting my lips.
“Okay oh.”
Better…
Her voice turns suspiciously comforting. “So, have you reached out to
him today?”
“Kinda,” I reply, whining. I dislike that I had to be the one to reach out.
“I’ve sent him messages, but he hasn’t responded. I don’t like that he’s
playing this mind game with me.”
“Hmm.” Linda clears her throat and I imagine her smiling as she
reassures me. Gone are the days when we were roommates, sharing our
experiences together, dancing in our underwear, making jest of guys, and
her warning me off Special.
“What?”
“I don’t know, oh. I’m not in the relationship with you guys, but there
could be a myriad of reasons he hasn’t responded yet. Don’t sha jump to
conclusions. Abeg, keep your sanity.”
Who said I’m jumping to a conclusion? The brother is on social media
but has not had time to check my messages or answer my calls. I wonder
where he learnt that from.
Besides, am I sure this is the same Linda I know? I thought by now I’ll
be receiving a grand lecture on why I shouldn’t be dating Special in the first
place. Something to fuel this anger in me instead she continues with nice,
and thoughtful Linda role. “For me ehn, while all this one is happening, I’ll
take some time to reflect on what I want from this relationship and what
steps we would take to work things out. And when uncle returns, have an
honest conversation with him. Me I don’t like all this silencio things he is
doing.”
Silencio things? I smile wryly, realizing she’s done with the nice
character. “Linda abeg.”
“Tsk,” she hisses. “But it’s the truth now. I don’t like silent treatment.
You know me.”
 I sigh, grateful for her advice. “I need to talk to him, but it’s just hard
right now. Why isn’t he responding?” Ugh!
“I understand your worries. It’s okay to feel this way, but try not to let
your thoughts spiral,” she reassures me. “Give it a little more time, and if
you still haven’t heard from him and you’re concerned, like really
concerned—”
“What does that even mean?”
“I’m just saying. So, yes, where did I stop? Ehen, if you’re concerned
like that, consider reaching out to someone close to him to check on him.
But in all these things, please and please, take care of yourself.”
“I will.” A sense of relief sweeps over me at her advice and perspective.
“Thanks, babe. You always know what to say.”
She chuckles softly. “It worked?”
“Yeah… at least you made small sense.”
“That’s something. You know my mind on this matter but, since you
say…” She lets her words trail off.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Fii, anytime. I’m just happy you’re happy with him. And I’m
proud of how far you guys have come. So, ignore my bad belle sometimes.
It’s old habit.”
We say our goodbyes, and I end the call. Determined to carry on with
my day and prepare for the week whether Special calls or not, I head back
home.

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 7
___________

Love is a Beautiful Thing!

Settling into my room after my not-so-refreshing walk, I get engrossed with
wrapping up assignments, then reviewing my timetable for tomorrow. I
hesitate when my phone lights up with an incoming call. Seeing Special’s
name on the screen sends a mixture of emotions coursing through me—
relief, curiosity, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. After taking several
calming breaths, I answer the call.
“Hey,” I greet, hoping my voice is steady despite the emotions fighting
for control n me.
“Hey. Hi Fifi,” he hesitates.
I adjust my sitting posture, my curiosity growing. “Hey, is everything
okay?”
There’s a brief pause, and then he speaks, his words catching me off
guard. “I’m sorry for not responding earlier. I needed some time to clear my
head.”
I blink, his admission prompting me to straighten up and take a deep
breath. “Spesh, I will not lie; you had me really worried.”
 He sighs audibly—I hope he is regretting his actions. “I know, and I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any unnecessary worry. It’s just…”
Leaning back in my chair, all the questions and accusations I had
planned to fling at him fade away. He doesn’t sound like himself. “Is
everything alright?”
He hesitates.
“You can talk to me, baby. Come on, talk to me.” What is wrong?
“Fifi baby…” The energy he usually puts when calling my name is
nowhere to be found. “I’ve been dealing with some personal stuff, and it’s
overwhelming. The house, moving, the guys, work, one high risk bet I
placed, then your safety—I needed to take a step back to process things.”
I listen attentively, my heart going out to him as he opens up about his
struggles regarding accommodation, getting a real full-time job and losing
some of his savings to a bet he placed. “And I went and added to your
stress. I’m sorry… You should have told me, baby. I would have
understood.”
“I know,” he admits, his voice softer now. “But sometimes, it’s hard to
articulate what’s going on inside.”
I nod, knowing exactly how that feels. “Speshie, I’m here for you.
Forget all that BS about men keeping their emotions locked. You need to be
vulnerable with me. I’m here for—whatever you’re going through, we’re in
this together.”
He sighs, and I can sense relief in his voice. “Sure.”
Swallowing, even though I know we have bigger fishes to fry, like him
placing bets when we’re trying to save what we have for our future, I want
to know my baby is alright. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Umm,” he pauses, as if contemplating his answer, then coughs. “I’m
getting there, slowly.”
“Good.” I smile, releasing a long breath. It might be too soon and I
know he’s apologized, but we need to talk about last night. However,
instead of going that route, he asks about my day, and he tells me about his.
We talk about plans for the week, laughing when we disclose something
funny and talking about everything but what’s really bugging my chest.
 I’m in bed when our conversation lulls and it feels like we’re back to our
place of understanding, stronger than where we were before the
misunderstanding.
I think this is the right time to address what transpired last night.
Taking a deep breath, I hesitate for a moment before speaking. “Spesh?”
“Huh?”
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night—”
“Fifi,” he interjects, his voice terse with an edge, “I appreciate your
concern, but I don’t want to talk about it. See, I don’t want to hear it.”
Blinking in surprise, and taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor,
I frown, staring at my phone. You don’t want to hear or talk about it?
I try again. “But baby, I just thought—”
“I know what happened, Fifi. I told you the truth and then I needed
space, and that’s all there is to it.”
My breathing accelerates and I quickly place a hand on my neck. Why
do I feel choked all of a sudden? I want to cry but I won’t give into that.
The openness that had characterized our conversation is being replaced by a
wall that feels insurmountable.
“I understand you needed space,” I reply, finally finding strength in my
voice. “But I thought we could at least talk about it, so we’re on the same
page. Those stuff you said about Itohan, they’re not—”
“It’s your life, after all, so do what’s best for you. You’ve got instincts.
Hang out with who you think is right. All I shared were my observations.”
His response is firm, leaving no room for negotiation. “See baby, I don’t
have time to debate, okay?” He sighs. “Let’s just move forward.”
The silence that follows is intense. I swallow hard, the sensation heavy
in my stomach as I struggle to find the right words to continue the
conversation. I’m torn between my desire to resolve the tension within me
and my respect for his boundaries.
“Okay,” I finally respond in a calm voice. “If that’s what you want.”
He sighs heavily and I hear the rustling of bedsheets. “It’s alright.
Okay?”
 Closing my eyes for a moment, I let out an audible breath, wanting to
dislodge this heaviness in my heart. “It’s just... I thought we could talk,
even when things are difficult.”
His voice softens. “I know.” Is that a touch of regret seeping through it?
“And I’m not saying we won’t. Just not right now, okay?”
With his words, it becomes clear our conversation has reached an
impasse. I understand his need for space, even if it’s leaving me with
unanswered questions and no way to express myself. When did we—
“Fifi baby…” he says playfully like his usual self, “how about we switch
this call to a video call? I miss seeing your smile.”
Switch to video call? Which nonsense smile? I’m not happy. I need us to
talk! Yet I find myself agreeing with a smile tugging at my lips. “Sure, let’s
do that.”
We transition to a video call, and I am met with Special’s familiar face
on my screen. UK has really worked wonders on his already gorgeous skin.
The playful gleam in his eyes and the gentle curve of his lips has an instant
effect on lifting my spirits and chasing away the lingering tension.
“Ah, there’s that beautiful smile,” he teases with that infectious grin of
his.
I roll my eyes in mock exasperation. Truth? His lightheartedness is
exactly what I need right now. Gosh! I’ve missed it.
Scrunching up my nose, I reply as my smile grows wider, “You’re such a
charmer.”
He chuckles, his gaze softening as he gives me a flirty once over. “I just
wanted to see you smile.” He licks his lips in a mock sensual manner.
I burst out laughing, grateful for this unique gift of his. Gad! I want to
spend a lickle physical time with this man. This is so unfair.
His tone shifts, his voice taking on a hint of excitement. “So, Fifi baby,
I’ve got some great news to share with you.”
Curiosity piqued, I lean in closer to the screen. “What is it?”
His eyes lights up with enthusiasm as he announces, “I’ve booked
tickets for you to visit me in the UK!”
What?!
 Oh. My. Godddddddd.
My heart skips multiple beats as happiness floods through me. The
surprise of his announcement leaves me momentarily speechless, as
disbelief courses through my veins. “You... you booked tickets for me?” I
stammer, my reflection on the screen is grinning like a buffoon.
He nods, his smile radiant. “Uh huh. When we started discussing, I just
thought, why not? Logged on to the site, booked it for the week of your
break. We can always move it, if necessary.” He shrugs, “Sorry I sounded
testy earlier. I wanted to move on from yesterday and make sure we have
something to look forward to.”
Tears of gratitude well up in my eyes. I struggle to find the right words
to express how I feel. “Speshie, that’s... that’s thoughtful.” I sniff, wiping
stray tears from my eyes.
His gaze turns tender, “Baby don’t cry. This wasn’t meant to—”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know how much
you mean to me.”
I nod, wiping away a tear. Knowing that he’s doing this with the meager
fund he earns. Knowing that I’ve been making plans, to no avail, to save up
for a ticket. Knowing that this is something we’ve always wanted to do.
This moment is so surreal.
I get an email notification and he tells me it’s my booking confirmation.
Gratitude and a renewed sense of affection floods my senses, making me
wish I could hug him in person.
Soon…
Very soon.
We continue talking, and he mentions that I’ll have to get a UK visa.
Then he cracks a joke about relocating to Australia if his stay in the UK
doesn’t pan out. His playful humor and this heartwarming announcement
has transformed the atmosphere, leaving me with a sense of hope for our
future. When we say our goodbyes and end the call, I stare at the screen for
a moment, a content smile tugging at my lips.
 Look at me! Just look at me! I roll around the bed, giggling. See why I
love this guy? He can do no wrong! He knows how to fix things. Knows
what I need and when I need them.
Still lovestruck in the dimly lit room, my phone lights up with a
notification. I pick it up and see it’s a sweet message from Special. I
respond with a grin. When I close our chat, I see my chat with Linda where
she asked if I’m feeling better, so I decide to spread the happiness. Who
better than her, who has been with me since the beginning to understand my
happiness?

Me:
Guess what? He called!
I drop my phone thinking she would respond tomorrow morning, but she
responds immediately.
New Message from Linda:
🙄 Finally!
How did it go?
Are things better now?

Ignoring her sarcasm, I type a response.

Me:
It was... interesting.
We talked about a lot of things, and I think we’re on a
better page now.
New Message from Linda:
Glad to hear that! ;)
I pause for a moment, contemplating how much to share with her.
Eventually, I decide to be honest.
Me:
I tried to bring up last night
he wasn’t keen on discussing it
New Message from Linda:
Hmm.
Me:
I’m trying to be patient and understanding.
And he made up for it too 😁
He booked tickets for me to visit him in the UK!
New Message from Linda:
No way!
That’s incredible!
Me:
I know, right?
I was just as surprised.
He said he wanted to give us something to look forward to.
New Message from Linda:
Wow, that's really thoughtful of him.
You must be so excited!
Me:
Excited doesn’t even begin to describe it.
It’s like a dream come true.
New Message from Linda:
I can only imagine!
This is good news for you two.
Me:
It really is.
And I’m just so grateful for this opportunity.
New Message from Linda:
You deserve it.
At least you’ll get to create beautiful memories together.
Me:
That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.
We’ve been through a lot, and this feels like a fresh start.
New Message from Linda:
I’m so happy for you 😀😀😉
Me:
Thank you 😊
I’ll keep you updated on how things go.
New Message from Linda:
You better!
Oh! I’m so looking forward to pictures and all.
Me:
I’ll definitely keep you posted.
Thanks again.
New Message from Linda:
Anytime, Fii.
You know I’ve got your back.
Just keep being your amazing self.
Me:
I’ll do my best.
Thanks again, Linda.
New Message from Linda:
Take care and enjoy every moment!
YOLO
Me:
I will, Linda.
You take care too.

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 8
___________

Friends or Acquaintance?
Nights have passed since that pivotal conversation with Special. His words
still echo in my mind, their weight lingering like a silent promise. As I walk
through the bustling streets of Cork, my thoughts swirl like leaves caught in
a gentle breeze. The events following that night are making me rethink my
relationship with Itohan.
One of the events was of me asking Bridget, my landlady, if Itohan can
move in with me. I hadn’t spoken to Bridget on Sunday as promised, so
later that week when I found Bridget in the kitchen, I told her to charge me
double, so Itohan can stay.
Bridget agreed.
Excited, Itohan moved in. Two days later, Bridget returned our money
and told us to move out the next day.
Yes, she did that! Knowing fully well that with the housing crisis, we
have nowhere to go. She gave no reason and well… the next day, Itohan
and I skipped classes, and went house hunting.
 We were lucky to find accommodation in a townhouse shown to us by a
nice Irish man. However… we couldn’t move till the next day. And with the
betrayal I felt towards Bridget, I agreed with Itohan to sleep outside—on
the streets—rather than plead to stay in her house. Because who does that?
Who tells their tenants to leave after barely two days without reason?
Ignore the fact that she returned our funds in full.
We slept outside on a bench in the cold that night within the school
premises, not for lack of trying but because of the cost of finding quick
lodgings. I was shivering like a fish out of water. The next day, while
joyously heading to our new apartment, I bought my first duvet.
Given the complication of the situation involving Itohan, I didn’t
whisper a word to Special.
Itohan has been a constant presence since my arrival in Ireland. We’ve
had good times and weathered storms of our own. But since that night at
Oliver’s party, an unexpected shift has occurred. It’s as if an invisible
barrier has been erected between us, a wall that whispers secrets I’m unable
to share.
I can sense Itohan’s concern, her intuition sharpened by the subtle
changes in my demeanor. The familiar lightness in our banter has become
tinged with a hint of hesitation. I feel it when her gaze lingers a fraction
longer, as if she’s trying to decipher the words I’m not saying.
The rapport that flowed effortlessly between us now feels strained, like a
thread stretched thin. It’s not that we’re distant, we still see during school
hours, study after hours, but… there’s a feeling of unease beneath the
surface. I find myself choosing my words more carefully, my once-
spontaneous responses are now filtered through a sieve of caution.
Juggling between schoolwork, trying to get a good night rest—because
our neighbors are undergrad boys who make a hell of noise—I make a new
friend who is from Congo. Her name is Mary. She lives in a double-bed
room and is looking for a roommate to reduce her monthly expenses.
After days of bearing the endless noisemaking from the undergrad boys,
Itohan reports the issue to the Landlord thinking it would resolve the issue,
instead, the Landlord gives us a date to move out, which would mark our
two-week stay here.
 It’s apparent my communication with Special is strained because of my
living accommodation. All I know is that he is getting interviews and call
backs. Sometimes I wish Itohan had not spoken out about Bridget being a
hater, but that’s who she is. I don’t blame her. I just wish we didn’t have to
deal with accommodation issues right now.
The day before our due date to move, Itohan lets me know she has found
somewhere referred to her by some Indian boy from school, but they won’t
take the two of us. I could see the remorse in her eyes. It’s no fault of hers.
Afterall, we didn’t come to Ireland together. All week long, I was busy with
a class project leaving her to do the house viewing run. I don’t blame her
for choosing herself first. Despite this, Special’s words from weeks ago
return to taunt me.
With only one night left here, I reach out to Mary, and she was more
than happy to welcome me. Going from having my own bed to sharing a
bed with someone? It’s like going from high up, to coming all the way
down.
Finally, I had a chat with Special about the whole situation, and although
he never said it, in my head, I could feel him telling me, I warned you,
but… It’s okay to learn the hard way. He encouraged me to move in with
Mary and with time, all this would be a thing of the past.
So far, living with Mary isn’t as bad as I imagined. I just wish our
housemates aren’t so dirty. The kitchen is almost always in a mess. The
irony of it all is that our housemates are Japanese.
Itohan’s attempts to re-connect is evident. She invites me to gatherings
and social events. Yet, during those times, I can’t shake the feeling that she
knows there’s an unspoken tension between us. Does she sense the
distance? Is she picking up on the undertones and friction in our
interactions?
Despite yearning for the easy camaraderie we once had, for the
unguarded moments that used to define our friendship, I’m caught in the
crosscurrents of my emotions, unsure of how act normal around her.
As I navigate the city’s streets, I can’t help but wonder how long this
tension will persist. Only time will tell…
 *****

Time slips through my fingers like fine sand, each grain representing a day
that blends seamlessly into the next. Cork, with its ivy-clad buildings and
bustling streets, has become my haven and my challenge. Since my last
heartfelt conversation with Linda, so much has unfolded, and a lot is
changing.
Mary and I finally got a job in a factory that molds plastic bottles for
FCMGs that worked with our class schedule. Thanks to Mary for
motivating me every step of the way. The pay is decent. My role involves
moving bottles, trolleys, and arranging stuff. It’s not hard, it’s just that I get
to stand for hours and that shit hurts.
When I speak with Special about it, he promises to massage my feet
endlessly when I visit. The thought of that alone keeps me going when I’m
on schedule.
When my supervisor hands me my first pay, because obviously this job
is not legal, I teared up. Why do countries make immigrant students
incapable of this joy? Why tell them not to work for a certain time when
their counterparts study and work? I would understand this law or policy for
an undergrad, but for graduate students?
They can do better.
I wish I could retract all the nasty jokes and words I said to Special back
then. Life hits you differently when you’re earning your own money in a
foreign country. It feels good to be back in the zone again!
Days fade into nights, and I am immersed in the demanding currents of
my master’s program. The weight of assignments, projects, and exams
presses down on me, there’s nothing more demanding than assignments that
don’t pay you money.
Outside the academic world, I am embroiled in the search for
internships, a quest that will shape my career’s trajectory. The glow of my
laptop screen becomes my canvas, where I meticulously craft résumés and
compose cover letters that are both persuasive and sincere to each role I
apply to.
 Special, my steadfast confidante, remains a guiding star in the
constellations of my life. Together, we refine my résumés, selecting words
that highlight my skills and ambitions. His encouragement ignites a fire
within me, a newfound confidence that propels me onward.
With each application I submit, a surge of hope courses through me—I
am one step closer to my aspirations. I even called Ifedayo to follow up on
his promise and his response was, meh. Choosing to remain positive, I’m
looking forward to good news. My prayer is that I don’t go down the same
path I did when I was in Nigeria because the systems here work better.
One other thing I want to do when I get a good paying job is to bring my
brothers here. There’s more to life than waking up at 4a.m. to jump buses,
then get paid stipends.

OceanofPDF.com
 9
___________

K-drama isn’t Life’s Drama

New Message from Itohan:
Hey Fifi! How about you come over this weekend?
I’ve got something I think you’ll enjoy. 😉

With exams looming around the corner, Itohan’s invitation comes as a

surprise. As I read her message, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
We’re still friends, but life has been happening a lot—I’m talking about
midterms, classes, and work.
Oh! I’m so glad to say work.
I reply with a quick affirmative, my heart fluttering with curiosity at
what she has in store. The promise of spending time with Itohan is a balm
for my unsettled emotions. Yes, I enjoy spending time with my roomie,
Mary, but Itohan is a different flex. She’s a forbidden fruit.
When I arrive at her place, she greets me downstairs with a warm hug,
her eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. “Boo… I’m so glad you could
make it.”
I am too! “Wouldn’t miss this invite for the world,” I reply, smiling.
We make small talk, ride the elevator and as we step into her cozy studio
apartment—it’s my first time—I take in the magic she created with the
collage of her personal photographs and the artworks of black girls hanging
on the wall. In one corner is her dedicated makeshift study space, adorned
with textbooks, notes, and a laptop. She has a cute living area with a
medium size TV hanging on the wall. Her bed by the corner, although
compact, has a vanity table with a mirror holding tiny fluorescent bulbs on
the side.
We settle in the living room area, chatting about our respective days and
the latest happenings while she offers me chin-chin and groundnut. The
familiar undercurrent of unspoken tension between us seems to
momentarily fade. Then, with a mischievous grin, she directs my attention
to the TV screen. “Are you ready for something new?” she asks.
Curious, I nod.
She navigates to a streaming platform, and before I know it, the screen
comes to life with vibrant colors and unfamiliar characters.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Chill babe,” she grins. “I promise you’ll love it.”
“Korean movie?”
“These are addictive, trust me,” Itohan quips, her eyes lighting up.
“I used to watch them, but I don’t have time for them anymore.”
She scoffs. “Which ones have you watched?”
“Ahn, ahn. You don’t believe me? I’m an OG o.”
Itohan chuckles. “These are made different. Which ones have you
watched?” she repeats her question again.
“Jumong, Boys over Flowers….”
She nods her head, mocking me. “Those are old school. Relax, let me
help you unwind from school stress.”
The first episode unfolds, and I’m partially drawn into a captivating
narrative filled with rich emotions. Itohan and I share glances, occasionally
bursting into fits of laughter or offering empathetic sighs at the characters’
plights. In those moments, it’s as if the unspoken weight between us
becomes a little lighter, carried away by the simple joy of the drama’s
narrative.
As the credits roll on the first episode, I turn to Itohan with a grin. “You
were right. This is completely different. I’m curious to find out how she’ll
escape the military zone and get back to her rich lifestyle. And how did she
survive that fierce wind that carried a tractor?”
She chuckles, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Told you! It’s like a
whole new world.”
When the drama’s second episode begins, a lighthearted banter ensues
between us about the male main character and our laughter fills the room.
I playfully nudge Itohan’s shoulder. “You know, I remember you saying
you wouldn’t date outside of your ethnicity.”
Itohan chuckles, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “True, true. But that’s
real life. Fictional men from different cultures? Well, that’s a different
story.”
I burst into laughter at her quick comeback, placing a hand over my
heart. “Ah, so it’s okay to lust over fictional characters, but not real
people?”
She shrugs, a grin playing on her lips. “Exactly.”
We continue watching the movie, and I find myself caught up in the plot
and the witty exchanges between the characters, making comments and
reactions to their acts.
The final scene of the episode is playing out when I check my phone. I
gasp. “Two hours.”
“What?” Itohan turns to me with her brows raised.
“This is really different. I can’t believe we’ve been watching this for
over two hours.”
She raises an eyebrow playfully. “Told you they were addicting.”
I nod, a grin tugging at my lips. “You were right.”
As the credits roll once again, Itohan turns to me, flipping the remote
control. “Next one?”
 I grimace. “I don’t know…”
“Hmm?”
I shrug, willing to spend another hour watching the silly characters.
“Just because of my new boyfriend.”
Itohan’s jaw goes slack. “Come oh. Shuo… which boyfriend?”
“Ri nau.”
Itohan cackles then raises an eyebrow playfully. “Please leave Ri Jeong-
Hyeok for us single pringles. You have a boyfriend, so I don’t know why
you’re becoming obsessed with our Korean bobo.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at the gentle ribbing. “Touché, Itohan. It’s
not lost on me.”
Itohan smirks, her eyes twinkling. “So, what’s the verdict? Are you
secretly considering dating another race?”
I grin, leaning back comfortably. “Well, I do like the idea of it, you
know?”
“Ah!” Itohan dramatically places both hands on her head. “My brother
has suffered.”
“It’s not like that.” Chuckling, I hiss, playfully tapping her thigh. “I’m
only looking at it from the angle of exploring different cultures, learning
from one another. But, as you pointed out, I’ve got a boyfriend. And I’m
pretty content with him.”
Itohan raises her hands in mock surrender. “Wow. Fair enough. I was
already thinking that Rian guy was entering you.”
“Rian?” I shake my head. “Na…”
“Hmm. Never say never oh.”
“Tah. What are you saying?” I quip, a playful glint in my eyes. “Abeg
hit play.”
Itohan nods, her grin unwavering. “Absolutely.”
Our conversation trails off into comfortable silence, with the drama’s
theme music playing softly in the background.
When credits for the third episode scrolls, Itohan picks her phone and I
notice the change in her expression. She looks… contemplative.
 “Everything okay?”
“Yes, yes. It’s just…” she begins, her gaze slightly distant, “there’s
something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Curiosity piqued, I lean in. “Speak, I’m listening,” I tease, trying to
make light of the situation.
She takes a deep breath before letting her gaze meet mine. “There’s this
guy back home, in Naija, a friend of mine. We’ve known each other for
years, and, well, things have changed recently.”
Oh... “Changed how?”
She hesitates for a moment before continuing. “He’s been trying to
relocate to Canada for a while now. He’s got dreams and aspirations, and he
believes Canada holds the key to making them come true.”
I nod. “True. Anywhere but home.”
She nods as well, her expression thoughtful. “Sad truth. Well, he’s been
asking for financial support to make it happen.”
A knot of realization forms in my stomach. “Financial support?”
Itohan just got here. Her sister is doing well, but I don’t expect her to
drag her sister into this. Even me that’s in a committed relationship, I
struggled to allocate funds for my guys’ upcoming birthday because I’m
trying to survive. How much more funding ‘a friend’ to travel out of the
country?
Itohan’s gaze meets mine before quickly glancing away. “Yes. He asked
me if I could help him with money to facilitate his move. It’s not a small
amount, and it’s a big decision.”
Is she? Uh-oh. She’s considering it. He must be important to her. I
consider my next words carefully. “Itohan, this is a tough situation to be
in.”
She sighs, a mixture of emotions playing across her features. “It is. On
one hand, I want to support him in pursuing his dreams. But on the other
hand, it’s a significant amount of money. I need to think about my own
future, too.”
I offer a sympathetic smile, nodding in agreement. “Hmm. Are you by
any chance considering dating him?”
 She shrugs. “I was.”
News! “But…?”
“The whole situation is making me have second thoughts. I be Benin
geh. I get sense. I can’t let emotions or the promise of a relationship that
does not have foundation blind me from using my common sense. Your
bobo is just two hours away. This guy would be hours away. No offense, but
I’m not cut out to be in a long-distance relationship…”
I listen, offering a listening ear as she continues explaining her
expectations for her future partner, until we’re momentarily interrupted by
the vibration of my phone. I glance at the screen to see a text from Special,
causing my heart to skip a beat.

New Message from Special Love:

Hey baby!
What are you up to?

I ignore the message. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

When my eyes meet Itohan’s for her to continue, she raises an eyebrow
inquisitively. “Who’s that?” she asks, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
I give a nonchalant shrug, feigning casualness. “Oh, just a friend.”
She chuckles, her eyes twinkling. “A ‘friend,’ huh? And here I thought
we were all friends.”
I laugh, caught off guard by her teasing. “Okay, fine. It’s Special.”
Her smile widens. “Ah, Special. So, what’s he saying?”
I feel a slight pang of guilt as I keep my gaze on my phone. “Nothing
much, just checking in.”
She raises an eyebrow, her expression curious. “And you’re not going to
reply?”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Oh shit! Did I just blurt that out?
Itohan’s gaze narrows slightly, her playful demeanor replaced by a more
serious tone. “Fifi, is everything okay?”
 I offer her a reassuring smile, despite the unease tugging at the edges of
my thoughts. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” My fingers are twitching around
my phone. “Just a small thing.”
Itohan’s gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, her intuition sharper
than I anticipated. “Alright, if you say so.”
We resume our conversation and I offer her encouraging words. At the
same time, questions dance in my thoughts like ghosts seeking answers.
Have I made the right choice by defying Special’s advice? Is my desire for
independence jeopardizing the harmony of my relationship?
What are you up to?
Itohan is Special’s number one fan; how would she feel if I tell her he
doesn’t like me around her?
As Itohan and I talk about the complexities of relationships, I find
myself grappling with the desire to share my UK travel plans. I also want to
ask for suggestions for Special’s birthday happening next week.
I battle with the decision to reveal my plans further when she goes to get
water for us, stealing glances at my phone, where Special’s text message
still sits unanswered.
She returns and we continue, discussing the challenges of long-distance
relationships and the sacrifices they entail. I can’t shake the feeling that my
travel plan is a conversation that needs to happen. I take a deep breath, the
words ready to spill from my lips. But each time I open my mouth, my
courage falters, and I falter back into the safety of the present conversation.
I draw in a deep breath, bolstering confidence when another opportunity
presents itself. “Um… there’s something I haven’t told you. Something I’ve
been keeping to myself.”
Her gaze intensifies as she tilts her head to the side. “What is it?”
I meet her eyes, mine brimming with excitement. “I’m planning to visit
Special during this holiday.”
Her eyes widen slightly, surprise mingling with understanding. “You’re
going to the UK?”
I nod with more enthusiasm than I thought I was feeling. “Yes. It’s been
in the works for a while now.”
 Itohan’s smile widens, her eyes glowing with what looks like genuine
happiness for me. “Boo, that’s incredible!” She pulls me in for a hug, then
releases me. “I’m so happy for you.”
The anxiety I felt earlier begins to dissipate, replaced by a shared joy.
Itohan’s support, her genuine excitement for us—I don’t know why Special
doesn’t like this girl like I do.
Itohan’s smile turns mischievous as the topic of my upcoming visit takes
center stage in our conversation. “Watch out for those London girls, oh.”
“London girls?” I chuckle. “What about them?”
She leans in, her tone conspiratorial. “They’ve got that British charm,
you know? You’ve got to make sure you’re taking care of your man.”
A soft blush creeps up my cheeks, and I glance away, the teasing tone of
our conversation suddenly making me feel self-conscious. “Itohan, come
on. You know Special and I are—”
My words falter as I realize I’m about to admit something I’ve never
shared with her before. The realization dawns on me, and I feel slightly
embarrassed and vulnerable.
Itohan’s eyes widen in understanding. She leans back, smiling slowly.
“Are you blushing?”
I avoid her gaze, my cheeks feeling hotter by the second. “It’s just... you
know, we haven’t been together... like that.” My motto has always been that
the strength of a relationship is not defined by physical intimacy.
Itohan’s expression softens as she places a comforting hand on my
shoulder. “Boo, that’s fine. You don’t have to explain your choices. Just
know that men have needs, okay?”
I meet her eyes, my embarrassment giving way to gratitude for her
understanding. “Yeah...”

OceanofPDF.com
 10
___________

Always in my Heart
Arriving home from Itohan’s and finding that Mary will not return until
much later, I ask myself, for the first time since Special and I started dating,
if I’m doing something wrong. I’ve always ignored asking about sexual
needs and wants because there’s literally nothing I can do about it.
How has he been taking care of his desires?
Cheating is out of the question; I know the man I’m with.
Have I been selfish in not considering his wants and needs? But that’s
because I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.
Shock waves run through me, down to my core, as I think of the endless
possibilities—what we can and would do when I visit. Although he flirts,
teases and makes me feel special, he has never broached the topic of sex
with me. Maybe when I visit him, we could play around with… some
options.
Why am I troubling myself when I can ask him whatever question I
like? With where we both are in our academics and career, there’s a high
chance of us getting married within two years.
 Seeing that next week is his birthday and I don’t have enough funds to
do much, I do some research about spicing up long distance relationships.
There are some wild ideas, but I go with something simple. Something I
want to witness when he receives it as a package.
Plan in place, I settle in for a video call with him. Excitement bubbles
within me, as my plan makes my heart race. His face appears on my screen,
and a smile tugs at my lips. “Hey, Spesh.”
“Hey, lover.” His voice, as familiar and soothing as a melody, reaches
my ears. It banishes any lingering doubts or worries. I hear raucous laughter
and shouts in the background. “How’s my favorite woman doing?”
I return his smile, my heart fluttering at his endearing words. “I’m good,
really excited about everything; your birthday, graduation… my trip,
meeting your friends...”
Before I can say more, his expression changes to one of mischief.
Suddenly, his camera angle shifts. Confusion momentarily washes over me
until a group of guys come into view, their faces wearing playful grins, their
attention, somewhere else.
“Hey, Special, who’s that?” one of them calls out with a cheeky grin.
Special chuckles, his gaze never leaving the screen as he walks toward
them. “Guys, this is Fifi, the woman who keeps me on my toes.”
Oohs and aahs circulate the room and the guys wave, offering friendly
greetings. I wave back, my heart lightening at their warm reception.
Special grins.. “Fifi, meet the troublemakers.”
“Fifi, huh?”
“She must be something special.”
“Nice meeting you, Fifi.”
“So, you’re the one, huh?”
“You’re taking care of him!”
Smiling, I blush at their banter. Usually, Special and I keep to ourselves.
This… this is the first time he’s physically introducing me to his friends.
It’s a glimpse into his world that I haven’t had before.
 The guys continue their playful teasing, while Special switches the
camera to focus on himself. “Sorry about this. We’re just catching a football
match.”
“No worries, babe. It’s nice to see you having a good time.”
“So, how have you been, love? Anything interesting happening on your
end?”
I confirm if he has his earpiece on and he nods, yes.
Leaning back in my chair, a wave of comfort wash over me as we shift
back into our private conversation. Should I tell him about my visit to
Itohan’s? Or the movie? Nah… this is more interesting. “Oh, you know,
I’ve been doing some research on ways to make things more…” lowering
my voice, I croon, “interesting.”
His eyebrows shoot up in curiosity, his eyes dance with amusement. “Oh
really? And what have you found?” The laughter and banter of friends
continue in the background. He looks away, seeming distracted.
I catch his eye and offer an impish smile. “Umm… can I ask you
something?”
His gaze holds mine. “Of course. Ask me anything.”
I lean in slightly, making my tone hush and as sensual as I can. “Could
you maybe go to another room for a moment?”
His eyebrow rises as though he’s going to ask a question. Then he thinks
about it and simply nods. “Sure, hold on a sec.”
I can’t hold back my nervous smile as he gets up, walking away from the
group. His friends make playful remarks as he leaves.
“Alone now?” I ask when I realize he’s out of the zone.
“Yes love. What’s up?” He doesn’t look pleased being separated from
his pack, but soon…
I clear my throat which has suddenly become tight. “This question is
um…” Should I open this pandora box? Why am I doing this again? I shut
my eyes with a tight smile. “Oh God!” I whisper, palming my forehead. I’m
not about to chicken out.
“Hey Fifi baby,” he teases, “what is it?”
 Still smiling, I open my eyes, press my lips together and shake my head.
Gosh! I’m not eighteen, I’m almost twenty-four.
“Is it my birthday? Baby, I’ve told you not to worry about it.”
“Hmm mmh.” I shake my head, before choosing my words carefully.
“Well, you know how we’ve been apart, and I’ve been missing you like
crazy.”
He nods slowly, his forehead furrowing as his gaze becomes intense.
“I’ve been missing you too.”
“Hm… that’s what I want to know. How have you been taking care of
yourself?”
He scoffs, then lets out a soft chuckle.
“Serious, I’m not joking… Do you—like how—do you take care of
yourself?”
He continues chuckling, then calms down and licks his lips, his voice
growing slightly hesitant. “The usual.”
I feel my cheeks getting hot. His honesty is both refreshing and
endearing. I clear my throat again. “The usual?”
“Yeah, you know, doing what guys do.”
I chuckle at his attempt to broach the subject delicately. “I see. Well, like
I said, I’ve been doing some research on... ways to make things interesting
for us.”
I tell him what I’ve learned, and he cracks up. “I swear, you’re
something else.”
Smiling, I roll my eyes. “Only you would know.” Taking a deep breath, I
channel my inner confidence trying to embody my flirtatious side. “Well
then, since we’re miles apart, I was just wondering… what would you like
us to do right now, over the phone?”
There’s a brief pause, and he smiles, brushing a hand over his nose.
“Oh… you’re full of surprises today.”
I bite my lips, smiling. “You like it? Do you have any ideas?”
“What are you trying to do?”
I chuckle, seeing his struggle.
 He shakes his head and I know he’s made a decision. “Baby… as much
as I’d love to indulge in that right now, I’m actually watching a football
match with the guys.”
I stop smiling, nodding my head in agreement. How silly of me? I
should have just waited until we were settling for bed. “Oh, um. I’m sorry. I
guess the match takes priority.”
His smile turns faint and wan. “Don’t give me that look now—”
“No, it’s nothing.”
“I promise, we’ll have plenty of time for this conversation when we’re
together. Like in person.”
“You’re right.”
“Baby?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“But if you’re not busy, we can switch to voice call. You can stay on the
line with me. I’ve missed you all day.”
“Okay. That’s fine.”
Plan A: Failed.
Who says there isn’t plan B?
While he goes back to join the guys, I take a deep breath, my fingers
hovering over the screen of my phone. My heart races as I recall the advice
I’d read online—never show your face. With that in mind, I take a mighty
leap, embracing my inner seductress.
Carefully positioning the camera to capture just the right angle, I snap a
photo that leaves just enough to the imagination. With a slight smile, I
attach the image to a message and type, Open up love! It’s your pre-
birthday gift. My thumb hovers over the send button for a moment before I
tap it.
The guys are talking and Special’s contributing to the discussion.
My heart pounds like a drum. Come on… check your message. Please
don’t let other people see it. Check. Check. Che—he pauses midsentence
and I assume he is checking his message.
Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity.
 The other guys continue talking.
My phone vibrates with a notification.
Rushing, I open the message, my heart racing as I read his words.

New Message from Special Love.

Well played 👏🏽

Hahaha! My pulse quickens as I wait for another reaction, wondering

what he’ll say. I bite my lip, my nerves getting the best of me as I wait for
him to continue typing or to speak. And then, a bubble forms. Another
message appears.

New Message from Special Love.

I’m speechless…

A surge of pride blossoms in my chest for my boldness, and for taking a

step outside of my comfort zone.
Perfect! Hehehe. I’m sure he can’t remember we’re still on call because
someone calls for his attention, but he ignores them. Is he getting the rush
I’m getting knowing his friends have no idea what’s happening? Is he
blushing, grinning, or scrolling back up to look at the image again?
Staring at his response on the screen, I can almost picture the expression
on his face—the surprise, the curiosity, the intrigue.
Is he zooming in? Does he wish we had continued our discussion in
private instead of going to watch the match?
Wow! His reaction is both thrilling and validating. I can’t believe I went
through with it.
Who’s making Special speechless?
Me!
Where are the London girls?
Nowhere!
From now till what?
 Eternity!
Hahaha…
Just as I’m about to respond to his last message, he calls out my name
with a furtive voice. “Are you there?”
“Right here.”
There’s some movement on his end and the background noise fades. His
voice sounds a bit different, almost breathless, as he continues, “What are
you trying to do? Why did you send something like that?”
I smile, knowing that he’s probably looking at the image right now. “I
hope it was a pleasant surprise.”
There’s a pause on his end, and then a chuckle rumbles through the line.
“Oh, believe me, it was definitely a surprise.”
I let out a nervous laugh, my cheeks warming at his response.
“You know, you’re torturing me here, don’t you?”
“That’s the plan.”
“A poor weak man can only take so much. Did you take it right now? Is
that what you’re putting on?”
I chuckle harder at his dramatic response, the sound of his voice
warming my heart. “Oh, come on. I thought you had other priorities.”
“Priorities that can wait.” He clicks his tongue. “You have no idea how
much my heart’s racing right now. Your breasts are so ripe, so full and—did
they grow bigger?”
A sharp sensation rushes from my nipple down to my core causing me to
shiver slightly. It’s like we’ve unlocked a new level of intimacy. Licking my
lips, I dare to be bold. “Well, I promise you, there’s more where that came
from.”
He lets out a playful groan. “You’re killing me here.”
I grin, my heart swelling with affection for my man on the other end of
the line. He’s never troubled me or asked for physical intimacy—distance
won’t even let him try. I know I’m opening pandora’s box, and I’m ready.
“Don’t worry, lover. You won’t have to wait much longer. The holidays are
just around the corner.”
 He lets out a dramatic sigh, his tone still laced with playful frustration.
“Ah, the holidays… I don’t know if I can hold on until then.”
. “You’ll survive, baby. And when we’re together, we’ll make up for all
this distance.”
“I can’t wait to have you here.” His voice softens, adding a touch of
warmth to his words. “God… it’s been too long.”
“I can’t wait either.”
“Please for my sanity, don’t send anything like that again.”
“You—you don’t like it?”
“No baby… no. It’s too much. I’ll prefer to wait till we see. Does that
make sense?”
No. With everything I read online, there’s so much we can be doing,
distance or not.
“Baby?”
“Yes. It makes sense.”
“Please, abeg.” He chuckles softly. “Don’t worry, I’ve saved enough so I
can send funds you can use for your visa application. I’ll also start working
on mine.”
“Ah, Spesh. I thought the funding matters when—”
“You have something in your account now, yeah?”
I hesitate. “Yeah. But it’s not much.”
“Don’t worry. It’s the transaction history they need to see. Let’s start on
it now.”
“Thanks love.” Is it possible for someone to burst from ecstasy?
His voice becomes softer as he says, “Baby, no matter the distance, no
matter the time apart, you’re always in my heart.”
I close my eyes as his words settle over me like a warm embrace. “And
you’re always in mine.”

OceanofPDF.com
 11
___________

Coming for my Baby

With financial help from Special, I begin the process of applying for my
UK visa. I navigate through the pages, carefully filling in the required
information. I uploaded the necessary documents required—proof of funds,
travel itinerary, and a letter of invitation. When I reach the section where
they ask for the purpose of my visit, I take a deep breath,
Truth or not?
I filled my visa application for Ireland which I heard is way difficult
than UK to get all by myself, so this shouldn’t be beans.
In the purpose of visit section, I type in the words: “To visit my
boyfriend, Omehia Special.”
A flutter of nerves causes my tummy to rumble when I review the
information one last time. My heart forms a heartfelt prayer my lips can’t.
I commit this to you, Lord. Please, let them approve this visa. Use this
visa to validate our relationship. Let it be a sign that you’re ready to bring
us together, even if only temporarily. Please, Lord. Please. Amen.
 Done praying, I click the submit button.
A confirmation page appears on my screen, and I lean back in my chair.
Hmmph! Now, all that’s left to do is wait.
In the days that follow, my routine continues as I check my email inbox.
Each time a new email notification appears, my heart skips a beat, only to
realize that it’s not the one I’ve been waiting for. My laptop becomes my
constant companion as I refresh the visa application page, hoping to see an
update.
During quiet moments, I find myself sending up silent prayers, asking
for everything to go smoothly. I also imagine myself exploring the streets of
the UK with Special by my side, sharing laughter, making memories, and
discovering new places together.
Any moment now, I will receive a mail or email that will determine
whether my dream of visiting Special this school holiday will come true.
And no matter the outcome, whether I’m by his side or miles away, our love
will remain unbreakable.
In between classes and study sessions, I find myself navigating the
currents of everyday life. Itohan, knowing of my impending trip, extends
invitations to pubs and gatherings, eager to get me to explore the city. But
despite her friendly offers, the memory of my previous misunderstanding
with Special still lingers in my mind. Although I sometimes hang out with
her, I do my best to avoid anything that might jeopardize the harmony I’ve
worked so hard to maintain with Special.
When she invites me out, I politely decline, offering a smile and a vague
excuse about managing my funds. It’s not that I don’t want to socialize or
experience the local culture—it’s just that I want to make sure every step I
take is in line with the trust I’ve built with Special.
And so, while I miss out on the pub invitations and the chance to meet
new people, I find solace in studying, work, and my man.

*****

Days pass by in a blur. Mary and I stop working at the factory to write our
first exams and when we return, I am the only one they accept to return to
work. It hurt, not just because I won’t have company walking back home
with, but because Mary also needs extra funds like me, too.
Barely three days after my return to the factory, I am told to wash the
toilet.
Excuse me?
That’s not part of my duties!
Just because you’re doing me a favor by giving me a job under the table
doesn’t mean you should demean me and my role. I’m studying for a
master’s degree in computer science and majoring in data analytics! Do you
know what that means? How does that relate to cleaning toilets?
If I had a choice, I would have said all that. Instead, I begrudgingly do it.
The toilet cleaning in the factory gets noticed by one of the seniors and
they ask if I am interested in other gigs outside of the factory. As an
immigrant trying to make extra money to keep up with the cost of living, of
course I say, yes!
Is it the monthly stipends Mama Gee sends, and I convert to euro that
would buy me a worthy UK-boyfriend-visiting wardrobe?
Now, during the weekdays, after classes, I work as a cleaner for about
ten hours a week. The sound of mop swishing against the floor, the scent of
cleaning products in the air—it’s a far cry from the world of computer, data
science or classes that I’m used to. But I don’t mind. Every swipe of the
mop, every polished surface, is a step closer to my goal of being with
Special.
My evenings are dedicated to studying and preparing for classes. The
hours are long, but my vision of the future keeps me going. I remind myself
that this sacrifice, this hard work, is what those before me have done to
nurture their relationships and lives.
On the weekends, I wear a different hat—I become a caregiver. The
hours are longer, the tasks more demanding, but I approach them with the
same commitment I bring to every aspect of my life. I take care of those in
need, providing a helping hand and a listening ear, all the while holding
onto the promise of the visit that’s just around the corner.
My days are a whirlwind of activities, that I can’t make excuses to
Itohan because it is glaring. And with each paycheck, I remind myself that
this is a temporary phase, a means to an end, and that the memories I’ll
create during the visit will be worth every moment of hard work.
I keep refreshing my email and checking the mailbox for the UK
embassy verdict. Mary is tired of my constant repetitive questioning. At this
rate, I have to slow down if not, anxiety will become my middle name. My
calmness doesn’t last for two days as I arrive home to Mary handing me a
unique letter I have no doubt is from the UK embassy.
Thanking her and bidding her a wonderful evening as she steps out, my
heart races as I carefully open the letter with trembling fingers. The subject
line catches my attention, and I scan the words with a growing sense of
dread.

“Your application for a visit visa to the United Kingdom has been refused.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Why!
The room spins around me.
Refused. Refused… REFUSED.
The word reverberates in my head, echoing with a sense of finality I
can’t quite comprehend.
My vision blurs as tears well up in my eyes. Quickly, I wipe them away.
I won’t cry.
No, I won’t.
What is a visa? Stupid, nonsense UK visa.
What is—oh Special… I groan. Hot liquid filled with frustration,
disappointment, and confusion roll down my cheeks, splashing on my
winter jacket.
My groaning continues and I attempt to tear the document but common
sense reminds me that it’s best I keep it. I toss the rubbish bearer of the bad
news across the room with all my strength. It simply flutters in the air
before gently resting close to my feet as if mocking me.
 How could this happen? I did everything they asked of me. I provided
all the necessary documents. I was sincere. I—I... I poured my heart into
that application.
I won’t cry. No, I won’t.
God… I feel so hot! I tear off my jacket with lighting speed, flinging it
off me. I go for my boots next.
The first one comes off easily, but I struggle with the second, and
THUD. I land on the carpeted floor with a grunt.
Why?...
Tears freely flow down my cheeks as the weight of the refusal settles
over me, darkening my thoughts. All the plans. All my hard work. My
dreams of exploring a new city with Special. Of creating memories together
this holiday. Everything crumbles and evaporates in an instant.
Liquid anger flows through my veins with simmering resentment at the
unfairness of it all. And beneath it all, a profound sadness lingers. A deep
ache that vibrates within the very core of my being.
This is unfair!
Do they know how this unfairness will shape the course of my life?
I’ve worked tirelessly. Sacrificed time and energy. Waited and waited.
Only to be met with this cold rejection via mail.
Oh God, no…
I shake as tremors of disappointment rock my body, gripping my heart
like a vice and squeezing out any semblance of optimism in it. I raise my
head, placing my hands on both sides, fighting with an invisible weight
that’s pressing down on me.
God… why? This huge blow is striking at the very heart of our plans! It
is challenging the foundation of our relationship.
Minutes drag on, and I remain on the floor. A heavy cloak of
hopelessness settles over me like a suffocating fog. It wraps around my
thoughts, suffusing them with a bleakness that seeps into every corner of
my being. Despite my efforts to push it away, it clings to me relentlessly.
Weighing me down with its oppressive presence; pressing my chest.
Making it difficult to breathe.
 I should reach out to Special. But what would I say? What good would it
do? Sharing this news will only amplify the hopelessness that has taken
residence within me.
I stay silent, phone ignored, hopelessness tightening its grip, leaving me
powerless.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I take a deep breath,
reminding myself of all the challenges we’ve faced in the past—how we
even found our way each other, the ups and downs of distance, and so much
more.
With trembling fingers, I pick up my phone and dial Special’s number.
How would I tell him? Should I just hang up and send a text message
instead?
My heart pounds in my chest as anger, frustration, and sadness swirls
within me. I sigh deeply when the call connects.
“Fifi baby...” His voice comes through the line, happy and carefree.
Taking a deep breath, I struggle to steady my voice as I speak. “Hi
baby…”
“What’s going on?”
“I just received the mail from the embassy. They refused my visa
application.”
There’s a moment of silence on his end, and then his voice comes
through. “Umm… What happened? Did they give any reason?”
My frustration bubbles to the surface as I explain the reason for the
refusal. “Can you believe that? I provided all the necessary financial
documents, and they’re telling me it’s not enough. It’s just one week visit!
Do they expect me to have one million euro in my account?” Although
reasonable time has passed since I opened that letter, there’s still anger in
my voice.
“Sorry baby. It happens. We’ll give it time and apply again.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink them away, determined to keep my
composure. “I can’t believe this—what will happen to the flight ticket?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll cancel it and rebook it when you’re ready.”
 “I was so looking forward to being with you, to experiencing UK
together.”
“Same here? We’ll find a way through this, like we always do.”
Yeah, yeah… I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Don’t we?” he asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I know he’s trying to make the situation less depressing but the weight
of everything is pressing down on me. “I’m just so angry right now. Angry
that they can just make a decision like this, without understanding the effort
and determination it took to get here.”
“I understand your frustration. And I promise you, we’ll figure this out.
Whether it’s reapplying or exploring other options, we’ll find a way to
make it happen. Soon.”

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 12
___________

Snowflakes
The passage of time is both a patient friend and a relentless foe. It moves
forward steadily, marking the days, weeks, and months that slip through my
fingers like sand. And yet, it feels as though it stands still when I think of
the moments I haven’t shared with Special.
Yesterday, after work, in frustration, I ask for it to snow after enduring
constant depressing rain and cold winds. Now, waking up to find the city
transformed into a canvas of glistening white, as delicate snowflakes drift
gently from the heavens makes me scared shitless. I call Special and tell
him about this and he’s saying something in the lines of me being a woman
of virtue and having my mouth close to God’s ears.
Let’s not go there. It was around this time last year I was refused the UK
tourist visa. Some days, I think of ‘could have beens’, but I’m glad Special
and I are still going strong.
My day continues with me admiring the falling snowflakes, a beautiful
work of art I can’t comprehend. It is enchanting and beautiful!
Itohan invites me to join a group of friends at a café close to a park.
 Gloved hands and a snug scarf serve as my armor against the chilly
embrace of winter’s breath. After getting familiar with everyone—seven of
us—we move to the park to play with snow. Excited, I sculpt my first
snowman, feeling a sense of deja vu.
Someone got over excited, and next thing I know I’m in my first
snowball fight. It is a humbling experience as my carefully molded
snowball disintegrates upon impact. Laughter fills the air as we exchange
playful jabs, tossing snowballs.
It is one of my favorite winter days so far.
One morning, I wake up with an itchy throat, and my immediate reaction
is to press my tongue against the back of my throat for relief. This action
soothes the irritation, but it’s uncomfortable and triggers a gagging or
choking sensation as my tongue reaches the affected area. Sometimes, this
leads to expelling phlegm. I share this discomfort with Mama Gee and
Daddy during our weekly calls and they were quick with causes and
solutions.
“Did you expose your body to cold?” Mama Gee asks.
“Try ginger, honey, and lemon in water,” daddy suggests.
Morning and night, I try the recipe, but it doesn't help. Mary prescribes
herbal teas, but still... it's becoming a part of me. Something keeps clogging
the back of my throat whenever I sleep.
Layering has become a survival strategy—I swathe myself in sweaters,
coats, and scarves, as I prepare for work and class like a warrior readying
for battle.

*****

Oh yes, with less than six months to graduation, I’m still applying to jobs.
The goal is to get one in the UK so my move-in with Special will be
seamless. I’ve also been shooting shots to companies in Cork and Dublin.
Half bread is better than none. In addition to this, I got in contact with
Ifedayo again, and he’s gone ahead to refer me a couple of times, but
nothing has come out of them… yet.
 Honestly, it’s been a tough struggle of the mind doing my best not to
think back to my futile attempts in Nigeria. What motivates me is my
conversation with Special from long ago…
“D’you know, you’re spending so much time applying for jobs. Ever
thought about studying abroad instead?”
“…sometimes a change of scenery can work wonders. Plus, being a
grad student would help you escape those relentless job interviews for a
while…”
Weeks ago, something funny—well, not-so-funny—happened. I’d heard
news about the surging stock of a huge company I’d applied to. On a whim,
I decided to sift through my email inbox, specifically searching for
“Rubicon” to tally the rejections I’ve accumulated. I’d employed a tactic of
using different email addresses for my application and altering resumes to
outsmart their database. I stumbled upon an unexpected twist—an email
from Rubicon, sent two weeks prior, inviting me for an interview. And
there’s a more recent one that arrived the day before, threatening to cease
communication if my interest in the role had waned.
No longer interested fire!
Immediately, I responded, letting them know I was interested in
scheduling an interview and asked what the next steps are. They promptly
scheduled the interview, which turned out to be a positive experience, and
assured me they would follow up. However, it’s been almost a week now,
and I’m still awaiting their response.
Today, I woke up feeling different and certain that something good is in
store.
Sitting at a cafeteria with my project group members, I’m refreshing my
email to review the document a member just shared when I see a subject
line that causes my heart to skip a beat.
What!
I don’t believe this. What—what if this is a spam email? One from those
people who—please, please… Tell me this is proof that after weeks of
interviews and assessments, my moment has finally arrived.
With trembling hands and suddenly dry lips, I open the email. Butterflies
flutter in my stomach as I read through the contents of the email.
 Oh my God! This is happening now… Thank you, Jesus! Thank you…
thank you!
Excusing myself from my project group members, I race to the
bathroom, the only place I can express myself without looking like a loon.
Standing in a stall, I press my lips as I go through the terms,
responsibilities, and benefits. They’re generous. Way beyond my
expectations.
A sob escapes me, and with closed eyes, I toss my head back, mumbling
words of thanks. They’ve officially offered me the role I’ve been working
hard for—a Data Analytics internship role. And not only that, I’ll be
working with one of the top tech companies in the world: Rubicon.
Rubicon!
Unable to contain my joy, I quickly dial Special’s number. The call
connects, his familiar face appears on the screen, and I’m met with his
warm smile.
“Fifi baby! Ahn-ahn, where are you?” he asks, smiling. He graduated
some months back, got a full-time, remote job, and has been able to get
himself a nice apartment. Ignoring the visa refusal, things have actually
been going well for both of us. I’m on the verge of graduating with honors
and now this!
Grinning wide, I can barely contain my excitement as I whisper. “Guess
what? I got an offer with Rubicon! I’m officially a Data Analytics Intern!”
His eyes goes round. “Say God,” he says placing a hand over his mouth
in disbelief.
“What are you—God!”
“Wow! That’s incredible! Congratulations!”
“Thank you!” I grin, shaking my shoulders in glee. I ramble on about
how I just received the news while studying with my project group
members. “God! I knew the interview was good, but compared to that
research institute’s interview I did, I wasn’t sure I gave it my best.”
“Thank God. So, what are they offering?”
I chuckle at his eagerness. “They’re offering a competitive salary, great
benefits, and the chance to learn and grow into a full-time role in a dynamic
environment.”
Special leans in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And what’s this
‘competitive salary’ you’re talking about?”
“It’s quite impressive, actually.” I can’t suppress a grin as I reveal the
annual figure.
His eyebrows shoot up in pleasant surprise. “Wo—wow.”
I catch a flicker of something in his eyes—something that goes beyond
the surface. But just as quickly as it appeared, he covers it up with a casual
smile, his tone shifting. “That’s fantastic! You’ve truly earned it. Looks like
we’ll both be making a pretty penny, ehn?”
“Absolutely! And this is just for internship. Imagine when I become a
full-time staff.” Somebody pinch me! “I’m so excited! No lies, I almost
gave up. It’s a wonderful feeling to see our hard work paying off—I can’t
wait to make the most of this opportunity.”
His smile remains unwavering. “I have no doubt you’re going to excel.
I’m looking forward to celebrating this milestone with you.”
“Soon baby, soon.”
“Very soon, love. I can’t wait to celebrate your success in person. We’ll
make the most of our time together. There’s this surprise doughnut I’ve
heard about, I think you’ll like it.”
“Awwn.”
“You still love doughnuts?”
Kinda… “Sure!”
“Don’t worry.” He smirks. “This should help with your next visa
application.”
“Oh…” I widen my eyes in realization. “Oh, oh.”
He nods slowly in agreement. “Definitely.”
With his voice still echoing in my ears, I end the call, my heart full of
gratitude and joy, ready to make the most of this exciting chapter in my life.

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 13
___________

Another First Day

Life has been good. Everyone back home is doing great, and that’s all that
really matters. After my job offer, hahaha! I’ve been in a daze since I
received it because the position comes with a salary that promises financial
stability and a career that aligns with my passion.
While waiting for my first day in corporate Ireland, I focused on my
studies, earned my degree in computer science specializing in data science.
The absence of my family on my graduation day made the moment all the
more poignant and lonelier.
On my first day at Rubicon, my heart beats like a djembe drum the
moment I step into the sleek and modern office building. People badge into
the building; some call out hushed greetings to each other as I move
towards the front desk assistant for directions. Along with the job offer
came a one-week orientation process, scheduled to hold in this Dublin head
office. After this, I’ll complete the rest of my internship in Cork.
My prayer since I got the offer has been that I’m so good and promising
during this internship, that they would offer me a full-time position and be
happy to relocate me to the UK.
The front desk assistant tells me to wait in a designated area, and within
minutes, I’m greeted by a warm smile from a colleague who introduces
himself as Mark. His friendly demeanor puts me at ease. He’s an Associate
assigned to show me around and help me settle in as our manager is in a
senior stakeholders meeting.
Mark takes me on a tour of the office, explaining the layout, the
collaboration areas, and the meeting rooms. He points out different
departments and introduces me to various coworkers along the way.
“Over here is where our team is based,” Mark says, leading me to a
section with spacious desks and large computer monitors. “This will be
your seat.”
Wow… this is a far cry from the factory, the houses I’ve cleaned, and
even the setups of the startups I had worked with back home.
“Thank you.” I smile, hoping I look the part, because this feels like a
dream!
“You’re welcome. Just so you know, our team members are spread
across the globe, some you might not have worked with before this
internship is over,” he grins, “but you’ll learn a great deal from.”

*****

Throughout the day, Mark takes the time to introduce me to my immediate

team members, explaining their roles and areas of expertise. The
camaraderie among my colleagues is obvious, it makes me happy that I’m
one of them.
At lunchtime, Mark invites me to join him and a few other coworkers in
the cafeteria. They share insights about the company culture, offer advice
on navigating the workplace dynamics, and share a few lighthearted
anecdotes.
As lunch ends, Mark walks me back to my desk. “Welcome to the team
once again,” he says, tapping his fingers on my desk absentmindedly. “Like
you’ve heard all day, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions
or need assistance,” he teases with a smile.
 “Thank you, Mark,” I reply, touched by his kindness. “I’m excited to be
a part of this team.”
Settling into my chair, I power up my assigned computer to continue my
Rubicon onboarding classes. At the back of my mind, I’m still wowed by
the fact that things I said years ago are coming to pass. So many things have
not gone as planned, but here I am—from a small town in Nigeria to a
bustling city in Ireland. I’m proud of the steps I’ve taken, the hurdles I’ve
overcome, and the opportunities I’ve seized.

*****

In a flash, my one-week stint in Dublin comes to an end, and I’m back in

Cork, settling into my role as a data analytics intern at Rubicon. The
atmosphere here, while more laid-back than Dublin’s, is still bustling with
creativity and innovation. Every day brings with it a new challenge, a new
puzzle to solve using the skills I’ve learned over the years.
What truly fuels my enthusiasm is the learning journey. Data analytics is
a world of its own, a landscape of numbers and patterns that intertwine to
reveal insights and possibilities. I find myself delving into complex
datasets, deciphering trends, and crafting narratives that help guide
important business decisions.
The support from my colleagues and mentors is invaluable. I’ve found
myself engaged in conversations that challenge my perspectives and
broaden my horizons, both professionally and personally.
When my first salary hits my account, it takes me a moment for my
brain to catch up with my body. Oh, my goodness! It didn’t even feel like I
was working throughout the first month. Now, I have money to do whatever
I want. Wow!
This is what it feels like doing what you love. Less stress, more gains!
By the end of my second month, I’m discussing with Special about
changing my apartment for more privacy. His only concern is our plans for
me to move to the UK soon, which is understandable. However, I’m way
too excited about having my own space, so I go ahead and begin apartment
hunting!
OceanofPDF.com
 14
___________

Next Level Stuff

“Hey, you two!” I adjust my phone’s camera as I switch to video call, the
familiar faces of Linda and Ekene appearing on the screen. “Welcome to
my crib!”
Linda’s eyes widen as she takes in the surroundings. “Wow! It looks
amazing! My girl has upgraded!”
It’s the same reaction I got from Itohan when she visited yesterday.
Life has been great! It’s way better than I expected and giving me
opportunities to dream bigger—like supporting the twins, my brothers, to
come over for their bachelor’s, and if G-Ben wants, his master’s degree.
“Why are you dragging our throat. Give us a tour,” Ekene demands.
And that’s what I do. Panning the camera around, I go into details about
the cozy living room, the modern kitchen with its gleaming appliances, and
the view from the window that overlooks the bustling city below. I explain
to them how some landlords had unrealistic prices and expectations. Of
apartments that were far from what was advertised, and the countless hours
spent scrolling through online listings. When I found this, the issues I had
with the agency and slight touch ups I had them do before I moved in. “I’m
really happy with how it turned out.”
Ekene nods in agreement. “It’s so cool. You’ve really made it your
own.”
Excited, I chuckle at their proclamations. “Thanks, guys. It’s was a lot
finding a place that fits my budget and that is close to work. Hmm. You
know how crazy the housing market is here.”
Ekene lets out a sympathetic sigh. “Tell me about it. I’ve been hearing
horror stories. Even here, it’s getting crazy.”
I switch to the front-facing camera, making a face. “I swear, it’s like
every country has its own apartment hunting challenge. I’m so glad I found
this gem.”
Linda smirks. “The way you two are going about this thing. Did you
have to bribe anyone to secure this place?”
I laugh, shaking my head. Is someone feeling left out? “Almost, but not
quite. This one no be Naija way o.”
We all chuckle.
Linda raises an eyebrow. “Na so. Anyways, it looks like all the effort
was worth it.”
I nod. “Definitely. And you know what the best part is? It’s a place
where I can finally host you guys when you come to visit.”
Ekene grins. “Oh, you bet I’ll be taking you up on that offer soon.”
We share a laugh, our conversation turning to plans for the future—
gatherings, reunions, and all the moments we’ll share together. Ekene and I
try convincing Linda to consider relocating, but she laughs us off. It’s not
the first time and it’s not going to be the last.
Linda’s voice takes on a playful tone as she asks, “So, when are you
planning to make the big move to the UK?”
Widening my eyes in surprise, I chuckle, because someone is trying to
deviate from the spotlight. “You never waste time getting to the point, do
you?”
She grins mischievously. “Hey, I’m just curious. You’ve been talking
about UK and you-know-who all this time, and now that you’ve got a job
and everything...”
I shake my head, still smiling. “Trust me, I’ve thought about it. But you
know I just started this job, and I need some time to settle in and get a feel
for things.” It’s been almost six months, and it still feels like yesterday.
Ekene purses her lips before agreeing. “Yeah, it makes sense. You don’t
want to rush into anything.”
“Exactly,” I respond, grateful for her understanding.
“But,” Linda begins, scrunching up her face, “Isn’t this apartment
contrary to your plans? Because believe you me, I won’t trade this space for
those UK cubed rooms.”
We laugh in unison.
“It’s not every room in UK that is cubed. Don’t worry, Special and I
have an understanding,” I assure her. “The fact that I’m here doesn’t mean
I’m not applying to companies in the UK. Although... I’m looking into
getting my company to relocate me to—”
Ekene gasps. “That’s such a novel idea!”
“Yes… that’s smart,” Linda adds. “Because I won’t support you in
quitting your job to go and live with a man.”
“You know I won’t do that.”
“You know better. Well sha, I hope it all works out.”
It will… “And you won’t believe this—I actually got approved for a UK
visa.”
Their eyes widen collectively, and Linda squeals, “No way! This is
fantastic news! Double celebration.”
“I know, right?” I nod, enjoying their enthusiasm.
It was the same reaction I got after getting the news. Over a year has
passed since the initial disappointment of the refused visa application.
Despite my determination and a second attempt at securing a visa, the
outcome remained unchanged—a second refusal. The frustration, the
longing. I finally tried it one last time without Special’s knowledge and it
clicked.
 “It’s been a journey, but it finally worked out. Now,” I shrug, “who
knows what the future holds?”
“Which future?” Linda teases. “Everything is set! See me thinking
things were still bleak. Aunty, when are you planning to move over?”
“Slow down o, it’s a visitor’s visa.”
“And so?”
“What are you implying?”
Linda stares down at me until I crack.
While the idea of moving to the UK to be with Special is tantalizing,
timing and circumstances play a significant role in these decisions. “See, I
don’t want to do anything illegal. I’m fine where I am. Like I said, I’m
looking into various options.”
“Hmm, wonders…” Linda smiles, pressing her lips together.
“Fifi, Linda is just worried about you and Special. She’s not implying
that you do anything untoward that will jeopardize your stay. You know
how you’ve been all along about this issue.”
“How I’ve been?” I roll my eyes.
“Ah! Fifi. Special this, Special that.”
I remember my college days and end up chuckling, slapping a hand to
my forehead. “Lord have mercy.”
Ekene chuckles. “You sef, you see?”
“Yeah…” I nod in agreement. Gosh, I must have been so annoying.
While I may not have seen Special in almost three years, my dreams of
being in his arms, of exploring new cities together—they remain alive and
well, not defined by distance. But really, have I been annoyingly Special-
crazy?
“I’m glad it wasn’t me that pointed that out,” Linda pipes.
“Shey I should say sorry now?” I tease.
“Abegi,” Linda hisses with a smile. “So, for reals, what’s the plan?”
“For now?”
“Yes,” they both say.
 “I’m content to focus on my job, my apartment, the opportunities that
come with them, and…” I drawl, looking anywhere but the camera, “I plan
to visit the UK, very soon.”
“You see!” Linda laughs.
Ekene smiles. “Stop it.”
“It’s just a surprise weekend trip. It’s too sudden to request time off from
work. So… yeah, its a weekend something.”
“Oooh… I like that,” Linda croons, teasing me. “Lover girl. Mumu, you
never get complete sense.”
Ekene smiles warmly. “Well, if that’s what you want to do… do it!”
“Yes oh, cheerleading geng!” Linda grins. “Cheers to new beginnings
and crossing borders—literally!”
Awwn, these foolish girls, I chuckle. “Thank you. Ẹse, a dupe.”
We wrap up the call, and I look around my new apartment with a sense
of contentment.
I’ve got a trip to plan!

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 15
___________

Surprise, Surprise!
Excitement courses through me as I step off the plane onto UK soil. Days
have blurred together as I planned this surprise visit. The random and
birthday gifts I sent to my man in the past paid off because now I have his
exact address without having to ask. It would have been cool to have him
pick me up here, but the element of surprise will be ruined. Oh, and it was
when I was about to board my flight I remembered that I don’t trust
airplanes. In the end, it was anything for my man.
Navigating my way out of the bustling airport into the pleasant, cloudy
day, you’d think I’m a seasoned globe trotter who knows her way around
this airport. Truth is, I’m just one lucky girl, thrilled to be seeing her man!
I call for an Uber and the car arrives promptly. When I settle into the
backseat, the hum of the engine soothes my racing heart. The cityscape
passes by, and I take in the unfamiliar surroundings—streets lined with
elegant buildings, people walking alone and in groups. It’s different from
Dublin, yet there’s a familiarity to the urban rhythm that makes me feel
right at home.
 At home…
I gaze at my reflection in the Uber’s window, and a stranger stares back
—a person with a new identity, a foreign version of myself. A smile starts
forming on my lips, but a haunting voice in my head whispers—does
feeling at home here mean I’m becoming a stranger to my roots? What parts
of my former self am I losing in this pursuit of a different life?
My heart pounds faster with each passing street, and I force myself to
shake off the lingering unease that is silently plaguing me, shifting my
focus to here and now. Am I excited to be in the UK? Or nervous about
seeing Special after almost three years?
Yes, to all!
This moment, reuniting with Special, is a moment I’ve dreamt of for so
long. And now, here I am, mere moments away from being in his presence
and my fingers are becoming sweaty, betraying my composed exterior.
As the car approaches Special’s apartment building, I’m debating
whether to wear a smile or a laugh when we see. Should I fling myself at
him? I honestly don’t know what to do!
Letting out a long exhale, I agree I’ll let the scene play out.
When the car comes to a halt, a huge lump forms in my throat,
intensifying my nervousness. Swallowing hard, I force out a thank you to
the driver and step out onto the pavement. My heart races as I take in the
tall building. With the help of the driver, I retrieve my luggage from the
trunk, thanking him once more.
Taking a deep breath to quell the fluttering butterflies in my stomach, I
make my way inside and up the stairs, my mind racing a mile a minute with
each step.
I reach his apartment door, raise my hand to knock, then hesitate, my
hand hanging mid-air. What if he’s busy with work? What if he’s caught up
in a meeting? I’m so nervous, it’s as though I want to do the number two.
Gathering courage, I rap my knuckles against the door, the sound
echoing through the corridor. In what feels like a mere second, the door
swings open, and there he is—Special.
Oh!
 My heart!
A perplexed frown shapes his features, and my heart responds with a
staccato rhythm, struggling for oxygen.
As the door creaks open wider, I drink in every detail of his appearance.
He’s still tall and athletic, every bit the Special I remember. But some things
are not the same—he’s changed, I note, my pulse quickening at the sight of
his cocoa skin, which now glows in a different light, appearing fairer. He's
sporting a cute medium goatee now. I notice the thin smile lines gracing the
corners of his eyes, adding a distinguished charm to his features, making
him look sexier than ever. These are subtle transformations, yet enough to
redefine his appeal.
Time has been both kind and transformative, shaping him into a version
that exudes a new kind of magnetism. Despite the passing of time since I
waved him goodbye at the Murtala Muhammed International airport, he
remains undeniably handsome, his presence commanding attention and
stirring teasing emotions within me. This realization washes over me like a
wave, leaving me momentarily breathless as I drink in the sight of him, the
essence of who he is, and who he has become in my absence.
Our eyes lock, and the air becomes charged. I open my mouth to speak,
but the sensation of being in his presence after such a prolonged absence
tingles through my senses, leaving me speechless. I just want to touch him.
Hold him. Be in his arms. And—and melt into him.
“Fifi?” His voice sends shivers down my spine, his smile, still as
captivating as ever.
I smile back, hoping my nervous energy isn’t too obvious, as relief and
happiness begin to replace it. “Hey, Spesh. Can I—”
“—Come here.” He pulls me into a warm embrace without waiting for
me to complete my thought or sentence.
I wrap my arms around him, taking in his scent which is new and
exciting.
All the worries, all the uncertainties, they melt away. Tears threaten to
form, and I laugh them away.
He pulls away from me, reaching around for my luggage. “You ehn!”
“Tell me you weren’t surprised.”
 He chuckles, shaking his head. “After you,” he says, guiding me into his
apartment. “You’re lucky I don’t have plans this evening.”
“How would you?” I tease, tongue in cheek, “When your PA is here.”
As we step inside his apartment, it automatically somehow feels like
home. His living room is adorned with minimalist furniture, featuring clean
lines and neutral tones that create an open and airy atmosphere. Subtle hints
of his personality are scattered around—the books on the shelves, and the
touch of whimsy in the simplistic artwork on the walls. A comfortable yet
stylish creamy white three-seater cushion beckons for relaxation, adorned
with strategically placed throws and a couple of well-chosen single
cushions. I spy a laptop open on the coffee table. He explains that he was
wrapping up with work when I knocked. Our talk moves on to the
similarities and differences between the UK and Ireland.
In his presence, I feel a sense of familiarity and comfort, a feeling that
I’ve finally returned to where I belong. Does he notice any change in me? Is
he feeling the way I feel? Is he comfortable around me?
I look at him, like really look at him, and I see our past, the promise of
our future, and the beauty of a love that remains as constant as the passage
of time. Our kids would look so cute—Wait. What was that?!
Um… I need to reconfigure my brain. Life is just getting better, no need
to start rushing things that will follow with time.
Using a playful grin to cover my unusual thoughts, I spread my arms
across the back of his couch. “So, this is how you’re enjoying your new
kingdom, huh?”
He chuckles, a warmth in his eyes that’s so familiar and more powerful
in person than over video calls. “Yep, welcome to my humble abode.” He
taps a couple of things on his laptop, before closing it.
I glance around his apartment, taking in the curated space that reflects
his personality—cute, neat and clean. “Humble indeed. You’ve really
upgraded from the days of living with four guys in that cramped
apartment.”
His laughter fills the room, a melodic sound that’s been absent from my
life for far too long. “You came all the way to tell me this?”
 “Oh, you have no idea.” Smirking, I pat the throw pillow beside me. “I
like what you’ve done with it. This place feels like luxury compared to that
one.”
He winces and I chuckle, continuing my torture. Leaning forward, I rest
my chin on my hand, my lips curving into a smile. “Remember when you
moved to that apartment, and you called me to give me a tour?”
His eyes twinkle with recognition, and a slow grin spreads across his
face. “Ah, yes. I remember that. You laughed at the chaos.”
I nod, a chuckle escaping my lips. “It was like a tornado hit the place. I
could barely hear you over the noise in the background.”
His gaze softens. “But you still stayed on the call, even though it was
chaos.”
“Well,” I shrug playfully, “someone had to make sure you didn’t trip
over something and end up with a broken arm.”
He lets out a hearty laugh, a sound that's pure music to my ears. “You
always had my back.”
Have. Have your back.
A comfortable silence settles between us, and I simply stare at him,
blessed to be here. Sharing this space and time with him.
He moves from the coffee table area to sit beside me. Close enough, but
not as close as I want to be. At the same time, I wish he remained over
there, so I can keep staring at him.
Whew, what exactly do I want?
“So,” I clear my throat, “are you going to give me an in-person tour of
this palace, or do I have to imagine it all from this angle?”
Special stands up, motioning for me to follow him. “Oh, you’ll get the
grand tour, don’t worry.”
“I’m not saying—”
“Come on. Get up,” he teases in a mock tone, “let’s get this in-person
tour done with.”
Laughing, I stand and follow him, feeling a sense of contentment.
Should I reach out to hold his hand or… I’ll just walk behind him.
 If he notices my worry, he doesn’t act like it. He simply reaches for my
hand, guiding me through his apartment, his voice animated as he points out
various features. My attention is split between his words, his form and the
sensations his touch on my hand ignites. As we step out of the quaint
bathroom, his skin brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity
through my veins, awakening a dormant desire that’s been building for
years.
“I thought you meant I should go out first nau,” I say, laughing self-
consciously in an attempt to hide his effect on me.
I try to focus on our conversation, on the laughter that flows effortlessly
between us, but my thoughts keep drifting to this undeniable pull I feel
towards him. His presence, his warmth, it’s all too familiar, yet there’s an
intensity to it now that wasn’t there before.
He leads me to a cozy corner of the living room that has sunlight
filtering through the window casting a soft glow around us. As we settle
into the comfortable chairs, he doesn’t let go of my hand, his fingers
intertwine with mine as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Does he know what this simple gesture is stirring within me? Or that the
weight of his hand in mine, and the warmth radiating between us is messing
with my principles.
Minutes tick by, we continue to talk and laugh, while an internal conflict
rages within me.
This… this attraction I’m feeling towards him is undeniable. Does he
feel it too? I think the way he’s holding onto my hand confirms this mutual
pull between us.
Careful! You’re misinterpreting things. You came to see him, not to carry
his babies.
That’s not a bad idea…
My mind races, torn between the intensity of my emotions and the
practicalities I must consider.
This laughter, this ease, this connection—it’s all like a dream. A dream
I’m afraid to fully embrace for fear of the unknown.
Whenever his gaze meets mine, I see a flicker of emotions that matches
my own. He speaks animatedly, as though excited to have me here in
person. These bits are enough to give me peace of mind.
“You must be hungry,” he says. “Pizza?”
I shrug, squeezing his hand. “Anything is fine.”
He pulls out his phone with one hand while the other remains entwined
with mine and begins placing an order. “I’ve got a bottle of wine I’ve been
keeping for your visit.” He smiles.
“I’d love that, too.”
Much later, as we eat, a sense of contentment washes over me as I stare
at the man before me, laughing at something I said. I’ve never doubted I
made the right choice. Whatever the future holds, this is all that truly
matters.

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 16
___________

Early Morning Things

I wake up to the gentle glow of morning light seeping through the curtains,
stirring me from slumber. Shifting on the bed, I inhale the addictive scent
on the sheets—his stuff smells so good. I hesitate as the events of last night
automatically plays in my mind like a vivid reel. My heart plummets as
realization dawns on me—there’s a strong discrepancy between my
expectations and reality.
Beside me, Special sleeps peacefully, his features relaxed in slumber.
And while I’m grateful for the comfort of his presence, why am I waking up
on one side of the bed, while he’s on the other side? This was not what I’d
expected.
Pressing two fingers to my forehead, I close my eyes. How is it we
talked for most of the night; laughed harder than we’ve done in years. We…
we ate pizza, drank red wine, chatted some more, till he made a joke about
me falling asleep while standing.
He took me to his bedroom, tucked me into bed, and promised to join
me shortly. I struggled not to fall asleep, but I must have been tired from all
the excitement. Then we shared a bed and were close. Very close.
I adjust my legs beneath the blanket, my heart beating faster as I
consider the implications of this realization—am I really ready to get
intimate with him? No. No, I don’t think so. Was I expecting him to make a
move?
I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering sense of confusion.
Intricacies of desires I’ve never fully confronted swirl around me. The
morning light bathes the room in gentle warmth as I gaze at his sleeping
form with my hands pressed against my chest, scared that touching him
might shatter the fragile reality of this dream.
I thought seeing you in person after all this time would make me feel less
for you, but I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder. Meeting you
now as a woman in her prime has ignited an insatiable yearning and
burning desire for a depth of intimacy that’s more profound. It is consuming
me alive with a fervor akin to a blazing inferno.
I take one last look at him before quietly slipping out of bed, careful not
to disturb him. The soft glow of the rising sun bathes everything in a
delicate hue, casting a warm aura over the space.
I stretch my arms above my head feeling the satisfying pull in my
muscles and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above his
dresser. With a soft smile, I hug myself clad in a sleek black two-piece
underwear set.
A glance at his sleeping form through the mirror has me wondering
about last night again. Was he stunned seeing me dressed in this? Did he
find pleasure in assisting a slightly tipsy version of me in preparing for bed?
What emotions crossed his mind when I confessed to having packed no
nightwear? My curiosity lingers briefly before I return my attention to the
mirror.
I glide my hand across the smooth fabric, tracing the curves and edges
with a quiet admiration, appreciating the woman staring back at me. The
lace details, intricately woven, contribute to making me feel sensual and
desirable. Perhaps his gentleness last night was just that—gentleness. I’m
glad I took Itohan’s encouragement to shop for sexy underwear and clothes
appropriate for this visit.
 Oh shit. Not the clogging at the back of my—instinctively, I press my
tongue against the back of my throat for relief.
“Are you okay?” The soft rustle of the bed sheets reaches my ears,
prompting me to turn, a hand to my throat.
“Yeah.” I swallow the hard lump in my throat, still using my tongue to
itch my throat in between my speech. “I’m fine. This happens every
morning.”
“Allergies?” His sleepy voice is endearing.
I shrug, finally clearing my throat and feeling so much better. “I guess.”
“Hmm.” His mouth curves into a smile as he takes in my form.
“What a sight to behold,” he teases, his white vest is peaking from
beneath the blanket as he gently adjusts himself until his back rests on the
headboard. “Good morning baby.”
“Morning,” I reply softly, smiling widely as my chest expands with joy,
love, pride… and gosh. I instinctively cross one arm over my bare
abdomen, holding on to my elbow. In an instant, it dawns on me that this is
my first time standing before a man in my underwear. I’m lucky it’s not just
any man, but my man. Oddly, this same man made no move, not even a
kiss, last night to express his interest in me intimately.
His smile doesn’t waver as he takes in my contemplative expression. “Is
something on your mind?”
Taking a deep breath, I feel my heart rate quicken slightly as I gather
courage. Honesty is key, and to let this out, I must embrace vulnerability. I
lick my lips before speaking. “Last night... I guess I was expecting
something—something different?”
His brow furrows in confusion, his eyes searching mine for
understanding. “Different how?”
Stepping closer until I’m standing by my side of the bed, I pause for a
moment, choosing my words carefully. “I thought... I thought that us being
close like that would lead to... well, something more intimate. I mean, we
haven’t seen each other in a while. Then we shared a bed. And I guess I was
wondering why...”
 “Oh.” His confusion clears, replaced by an understanding look which I
find to be reassuring. He gestures for me to get on the bed, which I do. Then
he signals for me to come closer. I roll my eyes, exhale dramatically, and
move until I’m within his reach.
Reaching out, he smiles, gently brushing his fingers against my cheek.
“Fifi baby… I want you to know that our chemistry is never in question. It’s
never that.”
I meet his gaze, my heart rate steadying as his words sink in. “Then what
is it about? We haven’t seen each other in years. It was our first time alone
together. I thought you would want to—you know…” I let my words hang
in the air with a shrug.
A thoughtful look crosses his features as he searches for the right words.
“I didn’t want to assume or push boundaries. It’s about timing, about
respect, about understanding that our relationship is more than mere
physical attraction—”
“Tsk. I appreciate your respect, but I didn’t want you to hold back
because of that.”
“Really Fifi.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around my waist. His
warmth seeps into my skin, sending messages to my eager hormones. “You
yourself have a mantra that the strength of a relationship—”
“—is not defined by physical intimacy.”
“You said it.”
“That was me.” I shrug, whining like a petulant child. “This is me, and
—” I chuckle with joy as something warm keeps hardening on my thighs.
“What? What is it? I didn’t want to rush things, but if you’re
comfortable, we can take things at a pace that—”
I brush my thigh against his growing erection.
With a knowing look, his smile deepens. Then he starts chuckling,
squeezing me tighter. “You witch.”
“Hey!” I laugh, leaning further into him, hoping for a kiss, for a turn of
events, for his hands to ravenously tear my underwear and take me to
heaven’s gate.
 “You’re doing too much,” he says with a laugh, extracting his hands
from my sides.
“Oh… What is it?”
He shifts slightly on the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. “You decided
to surprise me, so now I’ve got plans.”
I groan in frustration. “Really?”
He nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, it’s Saturday, and I
was thinking we could explore the city a bit. Maybe visit that museum you
mentioned before.”
“You’re talking about the British Museum now? Spesh?” Warmth builds
inside me as I calculate one and two. I think I know what he’s trying to do.
Bring it on! Using the most flowery and patronizing British accent I can
mimic, I say, “That sounds lovely. I’d love to see more of the city.”
He nods, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my skin. “Great. We can
grab breakfast then head out.”
Okay… I chuckle softly. “Breakfast sounds amazing. Do you cook, or
are we venturing out for that?”
His laughter mingles with mine as realization dawns on him that I’m
going to be very cooperative so I can get back at him later. “I can whip up
something simple, or we can venture out. Your call.”
I lean in a bit closer. “How about a compromise? We cook together?”
“You’re on. Let’s make a mess in the kitchen.”
“A mess?”
“I’ve been waiting for your arrival to do some serious havoc in that
space,” he says, getting up from bed and walking to his modest-sized chest,
looking hot in checkered-patterned boxers and white vest.
“Oh…” I mutter, smiling at the way he pulls at the boxer fabric stuck
between his ass.
“Stop staring,” he teases, turning his head to face me.
I chuckle, throwing a hand up. “What?”
“And put this on.” He tosses a navy-blue top at me, “before you start
something you can’t finish.”
 The clothing lands on my lap. “Oh…” I lift it up to find it’s a hooded
sweatshirt. Excited, I wear it. “I’m not cutting onions o, before you say I’m
crying for something else.”
His laughter fills the room. “No worries. We’ll take it easy on the onions
then. How about we make something simple? Toast bread?”
“Naija style?”
“Yes.”
“Ah…” I sigh, salivating at the imaginary crunchiness. “With coffee and
fruit?”
He pulls on a pair of navy-blue joggers, fastening the ropes around his
waist as he muses. “I’ve got Nescafé. As for fruits, I think I’ve got carrots…
tangerine…”
Nescafé, I can manage, but... “Carrot and toast?” I ask, adjusting until
I’m sitting on the bed’s edge. “No strawberry?”
“You expect me to keep strawberries? Those things are too sensitive.
They spoil so fast. If I’d known you were visiting, I would have stocked up
on fruits.”
“Tsk. Excuses. I’m not cooking again.”
“There should be some sort of fruit in the kitchen.” He walks back to the
bed, pulling my arm. “Come jor, let’s go check what’s in the kitchen before
you start making demands.”
Chuckling, I let him pull me towards the kitchen.

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 17
___________

First Base
I wish every Saturday morning could be as delightful as this—brimming
with laughter, playful banter, and the joint effort of breakfast prep with my
Special human. Side by side, we tackle our shared task: he expertly chops
peppers and onions, while I spread butter on the bread. His culinary skills
don’t surprise me; I’ve long known about them since our days at Hopewell
Uni.
We move around each other with practiced ease, our bodies occasionally
brushing, sending tiny sparks of electricity through my skin. Simple tasks
like cracking the egg take on a different meaning when his fingers brush
against mine to help remove a stubborn piece of shell.
When he places another batch of buttered bread in the machine, the
sizzling sound of bread as it crisps up in the toaster, accompanied by the
rich aroma of butter makes my mouth water in anticipation.
“You know,” he starts while we wait for the bread to get properly
toasted, “I’ve always dreamt of us cooking together, just like this. I’m glad
you chose to surprise me.”
 I smile arrogantly, choosing to make it hard for him. “Finally, he admits
it.” Our eyes meet, and in that moment, it’s as if time slows down.
His gaze lingers a beat longer, and he smiles, shaking his head as though
tossing an idea away. “You look so small in my shirt.”
Tucking my hands in the tummy pockets, I chest out. “You’re just
jealous because it fits me better.”
As we set the table together, his fingers brush my wrist, a touch so
fleeting yet potent that it leaves me breathless. It’s as if the air is charged
with a different kind of energy, one that tugs at the edges of desire.
Something is in this UK air, because I swear, I’ve never felt this way
before.
We sit across from each other at his coffee table with breakfast spread
before us. Turns out he had cucumber, avocado which he calls pear—I’m
guessing it’s the Port Harcourt boy in him—that I could savage to make our
meal look decent. As we eat and talk, I admire his mannerisms.
When we finish breakfast and clear the table, our eyes meet once more
and there’s a knowing look in his gaze.
Ignore it.
Smile and ignore him.
I attempt to walk out of the kitchen to get my phone which I’m surprised
I haven’t looked at since I woke up, but his hand holds mine and I turn to
look at him.
“This is my best breakfast so far. I had a wonderful time,” he says, his
voice soft yet filled with meaning.
Wearing a small smile, I nod, unable to tear my gaze away from his.
“Me too.”
As usual, his touch makes my brain to short circuit and before I can
second-guess myself, I take a deep breath, my heart racing in sync with my
courage. “Spesh,” I begin, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in
my stomach. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” That’s if you consider my
arrival in the UK till now as a lot. “And I’ve come to realize that... well,
I’m ready, ready.”
 Smiling, he pulls me into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around
me securely. “Like I said baby, there’s no rush. We’ll take our time and
make sure you’re comfortable every step of the way.”
His gaze holds mine, a depth of understanding passing between us. And
then, without hesitation, I lean in, closing the distance between us.
Our lips meet in a kiss that’s both gentle, charged, and electrifying.
“Ah…” Sparks dance along my skin as his warmth permeates through the
hoodie. I sigh, relishing the warm sensation and the softness of his lips on
mine.
Lost in the moment, I feel a sweet surrender, allowing the chemistry
between us to guide our movements. He nudges my tongue open, deepening
the kiss, and I become aware of another sensation—his growing hardness
pressing against my tummy.
Oh yes. You still can’t resist this!
The room echoes with the soft sounds of our kisses. Our hands gently
travel across our bodies, mapping out every contour. His touch ignites a fire
within me, sending waves of pleasure cascading through my body.
I run my hands across his back, discovering more about his lean
physique than I’ve ever known, while his hands slip underneath the hoodie,
brushing against my clad breasts before squeezing them.
A soft moan escapes my lips, echoing the desire coursing through me.
“Oh Spesh…” I press into his palms, simultaneously savoring his lips,
hungry for more.
He continues with a groan, moving us to the nearest wall. Spreading my
legs, I welcome the gentle thrust of his hips, blindly moving my hands
allover his back, inhaling when I can. Wanting more… needing more. The
only barrier between us are his sweatpants and my panties.
“…there’s no rush. We’ll take our time…” His words echo in my head.
No rush, baby. We’re taking our time; I chant triumphantly to myself,
aching to feel his skin on mine.
His lips leave a trail of kisses down my neck, igniting a trail of shivers
that cascade through my body. “Hmm…” I arch into his touch, reveling in
the electricity that courses through every point of contact.
What?!
 I open my eyes to find him staring into mine with a smirk. “You have no
idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
Then why did you break the kiss! Keeping my turbulent emotions in
check, I manage a playful smirk, toying with his nipple peeking on the side
of his singlet. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell from your composed exterior, Mr.
British Museum.”
He chuckles, his fingers tracing patterns on my arms. “Well, I’m still not
rushing you because I’ve got a storm waiting to be unleashed.”
A tingly sensation from my leg up causes my thighs to shake as his
insinuation hits. Biting my lips as my core twitches, I pull him by his
singlet. “Whatever. I’m taking what I can get.”
The air between us crackles with an electric tension as our lips meet
again. His hands explore my curves, leaving a trail of fire in their wake,
while I muster the courage to reciprocate by venturing to places that were
previously uncharted. I reach for the bulge between his legs, gliding my
hands up and down.
Breaking the kiss once more, he whispers, “God. You’re even more
breathtaking than I remembered.”
“Just so you know, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Good to know.”
He bends his head for another round of kissing, caressing, and thrusting
his erection into my eager hands. After a moment that feels both fleeting
and endless, he pulls away, his breath slightly uneven. He meets my eyes,
his gaze clouded with longing and restraint. “Baby,” he says, his voice
husky, “we should probably take things slow and focus on our plans for
today.”
I nod, my own breath slightly unsteady as I try to steady my racing
heart. “You’re right. We’ll focus on your plans.”
He releases a slow, deliberate breath, the intensity in his eyes not fading.
“So… we’re taking it easy,” he says, as though reminding himself, not me.
“We’ve got the whole day ahead of us.” His hand gently cups my face, his
thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. “Hmm?”
I smile as slight tremors of left-over desire pulses through me. “Yes, Mr.
British Museum.”
 He grins, stepping back to create a bit of distance. “First things first; go
get ready for our outing.”
With a playful twirl, I head toward the bedroom, savoring the sensation
of his eyes on me.
Preparing for our outing, I can’t help the smile that keeps curving my
lips while I shower. The kiss, the desire—it’s a promise of what’s to come.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I carefully choose an outfit that strikes the
perfect balance between casual and stylish, something that reflects the
excitement bubbling within me—matching black and white striped long-
sleeved crop tee and thigh split skirt with white stylish platform sneakers.
I stand before the mirror checking out my outfit when a text notification
chimes from my phone, interrupting my thoughts. That’s true, still can’t
believe I haven’t been phone crazy all morning.
Picking up my phone, a smile tugs at my lips as I read my messages:

New Message from Itohan:

Madam! �� What’s the scoop?
You’ve been awfully quiet. Where are you?

I quickly type out a response, my fingers dancing over the keys:

Me:
I’m in the UK this weekend, remember?
😉

Almost instantly, her reply comes through:

New Message from Itohan:
Whoa! Time has flown so fast!
What are you doing with your phone?

Me:
Chatting with you, duh.
New Message from Itohan.
 Mumu geh.
How was your trip? How is he?
Me:
Splufik!

New Message from Itohan:

Correct!
Make sure you forget your home training and go for it.
The wait is over, girl! 😉

I chuckle at her refreshing and amusing straightforwardness. I love how

she always manages to cut through the niceties and get straight to the point.

Me:
May you never change 😄

With a final glance in the mirror, I grab my essentials and head out to the
living room. “Mr. British Museum, won’t you get ready?”

OceanofPDF.com
 18
___________

Visiting Homeland Glories Abroad

Special and I exchange enthusiastic glances as we step through the doors of
the British Museum. He laces his fingers through mine as we make our way
through the corridors, immediately greeted by a sense of awe. Ancient
sculptures, intricate artifacts, and historical relics are displayed with much
care and reverence.
We pause before the Rosetta Stone, marveling at the significance it held
in deciphering hieroglyphics. It’s mind-blowing that I’m standing in the
presence of an object that played a pivotal role in unlocking the mysteries
of the past.
Navigating through the halls, we encounter artifacts from ancient
Greece, Egypt, Korea, Mesopotamia, and an exhibit that is close to home—
the collection of African art and artifacts. Despite the captivating insights
into different eras, it’s disheartening to find our heritage confined behind
cold glass walls in a foreign land where we fought tooth and nail to study,
visit, and live in. A place most Africans will never have the opportunity
visit. Engaged in animated conversations, Special and I share our thoughts
and reflections as we explore the diverse exhibits.
 Hand in hand, we come across the Egyptian mummies, their serene
expressions preserved for centuries. Glances of fascination and reverence
pass between us as we take in the ancient echoes of life.
With over 80,000 objects on display, it would take us more than a day’s
visit to go through the museum, so we decide to culminate our tour in the
museum’s stunning Great Court. The space is filled with natural light,
surrounded by towering walls adorned with intricate designs. Finding a
quiet corner, we sit and admire our surroundings.
“I’m grateful we could experience this together,” Special says, his voice
a soft murmur amid the hum of voices around us, his thumb gently rubbing
my palm.
I smile, my heart full. “Me too. Thanks for waiting for me.”
After resting our feet and scrolling through our phones to relive the
pictures we took, we rise, ready to step back out into the bustling streets of
London. Along with the artifacts we’ve encountered, I carry with me the
memories we’ve shared—memories that would keep me smiling on lonely
days.
Stepping back out into the bustling streets of London, the city’s energy
envelops us—people chattering, cars honking, and the vibrant atmosphere
of a city that never sleeps. I take a deep breath, soaking in the pulsating
rhythm around me.
Just as I’m about to suggest our next move, Special’s voice breaks the
silence. “Hungry? Do you want to grab a bite before we head home?”
Oh, I thought you’d never ask!
At the mention of food, my stomach decides to join the conversation
with a subtle growl. Thankfully it is masked by the city’s ambient noise. I
glance up at him, offering a playful smile. “Actually, now that you mention
it, I could use a little something to eat.”
He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Did he catch that
subtle growl? “Great! How about we find a nice café nearby? Somewhere
we can relax and enjoy a good meal?”
I nod in agreement, grateful it’s not a takeaway, because I’m fa-mi-
ssssh-ed. All that walking around for almost four hours is not for the weak.
“That sounds perfect. Lead the way, Mr. Tour Guide.”
 “It’s no longer Mr. British Museum?”
“Nope. It’s now, Mr. Tour Guide.”
He grins, taking on the role with a mock seriousness. “Right this way,
then.”
We walk side by side, and I find myself reveling in the simple joy of
being in his company, taking in the scenery, and having him point out
places I’d have never taken note of.
Intrigued, I ask, “Maybe we do Buckingham Palace next?”
“Funny, it’s about fifteen minutes’ drive from here. And if you’re down
for it, we could walk it.”
“How many minutes’ walk?”
“Forty minutes, give or take.”
“Not today, abeg.”
“Till your next visit then.”
We soon come across a charming café nestled among picturesque
buildings named ‘Café Amicizia.’ The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and
delicious pastries wafts through the air, inviting us in.
As we enter, I’m immediately drawn to the soothing ambiance. Soft
lighting, comfortable seating, and a display of delectable treats behind the
counter creates a welcoming atmosphere.
We take a seat by a window that offers a view of the street. A server
brings the menu for us to peruse, and Special looks up from the options,
meeting my gaze. “Are you craving something sweet or savory today?”
I lean back in my chair, playfully considering the menu options. “Hmm,
how about something savory? Maybe a sandwich or a… quiche?”
He nods in agreement. “I’ll go with the same. Any other thing you like
on the menu? Check the doughnut section.”
Any… other… thing…?
I gasp, widening my eyes in pleasant disbelief when I spot “Special’s
Surprise” listed under the doughnut section. The description reads, “A
delightful assortment of twelve handcrafted mini doughnuts to sweeten your
day.”
 He catches my expression and grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“What do you think?”
Immediately, my mind transports me to that day over a year ago where
he said something like… there’s this surprise doughnut I’ve heard about, I
think you’ll like it. “Oh, Special…” I exclaim softly.
He glances around the café, then nonchalantly shrugs, flashing me a
warm smile. “Ready for a sweet surprise?”
I nod, pressing my lips together. How did I bag such an awesome human
being?
We place our orders and wait for our meals, engaging in small talk.
Despite the years of being physically apart, it feels like there’s so much left
to say, so much left unexplored. The thought of calling G-Ben and sharing
our pictures with the family group crosses my mind, but I decide to
postpone it, choosing to savor these moments with my man. We dig into our
meals, relishing each bite and exchanging easy conversation. The sounds of
the café—the clinking of cutlery, the hum of voices—serve as the backdrop
to our laughter and discussions. My excitement grows as I anticipate the
sweet surprise.
Finally, just as we’re finishing our meals, the server arrives at our table
with a cute box of beautifully presented doughnuts. I gasp in delight when I
notice from the transparent top of the box, each mini doughnut is adorned
with colorful glazes, sprinkles, and artistic designs.
With a hand to my mouth, I gush, “Wow, these look amazing!”
He smiles, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I wanted to surprise you
with something sweet.”
“You did. And honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had doughnuts
because they make them too sweet here. Anyways, this weekend is my
cheat weekend.”
“Good choice.” He chuckles.
Special carries the box of doughnuts as we exit the cozy embrace of
Café Amicizia. Crisp air kisses our faces as we begin our journey, the
energy of the city surrounding us once again. Our hands find each other,
with our fingers naturally intertwining.
 We head towards the nearest public transport stop—the subway station
—and we’re greeted by the signs and sounds of the Underground. The
automated announcements echo through the air, guiding us to the platform
where we wait for the next tube. Occasionally, I steal glances at Special,
reveling in the choices that led me to be with him here and now.

OceanofPDF.com
 19
___________

Just a Lover’s Spat

The train arrives with a gentle rumble, and we find a spot by the window.
As the train smoothly glides along the tracks, the cityscape transforms
outside—from bustling streets to quiet neighborhoods and back again.
Enjoying the warmth of Special’s arm on my midriff, we exchange
occasional smiles and glances, communicating with only our expressions.
Upon reaching our stop, we disembark and ascend to street level. It’s a
short distance to Special’s apartment, and our steps fall in sync. Despite
only being here for almost 24 hours, his neighborhood already feels
familiar.
Inside his apartment, we unwind from the day. Special disappears into
the bathroom, while I settle onto the bed with my laptop. The soft glow of
the screen illuminates the dimly lit room as I open my email inbox,
scrolling through messages that had accumulated since yesterday.
Getting lost in the task at hand, I delve into the emails demanding my
attention—work updates and the various threads that keep me connected to
different aspects of my life. I left work early yesterday to catch my flight,
and now I’m catching up on what I missed.
The sound of the bathroom door opening rouses me from my task. I
glance up to see Special looking irresistible in a sky-blue round neck and
what appears to be the joggers from this morning.
Oh, this morning… It feels like a distant memory which I’m tempted to
revisit, but first, I need to tackle these things off my list.
Special raises an eyebrow. “You’re not working now, are you?” he
teases, his tone light. “Haven’t you had enough work for today?”
I let out a soft chuckle, setting aside my laptop to focus entirely on him.
“You know how it goes. These emails are relentless. And I’m catching up
on what I missed yesterday when I was on my way to see you-know-who.”
He strides across the room with effortless grace, his gaze locked on
mine. As he approaches, he leans in, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“Just a reminder that after indulging in all that sugar, you know you’re
supposed to brush your teeth before bed, right?”
I arch an eyebrow, curving my lips into a smirk. “What, are you calling
me dirty?”
His laughter rings out, his eyes sparkling with humor. “I wouldn’t go
that far, but a little dental care never hurt anyone. Go and brush your teeth.”
“Oh, come on.” I feign seriousness, shaking my head. “Are you going to
nag me about this forever?”
He smiles, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Nah, I’ll let
it slide this time. After all, you’re too charming, even with the prospect of
unbrushed teeth.”
His words send a warm flutter through me, and I giggle.
“Be right back,” he announces, heading towards the bathroom to
complete his nightly routine.
Smiling to myself, I turn back to my laptop, skimming through emails
with renewed focus. A subject line grabs my attention, and I pause for a
moment. My heart skips a beat as I open the attached document. Words leap
out at me, drawing a frown of concentration.
 Oh my! Like a bolt of lightning, realization hits me. Without thinking, a
gasp or is it a scream? Escapes my lips.
Special is by my side in an instant, concern etched on his face. “What's
wrong? Are you alright?”
“I’m so sorry,” I chuckle-giggle-laugh, extending a hand towards him,
unable to contain my excitement. “Baby, you won’t believe it. Look at
this!”
Turning my laptop towards him, I point at the email attachment that’s
causing my heart to race.
He scans the words, and realization dawns on him. “Is that what I think
it is?” he asks, his lips curving into a proud smile.
Folding my arms, I nod vigorously, my words tumbling out in a rush.
“Yes! It’s an offer from Rubicon to upgrade my role to an associate’s. And
look at the salary—they’re offering almost double what I’m earning now.”
His smile widens and he turns to me, grinning. “Congratulations!”
A nervous laugh escapes me as the magnitude of the moment sinks in. “I
know, right?” I place a palm on my forehead to confirm I’m awake, and not
dreaming this up. There it is, in clear print, the offer I’ve long hoped for.
“It’s just... It’s overwhelming.”
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my shoulder. “You
deserve this, Fifi. You’ve worked so hard, and this is your reward.”
My lips tremble in gratitude as I look up, sending a silent thank you to
God.
“Thank God,” Special says, squeezing my shoulder.
I turn to gaze at him, overwhelmed with gratitude—for his support
and… and the way he’s been by my side through every challenge and
triumph. With him beside me, I know that whatever lies ahead, I’ll be ready
to face it head-on. “Thank you. For believing in me. For never giving up on
us. Thanks for everything.”
He smiles, his thumb tracing a soothing path on my shoulder. “I’ll
always believe in you, okay? This is just the beginning of amazing things
for you. For us. But wait, let me confirm something.” He leans in again to
view the screen, his gaze lingering as his expression subtly shifts, almost
imperceptibly. “Bullshit,” he mutters.
What is it? I haven’t really read the terms and conditions of the offer,
and it would be painful if there’s something tricky about the offer. Now that
I’ve experienced the UK, I really want to move here. I hope they’re not
transferring me to America or something.
Curious, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
Special’s words cut through the air with a sharpness I didn’t anticipate.
“You can’t be making more than me.”
Huh? You say?
There’s a storm brewing beneath the surface threatening to disrupt the
otherwise celebratory atmosphere. My heart skips a beat, then begins
hammering against my chest.
Is that a challenge? Did this man just come out of a rock or what?
I can feel the pulsing of blood through my veins with every heartbeat.
Inhaling deeply, I steady my voice as I respond, speaking slowly, like I
would to a toddler. “D-did they change my location?”
“No, but you’ll be in the Dublin HQ.”
“So… it’s just the earnings you have an issue with?”
My question is met with silence, along with a narrowed sidelong glance.
Shaking my head, I start, “Baby, this is not my money. It’s our money.
Forget about who earns more—this is an amazing opportunity for me to
grow and a chance to excel in my career. I love what I’m doing, and I want
to continue in this field. Who knows, I could become an MD one—”
“I’m the man in this relationship.” His jaw tightens, his gaze intense as
he meets my eyes. “It’s my responsibility to provide.”
Ugh—I want to scream, instead I choose my words carefully, my tone
measured as I move to a kneeling position on the bed. “See Speshie, we’re
partners. Our relationship isn’t defined by traditional gender roles. We
support each other in every way we can. And this would be a great way for
me to support us. We could… get a house and—”
“I know!” he whispers furtively, his eyes narrowing slightly. I look down
and I notice his fists are clenched. “Seeing this—knowing this, makes me
feel like I’m not doing enough. If you’re earning more than me, then what’s
my role?”
I shake my head, determined to make him see reason. “We’re in two
different industries and we both know tech pays more, so there’s no way I
won’t earn more.” I hate that I sound like I’m pleading, but I continue
anyways, reaching for his arm. “Baby, your role is to be my partner, my
confidant, and the person I share my dreams with. It’s not about who earns
more—all that doesn’t matter.”
“So, on the long run, people would say I’m with you because of
money?”
“Come on,” I tug his arm and he shrugs me off. I huff. “We’ve been
together far longer than that.”
He visibly swallows, struggling to maintain eye contact, his voice quiet.
“I just want to be the best partner I can be, Fifi.”
I reach out, my fingers gently brushing against his. “And you are, Spesh.
Your worth isn’t defined by numbers on a paycheck. It’s defined by the
person you are, the support you give, and the love we share,” I conclude,
intertwining our fingers.
We stay in this position for seconds that feel like hours—him standing
by the bed, me kneeling on the bed, our fingers entwined.
He closes his eyes for a moment before hesitating. “I think you should
think deeply before accepting the offer.”
I meet his eyes, my gaze steady as I absorb his words. Never in my
whole life would I have anticipated this. Was that a minuscule thread of
threat in his tone?
Choosing to play my card right, because men are such sensitive babies,
including my Special, I nod slowly. “I understand. This is a big decision,
and I’ll give it the careful consideration it deserves.”
He lets out a sigh, releasing my fingers to reach up to smooth his hands
through his hair. “It’s just... I want the best for us. I want us to be on the
same page, you get?”
He’s vulnerable. I can see it’s not easy for him to get into this talk or
express himself the way he just did, which I appreciate.
 Reaching out, I place my hand on his arm in a gesture of reassurance.
“We are on the same page, baby. Whatever decision I make will be with our
partnership in mind.”
He meets my gaze, his eyes searching. “I know we’re partners, but
sometimes these things can cause shifts, changes that we might not foresee.
I just want you to think deeply about what this means for us. I support you,
but we need to figure out how we’ll—how we’ll do this.”
Several emotions flicker across his face—relief, uncertainty, and a deep
desire to protect what we’ve built. I feel the same way too…
Nodding in agreement, I hold back the words I’m tempted to say, Come
on Spesh, change is a part of life and you’re making a big deal out of this
one.

OceanofPDF.com
 20
___________

Everybody Loves Saturday Night

After our conversation and open conclusion, a gentle sense of tranquility
settles over us. I close my laptop, pick a new panty and the sweatshirt
Special had given me this morning, sniff it and, not bad. With that, I head to
the bathroom to freshen up.
While in the bathroom, he asks what I want to do tonight, and I suggest
we chill indoors. After that drama, and with me heading back to Dublin
tomorrow night, I’m not in the mood to step out. I want to absorb all the
time with him I can get and to also assure him that we’ve got this and can
do this, together.
When I step out of the bathroom, he invites me to the living room where
he’s microwaved a mountain of jollof rice and chicken with freshly fried
plantains. We eat from the same dish, which is quiet intimate, opting to
watch TV. I reach for the remote control on the coffee table and navigate to
Netflix.
“What are you in the mood for?” I ask, tossing a quick glance at him.
Chewing, he shrugs. “I don’t mind. You pick something.”
 I scroll through the options, before stopping on a Korean drama that
piques my interest. I click on it, and the opening scene fills the screen with
vibrant colors and unfamiliar faces.
He raises an eyebrow. “Korean drama?” His voice laced with
amusement.
I chuckle, leaning back on my seat. “Why not?”
He laughs softly, his eyes fixed on the screen as the movie plays. “I
didn’t peg you for a Korean drama fan.”
Gasping, I let my spoon clatter back into the dish. “You don’t know the
hidden depths I have. Jokes apart,” I say, picking my spoon, “I heard this
series is good.”
He shrugs, his gaze returning to the screen. “Fair enough. Let’s see if it
lives up to the hype.”
The characters on the screen come to life, their emotions and stories
drawing me in. Despite his initial skepticism, Special seems content to
watch with me, occasionally offering amusing commentary.
We pause the episode to return our dishes to the kitchen, then return with
glasses of red wine to continue watching, while I sneakily position myself
to sit thigh to thigh with him. He scoffs, tossing his arm around my
shoulders and I tongue out, adjusting until I’m comfortable, hands between
my thighs.
As the plot unfolds, I find myself engrossed in the romantic tension and
the heartwarming moments that play out before us.
Hours pass as we watch episode after episode, the ambiance of the room
shifting from the dim glow of the screen to the cozy warmth we’ve created.
I steal glances at him when he chuckles at some of the comedic scenes,
grateful for these simple moments we’ve dreamt of, but never had.
As the credits roll on yet another episode, Special asks, “So, when did
you start watching Korean dramas?”
I chuckle, shrugging nonchalantly. “I used to watch them back in
Hopewell, but I stopped. Then recently, I picked it back up. It keeps me
company and it’s pretty engaging.”
 He smiles, his fingers absentmindedly reaching for mine. “Well, you’ve
got good taste—this is enjoyable.”
“Yep. Say that again. You know, it was actually Itohan who re-
introduced them to me.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and I can practically sense the subtle
shift in his demeanor. “Itohan? Same Itohan?”
I nod, suppressing a chuckle at his reaction. “Yeah.”
His expression tightens, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the couch’s
armrest. It’s a small gesture that speaks volumes.
I shrug, choosing to ignore his uncalled reaction, my finger hovering
above the remote’s play button. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” he says stiffly. “Go ahead.”
I hit play, and we return our attention to the screen for the fourth and
final episode, the drama’s storyline taking center stage once more.
What is this beef he has with Itohan? I really want to know why he
doesn’t like her. With a slight tilt of my head, I turn to him, my tone gentle
yet inquisitive. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—why don’t you seem to
like Itohan?”
His eyes briefly flicker away from the screen, and there’s a moment of
hesitation before he shifts his gaze back to me. His expression is guarded,
as though he’s choosing his words carefully. “It’s not that I don’t like her.
It’s just... I’ve sensed something about her.”
I furrow my brows, confused at his bland reason. “Something? What do
you mean?”
He sighs, his fingers absentmindedly tapping my shoulder. “It’s hard to
explain. She seems like a bad influence. And she doesn’t understand
boundaries or have respect. Using lewd words and stuff, that’s not the kind
of woman you are.”
Bad influence? Boundaries and respect? I pause for a moment, digesting
his words before responding. “Itohan—Itohan is not like that. Yes, she
might come off as annoying, but she’s not like that. You haven’t even met
her in person.”
 He nods slowly, his gaze still fixed on the screen, his demeanor
contemplative. “I trust your judgement. It’s just... you know how it is,” he
shrugs. “It’s just my perception of her. I’ve also picked up on a certain
familiarity, an intimacy in your conversations. And it makes me wonder.
You know how people leave home and start experimenting with western
ideas—”
Itohan? Is it because she calls me boo and that her voice is deep? I hold
back a chuckle. “I understand your concerns, and… you have nothing to
worry about. Itohan and I are just friends, she loves the opposite sex, and
our conversations are nothing more than that.”
He offers a faint smile, his tension easing slightly. “I appreciate your
honesty. Thanks.”
I’m so glad I suggested we stay indoors because with this job upgrade,
Lord knows when I’ll have the time to visit again. For now, I want to bask
in the warmth of this evening and cherish the love we have.
“Fifi baby…” he starts and I frown silently asking what, before
following the direction of his eyes on my hands. In a teasing tone, he
continues, “aren’t we getting a bit adventurous?”
Oh… I laugh, feeling my cheeks warm. Being so engrossed in the show,
our physical proximity feels natural, almost magnetic, that my hand
somehow found its way to the V of his crotch. “Oops, I didn’t mean for it to
end up here.”
He chuckles, his fingers lightly brushing against the back of my hand.
“Don’t worry, I’m here to help you preserve your virtue.”
I honestly didn’t mean for it to get there. But now that I know it’s there,
I’m loving the warmth. Playfully, I roll my eyes, giving his hand a gentle
squeeze. “Oh, really? And how do you propose to do that?”
He adopts a mock-serious expression, his voice dropping to a
conspiratorial whisper. “Well, I’ll start by making sure your hand doesn’t
wander into dangerous territories.”
I burst into laughter as he dramatically takes my hand from its comfort
space and place it closer to his knee.
“There,” he pats my hand, “isn’t that better?”
 I chuckle harder as he continues patting my hand and grinning. It’s these
light-hearted moments and playful banter that makes being around him so
enjoyable—one of the things I adore about him from scratch.
Our laughter subsides with his hand covering mine. We share a smile,
and in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just the two of us.
Us against the world.
Us against time.
Us against distance.
“Thank you for this evening,” I whisper.
He squeezes my hand gently. “No, thank you for being here.”
Still smiling into each other’s eyes, we settle into a comfortable silence,
the TV’s illumination creating a soft glow around us. And that’s how I see it
—all I need. A tiny spark of desire. A silent invitation I find impossible to
resist. I let nature and the energy between us guide my actions.
Leaning in, I press my lips against his in a tender, lingering kiss. The
initial touch is soft, almost hesitant, as if we’re both testing the waters. He
leans in, his lips hovering just above mine, his breath warm against my
skin. The world around us fades away as I become acutely aware of the
rapid rise and fall of his chest, mirroring my own erratic breathing. My
hesitation fades, replaced by a growing hunger that has been simmering
beneath the surface.
His lips respond with a gentle urgency, and the kiss deepens as our
mouths move in a delicate dance. My fingers find their way to the nape of
his neck, tangling in his hair as I pull him closer. He wraps his arms around
me, drawing me in as if he’s afraid to let go.
The room fades away, leaving only the heat of our bodies in its wake.
His hand glides down my side, his touch setting my skin ablaze. Bold, I lick
his tongue. He licks mine. I suck his. He sucks mine, the taste of the red
wine on his lips intoxicating.
Shivering and moaning, I press into him whenever his fingers traces
patterns on my back. It’s as if we’re discovering each other afresh.
I lose myself in the sensation of his hands on my skin, the taste of his
lips against mine, the rhythm of our breaths intertwining in perfect
harmony. With each caress, each kiss, my desire builds.
I want you. I want you in ways that I’ve never allowed myself to fully
explore before. Inside me. Filling me. Oh my… yes… yes.. I moan into his
lips, bucking and pressing my body into his. I don’t know when I did, but
I’m straddling him on the cushion, grinding into him. Loving the feel of his
erection against my core.
Beneath the sweater, he grabs my ass, smoothening and kneading it as
we kiss. I shiver, savoring the sensation of his touch.
“Are you sure?” he manages to say, and I moan a “Yes,” in between
kisses.
He nudges my legs further apart, his hands slipping beneath the
waistband of the flimsy excuse of the fabric I call panties, and I see stars.
“You need to relax.”
“Hmm…” I moan, arching into his touch. Wishing I could brush myself
against anything. Something. I’ve never felt this way before.
He chuckles softly, rubbing his fingers over my pulsing core, his touch
sending a jolt of electricity through me. “You’re so responsive and wet.”
Wet?
I don’t shy away from his touch. Instead, I lean into it, a silent invitation
for him to explore further. I wish he would stop playing with my labia and
touch my clitoris itself. “It’s not funny,” I bite back.
Then his fingers are at my asshole, his legs urging mine further apart,
and I flinch, tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to go slow. Just relax, okay?” he says, planting
teasing kisses on my lips, cheek, and neck. “Relax your muscles and I’ll
show you something new. Trust me, okay? We don’t have to do it the boring
way.”
Blinded by lust and craving I never knew existed until now, I nod,
getting pulled in by his kisses until they become fervent again. His fingers
sweep my vagina, left, right, left, right, causing me to press further into
him, making sounds I never knew I was capable of. From behind, he makes
circular motions around my asshole, stimulating multiple sensations
through my body. Being touched intimately for the first time in both places
has me feeling both good and weird and—oh!
 “Spesh!” I bite and hold onto his lips, bucking my hips against him as he
inserts and pumps his finger in my vagina with practiced ease, increasing
his tempo while still making circular motions around my asshole.
“Mmmm…” I pull away from his lips, moaning in response with my
eyes closed. This guy is driving me to the brink of madness. There’s a
tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke and
pump of his fingers.
It’s too much.
I can’t—I cant—“Oh. Oh…” There’s something—something—I’m
going to—“Spesh!” I scream, bucking away from his fingers.
When I open my eyes, his gaze is locked onto mine. There’s an
unspoken understanding between us, a silent agreement that this moment is
just the beginning of something more profound.
“What was that?” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the rush of
blood in my ears. His hand finally retreats, leaving a trail of warmth behind,
making me lean into his touch one last time.
When we finally pull away, our breaths still recovering from that
experience, I see in his gaze an expression I can’t put a finger to.
“You,” he murmurs, his voice husky, “are a dangerous woman, Fifi.”
Smiling, I pout, my heart pounding rapidly. “And you,” I reply, my voice
barely a whisper, “make me want to take risks.”

OceanofPDF.com
 21
___________

Photographs
A sense of nostalgia settles over me as I wake up in Special’s arms.
It’s warm.
It’s different.
I like it!
I hate that the hours have flown by so fast. But there are things I’m
grateful for. A smile curves my lips as a flashback from last night teases my
memory. I bite my lips, loving the warmth of his body seeping through the
thin fabric of my underwear, and my pulse quickens.
Eyeroll. Yes, I wore my underwear to bed because he convinced me to.
“Awake?” his sleepy husky voice asks, breathing warmth down my neck
while his arm tightens around me instinctively, pulling me closer.
Fighting the urge to scratch the back of my throat, I push my butt against
his crotch in response.
Much to my disappointment, he groans, “Stooop,” before slightly
pulling away from me. “You slept well?”
 Of course I did. “Hmm mmh,” I murmur, blindly reaching for his
erection behind me.
“Fifi stop—It’s Sunday. I was waiting for you to wake up so we can go
to church.”
Church?
Oh. It’s Sunday!
I’ve never attended a Catholic church and I’m eager to attend just to
experience this aspect of his life. It would become my reality soon, that is,
once he brings up marriage.
We arrive at the church, its grand facade towering above us. The
atmosphere is serene, a quiet reverence that envelops the surroundings.
Special and I step inside, the soft echoes of our footsteps blending with the
hushed whispers of fellow worshippers.
Intricate stained-glass windows cast vibrant patterns of light on the
pews. The scent of incense hangs in the air, mingling with the soft strains of
hymns as we find our seats.
Service commences and I find myself drawn into the rhythm of the
rituals—the readings, the prayers, and the moments of reflection. It’s
completely different from what I’m used to.
The priest delivers his sermon, his words touch on distractions of the
world, the need to focus, and what we need to be doing personally and for
the kingdom.
I listen, my thoughts drifting between the message being shared and the
memories I’ve created during my time here with Special.
When the service draws to a close, we exit the church and make our way
back to the apartment. So far, it’s been a splendid visit, save for that one
time, which I won’t count as anything. What’s a relationship without
misunderstandings and reconciliations?
Yeah… It’s not that you get into misunderstandings, it’s how you come
out of it stronger and better. And come to think of it, I’m in love with
London!
But it’s not easy keeping my mind in this happy mode because from
time to time, my mind occasionally drifts back to his reaction that one time.
 Yes, he was happy and proud, until he saw what I’ll be earning. It’s not
even that, it’s the subtle tension that colored his tone when he mentioned
that I can’t be earning more than he does.
“I think you should think deeply before accepting the offer.”
I pause in my thoughts, leaning against the windowsill of the living
room, gazing out at the cityscape beyond. The view is breathtaking, but my
mind is preoccupied.
I’ve always been fiercely independent, determined to carve out my path
and achieve my goals. But now, faced with the reality of my success
potentially impacting our relationship, I don’t know what to do. What if I
send him half of my salary as savings with plans that we use it in
purchasing a house. Or I—
A gentle knock on the door startles me out of my contemplation, and I
turn to find him entering the room. He’s been doing laundry in the kitchen,
while I chose to chill by myself in the bedroom.
His smile is warm, but there’s a hint of something in his eyes. What’s
that about?
“Lost in thought?” he asks, joining me by the window. His hands are on
the sill while he looks out.
Shrugging, I offer a small smile. “Just reflecting on things.”
“Like?”
“The job offer.”
He nods, his gaze fixed on the cityscape as well. “Um, about last night...
I want you to know that I’m proud of your achievements. You’ve worked
hard, and you deserve everything that comes your way.”
Inhaling deeply, I turn to him. “I know. And I’m grateful for your
support.” His gaze meets mine. “But I also want you to know that our
relationship isn’t defined by salaries or titles. It’s about us—should be about
us.”
His eyes softens as he reaches for my arm. “You’re right, baby. I
shouldn’t let this come between us. It’s just...” he smirks, “I’ll have to
adjust to it, I suppose.”
 I smile, warming up at his openness to trying. “We’re a team, baby. I’ve
got you.”
His smile returns, warmer now, as he squeezes my hand. “You always
have a way of putting things in perspective.”
He hugs me from behind, and I lean into him, gazing out at the city. I
wish I could have this moment for life. So, this is what I’ve been missing
because of long-distance. I wish I don’t have to go back to Dublin.
But wait. Why can’t he move to Dublin? He’s at least confessed to
earning less than I do, so… hmm. I’ll see if I can find a way to convince
him to start looking for jobs in Dublin. Besides, since his current job offers
remote opportunities, maybe he could request a change in location.
Yes!
That’s not a bad idea.
I’m about to ask if his company has branches in Ireland when I hear a
vibration. He turns me in his arms and I know what’s next. Don’t go—
“Excuse me.” He gently pulls away, pulling out his phone. He glances at
the caller ID, smiles, then accepts the call.
“Hey, Destiny,” he says, his voice warm and friendly as he tucks a hand
in his pocket. “How’s everything on your end?”
Destiny? That’s not a guy’s name.
Tossing an irritated look outside the window, my heart rate quickens just
a fraction. Who the heck is Destiny? Why did her name evoke a smile from
his lips before he picked?
I try to focus on the view beyond the window, the city’s bustling energy
a stark contrast to the internal turmoil that’s brewing within me. His side of
the conversation is just snippets of words and soft chuckles that offers
nothing significant. Then it gets quiet.
Stealing a glance at him, I notice he’s wearing a relaxed smile. Forget
that we’ve not seen in person for years, I know that look. It’s a look
reserved for those he’s comfortable with, those who know him well.
Destiny…
He’s never mentioned that name. How is it that he knows all my friends
and classmates, even the names of my colleagues and has never mentioned
Destiny.
Frowning, I fold my arms, annoyed at myself for thinking and feeling
this way, but I can’t help it! I’ve always prided myself on my ability to
communicate openly with him, to address any concerns that arise between
us. But this—this feels different.
The call continues, seemingly lighthearted, and I find myself lost in my
own thoughts, grappling with curiosity, doubt, and a touch of jealousy that
I’m reluctant to acknowledge.
He’s even telling her his girlfriend his here, laughs, then says he’s
having a good time. Finally, he ends the call with a promise to catch up
soon.
Turning to me, he smiles. “Sorry about that. That was Destiny, she’s an
old friend. Alice introduced me to her.”
I offer a small smile in return, my attempt at nonchalance. “No need to
apologize.”
He walks over to me smirking. “You were squeezing your face.”
Oh, I wish I could slap that grin off his face! What’s funny?
“You know you can’t hide your expression. What is it?”
I nod, trying to keep my tone casual. “Nothing. It’s just that I haven’t
heard of her. An old friend, huh? How did you guys become friends?”
Special chuckles, pulling me into his arms as he leads me to the couch.
“It’s a bit of a funny story, actually. Alice and Destiny were roommates
during their first year in uni. She was born here but sent to Nigeria to live
with her grandparents when she was a teenager because she was acting out.
She fully moved to the UK some months back. Did I mention she’s a model
and an airhostess? She needed help with getting an apartment, and Alice
thought I could help her out so she doesn’t get scammed. I did. We became
friends in the process. I think you’ll like her.”
I listen intently, feeling relieved that it was just him helping out. Still,
what if there’s more to the story? Are there details he’s leaving out?
Because, the way he got all excited saying, Did I mention she’s a model and
an airhostess, didn’t sound normal at all. I decide to probe further.
 I’ll like her? I don’t think so. “Yeah… You seem pretty close,” I add,
raising an eyebrow.
He chuckles again, rubbing his hand on his face. “Yeah, we stay in
touch. She’s an air hostess, so she travels a lot, and we catch up whenever
we can. She lives in this building.”
“She does?” I hope that octave wasn’t my voice projecting my shock as I
sit up from his arms.
“Relax…” He pulls me back into his arms. “Relax jor. Who do you think
made the jollof rice you ate last night?”
“Special?!”
He laughs, crossing an arm over his stomach in an attempt to catch his
breath.
“This is not funny oh.”
“She’s a hustler.”
“And so?”
“She has a boyfriend.”
“She better. Let me see her picture.”
He laughs softly to himself, his chest vibrating beneath my palm.
“You will tell me what is funny now,” I warn. “Show me her picture,
jare.”
He pulls up her social media page and she actually looks good—a pretty
biracial lady.
“She’s okay,” I say dismissively.
“Look at you. You look so cute. Madam protective.”
Hissing, I roll my eyes. “Like you won’t do worse. I was sha wondering
why that call sounded so somehow.”
“Fifi baby…” he says, offering me a cute, apologetic smile. “She had a
misunderstanding with her guy and wanted to share how my suggestion
helped.”
“Hmm.” I shrug.
He gently tugs my chin to look into my eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”
 After a couple of seconds reflecting on my surprise visit, how we’ve
been bonding, I nod, feeling a sense of reassurance. “It’s okay.” I roll my
eyes, smiling. “I trust you.”
He squeezes me in a side hug, before landing a kiss to my forehead, then
my lips. “I’m glad you do. You mean the world to me, you get?”
“Yeah…”
“I love you.”
Heat warms my cheek upon hearing those three words in person. “I love
you, too.”
We continue talking, and the unease that had gripped me earlier begins
to dissipate. I realize that in any relationship, there will always be aspects of
our partner’s past and present that we’re not privy to, and that’s okay. As
long as there’s trust and love. It’s also okay to feel the occasional pangs of
jealousy, because that proves the love and bond you share is unique.
For lunch, he fries plantain and eggs, promising to make his famous boli
and sauce when next I visit. Before going to pack my bags for my trip to the
airport, I help him clear the table, feeling a pang of reluctance for leaving.
Special hums a tune as he tidies up the kitchen, shooing me to go and pack
my bags.
My thoughts occasionally flit back to Destiny. I know I shouldn’t let it
bother me, but I’m only human.
I finish packing and glance around the room, taking in the details—the
framed photographs, the cozy blanket on the bed, the faint scent of his
cologne in the air. I’ll miss this…
“Everything packed?” he asks.
I zip up my bag and nod, turning to face him. “Yeah, all set.”
He smiles wanly, his eyes mirroring my feelings. “It’s been an amazing
weekend, hasn’t it?”
I approach him, placing a hand on his cheek. “Hmm mmh.”
The silence between us speaks volumes. I’ve learnt more about him than
I’ve done in the over six years that I’ve known him. There’s nothing like
eating, sleeping, and living with someone. It puts things in perspective.
 He pulls me into an embrace, and I rest my head against his chest,
feeling his heartbeat against my cheek.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he murmurs.
I hug him tighter, breathing in the familiarity of his scent. “I know. But
we should plan to see each other again soon.”
“I agree. We need to properly plan your next visit.” With a final,
lingering sweet kiss, he pulls away, then grabs my bag. “I don’t want you
missing your flight.”
“Yeah, I’ll check my calendar.” My phone dings. “I think my ride is
here.”
With my bags in tow, we step out of his apartment. His hand finds mine,
and as usual, we intertwine our fingers.
On the ride to the airport, his hand rests on my knee, while I soak in the
view of people rushing by, lost in their own thoughts and agendas. My gaze
constantly returns to the man beside me, my fingers brushing against his,
trying to etch his warmth into my soul.
At the airport, we join the bustling crowd of travelers, navigating to the
security and check-in. A pang of sadness hits me hard as we approach
where our paths will diverge once again. Like that time in Nigeria, we stand
there, wishing for more time.
Special takes both of my hands in his, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll miss
you.”
I smile, my heart heavy but my spirit uplifted by his words. “I’ll miss
you too.”
He leans in, places a tender kiss on my lips, then reluctantly releases my
hands.
Stepping onto the plane, I find my window seat that gives me the
opportunity to stare longingly at the city I’ve come to know as a second
home. The memories of our time together flood my thoughts, and I’m
grateful for the voice that told me to take a chance on this trip. Experiencing
this slice of heaven has shown me what I’m missing and I can’t wait!
When the airhostesses begin their demonstration, my mind quickly pans
to thoughts of Destiny.
 “I’m not doing that…” I murmur to myself, “I’m not ruining this
experience.”
With a determined smile, I settle into my seat, feeling happy and
unbothered.

OceanofPDF.com
 22
___________

Friends with Trobul

I wish I had taken a real vacation because settling into work after such a
magical weekend is the worst. My thoughts keep wandering to the
weekend, the possibilities for the future, and the new job offer. With the
new job, I have to move to Dublin, which I’m so looking forward to. But
our UK plans…
Oh God, this is so hard.
What if… what if I take on the offer, spend few months in Dublin before
making up my mind to permanently move to the UK. At least I’ll say I’ve
lived to the fullest.
Come to think of it, it wasn’t the distance that had Special bugged. I
hiss, tapping on my keyboard, doing my best to focus on the MS SQL code
I’m reviewing. It was—maybe I should share with him the idea of him
relocating to Dublin.
Yes!
Wow, I feel a sense of déjà vu. Have I thought of this before? Whatever.
This makes the most sense. I’ll be earning more, and his European work
experience should help him with job searches here. Nah… I need to find out
if his company has openings here so I can present this option on a golden
platter.
If he agrees, we can move to a bigger apartment in Dublin. Wow! I can’t
deny the excitement bubbling within me at the thought of us living in the
same city, sharing the same space day after day, and doing naughty, wicked
things to each other.
But reality grounds me. I know uprooting one’s life is no small feat, and
there are numerous factors to consider. Would he be willing to leave behind
the UK, his job, and all he’s known? Or… should I let go of my dreams and
the life I’m building in Ireland? I can. Just not yet.
Maybe he would see sense and let me stay here for a bit. If we can
just… just find a way, we can make it work.
I sift through my thoughts, reminded of the countless conversations
Special and I have had about the future and living abroad.
With a sigh, I lean back in my chair, gazing out of the window as the
city bustles below.
Love has a way of conquering obstacles and breaking down barriers in
the pursuit of happiness, a random voice says in my head.
Perhaps, just perhaps, the answer lies in finding a simple compromise.
We can continue as we are for like a year, then make a final decision on
who’s to move to where.
Although my first day back at work is filled with activities, I find myself
on the brink of a decision. Knowing Special and I, we’ll figure this out
soon. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. I believe the love we have—
which I just reconfirmed during my visit—will help us meet in the middle,
wherever that may be.
I’m shutting down my computer and gathering my belongings with a
sense of accomplishment from all the tasks I tackled today, even while
thinking about what Special and I were up to last Saturday, when my phone
vibrates on the desk. I pick it up, smiling when I see a message from Itohan.
Her timing couldn’t be more perfect—I could use some company and a
chance to unwind.
 The message reads: Hey girl, wanna hang out tonight? I need to hear
all about your time in the UK!
I type out a quick reply: Absolutely! Let’s meet up. I’ve got gist for
you.
We agree to meet at a cozy café just a few blocks away, and with a
spring in my step, I make my way out of the office building. The familiar
scent of roasted coffee beans greets me as I step inside the café.
I spot Itohan with a radiant smile at a corner table. “Hey, boo!” she
whisper-exclaims, waving me over.
Hurrying over, I settle into the chair across from her, smiling.
“Welcome back.” She grins. “This is my favorite time because I get to
hear all the juicy details.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve got plenty to share,” I reply with a chuckle. “Where
do I even begin?”
Itohan leans in, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Start from the beginning,
girl. I want all the deets.”
“First I need some sugar in my system.” We chuckle, heading over to the
counter to place our orders.
Armed with cakes, an espresso and a cappuccino, we return to our seats.
I begin my UK tale, recounting Special’s reaction at my arrival, preparing
breakfast, our outing, the surprise doughnuts, and introducing him to
Korean dramas. Itohan’s eyes light up with amusement, sympathy, and
excitement, as I share the highlights of my weekend, including the
bittersweet goodbye at the airport. She listens intently, interjecting with
questions and exclamations, her energy infectious. It feels so good having
someone to share the highlights of my experience with and to relive the
moments.
Curious for a second opinion, I steer the discussion toward what’s been
weighing on my mind all day. Itohan has lived a thousand lives, so I believe
her perspective would be valuable.
“Umm…” I begin, “I’ve been thinking a lot about something lately.
What do you think about a woman earning more than her man?”
 “Hmm…” Itohan leans back in her chair, her expression contemplative
as she takes a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. “I believe
that in a relationship, what matters most is the mutual respect,
understanding, and support between the two people. Financial dynamics can
be complex, but they shouldn’t define your relationship. As long as both
partners are comfortable and secure, tsk, the rest shouldn’t matter.”
Special and I have all that, I nod in agreement. “That makes a lot of
sense.”
“Yes,” she continues, sharing an anecdote about her aunt’s marriage.
“I’m glad I talked to you about this,” I sigh. “It’s been on my mind a lot
lately, especially with the changes happening in my life.”
Itohan’s brow quirks up. “Changes? Babe… Drop the gist!” She grins
widely. I catch her looking at my ring finger before looking at me with a
smirk and a shrug.
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “It’s not that.”
She sighs dramatically. “I for say.”
I continue, a grin tugging at my lips. “I’ve been offered a new job, a
really good one. And it comes with a substantial increase in salary.”
Itohan’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, that’s amazing!” She rushes over to
my side of the table for a quick hug before returning to her seat.
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling a bit, just a bit emotional. “But you know,
it’s interesting. The idea of earning way more than my guy has been on my
mind. I was just wondering about it, that’s all.”
“He’s going to be a lucky man.” Itohan smiles fondly, placing a hand on
mine. “Don’t worry, you guys will be fine.”
“You think?”
“Ahan, you guys are my favorite power couple. What are you saying?”
I release a reluctant smile, scratching my nape. “I don’t know. You know
how men are. What if he feels less of a man?”
She shrugs. “Baby girl, he’s a human being. He might be shocked at
first, but with the way your guy is, I doubt he would be like that. Even if,”
she scoffs with a tiny chuckle. “In this economy? He’ll end up celebrating
with you and will be proud of your achievements.”
He might be shocked at first… Itohan is such a prophetess. I think the
shock part happened this weekend. So… I’ll just give him a little bit more
time and we should be good.
As we wrap up our conversation, my phone buzzes with an incoming
call, and I glance at the screen to see Linda’s name flashing. I share a look
with Itohan before sliding my finger to accept the call.
“Hey, Linda,” I greet with a smile. “You called at the right time. I’ve got
exciting news to share.”
Linda’s voice crackles through the line, “Oh really? Spill the beans!”
I take a deep breath, feeling a surge of happiness welling up within me.
“I’m going to accept a new job offer. It’s an amazing opportunity with a
substantial increase in salary.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end, followed by an explosion
of cheers and excited exclamations. I can practically feel Linda’s
excitement through the phone as she eagerly proposes switching to a video
call, which I quickly accept.
“That’s what’s up! I’m so happy for you!”
Itohan chimes in, “See? Congratulations, boo!”
I chuckle at their contagious enthusiasm, expressing gratitude and
swiftly introducing them. I’ve brought up their names in previous
conversations with both groups, so the introduction flows seamlessly.
“Is it in the UK or where?” Linda asks.
“It’s in Dublin. I’ll have to move to Dublin to accept it.”
“Oh...” That is a silent question from Linda asking about Special and the
UK if I ever heard one.
“Yes, don’t worry about that. We’ll discuss it. Besides, I got the news
there and he was happy for me.”
Itohan and Linda sigh and I chuckle at their concern for my relationship.
“You guys, ehn,” I mutter, touched. We’re fine. I’m fine.
“Which company?” Linda asks.
 “Same one, Rubicon.”
“Awwn…”
“I’m so happy for you.”
Itohan smiles, nodding in agreement. “Congrats babe.”
“Thank you.” I reply, my voice slightly cracking with unchecked
emotions.
Linda’s laughter echoes through the line. “Oh, Fii, you want to cry?”
“Me? Cry? I’m just emotional. Leave me jor.”
Itohan raises her almost empty coffee cup in a mock toast. “To Fifi and
all the monies she’ll be sharing with us!”
I join in their laughter and their toast, praying for the best possible
future.
With the sound of our laughter still lingering in the air, I signal to Itohan
that it’s time to head out. After connecting my hands-free earbuds to my
phone and handing one to Itohan, I switch back to audio call. Itohan and I
stand up from our cozy corner in the café, weaving our way through the
growing after work crowd.
Itohan lets out an exaggerated sigh when we make it to the street and see
a truck with an event advert. “Ugh, can we talk about how everything here
is just so darn expensive? It’s like my wallet cries every time I want to do
something fun.”
I nod in agreement, a wry smile on my lips. “Tell me about it.
Sometimes I feel like I need to take out a loan just to enjoy eating out.”
Linda’s voice comes through the earbuds. “And that, my friend, is why
I’m still in Nigeria, counting my pennies.”
We all laugh.
“Come on, Linda,” Itohan starts, “you can’t stay in that country forever.
You deserve to experience the world.” Instigator.
Linda chuckles. “I will, I’ve got plans. But hearing you both complain
about expenses just makes me a little more grateful for my current
situation.”
 “Better do and come out soon,” Itohan adds. “Sha make sure you don’t
come out broke.”
We laugh again, and Linda ends hers with a sigh. “Alright, you two, as
much as I’d love to continue this, I’ve got to run. Duty calls, you know.”
Itohan and I exchange knowing looks, nodding even though Linda can’t
see us. “Of course, Linda,” Itohan teases, “duty and all that.”
Linda chuckles softly. “I like her, Fifi. You two better behave while I’m
away. And Fifi, don’t let Itohan drag you into too much trouble.”
I grin, shaking my head at Itohan’s imaginary reputation preceding her.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be on our best behavior.”
“Good. Alright now, you two should take care. And Fii, keep me posted
on the job offer, okay?”
“Okay ma.”
With a final exchange of well wishes, Linda ends the call, leaving Itohan
and me to continue our walk to where we’ll get transportation home. We
chat about mundane things and when I ask what she’s doing for the rest of
the evening, she looks at me with a sly grin, her eyes sparkling
mischievously.
I raise an eyebrow, knowing that look all too well. “Alright, spill it.
What’s the latest scoop?”
“Oh, you won’t believe this; I’ve got a date tonight.”
“A date? Since when?”
“Since I joined this dating app. You need to see your face.” Her laughter
rings out as she fills me in on her latest romantic escapade. “I met this tall,
luscious Ghanian guy on the app, and we’ve been chatting for a while.
We’re meeting up at a pub tonight, a small get together.”
I chuckle, genuinely happy for her. “That’s great. Finally, someone
you’re interested in.”
She winks playfully. “Hmm mmh. And if you were open, I would’ve
invited you along to be my chaperone.”
Smiling, I shake my head. “As tempting as that sounds, I’ve got work
tomorrow. Gotta be responsible, you know.”
 She playfully waves a dismissive hand. “Work, schmork. I get it—
someone has to pay the bills when we go out.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not just that, I can’t stay out all night
partying.”
Itohan laughs, linking her arm with mine as we stroll. “Ah, the
responsible adult life. Don’t worry, boo, I’ll give you all the juicy details
tomorrow.”
“You better. Have a blast tonight,” I say, genuinely happy for her. “And
don’t get into too much trouble.”
Itohan winks, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, you know me.
Trouble and I are old pals.”
I give her a playful shove, then we exchange a quick hug before going
our separate ways.

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___________

Choices
Stepping into Rubicon’s Dublin office building on my first day of
onboarding for my new role has me excited. This time around, I take my
time to appreciate the sleek design of the space, the polished floors, and the
artworks hanging on the wall. Smiling confidently, I take a deep breath,
proud of this new chapter in my career.
Still can’t believe I’ll be an Associate involved in collaborating with
teams across different locations. It’s a thrilling prospect to think that my
work will have a global impact, and I’m eager to get my hands dirty and
make my mark.
I’m guided through the office by a friendly HR representative, like it’s
my first time here. Well, as an associate, it is.
My manager, Rebecca, whom I have communicated with over email for
the past two weeks greets me with a warm smile as we reach my designated
workspace. She walks me through the specifics of my role, explaining that
I’ll be working closely with teams based in the USA to analyze and
interpret data that will inform critical business decisions. It’s clear that my
role is a pivotal link in the chain of communication that connects different
branches of the company. Way more impactful than what I was doing as an
intern.
Me, Fiyinfoluwa Rachel Ajayi, I’m becoming more than my wildest
imaginations and dreams. The days of dreaming about working for MTN
and the likes is a distant memory. Sleeping out in the cold, working in the
plastic factory, washing bathrooms, I—I can’t connect the me of then and
now. The me who can afford flights at a whim. Time is really all that
matters.
I’m still pumped on the long, rainy drive back to Cork after work. It
would take a while for me to find the right apartment in Dublin for a
reasonable price. All through the ride, I’m thinking of purchasing a car,
until my thoughts drifts to my conversation with Special when we found out
about the offer.
Stepping into my lonely apartment, I remember the way his face had lit
up when I told him about the offer. His genuine happiness evident in the
way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his smile widened. And then the
sudden shift in his demeanor when he confirmed the salary.
I think you should think deeply before accepting the offer.
I have… and I did. I considered every angle before making a final
decision. A decision I didn’t tell him about. I take a deep breath, bracing
myself for the conversation ahead as I initiate our routine video call. His
face materializes on my screen, appearing at ease and composed in his
living room, likely engrossed in watching a series or something.
“Fifi baby! What’s up?” he asks, tossing snacks into his mouth. Since I
returned to Ireland, he’s only asked about my decision once, after which,
we’ve been dancing around it like it doesn’t exist.
I hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding. “Hey, love,” I greet, asking
about his day before segueing into the main reason for this call. “There’s
something I wanted to discuss with you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Hmm, go on.”
A smile starts forming on my lips, but it falters. “I accepted the new job
offer?”
He lets out a derisive snort. “Are you asking or telling me?”
 “Well,” I continue, choosing my words carefully, “I’ve been thinking
about how we can make things work while I’m in Dublin.”
He sighs and his eyes narrow. “And what brilliant plan have you come
up with now?”
I take another deep breath, pushing through his abrasive demeanor. “So
here’s something I’ve been thinking about. What if… What if, we consider
the possibility of you relocating to Dublin?”
“You want me to move to Dublin?” He scoffs. “Are you serious?”
I nod, my heart racing as I try to explain my perspective, the wheels
spinning in my head. “I know it’s a big decision but hear me out. Dublin
offers so many advantages for both of us. We’d be together, which would
make our life easier. I’ve done the research, Ireland pays higher than UK,
the quality of life here is better than UK. And yes, the rent here is higher,
but with our salaries combined, we can buy a house together and—”
“Our salaries combined? First, I won’t have a job for God knows how
long after I make this move you so want me to make.”
“But you can—”
“I can’t believe you made this decision without consulting me. A
decision that means we’ll be even farther apart—”
“I’m sorry… You already said what you wanted me to do.”
“And what did you do?”
“I’m sorry. I just… I don’t think I would have gotten such offer again. I
thought it would be easier for you if you moved here.”
“Easier how?”
“You’re adaptable and resourceful. I believe you can make a new life in
Dublin just as you have there. And you’re a guy.”
“Really?”
“Besides another factor I considered was that, when we get married and
we want to start a family, I might find it hard to get back into the system.
Accepting this would console me in my later days.”
He offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You really thought
this through, huh?”
 I nod quickly. “I think it’s worth considering.” Hope blossoming in my
chest.
He shakes his head. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe you’d even
suggest this. I’ve got my own life, my own responsibilities here. I’m not
just going to drop everything and come down to Dublin. We had a plan right
from scratch. You keep changing things as it suits you.”
I swallow hard, trying to hold my ground. “My bad, baby. My bad. And
I’m sorry. But please, understand me. I’m not asking you to drop
everything. I’m only suggesting that we find a way to make things work, to
be together.”
His laugh is bitter. “Be together? This whole Dublin idea is unrealistic
and naive.”
My heart sinks at his harsh words, and my bravado leaks away like
improperly sealed sachet water. “Speshie, I thought we were in this
together. I made the decision that would benefit both of us.”
He leans back, his frustration still visible on his face. “I didn’t sign up
for some fairytale romance. This is real life, Fifi. We both have our own
lives to live. Something you keep reminding me of with the selfish
decisions you make.”
“What can I do to make you… to make you believe that I’m not being
selfish and want the best for us?” I swallow, blinking back tears threatening
to form in my eyes.
His response is a silence that’s pregnant with so many words. The hope I
held for our future together seems to be slipping away, replaced by the
harsh reality of our conflicting aspirations.
I’m about to promise him heaven on earth when he breaks the silence
with a voice that sounds like he has no choice. “Fifi, I love you. You know
this.”
“I do. I know. And I don’t take you for granted. Please promise that
you’ll consider this.”
I can see the wheels turning in his mind as he admits, “This a big
decision.”
“It is. And I promise to make it worth your while. You know how we
do.” I try for a smile, forcing positivity into my voice. “We’ll make it
work.”
He lets out a deflating sigh. “I’ll consider it.”
“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

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___________

Homesick
After ending my call with Special, a sense of longing settles within me. I sit
there for a minute, let out a deep sigh and rub my temples, trying to dispel
the lingering frustration and disappointment.
For some weird reason, I find myself yearning for a touch of home, a
connection to something familiar after that narrow escape. Moments like
this, I wish I had a roomie, but I’ll never trade my newfound solitude.
I reach for my phone again and dial a number that holds a piece of my
heart—Mama Gee’s. The phone rings a few times before her warm voice
greets me.
Something flows out of me and I feel a million times lighter. “Hi,
Mama,” I reply, smiling. “I just wanted to hear your voice and say that I
miss home.”
There’s a pause on the line, and then she chuckles softly. “Oh,
Fiyinfoluwa, we miss you too. But I know you’re doing great things over
there. You’re our pride.”
 Love, warmth, and a touch of homesickness—all these are what’s
plaguing me right now. It’s true that I’ve come a long way from Ogba,
Lagos, pursuing my dreams and building a life in a new country. But in
moments like these, I feel like a fraud.
“Thank you,” I say, still smiling. “I’m doing my best.”
As we talk, I tell Mama Gee about my first day at work and listen for
gist about my siblings, extended family members, and her business. We talk
at most twice a week, but today feels different. It’s on the tip of my tongue
to suggest that I take over the peppersoup joint like she suggested years
ago.
Then, as if on cue, her laughter rings through the phone. “If you’re
hungry, why not boil rice and peppersoup? When was the last time you
prepared peppersoup.”
“Ma?”
“You have all the ingredients for peppersoup there, don’t you?”
“Yes…” I pause, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “I do have the
ingredients, but I haven’t made it in a while.”
“Ah, well then, why not treat yourself to a taste of home? Make some
peppersoup and savor the aroma. That should help with this homesickness
you’re feeling.”
The idea brings a smile to my face. “Mama Gee! You’re right. Maybe I
will.”
I end the call feeling lighter and motivated.
Heading to the kitchen, I scan the sparse shelves for the necessary
ingredients. I realize I’m running low on supplies, but manage to find some
dry uziza leaves, onions, ground pepper, and a few peppersoup spices that
will have to do.
As I start to chop the onions and prepare the spices, my mind drifts back
to Ogba, the bustling streets lined with vendors selling everything from
fresh produce to clothing. I remember the scent of Mama Gee’s peppersoup
joint, and my childhood. Homesickness hits me as I recall the sounds of
familiar voices hawking their wares on the street and being surrounded by
loved ones.
 The sound of rice water bubbling to the surface and onto the electric
cooker brings me back to the present, and I rush to remove the cover I had
placed over the pot.
I add peppersoup spices to the beef boiling on the other ring of the
cooker, and soon, the aroma begins to fill the kitchen, transporting me back
to those comforting memories. It’s as if the flavors and scents are trying to
connect my current reality and the world I miss.
Eventually, I ladle rice and peppersoup into separate bowls and take a
moment to savor the taste. It’s not the same as Mama Gee’s, but it brings a
sense of comfort, nonetheless. I reflect on the choices I’ve made and the
path I’m on. The conversation with Special weighs heavily on my mind, but
for now, I’m enjoying the refuge I’ve found in the familiar flavors of home.
Settling down with a tray holding my meal, I’m ready to overfeed and
indulge in a Korean drama to take my mind off things. Just as I’m about to
take my first bite of the meat, my phone begins to ring, disrupting my quiet,
reflective evening. It could be Itohan.
I glance at the caller ID and see that it’s Alice, Special’s younger sister.
Curiosity piqued, I quickly answer the call, my heart warming at the
thought of hearing from her.
“Hey, Alice! It’s great to hear from you,” I say with a smile.
“Hi, Fifi! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all. I was just about to enjoy some rice with peppersoup and
watch a movie,” I say, adjusting my laptop to face me.
“Oh, that sounds cozy! But hey, I wanted to talk to you about
something,” Alice says, her tone taking on a more serious note.
“Of course, what’s up?” I ask, setting my spoon aside for the moment. I
might have to microwave my soup because it’s best consumed hot.
“Well, first of all, congratulations on your new job! I heard about it, and
I just wanted to say well done and congratulations.” Although shocked the
news has travelled so far, so fast, Alice’s words make me smile.
“Thank you.”
“And secondly, I just wanted to share something with you. I know
you’ve been away in Dublin for a while now, and we don’t always get the
chance to talk. But I wanted to remind you that no matter where you are or
what you’re doing, you’ll always have our support,” Alice continues, her
voice reassuring.
“That really means a lot to me, Alice. Thank you,” I say, wondering
where this is coming from.
“And, you know, there might be times when things get tough or when
you have to make difficult decisions. Just remember we’re always here for
you,” Alice adds, her words carrying a depth of meaning that although is
reassuring, I don’t understand where it’s coming from.
“Thank you,” I reply, picking a grain of rice and tossing it into my
mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Alice says.
My food is getting cold.
“No matter what you’re earning or your position at work, never forget to
support Special. He’s lucky to have you, and I know you’re lucky to have
him too.”
I chuckle softly, appreciating her candor and seeing exactly what led to
this strange call. “I won’t forget, Alice. Thanks for the reminder.”
With that, we exchange a few more pleasantries and end the call.
That was unexpected. I start to smile but stop midway when it hits me—
does Special tell his siblings about our relationship? How does he describe
our relationship? Where does he draw the line? Did he let them know he
‘changed’ it for me when we found out about the salary? What version did
he give them? My brain is spinning in a million directions.
Wow.
Linda and Itohan know so little about my relationship. I’ve met Alice
only once in person, and while her call was unexpected, it also felt a bit...
unusual. Am I overthinking things?
My thoughts are interrupted by a sudden knock on my door. Startled, I
look up, set aside my laptop and tray of peppersoup and rice that would
definitely need to be reheated, and walk to the door. Opening it, I find no
one there. I furrow my brows, slightly confused. Did I imagine the knock?
 I’m about to close the door when my eyes catch something on the
ground—a note, placed neatly on my doorstep. Curious, I pick it up and
unfold it.
It’s a barely readable handwritten note from a neighbor, expressing
concern about the strong aromas of the meals I prepare, specifically
mentioning that today’s version had them coughing. The note kindly asks
me to be mindful of the cooking scents, as they are affecting the shared
spaces and the comfort of the other residents.
It takes me mere seconds to transition from feeling startled to astonished
to disbelief.
Closing the door, I hold the note in my hand, still perplexed, the pang of
homesickness hitting harder. I read the note again, my mind struggling to
process the idea that the smell of my meal could be considered offensive. If
this is how they treat people from different cultures around the world, then I
don’t want to travel the world.
Dragging my feet, I return to my laptop, my appetite for peppersoup
temporarily minimized by the stupid note—it’s all a matter of weeks, I’ll be
out of this annoying building.

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___________

Root Connections
It’s a new day! And although yesterday’s call with Special lingers in my
mind, along with the odd conversation I had with Alice, I decide to focus on
the positive, pushing negative thoughts aside.
Stretching and yawning, I glance at my phone on the bedside table,
expecting to see a sweet morning message from Special. But to my surprise,
there’s no text or missed call. A tiny knot of worry forms in my stomach,
but I quickly dismiss it. Maybe he’s just caught up with something or had
an early start to his day. We’re both adults with busy lives and… missing a
morning message doesn’t mean anything serious.
I get out of bed and head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Something
simple—oatmeal. While chopping carrots and apples for my oats, I think
about the pepper soup I made yesterday and the nerve of the person who
ruined it for me.
I finish my breakfast, get ready for work, make sure I have all my
essentials for the day ahead, then rush to catch a bus that will take me to the
office.
 I need to start planning my move. Schedule time with agents to view
new places. I have enough money to get somewhere better, where no one
would tell me what and what not to cook.
As I step into the office, my focus shifts to my role as a data analytics
associate. It’s a new job, a new day, and I’m determined to make the most
of it.
Throughout the morning, I immerse myself in tasks and meetings,
channeling my energy into my work. The day progresses, and I check my
phone during a quick break, hoping to see a message from Special. Nothing.
Don’t jump to conclusions. Stay positive. Stay positive.
I sit at my desk, typing away on my keyboard, when a notification pops
up on my work messaging platform. It’s from a colleague based in the USA.

New Message from Charles:

Hey Fifi, hope you’re doing well!
Can we have a quick chat about the project plan?

Smiling, I quickly respond with, Absolutely! I can hop on a call in 10

minutes.
A few minutes later, I’m on a video call with Charles, who shares my
skin color and accent. After introductions, our conversation takes a natural
turn towards our shared background. I find out he is originally from Nigeria
—his last name, Olarotimi, already gave it away.
“You know, Fifi,” Charles says, leaning back in his chair, “it’s always
great to connect with fellow Nigerians. I only passed through Lagos when I
was leaving the country.”
I nod, resisting a smile. “Woah. I keep forgetting that not everyone from
Nigeria is a Lagosian, my bad. And yes, it’s… great to connect with one of
mine here. Makes me feel less alone.”
“Tell me about it. I remember when I first moved to the States for my
studies. I had no idea what a ‘potluck’ was, and I ended up bringing jollof
rice to one.”
I give a short, mirthless laugh, recalling my own experiences. “Oh, I can
relate.”
 “And the looks I got when I pronounced ‘schedule’ with my Naija-
Britico accent.”
We exchange stories and chuckles, bonding through our shared cultural
shocks and humorous mishaps. It’s a refreshing break from the usual work
discussions.
Our conversation shifts back to work, with Charles asking, “So, what are
your goals for this project? And by goals, I mean personal ones. What do
you hope to achieve?”
I really don’t have one completely thought out, but because of instant
connection, I lean forward spewing the words dancing my head. “I’m really
focused on optimizing the data analysis process and ensuring that our
insights are more actionable. I really want to make a meaningful impact
with the work we’re doing.”
Charles nods approvingly, like what I’ve said is gold. We discuss
different approaches for the project and he tells me where to find data, past
projects, and software within the company’s intranet. Deadlines, project
tasks and who to consult were not left out.
“This was a time well spent Fifi,” Charles says, smiling. “Thanks for the
chat.”
“Likewise, Charles. It was really nice connecting with you.”
Disconnecting from the video call, I smile, appreciating the glimpse of
diversity and familiarity this role just afforded me.
As my workday winds down, I pack up my belongings and prepare to
head home. It’s been a productive day, but I can’t shake off the slight
unease that has settled in. Special still hasn’t reached out with his reassuring
messages that often brighten my day.
Heading back home, I’m lost in my thoughts, replaying yesterday’s
conversation and the events of today. I thought we reached an agreement. Is
something amiss?
I step through my front door, deciding to hold onto hope. Maybe he’s
just had a busy day, or some unexpected situation came up. With a deep
breath, I remind myself to reach out to him later before settling into my
evening routine.
 It’s only almost 7 PM... what can I do with myself? Maybe I should start
a YouTube channel titled “Living Alone Diaries: Spend the Evening with
Me.” Chuckling, I open my laptop to distract myself, considering whether
to catch up on a Korean drama or dive into the new book I just got on
business leadership in data.
The evening wears on, and my thoughts drift back to Special. It’s been
an unusual day without our usual exchanges. I can count how many times
something like this has happened. Once—that time I went to a party without
letting him know. I hope he’s still not mad at me. Would he respond if I
reach out? As much as I want to believe everything is fine, I can’t shake off
the feeling that something might be wrong.
With a sigh, I pick up my phone and scroll through our chats. Our
messages are filled with jokes, pictures, questions, passwords, and the
intricate details of our lives.
I think I should reach out to him. Break the silence. Make sure he’s
alright. Because, this is completely unlike him. But a part of me fears I
might be overreacting or burdening him with unnecessary concerns. Maybe
he needs space to think. We haven’t really done that in our relationship—I
don’t know how I would survive without keeping in touch with him. I bite
my bottom lip, torn between wanting to know what’s going on and not
wanting to come across as clingy.
Relationships have their ups and downs, and silence doesn’t necessarily
mean something is wrong. Maybe he’s just caught up in his own world.
Hmm… A simple thinking about you text never hurt nobody.
Finally gathering my courage, I type: Hey love, hope you’re having a
good day. Missing our chats. Please call me.
Nah… ‘please call me’ sounds too clingy. Something simple, fun and
cute will do.
I edit the message to read, Hey Mr. UK, hope you’re having a good day.
Missing you.
The moment I hit send, his message comes in with a ping sound. I can’t
make this shit up. It like the network has been holding back his message.
We have the same timestamp.
 New Message from Special:
Hey baby, sorry for being quiet today.
It’s been a bit hectic on my end.
I’m still at work, working on this project report that has a
deadline for early tomorrow.
Missing you badly.
I’ll call much later to catch up, stay up for me?

Woah, woah, woah! I chuckle, my heart bubbling with emotions. Here I

was, thinking about ups and downs, and space in relationships, when my
man was just having a tough day.
I type a response, letting him know what I’m up to and will be up for a
while because I have work gist for him.
Thank God… A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and a smile tugs at the
corners of my mouth. He’s doing okay, that’s all that matters.

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___________

My, My, Time Flies!

Weeks turn into months, and I’m settling into my new role with a growing
sense of confidence and enthusiasm. Amidst the busy workdays and
continuous learning, I find myself building not just a career but also
meaningful connections.
My mornings often start with checking emails and catching up on tasks,
collaborating seamlessly with my team via meetings and video calls. My
interactions with colleagues from across the globe, particularly Charles,
have become an integral part of my daily routine. Our discussions about
work, life, and the occasional cultural exchange helps me feel more
connected at work.
I would say he has quickly become my reliable point of contact as his
insight into the industry and his willingness to share his knowledge have
become invaluable to me.
Through the project we’re collaborating on, I’ve learned to appreciate
Charles’ strong work ethic and creative problem-solving skills. I also
admire his ability to balance a demanding job with a personal life that
seems rich and fulfilling. Just one thing though—he has a girlfriend, but I
think he needs a real girlfriend. That’s a story for another day.
While immersed in work tasks, a LinkedIn notification pops up on my
screen. Curious, I click on it to find a connection request from someone
whose full name and profile picture causes my heart to beat like a drum for
a popular masquerade dance.
Evans Eke—I haven’t thought about him in years.
Why is he reaching out? After all these years… What does he want?
Why not through Instagram, Facebook or another non-professional social
network? Does he need a referral? Where is he now?
Despite having many questions, I accept the connection. From his
profile, I see he now works in the USA. Within moments, a message from
him appears in my inbox. As I read it, I feel a mix of surprise, curiosity, and
a touch of nostalgia.
Evans was a good friend. We shared some good times back in Hopewell
Uni, but… I wanted other things and our paths diverged, leading us to
different places and experiences.
In his messages, he asks about my life, work, and how things have been
since we last crossed paths. I respond politely, maintaining a friendly tone,
sharing a bit about my Ireland journey and my current role in data analytics.
More like engaging in a conversation without revealing too much personal
information.
I’m happy to hear from him, we never parted on bad terms, yet this feels
strange. Is he genuinely reconnecting or is there something else behind his
messages?
I acknowledge now that I kind of did him dirty. So, while I appreciate
him reaching out, I’m treading cautiously and not letting nostalgia cloud my
judgment.
Then it drops.

New Message from Evans:

I’m actually reaching out to you for a specific reason. I’ve
been involved with an NGO and we’re looking for
mentors. Your experience caught my eye.
 Huh, what? Me? A mentor?
Please calm down. I’m still learning the rudimentary parts of my career.

Me:
This sounds like a wonderful initiative.
Tell me more about it.

He proceeds to share details and links about the NGO’s mission, goals,
and their focus on empowering young African girls in the tech field, starting
with Nigeria.
This isn’t focused on green energy, but it’s more like his thing. Am I
surprised Evans Eke is still on his perspire-to-aspire save Nigeria mission?
He explains that they’re actively seeking mentors to guide and inspire
these aspiring minds, highlighting the potential impact I could have on
these young girls’ lives.
His words take me by surprise, and I find myself intrigued by the idea of
being a mentor to young girls who share my passion for technology. The
thought of making a positive impact on their lives and being part of
something bigger than myself has me in a chokehold.
I type out my response; I’m genuinely interested in being a part of this.
Can you provide more information about the mentorship program itself
and what’s involved?

New Message from Evans:

Of course! We’re looking for mentors who can commit to
regular interactions with the mentees, guiding them
through their tech journey, offering advice, and helping
them build their skills. And you don’t have to always be
present. We have an upcoming event you can participate
in. That’s the real reason I’m reaching out. We don’t have
loads of female figures in this field that’s still heavily
male-dominated.
 Me:
This is a cause I can definitely get behind. But let me start
small. What’s the event about?

The rest of our conversation is history because I’m on board! It still

amazes me that I never would have thought of doing or being a part of
something like this and now Evans, connecting with me out of the blues is
offering the opportunity to be a speaker.
I’m grateful for the chance to play a role in empowering the next
generation of tech enthusiasts and to use my experience to guide them on
their journey. Just the thought of being able to make a difference in the lives
of these young girls fills me with a sense of fulfillment that goes beyond my
personal ambitions. If I’m feeling this way for just accepting to do this, how
would I feel when I’m done.
Splendid!
My day at work comes to an end, and I gather my belongings, feeling a
sense of satisfaction for the progress I’ve made. My conversation with
Evans lingers in my mind, filling me with joy. It’s heartening to know he’s
doing well and that he’s actively involved in meaningful initiatives.
Stepping out of the building, the cool evening breeze brushes against my
skin, and I can’t wait to get home. I love the new space I recently moved to.
It has a lot of light coming into the room and the kitchen walls are covered
in cute, patterned wallpaper. I’ll save up enough to get a car soon. And yes,
I’m already prepping G-Ben to come study over here. This year is definitely
my year.
Oh, let’s not forget that Special and I have been in a blissful cocoon of
surplus love and joy. We’ve been surprising ourselves with gifts and
deliveries every other week.
Walking down the familiar path home, I pull out my phone and begin
typing a message to Special to let him know about the volunteer event and
who reached out, but my fingers hesitate over the keyboard.
Was I too impulsive in agreeing to volunteer without discussing it with
him first? Umm… do I really need to tell him who reached out? He used to
crack silly jokes about Evans, which would lead to me defending Evans.
That often escalated into something more. I really don’t like it when we
have misunderstandings, and it’s usually my fault. The event isn’t until
weeks from now, so I can always change my mind and avoid the drama of
mentioning Evans’ name.
After a moment of contemplation, I decide that half bread is better than
none. Picking up from our ongoing conversation, I type a message.

Me:
I got invited to volunteer as a mentor for a mentorship
program for young girls in tech living in Nigeria. Their
vision and goals were inspiring, and I accepted to speak at
the upcoming event on the spot.
Lol. You can call me mentor Fifi 😉

I hit send and watch the message get marked as delivered. Seconds tick
by, and I find myself anxiously waiting for his response. Part of me hopes
for his support, while another part worries about his reaction.
His reply finally comes when I open my front door. Apprehensive, I
open the message.

New Message from Special Love:

Mentor Fifi!
Congratulations 🎊🎊

Smiling like I just won the lottery, I set about preparing a simple dinner
for myself which consists of white rice and vegetable sauce.
With dinner on the cooker, I settle onto my couch and grab my laptop. I
find myself drawn to a YouTube video of a Nigerian lady sharing her
immigration journey to Canada. She speaks passionately about her
experiences, the challenges she faced, and the opportunities she discovered
in a new country. As I listen, a twinge of nostalgia and longing for home
tugs at my heart.
Lost in thought, I’m brought back to the present by the familiar chime of
my phone, indicating an incoming video call. It’s Special, as expected.
 “My mentor!”
Chuckling, I answer, “Yes mentee, how can I help you today?”
“Please how do I get into tech?” he teases. “See my baby!”
“Stop it, you’re making me shy,” I say, covering my face with one hand.
“Shy for what? Abegi!”
We both chuckle, but I notice he looks tired more than usual. “Are you
okay?” I ask.
“I’m good, I’m good. Just a busy schedule at work. First off, how’s my
baby doing? How was your day?”
I tell him about my day at work, the new tasks I’ve taken on, and the
connections I’ve been making with colleagues. I skip over the part about
Evans and the mentorship opportunity for now, choosing to focus on other
aspects.
As I recount my day, he responds with genuine interest, asking follow-
up questions and offering his insights. We talk about our plans for the
weekend, our thoughts on current political events in Nigeria, and trending
entertainment gist.
Dinner is ready, so I excuse myself to grab a plate. We continue our
conversation while I eat, the sound of his voice a comforting presence in the
room. He tells me about his day, the challenges he’s facing at work, and the
latest news from back home in Nigeria.
With the call nearing its end, he asks, “Are you still planning to watch
those Korean dramas later?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of episodes lined up. It’s become a nice way to
wind down.”
He teases, “I still can’t believe you’re watching K-dramas.”
“Hey, you liked it when you tried it. Besides, it’s a good way to escape
into a different world for a while.”
We say our goodnights, and I hang up with a sense of contentment and a
bittersweet longing. Our conversation always leaves me with warmth in my
heart. I wish I could sleep in his arms tonight.
Soon...
 Rubicon has branches in the UK. Once I figure out how to go about
relocating, I’ll present it to him.
Tsk, I grin, he’s going to be so shocked.

OceanofPDF.com
 27
___________

See and Be Seen

The days continue to pass, each one a chapter in the story of my new life in
Dublin. On weekends, I try out new cafés to break out of my routine.
Although we speak on the phone from time to time, I miss Itohan’s
presence, a lot. She finally got a job in Dublin and is looking for a
reasonably priced apartment in Dublin. I’m praying alongside her that she
gets something close by for selfish reasons, because I’m bored, lonely and
tired!
Work has been great—I’ve made significant progress with my project
and my friendship with Charles is thriving.
Beyond the walls of my workplace, I step into the community, seeking
ways to make a positive impact. Volunteering becomes a way to connect
with the heartbeat of Dublin, to give back to a city that has welcomed me
with open arms. Whether it’s participating in local tech meetups or lending
a helping hand at community events, I discover a sense of fulfillment that
goes beyond the confines of my job title.
 All thanks to Evans who sparked something within me when he
humbled me with the opportunity to potentially mentor young girls
interested in Tech. Since he reached out, we occasionally exchanged
messages on LinkedIn related to the upcoming event. It’s cool that despite
our history, we have mutual respect and genuine intent to make a positive
impact on the community.
Then there’s the memory of my time in the UK with Special. It is a
cherished treasure in my heart. Our days together, exploring the British
Museum, savoring good food, and sharing our thoughts, continue to play in
my mind like scenes from a movie. It feels so long ago.
Sometimes, I find myself scrolling through my phone, looking at the
photos of us together, seeking reassurance in our smiles. We look great
together. The chemistry between us is undeniable, and I can’t wait to feel
his touch. Lay in his arms. And spend every waking moment with him.

*****

Weeks turn into months, and the rhythm of life becomes familiar. The
balance between work, friendships, and moments of solitude paints a
picture of my growth here.
One evening after work, Alice called to catch up, hyping me and asking
me for academic advice. She makes jokes about me getting ready to
officially become her rich big sister which didn’t sit well with me, but I let
it slide.

*****

Another opportunity captures my attention—an application to volunteer at a

major StartUp Grind event. Just being part of an event that celebrates
technology, creativity and ingenuity fills me with excitement. So, with a
few clicks, I submit my application and get a positive response.
As the StartUp Grind draws near, I can’t keep calm. I share my
expectations with Special, recounting the steps I’ve taken to engage with
the tech and entrepreneurial community. With his words of encouragement
echoing in my mind, I step into the event space on the day of StartUp
Grind.
While mingling with fellow volunteers, speakers, and other attendees at
the event, it dawns on me that if I had chosen to follow the path society had
mapped out for me, I’ll never be here, in this space and time. Most likely
working at Mama Gee’s peppersoup joint.
Shaking off the melancholic thought, I get engrossed in conversation
with two passionate women in tech. We talk about our work experiences,
ideas, and the thrill of being part of a tech community that thrives on
innovation. We discuss emerging technologies, the challenges of being a
woman in a male-dominated industry, and the exciting prospects that lie
ahead.
As our conversation flows, they casually drop the name ‘Liam’ a couple
of times, referencing him as a familiar figure in the StartUp Grind world. Is
he a prominent entrepreneur, a respected thought leader, or perhaps a
mentor to these women? Their conversations about him are peppered with
admiration and respect, leaving me intrigued.
With a curious smile, I decide to steer the conversation towards
uncovering more about this ‘Liam’ guy. “He seems to be quite a significant
figure in this community.” I smile, raising an eyebrow.
The two women exchange knowing glances before one of them, Emma,
responds, “Oh, absolutely. Liam has been a driving force behind some of
the most successful startups in Dublin. His insights and mentorship have
guided many young entrepreneurs to success.”
I nod, genuinely impressed by his impact. “It sounds like he’s made
quite a difference. I’d love to learn more about him and the work he’s
done.”
The other woman, Krystal, a founder who has raised a significant
amount of funding for her beauty brand that’s heavy on tech chuckles softly.
“You know, he’s actually here at the event. He’s so young and charismatic,
you’ll know he’s naturally talented for this field. Did I mention Liam is a
guest speaker on the panel about funding disruptive technologies. You
should definitely catch his session if you can.”
“I will.” I make a mental note to attend the session and glean insights
from his experiences. Who knows, I could be the next big thing in tech,
haha.
We continue our conversation, and the stories of these women and their
determination to shatter glass ceilings inspire me. We ended up sharing
contact information, promising to stay connected beyond the event.
A while later, I bid them farewell to explore other parts of the event, my
mind focused on the impact individuals like Liam can have on shaping the
trajectory of others’ careers. I check online to see if I can pre-register a spot
in his session, alas, registration is closed.
Disappointed but undeterred, I make my way to the session, hopeful I’ll
be able to glean some insights even if I can’t register online. However, as I
approach the entrance, a courteous usher informs me the room is fully
booked.
Suppressing a sigh of frustration, I manage a polite smile, nodding at the
usher’s words. “I understand. Thank you for letting me know.”
She seems sympathetic and glances at the event’s badge hanging around
my neck. “Oh, you’re one of our volunteers, aren’t you?”
I nod again, feeling a touch of consolation that my dedication as a
volunteer might pay off. “Yes, that’s right.”
She offers an apologetic smile. “I’m really sorry about this. Most times
the popular sessions fill up quickly. But don’t worry, we appreciate your
contribution as a volunteer. If you’d like, I can make sure you’re on the list
for any popular future session you’re interested in.”
I’m grateful for her understanding and considerate gesture, but I’ll be
fine. “Thank you, that would be great. I’ll definitely plan ahead next time.”
She smiles warmly. “Absolutely, and thank you for your hard work as a
volunteer. We couldn’t make events like this happen without dedicated
individuals like you.”
Story!
Although I’m disappointed with the turn of events, her words manage to
lift my spirits. While I might have missed out on Liam’s session this time,
I’ve had the opportunity to engage with fellow attendees, contribute to the
event’s success, and learn from some sessions.
 I thank the usher and continue navigating the event, determined to seize
every opportunity to learn, grow, and make my mark in this tech field.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I pull out my phone and search for Liam
online. It doesn’t take long for me to find his LinkedIn profile, complete
with a professional headshot. As I click on his photo, my heart skips a beat.
My breath hitches. And a smile tugs at my lips.
There’s a certain rugged handsomeness about him that reminds me of
the dashing heroes from the Korean dramas I’m so fond of. His intense,
smiling gaze seems to pierce through the screen, and I’m momentarily lost
in it.
I chuckle to myself, aware of the whimsical nature of my reaction. But
as I look at his profile, a sense of uncontrollable admiration washes over
me. He’s the poster specimen for young, successful, and undoubtedly
accomplished. His expertise, his background—my, see how many
companies he’s an investor and board of. An aura of power and
determination surrounds him, which explains why those ladies mentioned
him so often during our discussion.
Does he have any problems in life? How many girlfriends does he have?
Hmm… someone like him will probably be engaged according to the
Korean dramas I watch. Hmm… Lucky woman.
Lucky woman? Huh? Catching myself, I shake off the momentary
infatuation. It’s totally normal to be blown away by young, successful, and
influential individuals. Refocusing my energies, I scroll through his profile
with a clearer head. Satisfied with my current finding, I bookmark his
profile for future reference and tuck my phone away.

*****

It’s been a long day, but worth it. I rush back home, still buzzing from the
Startup Grind event. The conversations, the ideas, the potential
collaborations—it’s all swirling in my mind, and I can’t wait to share the
details with Special. My phone is dead, thanks to all the pictures and
activities I indulged it in. Entering my apartment, I kick off my shoes, set
my bag down, plug in my phone, before grabbing my laptop. With a quick
glance at the clock, I realize it’s about time for Special’s evening call.
 I settle into my favorite spot on the couch, open up my laptop, and dial
his number. I don’t bother checking if he’s called earlier. It’s Saturday and
according to his schedule, he should be home.
My laptop screen comes to life, revealing Special in his kitchen, clad in
an apron and surrounded by various ingredients and utensils. A warm smile
tugs at my lips as I see him cooking. There’s something incredibly
endearing about watching him in his element.
“Hey there,” he greets, his voice carrying a playful note as he stirs
something in a pot.
“Hey you,” I reply, smiling wide. “You won’t believe how amazing the
StartUp Grind event was. I met some incredible people, and the energy was
just—”
Special chuckles, cutting me off. “Woah, slow down! I can tell it was a
great day for you.”
I take a deep breath, trying to contain my enthusiasm. “Sorry, I’m just
really excited. So… what is Mr. Chef cooking tonight?”
He raises an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. “Well, just so you know,
ITKs will call it concoction jollof, but I call it vegetable rice boiled in spicy
tomato sauce.”
I giggle. “Vegetable—what? Oga, that’s why you’re all dressed up?”
He grins. “Tell me you’re not enjoying the show.”
“Awwn, all this just for me?”
“Anything for my baby.” He winks, and it takes me back to our
Hopewell Uni days, and those days in Lagos.
I take a moment to look at him. Like really look at him. His messy, koko
hair that’s due for a haircut, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles—it all
feels so familiar and comforting. Despite the physical distance between us,
moments like these are what I cherish. What makes me feel close to him.
“So, tell me about your day,” he prompts, glancing at me as he adds
spices to his cooking pot.
I launch into the highlights of the event, sharing anecdotes and insights
from the people I met. He listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with
questions and comments. I’m practically bursting with excitement as I
recount my encounter with Liam. Okay, not an encounter, more like finding
out about him. I lean in closer to my laptop screen, hands gesturing
animatedly as I describe how he’s a tech disruptor, a force in the industry
who made his millions early on. “Can you believe it? He’s so young, yet on
the board of several companies, and his ideas are changing the game!”
Special chuckles. “Sounds like this Liam guy has really left an
impression on you.”
I nod fervently. “Oh, absolutely. He’s like a billionaire straight out of a
K-drama.”
“K-drama, huh?” He raises an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “Are they
getting to you?”
I laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed by my enthusiasm. “Maybe just a
little. But seriously, he’s incredible. His journey is so inspiring, and he’s
making such a difference and impact.”
Special leans back against the kitchen counter, a fond smile gracing his
lips. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding inspiration and excitement. Just
remember, you’re capable of making your own mark too.”
His words are reassuring, reminding me of the potential within me.
“Thanks, love. You always know how to lift me up.”
He tilts his head, smirking. “That’s what I’m here for, baybie.”
We chat a little longer about our plans for the rest of the weekend, with
my stomach unapologetically rumbling loudly. I laugh when he teases me
about being a hungry lion, and he promises to save some of his meal for
when I visit.

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 28
___________

Role Model
It’s the d-day! My first event where I’m the guest speaker to girls who have
been sent my amplified career bio and I’m all nerves and excitement. I’ve
prepared my thoughts and experiences to share with them, ready to inspire
and encourage them. But before the virtual event starts, I get on a call with
Special, my heart fluttering as I share my upcoming plans.
I fidget with the edge of my laptop, a bit hesitant as I remind him about
the event. “Yes, it’s that one where I get to mentor young girls.”
“Oh, oh, the NGO one.”
“Same. Evans actually invited me to be a part of it.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the call, with the silence stretching
for a moment before Special’s voice breaks it. “Evans? Evans of Hopewell?
The same guy who’s been chatting you up recently?”
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of my omission. “Yes, the same
Evans. He reached out to me because he’s involved with this NGO and
thought I’d be a good fit.”
 Special’s tone is tense as he responds, “So, you conveniently left out that
it was him who invited you?”
I wince at his words, realizing the mistake I made in not being
completely open. “I... I didn’t mean to hide it from you—”
“You didn’t?”
“I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”
He cuts me off, his voice sharp and cutting. “You didn’t think it was a
big deal to mention that your ex invited you to an event? Fifi, that’s not just
a small detail.”
Pangs of guilt hit me as his words hit harder than expected. “Baby, I’m
sorry. I thought—I should have been more transparent about it.”
His frustration is evident as he continues, “You’re letting your job and
all these opportunities make you think you can make decisions without
considering the impact they have on us. You keep doing these things—
making decisions and playing with my head—”
I try to interject, but he doesn’t give me the chance, his words cutting
deeper. “What do we even talk about when we talk? You’re acting like
you’re too busy to talk to me properly. It’s like your world has become all
about your job and these events. What do you take me for? That I’m dumb
or what?”
Tears well up in my eyes as his words sting. “Baby, I—I… I didn’t mean
for it to come across that way. I respect and love you. I care about you and
us, and I didn’t mean to make you feel dumb.”
He sighs, his tone softening just a bit. “Fifi, I want you to succeed and
be happy, but I also want us to be on the same page. We’re a team, and
decisions that affect us should be made together. Do you think he would let
his ex speak at my event? I’m not saying I would have told you not to do
your thing, but a man has his pride. All you could have done was let me
know.”
I wipe away a tear, nodding even though he can’t see me. “You’re right,
baby. You’re right. I should have talked to you about it first. I’m sorry.”
He lets out a sigh, his voice gentler now. “Just remember, I want you to
be successful, but I also want us to always communicate and be honest with
each other.”
 I sniffle, licking my lips. “I promise. Baby I promise I’ll make sure we
talk about things before I make decisions that involve us.”
He sighs again and I can imagine the worry lines on his forehead easing
up. “Okay,” he lets out a big breath, “umm… just focus on your event right
now. Hearing the whole Evans thing last minute rubbed off real bad.”
“I’m eternally sorry.”
“No problem. We’ll talk about this later. Focus on your event.”
“Okay baby.”
I take a deep breath after we say our goodbyes, determined to approach
the event with a clear mind and a renewed commitment to make my
relationship with Special a priority. There’s a heaviness in my chest from
our argument, a pang of guilt for not being more transparent. But there’s
also a determination to not let it overshadow the event I’m about to be a
part of. I don’t know what got into me that I didn’t mention Evans earlier
and why I thought to bring it up now.
What’s done is done.
The virtual event is about to start, and I want to give these young girls
the best of me, despite the turbulence in my heart. Gazing at my reflection
in the mirror, I hype myself.
“You’ve got this, Fifi,” I whisper. “Focus on the girls, on sharing your
journey with them. Let them see your passion, your dedication to data and
tech. Don’t let what just happened affect what you’ve prepared to do.”
Confident, I nod then smile, before heading over to my laptop.
Joining the video call, I push aside all lingering doubts and anxieties,
channeling my energy into being present for the girls.
They’re in what looks like a classroom, over thirty of them. After a brief
introduction by the lady on ground, I introduce myself with a warm smile,
feeling a rush of excitement as I share snippets of my experience in the tech
world. The girls seem engaged, their eager faces visible on my screen. I tell
them about the challenges I’ve faced, the barriers I’ve overcome, and the
opportunities that have come my way. And as I speak, I feel a sense of
empowerment in sharing my story with them.
“This brings me back to my point of the importance of surrounding
yourself with people who support your goals and dreams,” I preach,
knowing how impactful someone like Special has been in my career
journey. “I believe you all have brighter futures, so please, keep it up. If you
have questions, you can go ahead and ask now.” I smile, ending my speech.
With each question they ask, their curiosity and enthusiasm remind me
of my newfound passion to mentor and guide the next generation of women
in tech. I offer advice, encouragement, and insights, hoping that I can
inspire them to pursue their dreams fearlessly.
Done with my session, with a grateful smile, I bid the girls farewell and
log off from the call.
“Thank you, Jesus!” I grin, dancing around my room.
“That felt great!” I murmur, walking back to my table. Just as I’m about
to close my laptop, my phone buzzes with an incoming call from Evans. I
gave him my phone number a while ago, but he’s never bothered to use it.
We mostly communicated via LinkedIn and emails for the event prep.
“Hey,” I greet, a smile spreading across my face. “How was it?”
“It was great.” His voice sounds enthusiastic—that is a good sign.
“Thanks again for agreeing to mentor those girls. It means a lot to them,
you know?”
A warm glow of satisfaction melts my heart, and my cheeks burn. “Of
course, it was my pleasure. I believe in the power of empowering others,
especially when it comes to paying it forward.”
“Absolutely,” he agrees. “Speaking of empowerment, I couldn’t help but
notice how inspiring you are, Fifi. You have this incredible drive and
passion that’s truly infectious. Time has molded you into an extraordinary
woman.”
I blush at the compliment; thankful this is a voice call. This is the part
where I’m supposed to respond, oh. “Thank you. That means a lot coming
from you.”
“Ah, Fifi…”
Yes…
“You did great.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “You said it and
you’re doing it.”
“Wait oh.” I chuckle. “What did I say?”
 “Remember that first night we talked about our dreams? You said you’d
work in companies like Microsoft, and look at you, doing your thing with
Rubicon.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I never doubted you. See you travelling the world.”
“Travelling where?”
“You’re in Dublin, so you’ve started already.”
Shy now, as it looks like Evans is unraveling a part of me that I’ve long
forgotten about, I place a hand to my face. “I don’t know about that—”
“You’re a strong lady. I believe that with you, it’s all a matter of time.”
What do I say to that? This conversation is getting too close to home.
“So… any special someone in your life?” he teases.
His question catches me off guard, and I chuckle at the unexpected turn.
“Oh, you’re diving into personal territory now,” I respond, matching his
playful tone.
“Come on, spill the beans.”
The transition to relationship talk feels natural, and I’m curious to know
what’s happening with him in that department too. “Sure, let’s talk
relationships.”
“I bet there’s someone out there feeling pretty lucky right now, because
you’re a catch.”
I playfully roll my eyes, enjoying the banter. “Well, you know, work
keeps me pretty occupied,” I say with a smile. “But, yes, I’m in a
relationship.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “I knew it. Who is it? Someone I know? A Naija
guy? A white dude?”
I chuckle as he keeps guessing, maintaining a mysterious demeanor,
neither confirming nor denying his guesses.
He laughs, giving up. “Well, whoever ends up with you is one lucky
person, that’s for sure.”
“Thank you.” Curiosity gets the better of me, I decide to reciprocate the
question. “How about you? Any special someone in your life?”
 There’s a momentary pause on his end, and then he responds, “Well, you
know how it is.”
I muster a surprised chuckle, trying to mask the astonishment in my
voice. “No one since—really?”
“Yeah, it’s been quiet on the relationship front. Work engagements and
stuff. Though, I guess I haven’t found anyone quite like you.”
Stunned is an understatement. I felt bad when I broke it off with him,
now I feel horrible. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Sorry for what?”
That’s true, sorry for what? I bite my lips, trying to figure out an answer
to that question. What exactly am I sorry for? For moving on? For finding
someone else?
I’m glad I did not reveal too much about my current relationship,
choosing to keep the details private for now. It feels like I’m doing
something wrong. Special’s words from earlier are mocking me and I want
this call to end now.
Trying to maintain composure, I respond with a soft laugh. “It’s all
good. Thanks for reaching out—I’m glad you did.”
“Thanks for participating,” he responds, getting the hint. “And Fifi, if
you ever need someone to discuss more than just tech or mentoring, feel
free to give me a call. I’m always available for a good chat.”
I respond with a nervous friendly chuckle, “Sure... I’ll keep that in
mind.”
Liar!

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___________

Mohammed and the Mountain

Although Special and I have been speaking every day since our altercation,
there’s a coldness in his attitude—our calls don’t last for long. My mind
keeps drifting back to the argument we had last weekend as the cause, but I
don’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to rehash it. I need someone
to talk to, someone who might offer a different perspective on the situation.
And there’s one person who comes to mind: Charles.
When I arrive home from work, I pull up his phone number on
WhatsApp, type a quick greeting before asking if he’s available for a call.
“Hey Fifi, how are you doing?”
“I’m good. I hope you’re having a good day so far! Mind if I pick your
brain about something? A personal something.”
He doesn’t hesitate, his response is swift. “Of course, I’m all ears.
What’s on your mind?”
I take a deep breath, praying I am doing the right thing. “It’s nothing
serious, I just want to see things from a masculine perspective.”
 “Okay.”
Clearing my throat, I begin. “So, me and my guy yeah, we had a pretty
big argument, and I can’t shake the feeling that I messed up. I didn’t tell
him the whole truth about something, and now he’s really upset with me.
I’m not sure if I should have been more upfront or if I’m just overthinking
things.”
“Care to give me some context here?”
“Is that necessary?”
“You messed up big time?”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Why are you laughing. Come on, give me something to work with, so I
can understand what’s happening here. Is that why you didn’t respond to
my messages at work this week?”
“I did…”
“With one-word sentences. And during team meetings, you were not
your usual bubbly self.”
“Wow, you’re noticing things. This week has been normal to me.”
“Fifi give me context here. I need you back to normal.”
I sigh deeply, accepting my fate. “So, my ex reached out—”
“Anything involving ex and current is always a mess but continue.”
Blinking, I sigh, starting over again. “My ex reached out that I help his
NGO and I saw it as an opportunity to make my mark—”
“NGO, that’s cute.”
“Charles….” I drag, frustrated.
He chuckles.
“This is a serious issue that’s bothering me.”
“Okay, I’m all ears. No more interruptions. So yeah, the NGO?”
“Yes, I said yes to speaking as a mentor. I told my guy about it the first
day I got the offer, but I left out the bit of my ex being the organizer of the
event. And then… he found out and… let’s just say he didn’t like it. We had
an argument. I apologized and he was like, okay, it’s fine. But it’s not. I
know when he’s giving me the cold shoulder. And he is right now.”
“Have you talked to him about your feelings since you started feeling
this… this cold shoulder?”
His words make me pause and reflect. Maybe it’s not the end of the
world that I didn’t reveal everything immediately.
“No. I haven’t had a chance to fully discuss my feelings with him yet. I
guess I’m just trying to figure out if I should apologize again for not being
completely honest or if I should stand my ground on why I made the
choices I did.”
“I won’t ask you why you made the choice you did, but what I can say is
that apologizing doesn’t mean admitting defeat; it’s about acknowledging
your part and working through it together. And standing your ground should
come from a place of understanding and explaining your perspective.”
Standing my ground and working through it together is all that sticks to
my head. “Thing is, like I said, he’s giving me the cold shoulder.”
“Did you understand what I said.”
I shake my head. “Hmm mmh.”
“This is why I broke off with my ex; sometimes this distance thing can
make things more complicated than they need to be. If you feel strongly
about your guy, maybe it’s worth considering taking some time off and
visiting him. Sometimes, physical closeness can help clear the air and ease
tensions. I wish I had done that in my relationship. Plus, you’ve mentioned
how much you’ve missed him. Maybe that’s playing a role in his reaction.
Men need assurance too.”
I smile, recalling Davido’s song titled Assurance. “You might be onto
something. We’ve been apart for a while now, and maybe the physical
distance is taking a toll on both of us. I’ll definitely think about taking some
time off and visiting him. Hmm… thank you!”
“No problem, Fifi. Here to help. Sometimes a fresh perspective is good.
I hope things work out for you. And hey, if you do decide to visit,
remember to communicate and body no be firewood, you hear?”
I chuckle, nodding, even though he can’t see me. “Yes sir.”
 It’s nice to have someone to talk to who understands the complexities of
relationships and can offer thoughtful advice.
Maybe… maybe taking some time off to be with him is exactly what we
need right now. It’s been a while since my last visit. Last we spoke about it,
he was supposed to come visit, we just have finalized the timing.
Picking up my phone again, I send a quick message to Itohan whose new
apartment is twenty plus minutes’ walk away.

Me:
Hey! I hope you’re doing well.
Would you mind some company later?
I could really use a friend to talk to.

It doesn’t take long for Itohan’s response to come in, and I smile as I
read her message.

New Message from Itohan:

Of course, boo!
I’m home today, so just stop by whenever you’re ready.

Feeling grateful for having such a supportive friend, I make my way to

my room to freshen up before heading over to Itohan’s. As I walk, my
thoughts drift between the events of the past few days and the possibilities
of what’s to come.
Soon enough, I’m knocking on Itohan’s door. The door opens, revealing
her warm smile.
“Hey, boo! Come on in,” she says, waving me inside.
“Smells nice in here,” I say, greeted by the familiar scent of her cooking
and the welcoming ambiance that has always made her place feel like a
home away from home. “I came at the right time!”
We chuckle, settling on the couch as she brings me up to speed on how
her day went. She doesn’t delay in asking what the issue is and I launch into
telling her about the recent events with Special—the argument, the
miscommunication on my part, my growing worry about the relationship
being stagnant and my impending travel.
“This is complicated,” she sighs, rubbing the back of her head.
“Especially this one that there’s distance involved.”
I nod, agreeing with her. “It’s just hard sometimes, you know?
Especially when I’m trying my best to balance my career, our relationship,
and everything else.”
Itohan places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I get it, boo. But
you’ve always been strong and capable. Honestly, if you didn’t tell me this
one, I would have sworn you guys never fight.”
“Haba!” I chuckle.
She slaps her hand on her thigh. “It’s true oh. But… if visiting Special is
something you’re really considering, weigh the pros and cons, and make a
decision that feels right for you.”
“You won’t tell me what to do?”
She looks at me with mock surprise. “I sabi wetin una dey do for koro?
If you like go, if you like, don’t go. For me, going would ensure that
someone press my body small. Chei I—”
“It’s not like that for us.”
“You say?”
I wave a hand. “You didn’t hear that.”
“So…” she smirks. “You two just hold hands and sing kumbaya?
Hmm.”
“Which reminds me, are you still seeing that your Ghanaian boyfriend?”
She scrunches her nose. “If I hear say una dey sing. You want to change
the topic?”
I grin. “Obviously.”

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___________

Touchdown
Days later, I’m standing in front of my open suitcase, carefully arranging
the items I’ll need for my trip. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions lately,
and I’ve decided to take some time off from work to visit Special. It’s been
too long since we’ve seen each other, and I hope this visit will help us
reconnect and make concrete future plans.
With my suitcase packed, I zip it shut and glance around my apartment.
I’m going to miss this space but not as much as I’ve missed Special’s. I
glance at the clock—I have to hurry if I want to catch my flight.
Soon, I’m at the airport, clutching my passport and boarding pass. I
navigate my way through check-in and security, my heart pounding
erratically as I realize I didn’t think this decision through. As usual, I keep
forgetting I’m one way or the other scared of flights only realizing this
when I’m in the airport or like the last time, when the plane is ready for take
off. To get my mind off the moment, I plug in my earbuds, close my eyes
and daydream about the moments I’ll be sharing with Special in a few
hours.
 The flight feels like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, and before I
know it, we’re touching down.
I collect my luggage and make my way through the airport, following
the signs to the taxi stand. There’s a chill in the evening air that’s both
invigorating and familiar. My mind drifts to my first international arrival at
Dublin airport and I chuckle—that lady no longer exists. She’s decked in a
fashionable light jacket and sunshades.
I go to the taxi rank, there is one waiting. I give the driver Special’s
address and settle into the backseat. The drive feels surreal. Each passing
landmark looks familiar yet foreign. As we pull up to Special’s apartment
building, I take a deep breath and pay the fare with a thankful smile.
It’s like the first time I came here—my heart is racing wildly as I stand
in front of his door. With trembling fingers, I knock and wait.
Seconds later, the door swings open, revealing a surprised but delighted
Special. His eyes widen as he takes in my presence, his lips forming a grin
that mirrors my own, and all my worries seem to melt away.
“Fifi? What... how did you...”
I cut him off with a hug, my heart soaring as I feel his arms wrap around
me, holding me close as if he never wants to let go. “Surprise…” I say, still
grinning. “I couldn’t stay away any longer.”
He chuckles, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes. His warm
brown eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, the world around us fades
into the background. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
His smile, though still tinged with surprise, radiates the same comfort
and affection that has drawn me to him from the very beginning.
I shrug playfully, massaging him exposed forearms. “I’ve been told a
time or two.” In the last few days, during our dull and boring chats, I’ve
been teasing him about finalizing his plans of visiting me.
He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Come in, come in.”
Hand in hand, we step into his apartment, and a sense of déjà vu washes
over me, causing a fuzzy feeling of familiarity to wash over me. The
coziness of his living space, the scent of his cologne, and the comfort of
being near him again—it’s as if I never left.
 I’ve missed this place… his presence, being near him… everything! The
ache of missing him, of being separated by miles, misunderstandings, work,
and responsibilities, everything fades away. There’s just something about
Special. About being with him. Only someone that has experienced this
feeling will understand.
Why aren’t we together? Something must be wrong with me. I should
have been planning my move to the UK, but no, I want to summit mount
Everest before settling down.
This couch… I inhale deeply, smiling. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I
remember the last time I was here… the way his fingers found places in my
body I didn’t think were important for pleasure… Hmm, I swallow,
tightening the muscles of my butt. Well, good thing I am here. Maybe we
can do the real stuff now.
“Late night August visitor,” he teases squeezing my hand, “how long
will you be staying?”
“Till Sunday,” I say, smiling in anticipation of the next four days we’ll
spend together, exploring and, ahem, learning more about each other.

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___________

Water No Get Enemy

I stir awake, my eyes fluttering open as I become aware of my
surroundings. Morning light filters gently through the curtains, casting a
warm glow over the room—something I’ve missed because I tried getting
an apartment facing the sunrise, but it comes at a heavy price. Lucky me,
my man’s room doesn’t lack in the abundance of sunlight.
Special is breathing steady beside me, reassuring me that he’s still lost in
sleep. With a soft smile, I nuzzle closer to him, feeling the comforting rise
and fall of his chest. It’s a signed deal, I’m the early morning person.
Shifting slightly, I trace idle patterns on his arm with my fingers. I
wasn’t thinking about intimacy or sex when I arrived late last night like
Charles and Itohan had suggested, I was just glad to be here with him. And
the gentleman that he is, he fed me, watched a movie with me till I felt
sleepy, then escorted me to bed.
Now that I know what he’s into, the desire to be close to him intensifies,
an ache that has been subconsciously building since he opened the door last
night. When we hugged, the way his body fit perfectly against mine, and the
way my skin melted at his touch, confirmed everything I needed to know.
I continue my exploration with my fingers, wanting to memorize this
fine specimen. Gently, I brush my lips against the curve of his neck, leaving
a trail of delicate kisses. His breath catches, and I feel a shiver pass through
him—a response that causes heat to pool between my thighs.
I trail my lips lower, the softness of his skin against mine sending sparks
of electricity through my veins. His body stirs beneath me, and a quiet
groan escapes his lips. Encouraged, I press myself against him, molding my
body to his.
In my sultriest voice, I murmur against his skin, “Good morning.”
“Fii…” His chest rumbles with quiet mirth.
Yes… I smirk.
He blinks his eyes open, his surprised gaze meeting mine with longing.
But as the seconds tick by, his excited expression shifts to one of concern.
God please, not again.
He gently disentangles himself from my touch and a soft sigh escapes
my lips.
What now? I roll my eyes.
“Fifi,” he begins, then hesitates. “Baby…” He pulls me into his arms
while I pout, facing away. “You know the plan now.”
“The plan you forgot about the last time.”
“Tsk. I was weak.”
“Oh, can’t you be weak again?”
He chuckles.
“It’s not funny. Is something wrong with me?”
“No, no, no, baby,” he rushes to placate me. “It’s not you. Feel it now.”
He thrusts his waist in my direction, causing his erection to press against
me.
Probably just morning wood.
“I want you like crazy. Need and want you, like no tomorrow. But we’re
both aware of the circumstances. Once I start, baby, I don’t want any
excuses. And I don’t want us taking such risks. We need to be careful,
especially now that the finish line is almost here. We’ll be together soon and
everything will align.”
Whatever… I nod, tired of the direction the topic is going.
“You’re not on the same page with me?” His voices cause my resolve to
break.
“Spesh… I understand,” I say softly, reaching out to cup his cheek. “I
just... I miss you so much. And I just feel… I feel we should go to the next
level. I remember the way I felt the last time and I want to feel that way
whenever I’m around you.”
He smiles, a bittersweet expression that mirrors my longing. “I miss you
too,” he replies, his fingers tracing the outline of my lips. “But not like this
baby. Not like this.” He leans in to press a gentle kiss against my forehead.
“I’m tired—I want.” I shrug, putting out my tongue to suck on his finger.
“Can we do a repeat of the last time?”
I sense him getting excited, but he’s forcing himself to remain
controlled. “When I get back from work?”
“Oh, I forgot.”
He smiles, taking his finger from my lips. “Yeah. That’s what you get
when you keep surprising me with your visits. At least I got to sleep better
and longer, but now I’m late.”
As much as I want to keep him close, I understand the demands of his
job. “I’ll be looking forward to that,” I reply, letting my fingers linger on his
cheek before reluctantly withdrawing my touch. “Go and conquer the day,
lover...”
“I’ll do my best.” He chuckles, his gaze holding mine for a moment
longer before he swings his legs over the edge of the bed.
I watch him standing, admiring his muscles that I’ll claim as mine
forever. Yummy… I lick my lips and wink. “You better.”
He shakes his head before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to my
forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll make tonight count.” He winks.
Hmm… when you put it like that… I grin, watching him head towards
the bathroom to prepare for his day, while I remain in bed for a moment
longer, savoring the heat he left behind.
Within minutes, he’s in and out of the shower, dressing up, telling me
where to find cereals for breakfast and some leftover stew I can have with
boiled white rice, some cash in one of the drawers, and then he is out the
door.
Nice! Left to my own devices.
With a contented sigh, I slip out of bed and begin to go about my
morning routine. Going through my luggage, I pull out my toiletries and
make-up bag. It’s high time I start forgetting things in his apartment, I
chuckle.
I smear toothpaste on my brush and begin the mechanical motion of
brushing, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Should I have planned this visit with him? Yes. Would I have done that?
No. Why? I don’t—I think it’s because I’m not sure of myself. I’m not sure
what we’re doing—
Shut up!
I pause, staring deeply at my reflection.
“What do you want?” I murmur to the lady staring at me with a black
satin cap on her head, full lashes, large, dreamy eyes, narrow-bridged nose,
with toothpaste foam around her lips. “What do you want?” I repeat again,
before spitting out toothpaste froth. “What are you doing here?”
I’m here for the one I love. The one who believes in me. And although I
have only felt nothing but love since I was born, Special sees the best in me
before others. To give him credit, he’s worth fighting for. Without him, I
won’t be here, talk less of being a Masters graduate from one of the best
schools in Europe.
I let out a long breath, turn on the tap and guzzle water, washing my
mouth with a permanent goofy smile. Oh Special…
The apartment, though empty of his physical presence, is still imbued
with his essence. I miss him already.
Taking my time, I shed off my vest, shorts, and sexy underwear—a must
when I’m visiting my man—as though he’s in the room with me. I need to
practice anyways.
 After wearing my shower cap, I step into the shower, allowing the hot
water to cascade over me before switching to warm water.
“…tonight, I’ll make it count,” he’d said. Who knows what he has
planned?
I smile, soaping my sponge and begin to lather my body. For the first
time in over twenty-four years, I pause while washing my breasts, taking a
moment to get to know myself better. I lift my breasts, gently massaging
them, thinking of my hands as Special’s. It’s funny at first, but I decide to
get into character, biting my lips. Warm water rains on me, acting as a
shield from the outside world. Liquid desire slips out of my vaginal walls,
and I dare myself further. I let one hand slide lower, play with my nether
lips, and then, with a deep inhale, slide my finger inside, imagining it’s
Special’s fingers doing the magic. I gasp, pressing my aroused breast into
my other hand that’s holding the sponge.
What the heck am I doing?
Looking down, sure enough, my finger is inside my vagina, waiting for
me to continue this madness that eats me up whenever I’m around Special.
Shaking my head, I try taking my fingers out and oh… the sensation…
Slowly, I push my finger back inside, close my eyes, and repeat the
process. Again. And again. Panting, I increase my pace. I don’t know if the
sponge has fallen; all I know is that I need to massage my breasts and stroke
my nipples.
Inserting another finger to the one already there, I moan as my pleasure
intensifies. My legs are shaking, my mind fascinated, by the pleasure the
thought of Special is having on me. Oh… I moan, tightening the muscles of
my butt as I remembered what he did to me with his fingers.
God… this feels so good.
Faster.
Yes! Yes…
Lost in the heat of the moment, I surrender to the sensations coursing
through me. With each thrust of my fingers, I conjure images of his touch,
his taste, his scent, amplifying my arousal to dizzying heights.
I’m getting there. Hm. Hm. Hm. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the
water around me guiding me to a destination I’m eager to arrive. I imagine
his hands on my skin, his lips trailing fiery paths across my body, his voice
whispering dirty things to me. Telling me I’m a dangerous woman. A
naughty girl. His wicked, selfish girl. His only girl. The intensity of it all
overwhelms me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of release.
Something is building in me. It’s coming from all sides—ugh! I don’t
know where.
Almost there.
Yes… yes…
“Hmm… Spesh… Spesh…” I moan, holding the wall for support as I
break into tiny pieces, my vaginal muscles contracting and spasming around
my fingers.
“Yes… hmm…” I moan, breathing heavily.
What did I just do? I ponder as the sensations ebb. Smiling, I slowly take
my fingers out of my vagina in wonder. Breathless and trembling, I lean
against the tiled wall of the shower, my heart still racing with the intensity
of my release. How come I haven’t thought of doing this for myself? I feel
so light and wow, I’m still smiling.
I chuckle, hugging myself.
Okay, this water is tepid, I need to get out. And with that, I do a quick
wash, scared of getting carried away by this new revelation I just unlocked
with my body—I don’t need Special in physical form to feel this way.
Stepping out of the shower, I towel off and dress up with what I’m sure
is a goofy smile on my face. Try as I might, the smile doesn’t go away.
Heading to the kitchen, I prepare a light breakfast, choosing a box of cereal
from his colorful selection. While I eat, I take the time to catch up on
messages, my mind occasionally wandering back to my shower moment.
Should I tell him about it?
Nah… it’s for me.
Maybe Itohan? She might have some tips and tricks to—no, not a smart
move.
This is my thing. A secretive smile plays on my lips as I contemplate the
newfound discovery I’ve made about myself. My personal, little secret, I
grin, planning what the rest of my day should look like.
 With work on hold during this visit, I decide to explore the city on my
own. There’s no need sitting at home, doing nothing.
Arming myself with the current non-fiction book I’m reading and a
shoulder strap bag, I make my way to a nearby park, finding solace in the
greenery and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The city bustles
around me, people chatting comically over their phones and footsteps that
remind me of the diversity and energy of this place.
While reading on a bench in a quiet corner of the park, often times, my
mind will pull me out of the writer’s world, to daydream about the future
Special and I are carving out together.
As the day progresses, the sun goes up higher and hotter and I leave the
park, wandering through streets lined with shops, each window displaying a
reflection of the city’s unique character. I pause at a bookstore, running my
fingers along the spines of fiction books I could get lost in. It’s a simple
pleasure I haven’t allowed myself in quite some time.
I send a message to Special, asking if it’s okay to step into a bookstore
and read a book without purchasing it.

New Message From Special:

Wish I was there with you.
Can’t remember the last time I read for pleasure.

Me:
You have the power. take a break.
New Message From Special:
You know the drill, if I don’t work, I don’t get paid
Me:
If you let me, I could take care of you…
New Message From Special:
Until that day.
Go in and read your book.
If they try to stop you, tell them you’re me 🙂
 Chuckling, I make my way into the bookstore, pick up a random short
literary fiction book that catches my attention, find a place to seat, and
begin reading.

*****

It was a good read!

I only took a break to grab a sandwich and fries from a store two blocks
away and returned to finish the book. On my way out, even though I made
no purchase, I dropped something in the tip jar.

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___________

Third Base
I make my way back to Special’s apartment as the sun begins to dip below
the horizon. Although it’s been a long time since I waited for someone
before eating, there’s no need to eat dinner alone when we’re together.
Awaiting his return, I settle on the couch, indulging in a Hollywood movie.
My tummy grumbles with each scene.
I’m almost giving up on him arriving on time when the sound of the
door unlocking draws my attention. My heart quickens as I turn to see him
entering the apartment, looking tired and worn, but when his eyes meets
mine, they twinkle. I’m so glad I can give that to him. And I’m so glad his
presence fills the space, bringing a sense of completeness that only he can
provide.
“Mr. Workaholic,” I greet as we approach each other, “welcome!”
He chuckles, pulling me in for a side hug. “It’s all for you. What’s up,
what did you finally have for dinner?”
“Nothing…”
“Fifi?” He sounds so dumbfounded as he pulls away from me.
 “Oh, I’m on vacation, remember?” I tease, smiling cheekily, knowing
well he cherishes our lighthearted banter, because I do!
Leaving me standing, he sits to take off his shoes. He looks up at me as
he does this with a raised eyebrow, and lips curled into a mock scowl.
“Vacation or not, I still need sustenance,” he retorts.
“Ehen… I thought it was my tummy we were talking about.” With a
flourish, I walk into the kitchen and produce the takeaway dinner I had
picked up on my way back. “I bought it from this nice place I passed by
during my walk,” I explain, feigning innocence as I hand him the container.
He accepts it with a playful roll of his eyes, unable to hide the smile that
tugs at his lips. “You bought food from a random store, ehn?” he comments,
opening the container and eyeing the contents. The aroma of the food fills
the air.
“It’s not random. I used google ratings to make this decision. It wasn’t
easy at all.”
“Just promise me you won’t take the same approach to cooking when
we’re married.”
Laughter bubbles within me. “Definitely!” I say, handing him cutlery
and settling down to do justice to my food.
He’s already shoving food into his mouth. “Not bad,” he swallows.
“Anyway sha, I love homecooked meals.”
“Me too. But I’m a busy woman, just like you are. If I’m too tired to
cook, what are we working for?”
He swallows another spoonful, nodding in agreement, then chokes and
begins coughing.
Instantly, I rush to get water, hand it to him, and as he drinks with tears
filling his eyes, I ask if he’s alright.
“Fifi ooo…. You gave me food without water.”
“Shh,” I chuckle, patting his back. “Don’t let Mama Gee hear you.”
His back vibrates with chuckles, before he raises a hand to tell me to
stop patting his back because he’s fine and that I should continue eating.
We resume enjoying our dinner, discussing our individual day while he
asks for permission to change the TV’s channel to BBC.
 Everything feels so perfect. So perfect, it makes me want to cry. There’s
this sense of déjà vu, like I’ve done this in my past life with him. The
familiarity in his gaze, the way his laughter feels like home, the light-
hearted teasing, the snarky comments, everything! Everything and more
reaffirms that this journey we’re on is worth every moment, irrespective of
past misunderstandings.
The evening stretches on, and the soft glow of the city’s lights filtering
through the window bathes us as time seems to slow down. Our playful
banter gradually gives way to a more tender atmosphere, and I find myself
perched on his lap.
His arms instinctively encircle me, drawing me closer to him as if he’s
afraid I might slip away. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and
electrifying, setting my heart racing as I gaze into his eyes.
“Wahala girl.” He smiles fondly, tweaking my nose. “I love you.”
“Because of my wahala, shey?”
He shakes his head. “You know it’s more than that.”
“Hmm.” I pout, feigning indifference when my heart is doing
somersaults and backflips. Playing with his beard I ask, “What about your
promise this morning?”
“Ah, my baby.” He chuckles, his hand running from my back to my butt,
giving me a promising squeeze. “Konji don dey choke you.”
Smiling and shaking my head, I press my face into his shoulder. “Fulfil
your promise jor.”
In a fluid motion, he rises from the couch, effortlessly lifting me as if I
were weightless, carrying me to the nearest surface. Our lips meet in kisses
that speaks of longing and desire. Time seems to stand still as we lose
ourselves in each other, our bodies passionately pressing together. It’s a
dance we’ve come to know well, a familiar rhythm. I could kiss him for
days if he would let me.
When he carefully drops me, I’m on the bed, while he’s leaning over me.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, his weight lifting off the bed.
This is it! We’re going all the way tonight!
 Within seconds, he returns with a discreet bag which he drops by the
pillow. He must have sensed my over heightened reaction. “Baby calm
down. This one that your blood is hot, we’re still not—”
No! I don’t want to hear it.
Immediately, with hands on my sides, I sit up. “What do you mean?
Why?” I can’t believe I’m begging my man for sex!
He sits beside me, like he’s about to talk sense into a child. “Not again,
babe.”
“Yes, again…”
“Let’s not start something we can’t continue or control. Until we know
for sure we can be within the same vicinity, really babe. I’ve seen what sex
does to beautiful relationships. Besides, I respect G-Ben, I wouldn’t want
him to feel like I’m using you.”
“Using me? How does G-Ben tie into this? Please, please, please, if it’s a
joke, stop it. How can we be together for this long and we’re yet to straff?”
Naming something so beautiful in a raw form doesn’t look good on me, but
I’ve heard these guys talk. They derive pleasure in fucking. Why doesn’t he
want to fuck me!
“Fifi, I’m trying my best here.”
“No, you’re not. If you are, the moment I walked through that door, you
would have pressed me against the wall and be pounding into me from
behind.”
“Really?”
I think about my suggestion and the image becomes vivid, causing me to
smile. “Yes, Spesh. Yes.”
“I know this is not the best time to say it, but, tsk, never mind.”
“Say what.”
“Don’t worry about it, this is for our good.”
Folding my arms, I shake my head. “You have to tell me.”
He sighs. “This was why Ella and I couldn’t work out.”
Old news. “She wanted sex?”
“No.”
 Then what? “Spesh, please, make this make sense. I know she was your
first, so?” How are we here talking about his long-time abusive ex when I
want to experience what I experienced this morning in a different
dimension?
“We had sex too soon. She used it to control me because I was really
into it. It almost affected my studies, but thanks to friends like G-Ben. Even
when I realized she was manipulating me with sex, I stuck with her.”
And?... “So, besides you wanting to travel abroad and she not liking the
long distance idea, why did you break up?” I ask, my curiosity getting the
better of me. He’s been really mum about the whole Ella thing since we
started dating. Besides, I know some parts of their history, hence why I’ve
never bothered asking.
“I later found out I wasn’t the only one,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t the
only one for a long time.”
“Oh.” Never in a million years would I have thought something like that
would happen to someone like them. Like him. Never. I’m glad he left her.
But… “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m not Ella. You know me, you know
this.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I focus on his voice rather
than the warmth of his skin. “True, but… I don’t want us messing things
up.”
“We won’t,” I whisper, looking up at him. “I promise you, Spesh, we
won’t.”
He searches my face for a moment, then nods, his expression softening.
“I believe you,” he says, his voice barely a murmur. His hand caresses my
cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips. “You’re different, you know. You
always have been.”
His words send a rush of warmth through me, and I lean into his touch,
my heart swelling with emotion. “And you’re different for me too,” I reply,
my voice trembling slightly. “You make me feel safe, cherished,
understood, and…wanted.”
His eyes darken with desire, and he leans in, capturing my lips in a slow,
passionate kiss. The world fades away, leaving just the two of us, lost in the
intensity of the moment. His hands explore my body, caressing and teasing,
igniting a fire deep within me.
His arousal presses against me, and I reach down to touch him, feeling
his hard length beneath my fingers. He groans into my mouth, his breath
hitching. I pull back slightly, my eyes locking with his. Slowly, I slide off
the bed, lowering myself to the floor. My hands work deftly to free him
from his trousers.
When I glance up, he’s watching me with a mixture of anticipation and
longing, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. “Fifi,” he
murmurs, his voice rough with need.
I smile up at him, my fingers wrapping around his erection, feeling the
heat and hardness of him. “Let me take care of you, Spesh,” I whisper,
excited we’re taking things to the next level.
I lower my mouth to him, my lips brushing over the sensitive head,
tasting the salty essence of him. He contracts, lengthening.
Hmm… not bad.
He shudders, his hands tangling in my hair as I take him deeper, my
tongue swirling and teasing. I know I am doing a great job when his hips
thrust forward, and a low moan escapes his lips as I work him.
“This girl…” he groans-laugh, his voice strained.
“You like it?” I ask, licking then blowing air on his sensitive head.
His response is to push my head back in position. “Continue, it feels so
good.”
Beaming with pride, I hum in response, the vibrations sending shivers
through him. I take him deeper, my hand stroking the base of his shaft in
rhythm with my mouth. His breath comes faster, his body tenses as if he’s
near the edge.
“God, Fifi,” he pants, his voice thick with desire. “I’m going to—”
I speed up my movements, taking him deeper, my mouth and hand
working in perfect harmony like I’ve seen in some movies. The room is all
quiet with the sound of my sloppy efforts, the only noise breaking the
stillness.
 When will he cum? My arms hurt. My jaw too. Will I ruin the moment if I
take a quick break just to stretch my arm?
His arm grips my head tighter, breaking me from my distracting
thoughts. I let one arm move to hold on to his hip as he begins to thrust into
my mouth. With a final, shuddering moan, he spills into my mouth, his
body trembling with the force of his release.
Hmm… my first taste of semen. Should I swallow or spit?
I savor the taste of him as I pull back to look up at him. He gazes down
at me, his eyes filled with awe and affection. With a satisfied smile, I
swallow.
“I can’t believe this is your first time. You’re amazing,” he breathes,
pulling me up into his arms. “Absolutely amazing.”
Speechless and proud of myself, I laugh softly, wrapping my arms
around his neck, my heart full of love and contentment.
We stay like this for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, until he
gently lifts me onto the bed, positioning me so that I’m lying on my back,
my legs spread slightly.
This is it!
“What are you doing?” I chuckle, curiously staring at him as he leans
over me.
I jerk when his lips trace a path from my lips to the neckline of my top.
He pauses briefly, his gaze meeting mine, seeking permission.
Okay… we’re about to do this…
Yes. Yes, yes! I nod, breathless and eager.
With his help, I sit up and he slowly begins to undress me. He slides my
top off first, then unclasps my bra, letting it fall away. His eyes roam over
my bare chest, and for a moment, I feel a twinge of self-consciousness.
Does he notice the slight asymmetry of my breasts, or the few stretch marks
that have always bothered me? I’m holding my breath when he winks at
me, weighing each breast in his hands.
“Juicy oranges.”
What do I say to that?
 “Relax…” he urges me with a smile. “Your breasts are beautiful.”
I nod, tensing again when he moves his hand lower, to peel off my
panties with deliberate slowness. It gets kind of awkward as I have to raise
my hips off the bed to give him access. The cool air against my exposed
skin sends a shiver through me, heightening my awareness of every
sensation.
“Relax… I want to make you feel good,” he says, guiding me to lay
back on the bed.
Everything is a blur as I’m completely vulnerable, every imperfection on
display until his mouth finds its way to my core, his tongue darting out to
taste me. I gasp, holding his head and burying my fingers in his hair as he
begins to devour me like we didn’t just have dinner. His tongue dances over
my clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. As he continues
his ministrations with his tongue, I feel his finger teasing my entrance, then
slowly pushing inside me.
“Oh, Spesh…” I moan occasionally, my back arching off the bed.
His other hand moves to my backside, his finger circling my anus,
sending stronger sensations through my desire-dazed body.
Oh God, I bite my lips, tensing in sweet, delicious agony.
“Relax,” he murmurs against my skin. “Trust me.”
I do, my body responding to his touch, opening up to him completely.
He continues to lick and suck, his fingers working in tandem, driving me
closer and closer to the edge. The dual sensations are overwhelming. His
finger in my anus, his mouth and other finger working my vagina—it’s too
much. I can’t hold back.
“Spesh!” I cry out, my body trembling as my orgasm builds.
Despite my muscles clenching around his fingers in both places, he
doesn’t let up. Instead, his movements become more urgent and intense.
The pressure inside me explodes, sending waves of ecstasy through my
entire being.
“Spesh!!!” I scream, my body shuddering as I come undone.
When I finally come down from the high, he is there, his face above
mine. Eyes twinkling with pride and satisfaction. He kisses me deeply, and I
taste myself on his lips.
“Yuck,” I say even though the stickiness around his mouth is tasteless.
He licks his lips and winks. “It’s ambrosia.”

OceanofPDF.com
 33
___________

Another Day in Paradise

As usual, I gradually wake up to soft morning light filtering through the
curtains. Stretching lazily, I reach for—oh no! I yawn, sitting up.
What time is it?
“Spesh…” I call out, sleepily digging out my phone from the pillows.
Recalling last night’s activities, I smile. Last night was fire! I can’t wait to
experience it again. I hope—
Glancing at my screen, I notice two things. It’s late, almost two hours to
noon, and there’s a message from him waiting for me.

New Message From Special Love:

Good morning, sunshine!
Let me know when you’re awake 🙂

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I type out my response.

 Me:
Morning! I slept like a baby.
Why didn’t you wake me?
New Message from Special Love:
Woke up late.
Had to rush out
Best to have you in bed
Made breakfast, yours is covered in the kitchen.
Got plans for today?
Woah slow down baby…
Me:
Nothing really.
I might visit that bookstore again today.
New Message from Special Love:
Sounds good.
I promise to take you out tonight after work.
We can plan the weekend while at it.
Me:
Oh yeah
My bad for arriving unannounced, lol
New Message from Special Love:
I think I’m getting used to it.
I’ll just make sure I have things planned in advanced for
my weekends if you promise to continue appearing at my
doorstep randomly.
Me:
That’s not a bad idea.
New Message from Special Love:
Newsflash, my supervisor approved my OOO for tomorrow.
Me:
Thank God!
 New Message from Special Love:
So let me know things you would like to do too

I respond, making my way to the kitchen. We chat back and forth as I

prepare for my day, and by noon, I’m out touring the city again.

*****

When we meet in the evening as planned, we take a long drive to Hedsor

Road with a car he rented for today and the rest of my stay. We stop by a
quaint café, where the London sky stretches above us as though we’re
outdoors, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. After finding
a cozy seat in the corner, we continue chatting, sharing tidbits about the
scenery and our day.
One thing leads to another, and his gaze turns earnest as he says, “You
know, we’ve been through so much together, and I can’t help but think
about our future.”
Because of the amateur head I gave you? Is this the moment? My heart
flutters but I play it cool, sipping my drink with a steady hand. “Our future,
huh? What exactly are you thinking?”
A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I think it’s high time we
settle down, start a family. I mean, look at us—we’ve grown so much
individually, and I can only imagine what we could achieve as a team.”
A team?
The café bustles around us and laughter mingles with the clinking of
cups, as I get lost in my head. Why is the idea of building a life together, of
nurturing a family, both exhilarating and daunting? I’ve been doing things
these past months that I know we’d have to consider as a norm because
there are so many possibilities and sides in this ever-changing world of
tech.
Are we overplaying our relationship? A voice at the back of my head
asks.
But I know.
 I know it’s hard to find someone as God-fearing or even as responsible
on this side of the world. I don’t want to join Itohan and other ladies in the
dating pool, looking for an impossible man. A thought comes to my mind
and I can’t resist teasing him.
“Speaking of settling down,” I say, leaning forward slightly I ask,
“how’s Destiny doing these days? I’m sure she’s been keeping busy.”
Special’s expression shifts with a curious smile. “Destiny? What has she
got to do with what we’re talking about?”
I raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Oh, I’m just curious. We don’t
talk about her, and I was hoping to meet her in person. I figured since we’re
discussing settling down... it would be cool to meet your friends. Maybe we
could plan for this weekend and—”
He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “I know what you’re doing. See,
Destiny is a friend. I’ve told you this before. She’s doing well, by the way.”
I grin, but deep down, I feel dumb for bringing up her name or
questioning my man’s loyalty. “Good to hear. And don’t worry, I was just
pulling your leg.”
“Hmm.” He nods. “And settling down?”
Sure, I want to settle down. “So…” I begin, “when you talk about
settling down, where do you see that happening? Here in the UK or back in
Dublin?”
He forces air through his mouth, leans back in his chair, a thoughtful
expression crossing his face. “You know Dublin has its own charm, and
I’ve heard you talk about how much you love the city. The promise it holds.
But baby, the living expenses there keep getting higher, and if you’re
thinking properly, you already know the answer.”
“You’re right,” I admit, thinking of how to convince him in person.
We’ve had this conversation a thousand times. Ugh! How can I make him
see? “Dublin is wonderful, but there are practical considerations we need to
take into account.”
His gaze softens, and he reaches across the table to take my hand. “See,
I want us to build a life together—and we’re one heck of a duo. This life we
want to build, we have to make a choice that’s best for both of us. I’m
willing to make it, are you?”
 Am I?
Am I?!
How many times would we do this?
While I appreciate his perspective, the spark of resistance that has been
in existence since my relocation became a hot topic in our lives is still alive
and burning.
“Spesh,” I begin, my voice steady but firm and lowered. “I understand
the practicalities you’re talking about, but let’s not forget that my job there
pays significantly more. The cost of living might not be as big of an issue as
you think.”
His expression remains thoughtful, and he listens attentively as I
continue. “I’m building a career in Dublin, and I’ve been thriving
professionally. I love what I do, and it’s opened doors for me that I never
thought possible. Baby, I don’t want to give up that momentum.”
His gaze softens, and I can tell he’s absorbing every word I’m saying.
“Fifi, I’m not asking you to give up your career or your dreams,” he replies
gently. “I want us to consider our options carefully. If we’re going to build a
life together, we need to weigh the pros and cons of each location.”
I exhale slowly, my fingers tracing the rim of my coffee cup. Anyone
moving has a lot to lose. But coming to my side gives us more of a financial
boost. Why can’t you see that?! And why did you use… if we’re going to
build a life together—what do you mean by that?!
He squeezes my hand lightly, and shocked by the contact, I lift my eyes
to his. “Are you against the idea of settling down already?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It’s not that I’m against the idea of settling down
now,” I finally admit, my voice softer now. “But it’s a big decision, Spesh. I
also want to make sure that whatever choice we make is one we can both be
happy with.”
He reaches his other hand across the table, his fingers finding mine. “I
hear you,” he says earnestly. “That’s why back then, I wanted you to school
here. All this would have been avoidable or would have been a matter of
I’m in London, you’re in Kent. Not a completely different country where
we have to get visas to visit each other.”
I press my lips, nodding my head. He’s right, I made a mess of things.
OceanofPDF.com
 34
___________

Sweets and Candies

“You’re not done dressing up?” Special asks, stepping out of the bathroom.
I grin, tossing a glance at him before resuming applying my makeup.
“I’ll be done in a jiffy.”
Hissing, he shakes his head and begins towel drying his yummy body.
“You came out of the bathroom like an hour ago and I’ll still beat you to
finish dressing up.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Me? No o.”
“Better.” I grin cheekily, adding a dash of lip gloss to complete my facial
glam. “You said we were going out.” I shrug, going in search of some
sandals to wear. “You didn’t say what time or if we’ll be seeing someone I
know. I have to look good, you know.”
“You mean you have to look good for your man.” He eyes me with a
comical greedy look.
 Raising my shoulders, I turn this way and that, giving him a show before
bursting out in laughter. “Now that you mention this, maybe the more of me
you see in real life, the more eager you’ll be to move to Dublin.” He starts
to say something, but I stop him. “Nope, we’re not taking comments.”
Smiling wickedly, he nods and proceeds to get dressed. “Did anyone
knock?”
When he was in the bathroom? “No. I thought—”
Knock. Knock. Knock. The anticipated sound echoes through the room.
“Should I—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” he says, heading to the door in black jeans and
a white t-shirt.
From my nosy stance in the room, I hear him exchange a quick greeting,
confirm his name and accept the package he’s been anxiously waiting for.
“Is that for our outing?” I ask as he steps into the room.
“Yeah.”
“What is it? Can I check?”
“Sure. Just don’t open anything.”
Paying no attention to his remaining words, I quickly make my way to
the living room area and find a wicker basket covered in a red and white
checkered blanket. Curious, I open the blanket to catch a glimpse of several
lidded containers, branded chocolates, packed fruits and a wine bottle.
“This is lovely…” I cry, turning to find him fully dressed and strolling into
the space.
He shrugs like it’s nothing.
Emotional, I move to him, enveloping him in a hug. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, baby.”
Grinning cheerfully, I squeeze his sides and ask, for the umpteenth time
since he told me to get ready this morning, "Where are we going?"
“It’s a surprise,” he smirks, escaping from my grasp.
Minutes later, with a wicker basket packed full of delectable treats, we
set out on our journey. With afrobeats blaring from the speakers, we leave
the city and soon lush green landscapes pass by.
 I have an idea what he has in mind for today and I’m so blessed to have
a man who can plan something cute, romantic and thoughtful within a
limited timeframe.
We drive into a car park in the middle of nowhere and he tells me we’ve
arrived.
Arrived where? This place looks like a ghost town with lots of clean
abandoned cars.
He chuckles, unlocks the door and puts a foot out of the car. “Fifi baby,
come down. We’re here.”
The park’s sign, along with the presence of dog poop trash, trodden
walkways, and the brown signage indicating areas of recreation and points
of interests compels me to follow through with his request.
“And it’s a no phone zone.”
“You say?”
“Baby,” he sighs, getting out of the car, “you have to leave your phone
in the car.”
In this no mans land?
“Trust me on this.”
“Hmm… Can I send a message to my family group?”
Bless his soul, he holds back a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m taking care of
you. You’re in safe hands.”
“You’re sure?” Because this place looks like where David and Samson
fought with lions.
“Come on.” He waves for me to get over it. “This place is safe.”
Whatever that means.
Stepping out of the car and waiting for him to get the basket and other
materials he packed for this trip, I hear distant sounds of life. Is that the
smell of barbecue?
“Have you been here before?” I ask as we trudge through the path,
following directions to where I don’t know.
“No. It’s one of those things I’ve wanted to do with you. Don’t worry,
you’re going to—”
 “Wow!” I whisper, taking in the opening of the scene before us that’s
straight out of a fairytale. A sprawling field stretches out before us, dotted
with colorful blankets and groups of people already enjoying the day.
Rolling hills and picturesque cottages create a serene backdrop to the view.
I stare in awe taking in the magical, picture-perfect scene.
We settle onto our comfortable blanket. Our surroundings blur as we
focus on each other and the task at hand—unpacking our basket. Inside, we
find sandwiches, salads, fruits, chocolates, pastries, and a bottle of wine,
along with an assortment of games like ludo, snakes and ladders, and tic-
tac-toe. When our fingers brush against one another, we smile and
sometimes chuckle like teenagers. This was thoughtful, it feels good to be
far from civilization.
The sun, although shines brightly overhead, isn’t harsh or annoying.
Hours slip away as we indulge in good food, engaging conversation,
mundane topics, games, and stolen glances. After eating, Special pulls out
the current book I’m reading and one he says he’s been wanting to read.
And so begins our leisurely afternoon, basking in the warmth of the sun as
we read. Soon, I’m dozing off, my body relaxed as I lay on my tummy. The
distant sound of someone playing an acoustic guitar becomes the
soundtrack to my dreams.
I wake up to find Special still reading and he urges me to return to sleep.
“No…” I whine, feeling like an overfed and rested cat, “I want to move
around.”
He considers this for a moment and suggests we join a group of fellow
picnickers for games and activities. Laughter fills the air as we participate
in friendly competitions, letting go of any worries or stresses. For people
I’m just meeting and being the only couple of color here, the sense of
community is heartwarming.
When the sun begins its daily descent, it casts a warm hue across the
landscape, and we find ourselves along with the group, sitting side by side
observing it. I lean on Special’s shoulder, and he wraps his arm across my
shoulder.
Hey Mr. Sun, don’t go down so fast… I pray, wishing the day wouldn’t
end. Wishing everyday could be like this. Wishing I could bottle these
moments in time. Too bad we don’t have phones with us to record this
moment and have to rely on our memories to do the job for us.
As we make our way back to the city, the car is quiet without chatter or
music blaring from the speakers. I’ll call it a contented silence because I’m
taking deep satisfying breaths as I replay the highlights of today in my
mind. Maybe I might get lucky tonight and we’ll use the energy from today
to get intimate because the only thing that happened between us last night
was cuddling.
We’re approaching Special’s apartment when the peaceful ambiance is
suddenly interrupted by his ringing phone. He glances at the caller ID and
answers with a smile.
When he yells “Mikololo!” as a greeting, I figure out who’s calling.
“Special, Special!” Michael, aka Mikololo responds laughing through
the speakers of the car automatically connected to Special’s phone. “How
you dey now? Your madam still dey?”
“I dey oh… She still dey here.” Special casts a brief sidelong glance at
me. “Baby, Michael.”
“Hey Michael, good evening,” I greet. It baffles me how Special never
speaks pidgin with me, but he does with almost all of his friends.
“Our wife! Hope you’re enjoying your stay?”
“I am.” I smile, glancing at Special who’s concentrated on his driving.
So, your friends know I’m around. Most likely because I’m cramping their
routine weekend plans.
“Good, good. I trust Special. If he does anyhow, let us know and you
know how it goes now. But I trust my guy.”
“You sef know,” Special chimes in, grinning. “How far?”
“I just say make I greet you.” Michael says, and they go on to talk about
the latest football matches. I sense Special trying to wrap the discussion up,
but it appears Michael called to lament about the bets he placed on some
teams that he lost.
Probably consoled by Special’s teasing about placing bets, Michael
navigates the conversation to another topic. “How far, we go see you for
beach tomorrow? Emeka babe birthday, remember?”
 Beach? I’m interested!
Special looks at me as though asking, do you want to go to the beach?
“Sure,” I blurt, my enthusiasm to meet his friends in person taking over.
And beach… going to a beach after all these years, that’s something!
“Correct,” Michael says the same moment I sense the mood in the car
abruptly changing. “We go see tomorrow then. You have the details now?”
It takes Special a moment to get his act together as in those split seconds
after I blurted out my response, his expression has changed from loving to
surprise to irritated. “Yeah, yes.”
“Alright now, we go see.”
Beep, the call abruptly ends, leaving behind an eerie silence.
What just happened? Did I do anything wrong? I glance around at our
surroundings. We’ve arrived at Special’s street, but there’s nothing out of
the ordinary—no police car waiting or caution tape blocking the building
entrance—that would warrant such drastic change in his mood. My heart
pounds in my ears as I try to make sense of what’s happening.
Special pulls the car to a stop in front of his apartment building, but
neither of us moves to exit. The silence between us is suffocating, and I’m
desperate to understand the cause of this sudden tension. Special has a
distant look in his eyes and is tightly clenching his jaw.
It takes a while, but I finally find the strength to ask the question that has
been haunting me. “Did I do something wrong?”
His exasperated gaze meets mine, his eyes filled with frustration as he
lets out a heavy sigh. “You didn’t have to agree to the beach plan without
asking me.”
Without asking you? I blink in confusion. “I thought—I thought you
asked me… to…” I shake my head, replaying the scene.
I notice the way he scrunches up his face and then relax it, trying to
regain his calm.
Oh shit. Turning away from him and his struggles, I realize he was
trying to tell me he didn’t want to hang out with his guys. I think that was it.
I’ve overstepped. I shouldn’t have.
 “I’m sorry,” I murmur, my gaze dropping to my lap. “I didn’t mean to
speak out of turn. I thought...”
He sighs. “It’s not just about this scenario. It’s about us. I want us to
always be on the same page, to discuss things together before making
decisions. That was why I asked you about it in the first place.”
“I thought you were asking if I wanted to go.” Or letting me know you
didn’t want to.
He shakes his head. “I don’t have to say everything verbally to you. You
should know things like this now.”
“You’re right,” I admit, lifting my gaze to meet his. “What if you called
back to cancel?”
“So, it would look like I don’t want to hang out with them?”
I press my lip to the corner unsure of what to say. “We—we should have
discussed it first. Please, don’t be angry.”
He reaches out and places a hand on mine. It’s comforting in a lot of
ways. “I’m not upset.”
“Hmm.”
“I was at first. But that’s not the point. The point is that, I wanted to
make the decision with you. Your time here is precious, and I want to
selfishly enjoy every moment with you.” His other hand guides my chin to
face him. “You get?”
I nod, licking my lips. “I’ll do better.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he squeezes my hand
gently. “Thank you. We’ll have to go to the store to get you beach stuff.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Smiling sweetly, I ask, “A kiss?”
With a wry, gentle smile, he shakes his head, leans forward till our
breaths mingle. His thumb caresses my cheek while he stares at me in
wonder. With a soft smile, I lean in, my eyes fluttering close as our lips
meet in a sweet, soft, lingering kiss. It’s nothing passionate, but for me it
recaptures the moments before Michael’s call came in.

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 35
___________

Fifth Base
Originally, we had planned for a movie marathon today, but because of the
massive blunder I made yesterday, we are now excitedly preparing for a
two-hour drive to the beach later on. Special was initially put off by the
distance involved, which made him hesitant to go. However, thanks to me,
we’re going to embark on the travel he’d been avoiding.
Award for best girlfriend in the world goes to… Me!
After a light breakfast, a quick run to the nearest store to get beach
ready, we lazily lounge on the couch, with Special watching a football
match, while I become bored creating make up plans. Although yesterday
evening was peaceful there was another noticeable absence of intimacy.
Today, I’m determined to get a bit of action. Aren’t I lucky? Whenever I
visit, my period either just ended or makes its debut after I leave.
A glance at Special reveals he’s on another continent. “Hey,” I say softly,
reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh,” he says with a sigh, his distant gaze returning to me. “Nothing.”
“Hmm.”
 His lips curves in a loose smile. “Making plans for next week.”
Sitting up, I wear a mock frown, ready to drag him. “So, you’re not
enjoying my company? I’m too much trouble?” To gauge his mood, I add,
“We can still spend the day watching movies like we initially planned o.”
He smiles, reaching for my legs and rubbing them. “No need. The beach
is fine. As long as we’re spending time together.”
“Oh-kay…” I reply with a smile. “We can still have our movie marathon
another time. Maybe not a marathon, but we can go to the cinema together.”
“You know what this reminds me of?”
I raise my brows. “What?”
He smirks. “That time in Naija when I saw the Marvel movie without
you.”
I hiss, rolling my eyes as I recall the drama that ensued. “When you
were using me to play.”
He chuckles, squeezing my leg. “I wasn’t. Well sha, today was the
anniversary day.”
“The—what day?” I frown and then realization dawns on me. “Awwn…
Spesh.”
“Don’t worry jare. I was just trying to be romantic.”
Edging closer until I’m practically straddling his lap, I suggest, “How
about we catch a late night movie at the cinema, and once we’re back, we
could still,” I tease, wiggling on his lap, “enjoy each other's company.”
“You ehn.” With a smirk, he playfully pushes me off his lap, causing me
to chuckle. “Please go and start getting ready before you delay us.”
We spend some time getting ready. I slip into the cute, comfortable one-
piece swimsuit I picked out at the store relishing the feeling of its soft fabric
against my skin. The swimsuit has a lacey, plunging neckline and provides
just the right amount of coverage for my curves. I top it off with a simple
floral print butterfly sleeve knot side wrap dress, making sure to pack
sunscreen and a towel.
Despite Special’s assurance that a gift isn’t necessary, I can’t bring
myself to attend a party empty-handed. Special chose to sit in the car while
I embark on my ‘quick errand,’ which involved picking out a perfume for
the birthday girl, someone I’ve never met. I'm eager for the chance to
mingle with his friends face-to-face and, if the opportunity arises, perhaps
even join the association of girlfriends. Haha. Well, while I’m eager to
make a good impression, I’m also hoping to get to know the Special he has
become.
The ride to the beach is long and I hope it’s worth it. Because the
weather looks good—though a bit cloudy—we wind down the windows.
Every weekend could be like this… a voice whispers in my head, but I
shake it off.
As we drive along, Special’s playful tone shifts slightly, and I notice a
hint of seriousness in his voice. His gaze flickers over my outfit,
reminiscent of the look he gave me when he first saw it. “You know,” he
starts, a teasing edge to his voice, “this outfit might give my friends the
wrong impression.”
I raise an eyebrow, both amused and puzzled. “Wrong impression? What
do you mean?”
“They might think you're going overboard to impress.”
I find his comment so amusing; I can’t help but chuckle. “Trust me, this
outfit is anything but trying too hard.”
He shakes his head in mock disbelief. “I don’t know,” he starts,
occasionally throwing quick glances at me, “the length of the dress, the
slit... they might think you’re here to steal the show.”
I playfully roll my eyes, his words mixing with the sounds of the wind
and the road. “Oh, please. I’m just here to have fun and enjoy the day.
When I take it off to swim, they would just die.”
He purses his lips, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. “I know, I
know. I’m just teasing. It’s the birthday girl I’m feeling for.”
Winking, I stick my tongue out to the side. “Oh, just me being there is
enough to steal the show.”
Despite his playful tone, there’s a sincerity in his eyes I can’t ignore. It’s
clear that he wants me to make a good impression on his friends, and while
his comments might be lighthearted and him trying to divert it to the
birthday girl, I sense a touch of protectiveness in his words. He cares about
how I’m perceived by those close to him, and that realization warms my
heart.
“Hey,” I say, placing my hand on his arm, “don’t worry about it. I’m just
excited to meet your friends and spend time together.”
He smiles, a genuine warmth returning to his features. “I know. And
they’ll love you, just like I do.”
I smile widely like a dog with its favorite person in the world.
We’re driving for what seems like ages, and then we finally spot the
beach sign and I get so pumped.
Sand between our toes and the sound of the waves creating a soothing
rhythm, we make our way to the beach. Special stays on the phone with one
of his friends who gives directions to where they are located. When we
locate them, they greet us warmly, and I’m immediately put at ease by their
friendly demeanor.
Throughout the day, we engage in various activities—from beach
volleyball to swimming. I’m laughing so hard that my tummy hurts when
we play Gidi Words.
Whenever he gets the chance, Special has his hand all over me,
sometimes pulling me to his side and whispering everything directly into
my ear, making me giggle. While he abstained from alcohol to ensure safe
driving, I couldn't help but savor the delicious flavor of the Caribbean Rum
that I was introduced to.
Hours pass by in a blissful haze, and as the sun begins to dip below the
horizon, Special and I decide to take a leisurely stroll along the water’s edge
taking pictures and making memories. Crashing waves wash over our feet,
the sensation both invigorating and soothing. As we walk, I reach for his
hand, our fingers intertwining naturally. His grip tightens, and he pulls me
closer, telling me coming to the beach was worth it.
We return to the group, gathering around a crackling bonfire, sharing
stories of how we met, and relishing each other’s company. Special sits
behind me, his arms around me.
With a blanket offered by his friend’s wife, we’re hidden from prying
eyes, and I take advantage of the stolen moment, enticing his hands to
venture beneath the fabric of my dress. I knew he understood the
assignment when his fingers navigated their way to my core, sending
shivers down my spine.
“Hmm… You’re so wet,” he whispers in my ear. “Bad girl.”
Being the playful and mischievous man he is, he occasionally flicks my
bud while leaning in, making it seem like he’s whispering something that
makes me giggle and squirm.
I don’t mind if we’re successful pulling this little prank on his friends or
not, because I’m relishing every moment of seeing Special’s playful side—
the man I’ve grown to cherish and adore.

*****

“Today was incredible,” I sigh contentedly, slipping off my sandals and

turning to face Special. Having slept for most of the ride back home, I feel
rejuvenated and alive.
He smiles back, his eyes reflecting the warmth I feel. “I’m glad you
enjoyed it. I had a great time too.”
I take a step closer to him, our bodies touching. Over the past few days,
the sexual energy between us has been steadily increasing, and today, it's
become so strong that it's like a pot of rice boiling over the rim. I still can’t
believe that today, without holding back, my man indulged me in public.
I reach up to place a hand on his ear, gently massaging his scalp and the
hair surrounding that area with the pads of my fingers.
This time tomorrow, I’ll be preparing to leave. I intentionally chose a
late flight so I could spend more time with him, yet my heart gets heavy
with the knowledge that our time together is drawing to a close.
Okay, so the plan for tomorrow was church and bonding time at home
before I fly out, but here’s a thought. “Tomorrow,” I begin, my voice taking
on a playful tone, “before I go, I want to spoil my man.”
His eyebrows shoot up, all curious and stuff. “Oh, really? And how do
you plan to do that?”
“We’re going to the cinema, and I’m paying for everything.”
 He immediately fires back with a snarky comment, making us both
laugh. “Ah, you're all about the money, aren’t you?”
I playfully roll my eyes, feigning mock offense. “Oh, come on.
Compared to everything you’ve done impromptu? It’s just a little treat.”
He leans in closer, his lips hovering near my ear. “Well, if that’s the case,
maybe I’ll let you spoil me.”
I grin widely, some buzz from the alcohol, probably still in effect. With
my second hand, I reach up to cup his face with my hand, drawing him in
for a tender kiss. Our lips meet in a sweet and lingering embrace. It’s just
him and me, wrapped up in each other’s presence.
When we pull away, our eyes lock, and I catch a glimpse of my desire
mirrored in his gaze, a passion he’s attempting to contain. A silent
affirmation that tonight is a good night to get that intimacy I crave. I don’t
know how he keeps his control, but I’m determined to chip away at his
defenses.
“And…” I press my body against his. “You’ve been handsy all day…”
He responds with a smile, his lips brushing against mine. “It’s your
dress,” he murmurs.
“Hmm... we could put that to the test,” I whisper, my words barely
audible against his lips.
“What do you have in mind?” he asks, pulling me closer in his embrace.
His fingers expertly explore the curves of my body, sending waves of
pleasure coursing through me with each touch. I reciprocate, my hands
tracing the contours of his skin.
“What if we try just the tip?” I propose, a playful glint in my eye.
He thrusts against me, my name escaping his lips like a gasp, “Fifi...”
“Hmm?” I give a little eyebrow flick while I smile.
“You don’t give up easily, do you?”
I shrug, my hand reaching for the bulge in his pants. “You know you
want to.”
“Just the tip…” he moans trying to escape my touch. “Can I trust you?”
“I promise.”
 He captures my mouth in a hungry kiss, as if a primal instinct has been
unleashed. My inner bad girl does some legwork dance before committing
to having the best ‘just the tip’ sex.
His hands roam my body, skillfully removing my dress until it gracefully
falls to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my one-piece swimsuit. When
he steps back, his eyes are filled with desire as he takes in the sight before
him. With urgency and precision, he undresses himself, revealing the lean,
muscular physique that I have grown to adore.
We move to the bed, his hands guiding me down gently. He positions
himself above me, his throbbing erection pressing against my entrance.
“Just the tip,” he whispers again, seeking my confirmation.
I nod, my heart racing with excitement. “Just the tip,” I agree, my voice
breathless with desire.
He pushes forward, the head of his penis slipping inside me, stretching
me slightly. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves
me gasping. The scent of our arousal fills the air as he holds still, giving me
time to adjust, his eyes locked on mine.
“How does that feel?” he asks, his voice strained with restraint.
“Amazing,” I breathe, my body trembling with need. “But I want more.”
He smiles, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I thought you might say
that.” He pulls back slightly, then thrusts forward again, this time a bit
deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and I moan, my hips rising to meet
his rhythm.
He heaves out the words, “Stop it,” struggling to catch his breath
between each syllable. “Don’t move.”
I nod eagerly, looking into his eyes, asking for forgiveness. He presses
his lips together as he pulls out then thrusts into me repeatedly, staying true
to our agreement, using just the tip. I can see the restraints from the cords
lining his neck as he holds back from pushing fully into me. With how
horny I feel, I know for a fact that I am wet and irresistible.
“Spesh…” I moan, holding back my body from arching beneath him. “I
need…”
“I know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “Me too… You
know what? Let us try something else.”
 He pulls out completely, leaving me feeling empty and wanting. His
hands grip my hips, turning me over onto my stomach. The sheets rustle as
he positions himself behind me.
I feel his fingers spreading my cheeks, and then his tongue, warm and
wet, licks a path from my clit to my anus. I moan. The sensation is
electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through my entire body.
The sound of my moans fills the room as he continues to lick and tease,
his fingers slipping inside me, one in my vagina and one in my asshole. The
dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and I cry out, my body shaking
with need. With time, he adds two more fingers into my anus, stretching me
and working me on both sides till I’m in a frenzy.
“You were made for this,” he huffs.
“Spesh… please…” I beg, my voice barely a whisper. “I want you inside
me.”
He doesn’t respond with words, but I feel him shift behind me, his penis
pressing against my anus.
“Relax,” he whispers, his voice soothing and teasing. “Trust me, I
believe you’re ready.” There’s rustling on his end and then quiet and a
couple of clicks.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I’m applying lube. It will make it easy.”
I take a deep breath, willing my body to relax as he slowly pushes
forward, the head of his slippery penis prodding me. The sensation is
intense, like searing fire, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves me gasping.
His hands caress my back and hips with the remaining lube as he holds
still, giving me time to adjust. “How does that feel?” he asks, his voice
strained with desire.
“Good,” I breathe, my body trembling with expectation. “Keep going.”
He pushes forward again, going a bit deeper, and I moan, waves of
pleasure coursing through my entire body. With each thrust, he goes deeper
than before, until he is balls deep inside my ass. It’s overwhelming and I cry
out as he pulls out, arching my body beneath him.
“If it’s painful, I can—”
 “Again,” I demand, reveling in the fullness of having him buried deep in
me. Who knew Fiyinfoluwa Rachel was a slut? This feels wicked,
transcendent. My body seems to expand to accommodate him, yet it feels
oddly normal.
He pushes inside again, and I moan, gritting my teeth. He must have felt
me tensing because he quickly pulls out to lube my asshole until it’s slick.
He tries again, sliding in and out more easily, and it starts to feel way too
good, like I’m being tickled from the inside.
His thrusts are measured and controlled, and unable to hold back the
multiple sensation, I giggle while he moans. As my pleasure builds, his
movements become more urgent, more intense.
“Fifi…” he groans, his voice filled with need. “You feel so good…”
“So do you,” I moan, my body trembling with ecstasy. “Don’t stop…”
He doesn’t.
“Touch yourself,” he commands as his thrusts become faster, more
intense, driving me closer and closer to the edge.
I reach for my vagina and begin flicking my clit. Pressure inside me
builds, coiling tighter and tighter until I can’t hold back any longer.
“Oh… Spesh…” I cry out, my body shaking with the force of my
orgasm. He continues moving, his thrusts driving me higher and higher
until I am lost in a sea of pleasure, my body quivering with release.
When the euphoria finally subsides, he is there, still joined with me, his
eyes filled with love and satisfaction. I'm pretty sure he came too, 'cause
there was a lot of moaning and screaming. Tenderly, he guides me to turn
around, pressing deep, wet kisses on my lips. His hands caress my skin as
we bask in the afterglow of our lovemaking. That’s what we just did right?
“I always had a sense that you would enjoy this,” he whispers into my
ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.
“How so?”
“Pure Instinct.”
“Hmm,” I murmur drowsily, surrendering to the enticing allure of
slumber as I nestle deeper into his embrace.
“And it was worth the wait.”
 I giggle sleepily, proud of my inner freak we just unleashed.
Just as I am drifting into a peaceful sleep, I hear him utter, “But right
now, I don't know if I can sustain this long-distance relationship.”
Oh yeah? “Come to Dublin,” I mumble.

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___________

Spoilt People
God must have a special place for unmarried girls like me who engage in
sexual activities the night before Sunday service. I grin, standing in front of
the mirror, carefully applying my makeup—a touch of foundation, a dab of
concealer, a hint of blush, and a bold red lipstick that adds a pop of color to
my face. I am sore from last night and I think my asshole will be
permanently open for weeks. As much as I love what went down, I don’t
know when I’ll be ready for another. I’m lost in my own thoughts, enjoying
the ritual of getting ready, when Special’s voice breaks the silence.
“Babe,” he says, stretching his hands out wide, then relaxing them, “are
you really going to wear that lipstick to church?”
I glance at him through the mirror, taken aback by his comment. “Um…
What’s wrong with my lipstick?”
He crosses his arms, before sighing heavily, eyebrows pulled close and
down, creating a crease on his forehead. “It’s too red.” He shakes his head.
“It’s distracting.”
 I wink, giving him a sultry look as images of last night filter through my
head. “Too distracting for you?”
“Fifi, it’s Sunday Mass,” he rushes out. “Believe me, it’s distracting.”
What’s all the tone and voice for? A surge of defensiveness rises within
me. “It’s just lipstick. And… I’ve worn this shade before.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just saying, maybe you could go
for a lighter shade. You know, something more subtle.”
I pause, my hand still holding the lipstick. Something more subtle? I
swallow, trying to stop my throat from closing up even as my stomach
hardens.
Something more subtle? His words sting.
Why is it always something or the other with him? Today my lipstick is
the culprit. For someone who was howling as he came last night you would
think he would be happier and free, but no, reverse is the case. Looking
even grumpier than the grumpiest man in the world.
Pinching my lips tight to keep them from trembling, I make a slow,
disbelieving headshake. “Spesh,” I start, stopping to poke my tongue lightly
into my cheek and inhaling a long breath. “Is this because of last night?”
“Last night? What happened?”
So, we’re playing dumb. “Because… you don’t want to remember
during service?” A different scenario, I’ll be smiling, but here and now, I
need to understand what’s going on.
“Who’s talking about last night? I’m simply saying you’re calling
unnecessary attention to yourself.”
“I appreciate your opinion, but I should be able to decide how I want to
look. Besides, makeup is a form of self-expression.”
“No, baby… you’re getting it wrong.” He lets out a sigh, his features
softening slightly. “I’m not trying to control you. I just thought something
subtle might be more appropriate for church.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my emotions. “Ehen? But I don’t
think my lipstick choice should be a cause for concern. It’s a personal
choice, and I should be able to wear whatever I like.”
 There’s a moment of tense silence between us, waiting for who would
fold. I can see the conflict in his eyes—the desire to express his opinion and
the understanding that he might have crossed a line.
“We should head to church,” he finally says. “We’re running a bit late.”
I nod, placing the lipstick back on the dresser.
Leaving the room and going to the car, I'm intentionally walking straight
because I can still feel the pressure from last night's wild time, and I'm
starting to have some regrets. Also, I can’t shake off the feeling of unease
that there might be something spiritual at work here.
We arrive Sunday Mass, and I’m surprised I’m beginning to find solace
in the familiar Catholic rituals—the scent of incense, the soft hymns, and
the reverence of the congregation.
When we’re encouraged to pray, I find myself silently asking for
guidance and understanding in my dealings with Special. Every relationship
is a journey of highs and lows, and while conflicts like this are inevitable, I
think ours is becoming toxic.

*****

We return home from church, the atmosphere between us still heavy with
tension. We move about his apartment like ships passing in the night—
avoiding eye contact, speaking only when necessary, and carefully treading
around the elephant in the room.
I glance at Special as he scrolls through his phone, his features
unreadable. I’m tempted to reach out, but part of me wants him to apologize
first. Another part wants to confront the issue head-on. Pathetic, there’s also
a part of me that fears escalating the situation further, especially since I’m
leaving later in the evening. The last thing I want is to part on bad terms.
“Do you want to eat bread and egg?” I ask.
He grumbles something that sounds like, “That’s fine.”
I take a deep breath, head to the kitchen to prepare a light brunch,
considering my options. Is this how we’re going to keep quiet till I leave? I
can’t—we can’t continue like this.
 Oh, we have a movie date. That is one thing that can potentially break
this icy silence that has settled between us. Breaking eggs into a bowl, I
bring the topic up cautiously. “Hey…” He doesn’t respond, totally absorbed
on his phone. “Spesh?”
He looks up from his phone, his expression guarded, brows raised.
“Remember we planned to watch a movie today?”
“Yeah.”
I try to inject some warmth into my tone. “It might be a nice way to
spend some time together.”
He hesitates for a moment, and I can sense his reluctance.
“I leave today…”
After a beat, he nods. “Fine, we can go.”
I smile, grateful that he’s agreed. It’s a small step, but it’s a step
nonetheless. I finish preparing brunch, and as we sit down to eat, there’s a
tentative ease that begins to settle between us. We exchange a few words
about the movie showing times and my travel plans, and while it’s not a
complete resolution of our earlier disagreement, it’s a start.
The afternoon passes in a subdued manner, both of us lost in our
thoughts. I use the free time to pre-pack my stuff, wondering if I still want
to leave some items at his place.
At past two, we get ready to head to the cinema with me hoping this
movie date will provide the opportunity for us to reconnect, put aside our
differences, and enjoy my final moments here.

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___________

3D Visions
Walking into the box office, we join the queue, my mind replaying our
earlier confrontation—why are we butting heads over such a trivial matter
as my lipstick? There’s a nagging itch at the back of my thoughts,
wondering if I should apologize. But for what? I’m tired of always being
the first to concede, to apologize even when I don’t fully understand what
went wrong.
I glance at Special from the corner of my eye. He seems lost in his own
thoughts, his expression unreadable. Despite feeling lost in my own
emotions, and not sure if I have the energy to navigate this complicated
terrain, I’m wishing. I wish I could read his mind, understand what’s
bothering him, and maybe find a way to make things right.
The irony is not lost on me—here I am, about to watch a movie so I can
judge the characters and their choices, while the real-life tensions between
Special and me remain unresolved.
We approach the ticket counter, and the attendant tells us there’s a 3D
version of the movie. I look to Special, asking him if he has seen a movie in
3D before and he says no.
“I haven’t too, we can do it together.” I suggest, excited.
When I turn to the attendant to tell him our choice, he mentions the price
which is some pounds higher than the regular movie ticket. I look at Special
and he shakes his head.
“Don’t worry.” I smile, requesting two 3D tickets. “Do you care for
popcorn and drinks?”
“No,” Special says, “I’m fine.”
“I care,” I tease, hoping he would join me later during the movie. “My
treat.”
As I pay for the tickets, I catch a fleeting glance from Special. There’s a
subtle shift in his expression I can’t quite interpret.
We enter the cinema and find our seats. The lights dim and the movie
begins. I let myself be enveloped by the spectacle on the screen. Vivid
images and a captivating storyline should be enough to capture my
attention, but my mind keeps drifting back to our unresolved conflict.
Am I being too stubborn? Is he still carrying this lipstick thing on his
head? For now, I’m unsure what to do. I offer him the popcorn, twice, but
he refuses it.
With the closing credits rolling on the big screen and the lights gradually
brightening, we step out of the cinema. I watch as Special removes his 3D
glasses and tosses them into the bin provided.
“I thought—” I hesitate, noticing there’s something in the way he does
it.
When I catch up, falling in step beside him, I try to lighten the mood as
we walk, my hand brushing against his arm. “You know,” I say with a
playful grin. “I kind of liked those 3D glasses. They made us pay for them,
can’t we keep them? We could have 3D movie nights at home.”
For a moment, there’s a flicker of a smile on Special’s face, and I feel a
glimmer of hope. But his response is far from what I expected.
“It’s always about money with you, isn’t it?”
What?
 “Money is the root of all evil, you know,” he continues. “And it seems
like you love flaunting yours. Everything is about how much you’re
earning, how much you can spend.”
Where is this coming from? I was only trying to make you smile!
“I didn’t mean—” I start, my throat tightening in my confusion.
He cuts me off, “I know what you meant. And maybe it’s time for us to
have an honest conversation about this.”
Flabbergasted can’t describe how stunned I feel. This isn’t how I
imagined our evening would go—the movie was supposed to be a way to
unwind before I leave.
We continue walking to the car, the distance between us widening more
than ever. This should have been a simple movie outing.

A. Simple. Outing!

Seated in the car, the tension grows thicker but I’m finally able to put
my words together. “I never realized you were so bothered by how I talk
about money,” I retort, angry. Angry and hurt. “What is it with you? You
nag more than my own mom sometimes.”
His jaw clenches, and I can see the tension in his shoulders. “Nagging?
Is that how you see it?”
“You’ve been doing a lot of it.”
A look of disbelief crosses his face. “And is this how you talk to your
dad?”
“At least I’m close to my mom, that’s why I turned out so well and
understanding.” I shoot back at him and realization dawns on me. My anger
deflates, replaced by a heavy feeling of regret. “I didn’t mean to—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Maybe we both need some space to
cool off. Let’s take some time to think things over. We’ll talk when we’re
both in a better frame of mind.”
Take some time to think? Where’s the time? I leave soon! We need to
resolve this issue ASAP! I don’t like that we’re fighting about trivial things
when barely three days ago, we were talking about marriage and settling
down. I want to protest, but as much as I hate to admit it, maybe he’s right.
Maybe we both need a moment to step back and evaluate things.
“Fine,” I huff.

*****

Arriving his apartment, I begin packing for my flight that’s scheduled to

leave for Dublin in three hours. Special walks into the room dropping my
other sandal which I’d left in the living room and I mumble a ‘thanks’.
When he turns to leave the room, I can’t help myself, I blurt out, “So we
won’t talk about what happened now that I’m here?”
“What’s the use? Would you listen?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” He hisses. “You’re clearly your own boss. You don’t
do anything I want you to do. You do whatever you want to.”
I freeze, my hands still clutching the trouser I was folding moments ago.
Where’s all this coming from?
“I’ve been watching you. And everything is always about you, you, you.
You’re so stubborn—I want to build my woman. Mold her to fit the life we
plan. You now, just small exposure, you are turning indecent and immoral.”
I’m stubborn, indecent, and immoral?
The ground is slipping from beneath me as he tosses accusations like
daggers, each word piercing my heart.
He continues, his voice gaining momentum as he lays out his
grievances. “The other day, you were practically naked to meet my friends
for the first time. With clothing you just bought oh. You knew it was my
friends you were to meet, yet. Even though I stylishly told you when we
were at the store, you didn’t listen.”

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Shattered Illusions
“Is it because you’re being paid more? You’ve become more rude and
stubborn since—Oh… You think you are those ladies touting themselves as
feminists on social media? See, you’ll end up without a man.”
His words hit me like a barrage of blows, each one leaving a fresh mark
on my already wounded heart.
“You’ll end up without a man because no man wants a woman that can’t
put her head down. You that should be selling peppersoup somewhere in
Lagos, you’re jumping flight up and down, showing yourself.”
As his words continue pouring out, the room becomes increasingly
suffocating. I stand completely frozen, unable to speak with all the crazy
emotions going on inside me. Anger, shock, hurt—they all fight for
dominance, creating a storm of conflicting feelings within me.
I open my mouth to respond, to defend myself, but the words won’t
come. It’s as if his accusations have robbed me of my ability to articulate
my feelings. Why is he questioning my intentions, my character, in such a
cruel manner?
 “You’re so blinded by money and success that you’ve lost sight of who
you really are,” he spits out. “You think you’re better than everyone just
because you’re earning more? You’ve changed, Fifi, you’ve changed. And
not for the better.”
His words are a barrage of accusations that I can barely comprehend.
The man I’ve loved and shared my life with is tearing me apart with words.
Every insult feels like a dagger to my soul, leaving me wounded and
bleeding inside.
“I’ll say it again; You’re selfish and arrogant,” he continues, his voice
dripping with disdain. “You don’t care about anyone else’s feelings, only
your own desires and ambitions. And now you’re trying to control me,
telling me where I should go, what I should do. So dumb and foolish, you
couldn’t even be patient with me to confirm if I wanted to go to the beach.
You just jumped to conclusions.”
Is this what he’s been feeling all this time? Has he been harboring these
thoughts about me? Tears gather in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I
won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble under his verbal
assault. I stand tall, my spine straight, and my gaze fixed on a point beyond
him. I will not let his words define me.
His words keep coming, a relentless onslaught that includes him
questioning my values, my character, and even my love for him. It’s as if
he’s determined to strip away every layer of my identity until there’s
nothing left but this distorted version of who I am.
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms, as I struggle to
maintain my composure. I want to defend myself, to fight back against his
accusations, but the venom in his words leaves me speechless.
When he finally falls silent, his chest heaving with anger, I find my
voice. “Is this how you really see me?” I ask, hating that my voice is
trembling. “Is this what you think of me, after everything we’ve been
through?”
He meets my gaze, his eyes still ablaze with anger, but I can see a flicker
of uncertainty beneath the surface. I see a hint of regret, but it’s
overshadowed by his wounded pride. I know that this argument has
unearthed something deeper within him, something he’s struggled with but
never voiced.
 “We’ve not been through anything together. Let’s face it, you’ve been
doing your own thing for a long time now, only using me as your emotional
support.”
“I thought we were partners,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I thought
we were a team, supporting each other through thick and thin. But by the
way you’re talking to me… you’re not the man I fell in love with.”
He opens his mouth, as if to respond, but then he stops. Even a fool
knows that when words are said to inflict wounds there will be shattered
illusions and consequences.
See how easy it was for you to say those things!
The anger I had been suppressing surges and I have a feeling it’ll
consume me. That I’ll regret whatever I’ll say. I’ll become just like him.
With these thoughts in mind, I swallow my words, my fists clenching at my
sides. I won’t let myself be reduced to trading insults in the heat of the
moment. Our relationship deserves better than that.
Instead, I turn away from him, my gaze fixed on a point on the wall.
Silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. I need time to process
what he’s said, to understand where his anger is coming from.
This is too much. Way too much. I need to gather my thoughts. Blinking
stubborn tears away, my gaze catch my unfinished packed bag and I recall
that I have a flight to catch. Ignoring him, I mechanically resume packing
my bag struggling to block out the echo of his words in my head.
Yikes, the shock of this confrontation stings. It’s showing the huge
cracks that have formed in our relationship. I pause, taking a deep breath,
not wanting to look at Special to know what he’s doing.
G-Ben’s words from long ago becomes loud and clear in my head and
understanding dawns on me, “When people are in love, they go through up
and downs. If they share the downs with you and want to remain in the
situation, you respect it, mind your business, and be there for them.”
Is this the type of up and down G-Ben was talking about? I can’t even
call him to ask. It’s so heartbreaking to know that someone I’ve been
burning a candle for treats me this way. Sees me as nothing but, but—It’s
unfair!
 Done packing, I drag my luggage to the living room. Special doesn’t
look up from his phone. He left me in the room a while ago, I didn’t even
know when.
Staring at him, his words resound in my head, suffocating me as I stand
there, trying to process what transpired. I swear, I think I’m still in shock,
because my mind is racing to catch up with the harsh reality that unfolded
moments ago. How did we go from laughter and love to this?
“Um, Spesh?”
He looks up, brows raised.
“I’m ready.”
He stands up, smoothing his hand on his trouser. “Okay,” he nods. “Um,
I just realized I agreed to play football with the guys this evening, can you
book a ride to the airport? Besides, I need to go and drop the rental car
before the time elapses—it’s in the opposite direction.”
Oh… I nod slowly, pulling out my phone. “Would you be riding with
me?”
“Do you—I don’t think that’s necessary. The game is along the same
direction with the car drop off.”
I bite down on my lower lip, willing myself not to cry, but the tears
escape anyway. They trickle down my cheeks, silent witnesses to the pain
I’m feeling.
How did I miss these signs? How did I not see the cracks forming
beneath the surface of our relationship? I chastise myself for being so
blinded by love that I failed to recognize the warning signs.
“Are you okay?”
I wipe away my tears angrily, frustrated with myself for being so
vulnerable and for letting him see my pain. But the floodgates have opened,
and I can’t hold back the torrent of emotions that are rushing to the surface.
I take a shaky breath, my hands trembling at my sides.
Stop crying. Don’t let him see how much his words have affected you.
Stop it—stop crying.
But the tears keep coming. Offering a watery smile and a sniffle, I nod
rapidly. “Of course.”
 Glancing at the clock, I realize I might miss my flight to Dublin if we
continue at this pace. I don’t want to be that lady stuck in a foreign airport
with a broken heart. Yet, I don’t want to leave with things being like this.
“So…” I prompt.
“You can book your ride,” he says, as if the argument we’ve just had is
inconsequential, as if my pain means nothing to him.
That—that is a crushing blow. The final nail on the coffin of our
crumbling relationship. Who is this stranger? Who is this man? I won’t beg.
I won’t push. If he thinks I’ll beg him for crumbs of his affection,
newsflash! I’m tired!
Turning away from him, angry tears blur my vision as I grab my bag and
head for the door. I can’t stay here any longer, not in a place that feels so
toxic and hostile. I need to get away, to find a space where I can try to make
sense of what the hell just happened.
As I step out of the apartment, I try to steady my breathing, but the tears
keep coming. My heart keeps breaking.
I sigh, pressing my lips together when the lover girl in me takes the
wheel—why didn’t he hold me back from leaving the room? If he’d told me
to stay so we can resolve these issues, I would have cancelled my flight in a
heartbeat. Why didn’t he apologize for the lipstick? Why didn’t he—maybe
if I wait here a little longer, he’ll come out and get me. He’ll even fall to his
knees, apologizing.
The blaring sound of a car’s horn brings me back to reality. Angry at
myself, I struggle to pull out my phone to book a ride.
I hiss—the least he could have done was to book my ride to the airport.

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Echoes of Silence
My days have been a blur since I returned to Dublin. Each moment I pray to
feel better is like an eternity, stretched out. Heartbroken cannot describe
how I feel. My apartment that used to feel warm and familiar now feels like
a cavern of emptiness, mocking me of all the good times I had at Special’s.
Of all the times I contemplated leaving my stuff at his. And the times I wish
I had his sunrise-facing window.
In the last two—or is it three—days, I’ve been back at work, going
through the motions with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Charles
has noticed the change in me. On the first day of my return, after work, he
asked how my visit to the UK went, wanting details. I sidestepped his
questions, giving vague answers to divert the conversation.
Truth is, I don’t know how to explain what happened in the UK. I don’t
know how to put into words the unraveling of a relationship I thought was
unbreakable. The hollowness I feel inside is overwhelming, like a void
threatening to consume me. I can’t bring myself to talk about it, to admit
that the fairy tale I was living has crumbled into ashes. Back in Hopewell
Uni, Linda hinted he was controlling and I fought tooth and nail that he
wasn’t. How do I tell her she’s been right all along?
My phone rings, and I feel hopeful before dread overwhelms me. Could
it be Special calling again? I sigh when I realize the name flashing on the
screen is Itohan’s. I answer with a forced cheerfulness, trying to mask the
heaviness in my heart.
“Fifi boo!” Her voice is cheery and for a second, I feel sorry for myself.
“I was just wondering if you wanted to come over? It’s like you’re avoiding
me.”
I consider her offer, my mind torn between wanting company and
wanting to be alone with my thoughts. But the idea of sitting in her
apartment, pretending everything is okay, feels like a charade I can’t bear.
Pressing a hand to the bridge of my nose, I let out a sigh. “Thank you,
but I think I’ll pass today. The kind of work that was waiting for me when I
returned ehn.”
She clicks her tongue sympathetically. “I can only imagine. No worries.
There’s an event happening this weekend I would like for you to attend, I’ll
let you know if it’s sure.”
“Okay,” I reply, eager for her to end the call.
“You owe me gist, oh.”
I laugh, if only she knows. “When we see now. Don’t worry—I have
another call coming in.”
“Alright, take care.”
After ending the call, I release a heavy sigh, collapsing onto the couch in
the dimly lit living room. Silence envelops me like a suffocating blanket. I
didn’t fabricate the incoming call; it was Special.
Since I left the UK, I haven’t been able to bring myself to speak to him.
Yes, I know we should talk and sort things. But if he really wanted to, he
would have done that before I left or stopped me from leaving.
God! He couldn’t even drop me off or follow me to the airport.
Tsk. Avoiding his calls isn’t a permanent solution, yet I’m at a loss for
how to confront the harsh truth of our strained relationship.
 I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I
stare out the window. The world outside continues to move, oblivious to the
turmoil within me. I wish I could escape, disappear into the bustling streets
of Dublin and lose myself in the crowd. But there’s no escaping the
thoughts swirling within my mind, the questions that demand answers I’m
not ready to confront.
As the sun sets, casting a warm glow across the room, I realize that I
can’t stay in this limbo forever. Maybe it’s time to have that conversation
with Special.
But for now, I allow myself to feel the hollowness, to acknowledge the
pain that lingers in every corner of this apartment. It’s a step toward
healing, a step toward finding the strength to face whatever comes next.
I sit there for a moment, grappling with my thoughts, before reaching for
my phone. I hesitate for a second before dialing a familiar number. It’s not
Linda’s, though I know she would be there for me. Instead, it’s Mama
Gee’s, my rock, the woman who has always been my pillar of strength.
The phone rings, and I take a deep breath, clearing my throat. Mama
Gee picks up and her warm tone immediately soothes my racing heart.
“Fiyinfoluwa... How are you?”
“Hey, Mama Gee,” I say, my voice quivering slightly.
“What is wrong?”
Tears well up in my eyes as I come to terms with the fact that I can't
keep this bottled up any longer. We don’t see eye to eye on some things, but
Mama Gee has a knack for understanding me without me having to utter a
word. After all, she’s my mother—a woman who has weathered storms far
worse than mine. From escaping her war-torn homeland to enduring
enslavement in Badagry, she’s faced it all. Yet, she found love with Daddy
and built a business that not only sustains our family but also funded a
portion of my master’s studies. With a slight hesitation, I begin to speak,
allowing the words to flow out of me like a dam that has finally burst.
I tell her about this trip to the UK, about the arguments and the hurtful
words that were exchanged. I pour out my heart to her, laying bare my
insecurities and fears, admitting that I don’t know how to fix what’s broken
between Special and me. As I speak, she listens attentively, not once
uttering a word. It feels different speaking about everything out loud and in
sequence of how it happened. Things that weren’t obvious to me till now,
became clearer.
When I’m done, there’s a moment of silence before she speaks, her
voice firm yet gentle. “This same Special said all this?”
“Mama Gee…”
“No, no, no. I just want to confirm. Hmm.” She clicks her tongue. “First,
you’re not stupid, dumb or immoral and those other stuff he said to you.”
I roll my eyes, wondering if she wants to launch into a sermon to make
me feel good. Did I make a mistake calling her?
“Second, I need to speak to that boy.”
“Mummy, please don’t do anything. Don’t call him.” I know she has his
Nigerian phone number, but I’m not sure about his UK number. “I just
needed to tell someone about everything. I just—”
“And you haven’t told your brother all of this?”
“Mama Gee,” I warn. “I’m telling you this in confidence. Please.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I’m serious. Please don’t tell G-Ben anything. I will tell him in my own
time. If you tell him, what would he do? Is he in the UK ni? Mama Gee,
please, please, just leave it. I just don’t understand, why do we keep
fighting?”
“Because it’s normal to disagree in relationships.”
“This is not normal mummy. We’re always having misunderstandings,
and I’m always the one at fault. Any little thing. Even for innocent
mistakes, it’s my fault. And it’s because I’m making more money. I’m tired.
I’m tired. Since he found out about my salary, he changed.”
“Nothing is your fault. Your money is not a problem, it’s a blessing. It’s
just that men don’t realize this until it’s too late. They feel very threatened
when their woman is earning more.”
Hmm, not all men. “How did you and daddy handle it?”
She scoffs. “Remember that time you were about to write GCE and your
father had stopped working at the bank?”
“Yes! See how easy it was for him to allow you take control?”
 She chuckles, and I frown. “Oh Fiyinfoluwa, you didn’t notice your
father got the lecturing job less than six months later?”
“Huh?”
“He couldn’t stand not providing.”
What?
“See my dear, most men find it hard when their woman earns more.
Instead of them coming out to say they’re supposed to be your provider and
be vulnerable—some of them, it’s not them, it’s because of how society has
conditioned their reasoning. Instead of expressing themselves, they react
without thinking.”
“Mummy wait, wait. You’re going too fast. How did you and daddy
resolve the issue?” I can’t believe I never noticed any tension between the
two. If they did, they covered their tracks well.
“Oh my dear, some men listen. They listen if they love you and what
you’ve built. And then they find solutions that makes both parties happy.”
“Mama Gee…” Why is she speaking to me like I’m a toddler. “Special
and I are already talking marriage. I need to know what you and daddy
did.”
“I think we had several misunderstandings until I told him that he made
me into the woman I am, and if I can’t help the man that I love, the man
who supported me to become who I am, why am I doing all I do? What is
the use of giving our daughter a good education if we don’t want her to be
independent or support her spouse?”
Wow…
“Hmm, your father is a different kind of man. But this Special boy...”
She inhales deeply. “I didn’t expect this from him.”
“I know mummy, I know. I don’t know what to do…”
“My dear, life is full of twists and turns. Sometimes, the path we thought
was meant for us takes unexpected detours. But that doesn’t mean it’s the
end of the road.”
I wipe away a lone tear, my heart feeling lighter as Mama Gee’s words
wash over me. “I just feel so lost right now.”
 Mama Gee’s laughter comes through the phone, a sound that’s like a
warm, annoying but much needed hug. “You know, sometimes being lost is
the first step to finding yourself. You’ve always been strong. Just remember
your roots, remember where you come from. You’re a fighter, and you have
the power to shape your own destiny.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I know, Mama Gee. It’s just hard.
Should I make him see reasons or should I break up with him?”
“That’s not for me to say. I just want you to know that whatever decision
you make, you’re not alone. And I will not be happy if you settle for less
than you deserve. Don’t be afraid to make the hard choices, with time, they
turn out good.”
“Mama Gee…” I whine.
“That’s all I’m going to say on this matter.”

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Time Out!
I glance at my phone as it chimes the second time, breaking the rhythm of
my workday. It’s a text from Itohan, and a small smile tugs at my lips.

New Message from Itohan:

Hey boo, some Naija pals are coming into town tonight for
some pub and club hopping.
Wanna join?

Should I? I enjoyed my time at the beach in the UK last week. Plus, this
issue with Special has me feeling drained and uncertain. Maybe a night of
dancing, drinking and laughter is just what I need to shake off this
melancholic feeling.
Quickly, I type out a response;

Me:
 Sounds like a plan!
Count me in.
Where and when?”

Itohan’s reply comes almost instantly.

New Message from Itohan:

We’re meeting at The Royal Oak Pub at 8 pm
Wear something fun, let’s show these Brits how we do it!!!

Okay… I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

Glancing at the clock on my laptop screen, I realize it’s already past 2
pm. I have a few hours to finish up from work and get ready for a night out.
With a renewed sense of energy, I resume my tasks, determined to clear my
to-do list before the evening.
As the clock ticks closer to 5 pm, I start to wrap up my work for the day.
I quickly pack up my things and head home to get ready. The prospect of a
night filled with laughter and good company has put a spring in my step.
Rummaging through my wardrobe, I choose a sparkly sequined thigh-
length purple dress that’s both stylish and comfortable. It has been sitting in
my wardrobe for the longest time, waiting for the perfect event.
I’m humming and applying a light touch of makeup, when I pause
briefly, my fingers instinctively hovering over my red lipstick.
“…maybe you could go for a lighter shade. You know, something more
subtle,” Special’s voice echoes in my subconscious.
Fuck subtle.
I reach for the red lipstick but stop myself. Taking a deep breath, I
acknowledge that I don’t really want to wear red lips tonight and I’m not
proving anything to anybody. I opt for nude lips and smile at the outcome.
With my phone and purse in hand, I head towards The Royal Oak Pub,
where the air is filled with R & B music, sounds of laughter and
conversation. Dublin pub or clubs, they’re different. And depending on your
crew, you have the fun you need.
 Inside, I spot Itohan waving me over to a corner table where a group of
unfamiliar faces are gathered. There are a few faces I recognize from
previous gatherings and there’s Itohan current string-along-guy.
“Ayyyy, Fifi’s here!” Itohan exclaims, raising her glass in a toast.
The rest of the group cheers, and I feel a warm sense of belonging wash
over me. As the night unfolds, we share stories, laughter, and dance moves
that could rival any club in Nigeria—bone that, most of the music are not in
any way Afrobeat.
The real party begins when we begin hopping from one venue to
another, gathering new friends along the way. With Dublin clubs closing
before 3 a.m., time flies in a flash as laughter echoes off the walls, and the
dance floor becomes our playground.
At one point, Itohan and I take a break from the pulsating music and
flashing lights on the dance floor, to take sips of water infused with lemon.
Soon, a couple of our clique joins us including Itohan’s current string-
along-guy, Kofi, who might just be the one since he’s Ghanaian. He
reminds me so much about Evans’ and has been a gracious host, showing us
the best spots to dance and sharing stories that have us all in stitches.
Taking a sip of my water, I sense Kofi’s gaze lingering on me for a
moment before he speaks. “I must say, you have a captivating beauty.”
A faint blush creeps up my cheeks. “Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of
you.”
Even though I’m aware he’s here with Itohan, I can’t deny that his words
caught me off guard and made me feel special after a rough week.
He chuckles, raising his drink to chest level as he speaks. “No, really. I
have some friends who would be thrilled to meet someone like you.”
Before I can respond, Itohan playfully interjects, “Hold on there. Fifi’s
taken.”
I laugh, appreciating the light-hearted banter. Yet, a part of me feels a
pang of discomfort. After a brief moment, Itohan pulls me to the side.
“Fifi boo, how far?” Itohan asks, slightly bumping her hip with mine.
“Glad you’re out?”
“You have no idea.”
 She glances around to ensure we have some privacy. “I noticed
something earlier when I said you were ‘taken.’ You seemed... different.
Hope nothing?”
I pause, realizing that Itohan is perceptive enough to sense the changes
in my mood. Taking a deep breath, I decide to open up to her. It worked
with Mama Gee. Maybe voicing my thoughts will help clear things further.
“You’re right. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I’m contemplating
breaking up with Special.”
Itohan’s gasps dramatically, her eyes widening in surprise as she slaps a
hand to her chest, the other on the table. “Whoa, whoa, boo. Slow down. I
didn’t see that coming.”
I chuckle mirthlessly, nodding in agreement. “Me too.”
She leans in closer. “You saw another babes stuff at his place? You went
through his phone? What happened?”
As she continues listing things, I shake my head, smiling and playing
with the rim of my glass. When she finally pauses for me to speak, I take a
moment to choose my words carefully.
“It’s... complicated. There are things I’ve realized about our relationship
that I can’t ignore anymore. I’ve been struggling with it, and I’m not sure if
I want to continue down this path.”
Her gaze softens as she places a hand on my shoulder. “Awwn. You
know I’m here for you, right? No, look at me.”
I do.
“I’m here for you,” she says, reaching out with the hand that was on her
chest to hold mine. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
Touched, I offer her a grateful smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that more
than you know.”
“You can come over to my place tonight—that’s if you want to.”
I shake my head gently. “There’s no need. We’re going to see
tomorrow.”
“Yes, but—”
 “Don’t worry,” I chuckle, “I’m only just thinking of my life. Enjoy your
visitors. I’ll make it for our outing tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod firmly. “Oh, you bet.”

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My Apologies
The next morning, the gentle ringing of my phone pierces through the quiet
of my room. I reach for it with the intention of silencing it and calling back
later but my heart melts when I see Special’s name on the screen.
“Hello?” I manage to say, my voice betraying my excitement that he’s
still calling after so many rejected and unanswered calls.
“Fifi baby.” His voice sounds hesitant. “How are you?”
“Do you care?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to my
messages or taken my calls since you left.”
I pause for a moment, wrestling with my feelings and thoughts. How do
I respond to this? How do I convey the turmoil I’ve been experiencing?
Gathering my resolve, I reply, “Spesh, you can’t be surprised that I haven’t
been eager to talk after everything you said.”
He sighs, and I can sense a hint of regret in his tone. “I know I messed
up, Fifi. I fucked up. I said things I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”
 Sorry? What would sorry do? Fix the hurt that I felt when you flung
those cruel words at me? Repair my bruised self-esteem? Console me for all
the times I should be moving forward but got stuck thinking about six, no,
eight years ago.
I think I’ve been looking forward to this moment so much that it’s not
hitting as I expected it to. Words are not forming coherently in my brain.
And, yes, his admission is significant but it’s only a small step to repairing
and fixing the damage that has been done.
“Yeah,” I finally respond, my voice measured. “But there are deeper
issues we need to address. I need time to think and process everything, just
like you suggested.”
“I understand,” he murmurs. “Take all the time you need. I just wanted
you to know that I regret my words and how I treated you.”
“Yeah,” I say again, looking for words to string together. “I just need
some time to think, and we can talk when I’m ready.”
There’s a brief pause, as if he’s contemplating his words carefully.
“Thanks love. I really do want to make things right.”
The call ends, and I let out a long sigh.
God… why was I so tongue tied? This is not nice. This is not good at all.
But all in all, I’m relieved he acknowledged his mistake, and at the same
time I’m cautious to return to normal with him.
He didn’t even say anything about going back to the way we were. Does
that mean we’ll be back together for better? What was he thinking to go at
me like that? He obviously wasn’t thinking of everything we’ve built.
Shaking myself from the thoughts that have plagued me since I left the
UK, I decide to focus on the day ahead. The last of Itohan’s friends from
out-of-town have finally arrived, and as planned, we’re spending the
evening together. Surprisingly the weather is pleasant, reminiscent of the
usual gloomy Irish weather.
Walking around the location Itohan sent to me of a nearby park, it wasn't
until I was practically right beside them that I realized they were the ones I
had been looking for. Itohan is chatting animatedly which results in their
laughter ringing through the air. I smile at the lively scene before me, a
welcome distraction from being alone in my head.
 A lady from last night’s club hopping sees me before Itohan does and
she smiles, waving me over.
“Hey, boo!” Itohan greets me with a warm hug. “I’m so glad you could
make it. You’ve met Nneka, meet Antoinette.”
I exchange pleasantries with Antoinette—Antua for short—and Nneka,
both of whom have the same vibrant energy as Itohan. We share stories and
laughter as we stroll through the park, enjoying the greenery.
At one point, Nneka suggests we grab some food, and we decide to
order a box of pizza and some canned soda drinks. When it’s time to pay,
Itohan takes out her credit card with a flourish that has us all chuckling at
her enthusiasm.
“Ahan, why are you acting like you just won the lottery?” I tease,
earning a playful glare from her.
“Sshh children, aunty Itohan is taking care of the bills,” she retorts, and
we all laugh again.
The moment we get the box of pizza, we head back to the park. We
spread out a blanket on the grass and dig into the pizza, sharing stories and
jokes between bites. It’s refreshing to be around people who bring so much
positivity to the table.
God… I need help. Why am I comparing everything with my last
physical experience with Special. I liked the beach outing though, even
though I spoke out of turn.
Itohan receives a call, then proceeds to inform us that Kofi is around the
corner and wants to stop by, if we’re cool. The girls and I tease her, letting
her know she’s falling hard. Tired of our teasing, Itohan calls Kofi back.
When Kofi joins us, we tease him and Itohan about their relationship
plans. That’s when they confess that they’re not committed yet because…
Itohan!
I gasp. “Why?”
She shrugs, tossing Kofi a mock displeased look. “We’ll be ready when
we’re ready. For now, we’re good friends who love spending time together.”
She nudges Kofi’s shoulder with hers. “Right?”
Kofi’s response is an I-told-you-so shrug.
 “Love spending time together? Does that mean you fuck each other?”
Antua asks.
“Jesus!” Nneka whispers, covering her mouth as she chuckles. Kofi
looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Itohan, with her soda drink in
hand, pauses mid-sip, and hides a smile behind her other hand.
Wow. I thought Itohan was direct. Haha. Antua is direction. Here is a
vivid example of show me your friend and I’ll tell you who you are.
“I’ll leave that to your imagination,” Itohan says.
“I’m just asking.” Antua shrugs with a sly smile aimed at Kofi while
speaking to Itohan. “Because I’m interested.”
Ah! Wahala.
Kofi immediately turns his attention to Itohan.
Itohan rolls her eyes at Antua. “Is like you want to end your visit early,
shey?”
I swear, this is like I’m watching a stage drama.
Antua grins like a Cheshire cat. “Just let me know, okay?”
“Umm…” Nneka starts, glancing at both weird smiling parties. I don’t
know if they’re joking or serious, but I want to believe it’s just a joke
between friends.
“Can I have the last slice?” Nneka says, gesturing to the pizza box.
My phone rings, and I see that it’s Alice calling. “I need to take this.”
Walking some distance from the group, my thoughts race a thousand
mile per second. Why is she calling? I hope Special is alright. The last time
Alice and I spoke was when I got her weird call and she was talking about
caring for Special, and blah blah, blah. Do I really want to pick this call? I
hesitate for a moment before answering.
“Hey… Alice,” I greet, my voice cheerier than I feel because she’s
interrupting my hangout.
“Hello.” Alice’s voice sounds earnest. “I just wanted to apologize on
behalf of Special. I know he can be… well, you know how men can be
sometimes.”
 Apologize on behalf of who? I don’t realize I’ve stopped walking until
someone bumps into me. Rushing a quick apology to the stranger, I return
my attention to the call.
“Yeah… hmm thank you, Alice,” I say trying to keep the shock of the
audacity from my voice as I respond, “but I believe Special and I can work
things out on our own.”
“I understand that, but sometimes men need a little understanding and
support, you know? It’s not easy for them,” Alice persists, her tone
patronizing.
Is this real? Alice, the only Alice I know is meddling in my relationship
issue? When did we become friends that give each other relationship
advice? Who is she to assume she knows what’s best for my relationship?
“Alice, I appreciate your concern, but our relationship is between
Special and me. I think it’s best if we handle this on our own.”
Alice continues as if she didn’t hear me, “See Fifi, if anything happens,
just remember that men can be like big babies sometimes. They need our
patience and love at all times. My brother can be annoying, but I know he
really loves you.”
Oh my God. What is this I’m hearing? Only Special can open the door to
this kind of nonsense. I get it, he’s trying to air out his thoughts to someone
but Alice thinking she has the right to call me and intrude on our
relationship like this? Hmmph. It’s giving overstepping of boundaries.
I take a deep breath, attempting to keep my temper in check. Glancing at
Itohan and the group some steps away, I spare a fake smile not caring if
they can see it. “Umm, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have something
important I need to attend to.”
I end the call abruptly, my heart pounding at the audacity. Alice thinking
she can stylishly dictate what’s best for me or us, hmm. God abeg oh.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I join Itohan and friends as they
clean up and pack their things. Kofi left to run an errand but Nneka says it’s
because the guy is overwhelmed. Their teasing and laughter help me regain
my sense of balance to some extent.
With night approaching, we stroll down the bustling streets, with the
others slightly ahead of Itohan and me, taking tourist-y pictures. I sense her
curious gaze on me. It’s as if she knows something is bothering me.
“You’ve been awfully quiet after your call.” Itohan finally speaks up.
“Everything good at home?”
Glancing at her, I’m torn between keeping my thoughts to myself and
unburdening myself to her. My thought flashes back to the time we had to
sleep out in the freezing cold and the million other times she’s stood by me.
“Everything is fine back home. It’s something else.” I sigh, deciding to
confide in her. “It’s about Special—what I told you last night.”
Her eyes widen slightly, sensing the seriousness of the matter. “You’ve
made up your mind?”
“No, I’m still thinking.” I recount the recent events in the UK, the fights,
the hurtful words, and his insecurity that I had never fully realized before.
She listens intently, her expression growing more serious with each detail I
share. I don’t tell her about Alice’s call; I’ll deal with it later.
When I press my lips, signaling that I’m done sharing, she lets out a
deep sigh. “Na wa oh… I never thought Special was that type.”
Dipping my hands in my back pockets, I shrug, “Me too.”
She muses, then shakes her head. “And you’ve been going through all
these without telling me.” She pouts, then bites her bottom lip. “I should
knock your head.”
I shrug again.
“So what do you want to do?”
“I really don’t know. I feel as though I’m still in shock. If they told me
Spesh and I would ever get here, I’ll say never. And you know, with how far
we’ve come, I don’t want to be that girl that gives up. We’ve come too far.
I’m thinking it’s spiritual, because how would things be going so good and
out of nowhere, this guy would look for something to fight about?”
“Hmm...”
I look at her, slightly puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Itohan shakes her head, folding her arm. “I mean, last night, you were
thinking about breaking up with him, today you don’t want to be the girl
that gave up on her man. I’m just curious, what’s changed?”
 I frown. “Nothing. Nothing changed.” Sighing, I glance at Antua and
Nneka, wondering if they are in relationships. They flew in from the UK
just to create content and spend time with Itohan. I’ve not done something
like that before—travel for myself. Yet I traveled to visit a man who washed
me down.
“You’re sure?” Itohan asks.
“Really nothing.” I lick my lips, trying to piece together my emotions.
“I’m just tired of how I’m feeling. Since I left the UK, I don’t even know
what step to take.”
“You know what I know?” Itohan looks me straight in the eye. “You
deserve better. You deserve someone who trusts you, supports you, and
treats you with respect. If he can’t do that, then it might be time to
reevaluate the relationship like you mentioned last night.”
Her words—the first part—hit me like a ton of bricks. She’s repeating
what Mama Gee said.
“I know it’s easier said than done,” Itohan adds gently, pressing a hand
to my elbow, “but this is where you have to make tough decisions for our
own happiness.”
“Babes!” Antua calls out, waving us over.
Itohan glances at me and squeezes my elbow reassuringly. “You get?”
I nod briskly, forcing a warm smile. “Thank you.” Oh! I completely
forgot that Special called earlier today. Is that what changed?
“Anytime.” She smiles back. “Come on, shake it off.”
She thinks it’s our discussion that has me in a trance. What a mess I’m
becoming.
Itohan winks, completely unaware of the dialogue going on in my head.
“Let’s go and see what those ladies are up to.”
My phone vibrates with a notification, and I pull it out to see that it’s a
LinkedIn message.
Perfect timing. If this is not fate throwing a curveball my way, I don’t
know what is.
I open the message, unsure of what to expect. Since that day I worked
with his NGO, we haven’t as so much said hello. As I read the words on the
screen, I wonder if this message is a sign.

New Message from Evans Eke

Hey lady, how are you doing?
Are you in the gym?
Because you’ve been running through my mind all day.

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___________

Mirrors and Mirage

Days drift by like passing clouds, and as much as I try to push aside the
heaviness in my heart, it lingers. Special and I have resumed our
conversations, but it’s as if a veil of strain has settled between us. Yes, we
exchange pleasantries and talk about mundane things, but the depth, that
connection that used to define us has dwindled. The easy banter we once
had is tainted—it’s all forced and mechanical now.
I respond to his messages out of obligation, rather than genuine
excitement. I never bring up Alice’s call, he never speaks about it. I get lost
in my own thoughts during our conversations, wondering if this is what
we’ve become. When we would get past this.
I’ve tried. I’ve tried to bury my hurt and anger, to mend what was
broken by reading books, watching self-help videos and practicing self-
affirmations, but the wounds run deep. It’s hard to move forward when trust
has been shattered, when the foundation built has cracked.
Every interaction feels like I’m walking on eggshells, careful not to
upset the fragile balance we’ve established. It’s a far cry from the love—
from what we used to have.
Why am I still with him when I know I deserve a relationship where I’m
valued and respected, where my dreams and aspirations are supported?
Seven years. Over seven-good-years!
Letting go after seven years—four years of knowing each other, three
years of dating—is not easy. Despite the gnawing feeling in my chest telling
me it might be time to let go, it’s a difficult decision to make.
As days turn into a week, I struggle with the voices in my head—one
says to let go, another says to hold on till we regain the spark we once had
and maybe, just maybe, it might shine brighter.

*****

The glow of my phone’s screen illuminates my face as I connect with

Special through a video call. His image appears on the screen, and for a
moment, I’m taken aback by the fierce emotions that surge within me. It’s a
strange feeling, looking at someone who was once such a significant part of
my life become insignificant with each rising sun.
“Hey,” he greets me with a smile, his eyes holding a warmth that used to
make my heart flutter.
What happened to, Fifi baby…?
Returning to the moment, I reply with a small smile that doesn’t quite
reach my eyes, “Hi.”
“How’s everything on your end?”
“Good, good,” I answer, keeping my responses concise like I’ve been
doing since we resumed talking. I can’t help but feel guarded around him,
as if I’m protecting myself from potential hurt.
He raises an eyebrow. “You seem a bit distant today. Is everything
okay?”
Bro, I’ve been distant since that day in your apartment where you asked,
‘Are you okay?’
 Taking a deep breath because I requested this call, I gather my thoughts
before I speak. “So… I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I want in
life. About the kind of life I want to build for myself.”
“And what have you come up with?”
I hesitate for a moment before continuing, damning whatever nasty
retort he might have up his sleeve. “I want more than just comfort. I want a
life of luxury, of abundance. I want to achieve my dreams, to experience the
world, and to enjoy the finer things of life.”
A playful smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “So, you’re saying you’re
going to become the world’s most sought-after tech-girl? Like an
influencer?”
I chuckle softly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “Well,
maybe not the world’s most sought-after, but I want to excel in my field and
contribute meaningfully. I want to create a life that’s fulfilling, both
personally and financially.”
He studies me for a moment before his expression changes to a more
serious one. “You know, baby, I can’t really compete with you in that
regard.”
I furrow my brows, not fully understanding his response. Is this the same
Special? “What do you mean?”
He lets out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “I mean, you’re on this path of
professional growth, making more money, excelling in your field. And I’m
here, trying to figure things out on my own terms.”
I scrape a hand over my face as if to wash away the twinge of frustration
tempting to overwhelm me. “Spesh, this is not about competition. It’s about
supporting each other in our individual journeys.”
He looks at me, his gaze intense. “I know that. Is this a trick call or
something?”
“No, it’s not. I was just sharing my recent thoughts with you.”
“Okay, because I was just sharing that sometimes it’s hard not to feel
inadequate. You’re doing so well for yourself, and I’m still finding my
way.”
 I take a deep breath, realizing that there’s more beneath the surface.
“God sees my heart; I’ve never intentionally tried to make you feel
inadequate. All I want is for us to support each other. That’s all.”
He nods slowly. “I get that. I really do. And I do support you.”
“Yes, you do. But this time, I need you to go steps further.” I reach out
and touch the screen as though the single act along would bridge the
distance between us. “I think you feel overshadowed by me and I don’t
want you to feel that way. I don’t know any other way that would show you
that I truly love and care for you. That I respect you. Look at me now, do
you think I’ll be here if you didn’t persuade me to consider travelling out?
Every day, I pray for you. I sing your praises to anyone who would listen.
You’re my person. My number one person. If I make mistakes, I expect you
to correct me with love, not make me feel stupid. It messes with my head.
The whole who would move thing, I need you to be realistic about it. I
don’t mind working and you taking care of the home, but I know you won’t
like that, so I’m eager to help you apply to jobs even before you move. I—”
He gives me a faint smile, as he interrupts my tirade. “I’ll try my best,
Fifi. I really will. I’m sorry about what went down. It is the last and only
time. For the work and moving over part, yes, you’re right. It’s hard to
compete with that.”
I lean in closer to the camera, wanting him to understand the depth of
my feelings. “I don’t need you to compete with me. I just need you to be
there, to stand by my side as I pursue my dreams for us. And I’ll do the
same for you.”
He exhales slowly, his eyes locked onto mine. “I’ll do my best, baby. I
promise. I love you and I cherish what we have.”
What we had…

*****

There are silver linings to heartbreaks.

Take now, for example. I’m tying up my fresh pair of running shoes,
gearing up for a run to clear the mental clutter in my head. Once I step
outside, the cool evening breeze brushes against my skin, letting me know
this is a good decision. Earlier, some Slack messages at work hinted at a
park run, and I figured, why not give it a try?
With each step, my thoughts are unraveling. I am pondering over the
recent conversations I’ve had with Special. I want to believe we can work
through our differences, find a compromise, and create a path forward.
As I complete my run and catch my breath, I reach for my phone to
check for any notifications. To my surprise, there is a missed call on
WhatsApp from an unfamiliar number. A quick glance at the caller ID
reveals the name “O. O.,” with a profile picture that causes memories to
rush back to me.
Why is Obinna calling me after all this time? Last time it was Alice. I
wonder what’s happening now. Although something tells me to ignore it,
out of curiosity, I dial the number.
“Hello?” The voice is deep and unchanged. It takes me back to that day
at the airport where I met him and Alice for the first time. It’s indeed
Obinna, Special’s big brother.
“Hi, Obinna. It’s Fifi,” I reply, trying to sound composed.
“Fifi! Oh, wow, it’s been ages. How have you been?” Obinna’s
enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself smiling despite not knowing the
purpose of his August visitor call.
“I’ve been good, thank you. How about you?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Obinna chuckles. “Busy with life, you know how it is. But that’s not
why I’m calling. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Curiosity piqued, I lean against a park bench. “Sure, how can I help?”
He takes a moment before he speaks. “It’s about Special. I know you
two have been going through a rough patch, and I wanted to offer my
perspective. Family’s important, and I hate seeing my brother this way. I
know he can be... difficult, but he has a good heart.”
His words strike a chord within me. Here is someone who knows
Special from a different angle, someone who can shed light on his
complexities. This approach is way better than the nonsense Alice tried
doing that day.
 “Thanks for reaching out,” I say sincerely. “I appreciate your concern.
The thing is—I mean we are already working on—hello?” I ask as there is a
sudden shift in the background noise on his end.
“Can you hear me?” I ask, straining to listen. I think I catch a snippet of
a scream, then a voice—a child’s voice. “Um… hello? Is everything okay?”
I ask.
“Oh, hold on a second,” he replies, his voice distant.
I wait on the line, seconds ticking by. Sounds from his end seem to
multiply, blending into an indistinct cacophony. I try to catch any words or
context, but it is like piecing together a puzzle without all the pieces.
As I walk the remaining few minutes to my apartment, my mind
wanders. I hope the child is fine—Special once mentioned Obinna
becoming a father to a baby he had outside of wedlock. Is that the child or
is he out visiting someone?
The background noise persists. This hold on one second is going to
seven minutes. At least, he should have muted the call or ended it. I doubt
he will return to the call anytime soon. With a sigh, I push open the door to
my apartment and step inside.
Deciding to freshen up with a shower, I set my phone down and let the
warm water wash away the tension of my run. If he returns before I do, he
can hang up and I’ll call back.
As the water cascades over me, I get lost in thought. When I emerge
from the shower, I check my phone and—are you kidding me? The call
with Obinna is still ongoing.
I pick up my phone, hesitating for a moment before making a decision.
It is clear something extremely important came up, and the lingering
background noise only adds to my confusion.
With a resigned sigh, I end the call. My decision to hang up isn’t
because I’m frustrated, but rather out of a need to maintain some semblance
of privacy. I can’t be dressing up and speaking with my boyfriend’s brother.
After drying off and changing into comfortable clothes, I am heading to
the kitchen to toss something together, when my phone rings again with the
same number from earlier—Obinna’s. I pick up my phone, ready to greet
him with a smile and a comment about the earlier call lasting too long.
 “You’re not worthy to be part of our family, and deserve what’s coming
to you,” Obinna’s voice cuts through the line, laced with an intensity that
sends a chill down my spine. “You’re spoilt. Hmph. Is this what you allow
Special deal with?”
My heart races as his words hit me like a tidal wave. The shock of his
accusations and the venom in his voice leave me grasping for a response.
The ground is shifting beneath me, leaving me unsure of which foot to
stand on.
“Simple instruction, hold on, you couldn’t oblige,” he continues, his
tone dripping with disdain. “You better change your ways if you want to
remain with Special. Or you think you’re too big because of your salary?
You that we took from Nigeria to start afresh abroad. To think that I’ve been
on your side all along.”
The room is closing in around me as his words echo in my ears.
What is happening? What did I do? Is this a prank?
Obinna’s voice carries a tone of finality as he says something in what I
believe is their local dialect followed by a sharp, dismissive “Hmph,”
before abruptly ending the call, leaving me staring at my phone in shock
and disbelief.
“What the heck is going on?” I mutter under my breath, my voice
trembling as I cast a glance around my apartment.
Someone needs to pinch me and tell me this is all just a cruel joke.
What just happened?
The meal I was going to prepare has lost its appeal. I retreat to the
nearest seating option—my couch—to process the verbal assault I just
endured.
Out of nowhere! Out of nowhere, the accusations and insults seem to
come out of nowhere. With everything Obinna revealed, that means… the
private relationship I thought I had with Special was just an illusion. It’s
obvious they’ve been discussing my matter for a while.
Wow…
The room remains silent, save for the echo of my racing heartbeat. I
need to take crucial next steps. What? So… years of long-distance
relationship is at risk of crumbling under the weight of outside influences,
not solely due to our actions. How could I have been so mistaken about my
understanding of Special?

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 43
___________

Dear John
It’s late; well past 1 a.m. type of late, and I’m on my bed still grappling with
that unsettling call from Obinna. I had hoped that with time, clarity on what
to do with my relationship with Special would emerge, but that call... it has
thrown me for a loop.
I’ve refrained from reaching out to Special since the call, and he hasn’t
made any attempt to contact me either. Despite the late hour, I sit down to
compose a note to him. What begins as a brief message quickly transforms
into a lengthy outpouring of my heart and soul. Each word is chosen with
care, my fingers moving across the keyboard as I lay bare my thoughts,
fears, and hopes for our relationship.

… I believe that for us to move forward, we need to

address the issues that have come between us. I also think
that true to what you suggested weeks ago, we both need
some time and space to reflect on our feelings and the
direction we want to take. I’m suggesting that we take a
complete break from our relationship—not as a way to end
things, but as a way to gain clarity and perspective.
 This break would allow us to focus on ourselves, our own
growth, and our own emotional well-being. It’s not a
decision I take lightly, and I hope you understand that I’m
doing this with the intention of us finding a way back to
each other - if that’s what we both want.
I’m open to hearing your thoughts and feelings about this.
I believe that a healthy relationship is built on
communication, understanding, and mutual respect.
Please take your time to process this message, and when
you’re ready, I’m here to talk. Whether it’s to remain
together or to find closure, I believe we should have a heart
to heart discussion first…

After reading through the note multiple times, I hit send before
chickening out.
Collapsing back onto my bed, I’m left staring up at the ceiling. I can
only hope he comprehends the depth of my words. I truly love him, and I
yearn for what we once shared before all this wahala started. I ache for the
days when it was just us, free from the weight of these complications.
I miss us.

*****

Days turn into nights, yet there’s no response or acknowledgment from

Special regarding my message. Is he processing his own feelings? Is he
carefully selecting his words as I did? Or is he, like me, confused?
Despite my resolve to hold back, to give him space and time to respond,
I keep checking my phone incessantly. Whether at work, with friends, or
alone, it’s become an ingrained habit.
And as the days stretch into a week, I get no response from him.
The silence is deafening, leaving me to question if my words were too
harsh or if I misjudged the situation entirely. Is our relationship truly at an
impasse? Was I overly optimistic in believing our relationship could
weather any and all storms?
 I know we both have flaws, fears, and insecurities, but I honestly think
we still have a chance to salvage what’s left. And so, I’m waiting.
I’m waiting and clinging to hope, knowing that sometimes all it takes is
a spark to reignite the flame.

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Breakfast Served Cold

It’s been two weeks since I sent that message. After the first week, I made a
conscious decision to pivot my focus and move forward with my life.
To break the cycle of constantly checking my phone, I started playing
online games, spending over sixty bucks on tokens in just a week. Don’t
judge me; this new habit is crucial for my mental health. Through gaming,
I’ve found solace and made virtual friends who book my time to play,
offering a sense of belonging in another world.
Workwise, things have been thriving. I’ve been excelling in my projects,
collaborating with senior managers, and earning commendations. Some
days I burn the midnight oil, while on others, I strike a balance between
work and leisure.
Outside of my newfound gaming habit, work and professional pursuits,
I’ve made it a ritual to hang out with friends at least once a week. I’m proud
to say my life is the definition of balance.
Today has been fulfilling and I’m wondering if it can possibly get any
better. Following a glowing appraisal from my teammates during a happy
hour at a local pub, I return to my desk with a spring in my step, planning to
update some files before I start my weekend. As I wait for my desktop
screen to load, I absentmindedly scroll through the social media statuses of
my contacts.
Then, a photo in a status update grabs my attention, causing my heart to
skip a beat. Without hesitation, I tap on it. What the…? I blink, forgetting to
breathe as I stare at the picture. The caption reads, Congratulations 🎊
Wishing my personal people the best!
I widen my eyes in disbelief. How could this be?
I repeatedly glance at the contact name, murmuring, “Alice?”
When the image vanishes, driven by morbid curiosity and being a
glutton for punishment, I hastily search for it again. And there he is,
Special, standing beside the very person he dismissed as inconsequential—
Destiny, the biracial air hostess. The one with British citizenship. My eyes
are drawn to the glimmer of a ring adorning her finger, and my heart sinks.
A wave of unease washes over me, accompanied by a stark realization.
The pieces of the puzzle align, and my mind races with inquiries. Is this a
mere coincidence? I scoff at the thought of Special having a doppelgänger
or identical cousin.
Frantically checking Special’s statuses and social media profiles, I find
no recent activity. A lump forms in my throat, and before I know it, tears
cascade down my cheeks. I hastily retreat to the bathroom, hating myself
for showing this much emotion in a public space. Well not a lot of people
are left on my floor, but I would prefer it if I were in a private space.
Locking myself in a stall, I hastily dab my eyes with toilet paper,
struggling to compose myself. Tossing my face up, I take a deep, long
breath. I ball my fists when I realize I left my phone on my desk.
I try to quell the rising tide of anguish, but the pain, the sense of
betrayal, and the torture of feeling replaced overwhelms me. Tears stream
down my face as I grapple with shattered trust, shattered dreams, and a love
irreversibly tainted.
Someone flushes.
A door bangs.
I chuckle-cry. Of all places to discover I’ve been played, deceived and
betrayed. An ache gnaws in my chest, it’s indescribable.
 Focusing on finding my way back home, figuratively and literally, I
wipe away my tears, take a deep breath, and make a silent vow to myself—
a promise that I will never let anyone inflict this level of pain and shame
upon me again.

___

Did you enjoy Every Move I Make?

Please leave a review.
PS: Reviews help other readers find books. Please leave a review on
your retailer’s site or on Goodreads to help other readers discover the All of
Me series.

And if you want to chat with other peeps who love my books, spread the
word, you can join my Camaraderie Lounge on Facebook and on Telegram!
___

Don’t miss Fifi’s next and final book:

Every Breath I Take
An Unedited Excerpt
I’ve never been one to give up easily, but as I stand before my mirror,
putting the finishing touches on my makeup, I feel a growing sense of
frustration. The dating app Itohan updated for me about three weeks ago has
been nothing but a series of weird chats with random, disconnected
individuals.
*****
There’s something strangely familiar about this profile picture, that
makes it kind of intriguing. The username “Just Liam” suggests simplicity,
and his idea of cooking spicy food on a date is adorable. As I mentioned to
Itohan, I'm not fully invested in the dating scene, but since this guy is
showing interest, I might as well give it a chance and swipe right.
 Read Every Breath I Take
___
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___

Enter the exclusive world of the Yoruba Demon Billionaires Club, an

almost secret society of twelve billionaire friends bound by unbreakable
rules against being ‘simps’ for the opposite gender. In this sizzling series,
watch as their hearts entangle with love, challenging the very rules they
swore by. Romance defies expectations, even for the most steadfast Yoruba
demons.
Check out the first book in the brand-new Lagos Lovin’ spin off series:
The Complete Guide to Becoming a F*ck Boy
___

Continue flipping the pages for a quick, fluffy bomboloni doughnut recipe
and my second letter to you!

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 CAMAA’S RECIPE
Preparing Simple Bomboloni Doughnuts w/o cream
from CAMAA’s Kitchen
Ingredients

3 cups Bread Flour

2 large Eggs (room temp)
1/3 cup Granulated Sugar
2/3 cup Whole Milk (lukewarm temp)
4 tbsp Salted Butter (cut into pieces)
2 ¼ tsp Instant Yeast
1 tsp Vanilla Extract
½ tsp Orange Zest or Juice
Vegetable oil for frying
Equipment: Food processor, rolling pin, 3” circular cookie cutter.

Method

1. Attach the dough hook to the food processor bowl. Measure and
add all ingredients, except the milk, into the bowl.
2. Turn on the food processor and set the speed to 7 or low speed.
3. Pour in the milk while the mixer is running and allow the dough
hook to mix all ingredients until the dough forms a ball around the
hook.
4. Transfer the dough into a greased bowl and cover with plastic
wrap. Let it rise in a warm space for 2 to 4 hours, or until the dough
has doubled in size.
5. Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and flatten to ½”
thickness with a rolling pin. Cut out circles using the cookie cutter.
6. Arrange the doughnuts on a parchment-lined baking sheet, leaving
plenty of room between each doughnut to rise.
7. Sprinkle flour lightly on top of the doughnut dough to avoid
stickiness, then cover them with a plastic bag (I use clean non-
 scented trash bags) and keep them in a warm spot to rise for
another 1-2 hours, or until doubled in size and visibly puffy.
8. When the rise period is almost over, begin heating the frying oil.
9. Using a deep pot, fill with at least 4 inches of oil. Heat the oil until
it reaches and maintains 350°F.
10. Place a couple of doughnuts into the hot oil at a time and fry each
side for 2-3 minutes or until golden brown.
11. Remove doughnuts with a slotted spoon and place on paper towels
or paper bags to drain.
12. Eat hot and fresh. Store in an airtight container on the counter for 2
days or in the refrigerator for 5 days.

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 A LETTER TO YOU (2 of 2)
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed reading EMIM! The nickname for this book is Walking
Red Flags. I am excited to hear your thoughts Fifi’s actions and decisions.
What do you think about how Fifi handled her relationships? Would you
disclose your earnings to your family, partner, or spouse? I'm glad Fifi
didn’t disclose her earnings to her family—Black tax might have entered
the chat!
And those situations with Alice and Obinna—how would you have
handled them? I understand Fifi was naïve and learning to navigate life, but
I’m concerned about the next guy coming into the picture. The good, bad,
and beautiful things she’s learned about herself... hmm.
You’re so close to Fifi's HEA, and from the excerpt shared, you
probably have an idea of what book three, Every Breath I Take, will be
about. Can't wait for you to get into it!
If you are a new reader—new to my books—please check out my other
books, let’s become friends via margaretadetimehin.com/links and you can
chat with other book loving peeps in the Camaraderie Lounge on Facebook
and on Telegram!
Till then, keep reading and having a swell time!

XoXO

OceanofPDF.com
 ABOUT CAMAA PEARL
Camaa Pearl writes unforgettable, sizzling slow-burn romance for lovers of
plot and steam. She is an international bestselling author and storyteller
with a refreshingly unique style that borders between reality and fiction.
As a true ambivert, when she is not reading or writing, she enjoys
traveling, tasty meals, behavioral research and talking The Dream’s ear off.
She hopes to get a puppy soon and if you subscribe to her newsletters via
bit.ly/camaapearl2, you’ll be one of the first to know.
Find her everywhere margaretadetimehin.com/links

TITLES BY CAMAA PEARL

Lagos Lovin’ Novels
Gaga Crazy (Zoya & Manir)
Bottom Belle (Chiluba & George)
Goody Bag (Zena & Lékan)
All of Me Trilogy
Every Step I Take (Fifi, Book 1)
Every Move I Make (Fifi, Book 2)
*Every Breathe I Take (Winter 2024)
Yoruba Demons Billionaire Club
* The Complete Guide to Becoming a F*ck Boy (Spring 2025)
Standalones
Escape (Lola & Onahi)
Call Me Jemila (Jemila & Jidenna)
** Nine Hours Till Five (Funmi)
Flawed Perfections Novels
** First Impressions
** Crossroads
** Romantic Illusions
 Short Stories & Anthologies
Velvet Tamarind (in the Hell Hath No Fury: An African Christmas
Romance Anthology)
Keeping Mima (in the Roses Aren’t Red Anthology: An African Romance
Anthology)
In Another Life: A Complete Short Story
***The Lady of the House (in the Nights at Club Nova: An Erotic
Romance Anthology)

* - Dates are susceptible to change

** - writing as Margaret Adetimehin
*** - writing as Temi Nenye

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