Meet My New Crush – The Dualers

While running some errands on the high street yesterday after sis-in-law, niece and I treated ourselves to a good time at the health club, my ears started tingling with excitement as his sonorous voice filled the air. Of course I was already walking on sunshine, basking in the lingering euphoria of the just concluded pure indulgence.

We followed the trail of his voice till we found the spot. Based on the style of the music and texture of his voice, I wasn’t expecting to see none other than a black Jamaican bloke doing his thing.

Was I wrong?

I couldn’t believe my eyes when they fell on this eye candy! I quickly whipped out my phone to record a little bit of his busking for as long as the memory on my phone permitted. 🙂

Listen for yourself and do tell what you think… I do apologize in advance for the background chatter! 🙂


Needless to say, the rest of the evening was spent surfing Youtube, listening to their numerous performances. We love him already and can’t wait to see him in concert!


Copyright ©2014 NUBIANWATERS. All Rights Reserved.


Day Twelve: Dark Clouds in the horizon

It was a little past five o’clock as he drove aimlessly on the Ring Road that evening. The countdown was beginning to wreck his nerves. He reflected on the stern and clear instruction he got earlier on in the day in that room of intimidation.

“We will get back to you. Do not call even if you don’t hear from us by the close of business today.” The ruthless secretary informed.

He had driven pass his exit countless times over, he couldn’t bring himself to make that turn leading to the stuffed one bed apartment he shares with his wife of two and a half years together with their 8 months old son. As he thought about how hard he had prepared for the interview, his cellphone began to ring. He took a quick glance at its screen, his heart skipped a beat. He let the classic ring tone fill the car one more time before pushing the makeshift bluetooth system he built and installed in the family banger the previous summer.

“Hello!!!” She blared.

Her voice echoing through the car like the threatening thunderstorm on the way.

“Hiya” he replied

He tried to sound calm and unruffled though his heart was in a muddle. Deep down inside his belly churned knowing what was likely to come.

“And where are you? It’s almost 6pm…you should have been back since four!” She yelled.

“I am on my way home darling.” He said with bated breath.

“From where?!!” She asked

“The job interview we spoke about this morning.” He answered through clenched teeth.

“Pschiew”  (The sound of her kissing her teeth). “As usual, you didn’t get it otherwise you’d be home by now. You never get anything good. The only thing you are good at is fertilizing human eggs. Yes! There is another bun in the oven!  She raved.

And with that said she hung up before he could process the news of another baby on the way. His heart filled with joy but quickly sank as his reality flooded his mind. His phone rang again as he was making the turn to his exit. Not bothering to find out who it was, he answered the call nonchalantly with a dejected voice.

“Hello”  He said.

“Good afternoon Mr. Badmus!” said the shrilling familiar voice from earlier.

“Thank you for your time today. We’d like to invite you for an informal chat at our office tomorrow. Also, we are hoping you’d be available to start work next Monday” she continued.

“Oh yes. Tomorrow is fine” he replied with eyes bulging and a slight stutter.

“Perfect then. See you tomorrow!” She said as she ended the call just in time.

He pulled into an empty bay in the parking lot in front of his apartment block and hurriedly gathered his stuffs from the back seat. For the first time in a very long time he gleamed and smiled walking towards his apartment door as the skies teared away.


Copyright © 2014 NUBIANWATERS. All Rights Reserved

Writing 101: Day Twelve: (Virtual) Dark Clouds in the Horizon

“Today, write a post with roots in a real-world conversation.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.”

Day Nine: A Triple Point of View

He placed his band bearing left hand over her back, holding her tightly by the waist knowing this might be for the last time. He looked down at her as she rested her head gently on his shoulder while seated on the wooden bench surrounded by summery blooms in the park. He could feel the painful knots in his belly as he contemplated his decision to stop seeing her.

 “I wish I could end this sooner than later because It would be a shame to get caught pants down with her. I don’t stand a chance, not with her boxer husband, not with this spaghetti structure of a body I occupy! It’s been three months since I first met her over the counter at the local pharmacy where I work. Those eyes drew me in and now I am on lock-down. I think she now wants more but I want out though this stolen water is indeed sweet!

He thought himself.

She snuggled closer than ever wishing the moment could last forever. She shuddered at the thought of going back to her abusive partner to whom she’s bound by the endless shackle of golden metal on her left ring finger.

“I wish I’d met him a little earlier, I wouldn’t have made a vow to stay forever. Just look at the way he’s holding on tight…oh he must love me so dearly even though he’s never said it. How can he not be in love with me. I mean, we meet everyday, same time, same place. He is so into me and I know he’ll soon rescue me. If he doesn’t say it today, I’m going to do it. I think it’s time I tell him I love him. Maybe that will help him say it too.”

She thought herself.

She walked the same path down the south side of the park everyday because it attracted less traffic. Today was not an exception. For her, seeing the ever cuddling couple was the major highlight of her midday walk.

“They are so in love and happily married. I need to bring that notorious skirt-chasing son of mine along with me tomorrow. He needs to see that true love still does exist. It didn’t die when my Freddie passed 8 years ago. Oh bless these two Lord, let them have a blissful union just like Freddie & I had.”

She thought and prayed. Cooing to herself at the perceived puppy love, she carried on happily.


Copyright © 2014 NUBIANWATERS. All Rights Reserved


Writing 101: Day Nine: Changing Moccasins – Point of View

“For today’s assignment, write a scene at the park. Up for a twist? Write the scene from three different points of view.”

Day Seven: Give and Take


Venus: I don’t understand the basis for your fury. You can’t demand it darling, you know better…it’s earned!

Mars: Look, I don’t explain myself when I have done nothing wrong!

Venus: I am not asking you to explain yourself, let your actions do the talking for goodness sake!

Mars: I’ve been friends with her before they met. He should understand that!

Venus: You’re missing the point still. Friendship is no excuse. You are unscrupulously over-stepping boundaries! Their boundaries!

Mars: How dare him ask me to leave his wife alone? The message was meant for her. She’s my friend!

Venus: …And he is her husband!!!

Mars: Bollocks!!!

Venus: My point exactly!



Copyright © 2014 NUBIANWATERS. All Rights Reserved


Writing 101: Day Seven: Give and Take

“Write a post based on the contrast between two things — whether people, objects, emotions, places, or something else.

Today’s twist: write your post in the form of a dialogue. You can create a strong opposition between the two speakers — a lovers’ quarrel or a fierce political debate, for example. Or you could aim to highlight the difference in tone and style between the two different speakers — your call!


Mr and Mrs Series: What Lies Beneath 2

The time was 9:35pm when Abeke waltzed into the darkness of the apartment with some Thai takeaway in her hands as she softly hummed some happy tunes. That was the brightest I had seen her in days. She made no attempt to switch on the light; the beaming rays from the flat screen TV on the wall was enough for her to navigate the room.

“I got you some Thai, one of your favourites actually”, she said casually as she walked pass me into the kitchenette.

“Thanks! I’ll have it later”, I replied calmly though my heart was racing like crazy.

My thought processes and the many flashbacks had successfully activated mode paranoid in me. “She may have poisoned it”, I thought but quickly dispelled the notion. Abeke couldn’t be that mean and she wouldn’t allow her emotions get the better part of her.  I kept my gaze on the TV though my inner eyes were on her just to be on guard for any surprises. I was uneasy to say  the least. She settled herself into one of the two neon red high stools at the breakfast bar and ate her portion quietly. A recent copy of Grazia magazine lay on the counter, she reached for it and flipped aimlessly through the pages as she finished the last bits of her meal.

I heaved a sigh of relief when she announced she was retiring for the night. “Today must be my lucky day” I thought to myself, “but come to think of it, this wife of mine is acting rather normal. Hmmm, wait a minute, probably she only took a walk and never met up with Yvette. I mean,…the gravity of those  revelations could never leave any relatively sane woman calm. Abeke knows nothing…thank goodness!”. No sooner had she disappeared behind the bedroom door than the starved man in me dived into the awaiting pack of Thai takeaway. It took a few mouthfuls to realise how famished I was. I finished the meal, switched off the TV and crept into bed next to Abeke who was soundly asleep by this time.

Groggily I woke at 8:15AM the next morning as waves of migraine rippled through the left half of my face. My body felt like one that had been struck by a ‘molue’. Abeke was nowhere to be found. On her side of the bed was a note which read:

“Meet me in Lagos!”

“What!”, was all I could summon from my vocal reserve. With blurry eyes I looked around and indeed her travel suitcases were gone. Alas, my headache compounded instantly. Right there and then, the unnerving quiet of hers the previous night made perfect sense. “Abeke met with Yvette…wow!”, I thought. I left my hurting head buried in my palms as I sat at the foot of the bed for what seemed like an eternity, trying to make sense of Abeke’s action and the possible upcoming drama that awaited me in Lagos. Yvette’s revelations would seem minute however if she ever found out my other secret.

The shrill chimes of the doorbell interrupted my musings. I made my way out of the bedroom into the living space to answer it. Whoever it was at the door impatiently buzzed again leaving the finger permanently on the button; this agitated my migraine some more. On opening the door, Yvette brushed me aside as she walked right into the apartment.

“Where is the Mrs.?”, she queried sarcastically as she sat in the lone accent chair by the window.

“Errmm…she’s gone back to Lagos”, I managed to utter in my state of shock.

By this time, my head was spinning in orbits. She broke a crooked smile as she rummaged her handbag for her mobile phone. She punched in some numbers and dialled. The conversation lasted 2 seconds as she said into the receiver “It’s on”. I tried to wonder what that meant but didn’t have to for long. The front door of the apartment burst open and 2 hefty young men of Caribbean descent barged in. One of them had long dreadlocks and the other, a shiny bald head. They manned the door like prison guards. Yvette crossed her legs and motioned me to take a seat. Unsure of what was about to ensue, I complied like a sheep being led to the slaughter for the presence of the men towering over me gave me major concerns.

“I learnt you came with an impressive wallet to splurge on the high street…hmmm! Well…I am your high street now. Go bring the money!”, she ordered. I stood for a minute, wondering how deep her conversation with Abeke got when she barked at me,  “Get it right away…and I know the exact amount so don’t mess about with me.” Without a second thought I headed for the bedroom, took out the brown manila envelope that housed the £10,000 I had set aside for shopping from my suitcase and returned to the living room. I had no intention of testing the powers of Yvette’s touts.

To be honest, she wasn’t out of line with her demands; I never gave her a dime since the child was born. She ripped the loaded envelope out of my grip, turned her back on myself and her goons and quickly counted the crispy reddish £50 notes. As she turned around, she looked at me sternly, nodded like an Agama lizard before exiting the apartment with her goons like gangsters. Yvette’s drama was the least of my worries.

Source: Google Images

Abeke leaving for Lagos ahead of me was my primary concern. Seeing that her flight wouldn’t leave until 11:30AM, I called her cell phone severally but she refused to answer it. Without wasting any more time, I called the ticketing office and changed my departure to the evening of the same day. I got to Lagos the next morning and boarded a yellow taxi home; Bala’s official phone was unreachable. Our driver was usually very reliable; had the drama started already?

I got to the gate of our home about 8 O’clock in the morning and the gate-man welcomed me with fear and anxiety in his eyes. I reached for my keys and unlocked the front door. As I wheeled my suitcases into the anteroom, I sensed some unusual presence in the house. Seeing it was dead quite, I proceeded into the living room. On opening door, down on her knees was Mrs Johnson, Abeke’s mum, with both hands up in the air as she rubbed both palms against each other pleading to someone I couldn’t see. The look in her eyes was that of great fear and terror. I dropped my suitcases and rushed to her side as I called out her pet name to ask what the matter was.

I was oblivious of the fact that behind the door stood Chief Johnson with a double barrel shotgun in his hands. A shot rang out and I felt metal pierce my kneecap sharply as I crashed haplessly on the marble floor. Before I could take in all that was going on, Abeke was standing over me, her face emotionless. She stooped to my level and dug her teeth firmly into my shoulder for what seemed like forever then she passed out. I wriggled in pain. Mrs Johnson pitched her cry for mercy and forgiveness. It was then I realised we’ve been found out; our secret affair had been ongoing for 7 years! Chief Johnson corked  the shotgun once more; another shot rang out as her screams filtered to me from what seemed like a million miles away.

Mr and Mrs Series: No.9 Commotion Street

As I stood fast endlessly staring through the old French sash windows that separated  me from the billowing storm outside, watching as each June raindrop hit whatever was in its way without mercy, I couldn’t help but ponder on the vivid imaginations rioting through my brains. The time on the old grandfather’s clock leaning against the awkward middle pillar in our little one-bedroom apartment said 9.45pm. Oh how I so detest the hideous-looking monster of a clock, Deolu’s prized possession. It’s been in his lineage three generations and counting! I dare not say one more uncomplimentary comment about it to his hearing, the vigour and passion with which he’d vent; you’d think I just disrespected his mother!
 It was way past Deolu’s estimated time of arrival from yet another intervention mission at the Okafors. The incessant savagely fierce thunderbolts rattling outside denied me hearing what was really going at our next door neighbour’s house. The houses in our neighbourhood were close enough to turn an intimate private conversation into a community town hall meeting usually. Phew! Overwhelmed by an uneasy calm, I pressed my ears harder against the windows, straining to find out if per chance I would hear anything at all…alas, nothing! He’s been gone for a little over two hours now. I don’t trust those Okafors, they could be pretty volatile during their altercations.

I said a quiet prayer for the safety of my dear husband as I started pacing, making use of what was left of our tiny floor space. Everywhere was packed with our worldly possessions, the apartment was no longer practical for our family of four. There wasn’t an immediate need to move into a bigger space though, seeing that Deolu worked out-of-town and he was only in every fortnight – for two days. Even if we wanted to, money was likely to play tricks on us. *Sigh* Describing our family as affluent would only be appropriate when compared to the average family in my neighbourhood. The poverty around here ran skin-deep with most of the people already resigned to fate, living from hand to mouth.

I quickly made my way back to the window when I heard what sounded like war cries. In my hurry, I stumbled into Deolu’s prized possession, sending it tumbling down to its final sojourn, its grave.E gba mi, mo daran”  was all I could mutter! Deolu was going to have my head on a platter! In that moment, that was the least of my worries for the noise was growing louder. What I saw through the windows left me bewildered! What is this I am beholding?! Commotion rendezvous!!!

Source: Google Images

In circular motions, running like a headless chicken in the rain was my dear husband with Mrs Okafor right behind him with wrapper tied high above her breasts.  Mr Okafor stood afar yelling, “Prisi, Prisi, no wound person o!” In her right hand was the 24-inch long pestle she grabbed from her kitchen, raised high in the air. From her mouth came words I couldn’t understand; she was speaking in her dialect, cursing more like. The neighbours began pouring out of their homes in droves, the unscrupulous ones amongst them chanting for more drama as I watched my Deolu leap over puddles of muddy waters, dodging every swing of Mrs Okafor’s pestle. His shirt was in tatters already. Only heaven knows what transpired in that house!

He could have made his way into our home for shelter and safety but knowing him for who he is, he wouldn’t want to bring harm his family’s way. The children were fast asleep in all of these and I was unsure of what to do. Stepping out to join the ongoing madness was not an option. It could leave both Deolu and I injured or bring about the untimely death of either of us – Mrs Okafor was vicious like that! We also stood the chances of being looted. I know the area too well so I stayed put, watching helplessly.

Mrs Okafor’s reign of terror on Deolu continued with no end in sight. This left me exasperated and all I could pray for was a divine intervention of some sort. From nowhere appeared Morufu, the neighbourhood tyrant, and for the first time, I loved Morufu, for I could see an imminent end. Morufu nicknamed himself “Voltron” because he was of the belief that he defends the helpless in the neighbourhood irrespective of their gender. Deolu was the obvious helpless in this case and Morufu’s venom was about to be unleashed on Mrs Okafor. Thank goodness!

The chase was steep; Deolu was now within her reach. As she gathered herself to launch her deadly attack, she did not notice Morufu nor his outstretched leg in her way. Her very next stride landed her in the awaiting pool of muddy water nearby. She was covered in mud like an apple on a stick dipped in melted dark chocolate at Carlos’ Bakery. Talk about divinely answered prayers. On seeing what had just happened, Deolu stopped for a moment, looked at Morufu with the eyes of gratitude, gave a nod and resumed his running. This time he was headed in my direction.

I immediately undid the door locks and let him in; marking the floor of the apartment with heavy muddy impressions from the sole of his bare feet as he crumbled into the nearest seat to him. He was a total mess.  I had never seen Deolu this disconcerted. I dare not try Mrs. Okafor’s stunt with him, not with the way he prances around the house like Achilles from the movie ‘Troy’. Seriously, I really do not have any reason to disrespect him, he is a good man.  I made my way into the kitchen to get the kettle boiling while I gathered old towels and the small tub of Aboniki balm to soothe him with.

Apparently, it was Deolu who triggered the pandemonium when he reprimanded Mrs Okafor for slapping her husband in his presence. I warned him severally to stay out of  Mr & Mrs Okafor’s business but the peacemaker in him wouldn’t let him. Now he’s learnt his lesson the hard and shameful way.

As I emerged from the kitchen armed with all I needed to bring him relief, he asked quietly, “What happened to the clock?” Taking a deep breath, I narrated how the accident occurred, stammering along the way. He listened without interrupting which made me fidget. I had just succeeded in ruining a family heirloom. Soon after, he started to laugh. By this time, I was mopping his body with a hot towel; I stopped for a minute and took a long look at him, he was laughing real hard. I couldn’t help but chuckle along though dismayed. He eventually calmed down and said to me with all seriousness, “Thank you for helping me rid that menace of a clock from my life. It wasn’t worth anything much anyway! I only held on to it as a result of Uncle Bayo’s sentimental blackmail.”  What a relief!

As we retreated into bed at almost midnight, Deolu made the announcement I’d been fantasizing about for many years. “We have to leave this neighbourhood. It is unfair to raise the children in an environment such as this. What’s the point in saving all the money if we cannot invest it in creating a better life for the kids?” “Deolu, you know we don’t have that kind of money to rent  a new place in a decent neighbourhood?”, I interjected. He then revealed, “I have some money saved apart from that in the joint account. I will make use of it to secure a new place. We are moving out by the weekend and that is final.”

I snuggled into my dear Deolu with a satisfactory grin on my face, knowing our days in the neighbourhood were numbered. The curious woman in me wanted to make a fuss about his hidden savings; I thought we were operating the ‘open book’ policy with everything but at this point, it was best to let that slide. After all, we all would be benefiting from his hidden treasures now. My fantasy was finally becoming a reality all thanks to Mrs Okafor. I began rehearsing my farewell speeches to all and sundry in my head till into coo-coo land I faded.


And so the Cookie Crumbles

Good morning NW readers,

Trust the weekend was nicely spent. Yeah, I know we never get enough of it but on the flip side, another one is only 4 days away…yay!!!

Now to the matter for the day: I’ve got a tough meat on my plate this week, nothing short of a deal breaker in my opinion! The events you are about to read are the realities of a frustrated, on-the-verge-of-giving-up young married couple. Take a dive in and let’s have your take, advice and/or counsel on it. Here we go…

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An evening of merriment to celebrate Akin’s latest promotion at his work place just went pear-shaped…well, at least for me. The music was excessively loud, compounding the throbbing sensation rippling through my head and body. In my trembling hands was a piece of paper that carried as much weight as I perceived on that day the Vicar handed us our marriage certificate. Clearly printed on it was the result of a pregnancy test that could change the rhythm of things in our marriage…forever? Below it was a P.S. note neatly handwritten in cursive addressed to me. I stared endlessly at the piece of paper hoping what I had just read was untrue….

“Hi Tade,

In less than 7 months, this would be ‘our’ reality. I thought to do you the honours by letting you know before hand; seeing that Akin may never mention it to you. I don’t want you to leave, just move over and create me some space too. 



Irene, oh Irene! My gut feelings never fail me. She works as PA to Akin and I have always had this reservation about their “relationship”… a little too close and unnecessarily chummy for comfort. For each time I brought up the issue with Akin, he succeeded in side-tracking it either by telling me I was just conjuring things in my idle head or I was being overly sensitive. “What transpires between Irene and I is strictly professional”, he’d say. So, to see her walking towards me at the celebration party with a satisfactory smirk on her face as she handed me the envelope left me ruffled.

Akin and I got married exactly 4 years ago in a very extravagant ceremony. Our parents have been family friends way before either of us was born so to see their seeds come together in matrimonial union was the climax of their friendship of many decades. Don’t get it twisted, we were never childhood sweethearts though I could tell my mother wanted that from the get go. As a matter of fact, whenever there was reason for us to meet at mutual family functions, we avoided each other like a plague; maybe it was just me. I also found it very discomfiting to hear his mother refer to me while growing up as their “wifey”. My heart was somewhere else…my heart was with Ejiro.

I met Ejiro in my 1st year at the university; he was in his final year. The spark between us was instantaneous and electrifying. He was my first boyfriend and he sure did rock my world. The circumstances under which we first met was anything but romantic; this, however, did not in any way affect the chemistry that transpired between us as we recovered from the unintentional collision that caused our paths to meet on that fateful day right outside the senate complex.  In less than 2 weeks, we became inseparable till he graduated.

Till date, I am yet to unravel the mystery surrounding how my mother found out about Ejiro and I. She literally had feats as though she were epileptic, spitting fiery words of disapproval like cannonballs. If my memory serves me well, in the 2nd semester of my 1st year at Uni, I overheard, for the first time, her and father discussing their plans to seal the friendship between Akin’s family and ours with a marriage. The tone of the conversation didn’t sound like a new topic to them. It was at this point I realized my time with Ejiro would only be but for a moment; a reality that stung to the bones. I stood the chance of losing  my inheritance if I did not comply as it were. We parted ways soon after he graduated, we couldn’t bear to keep in touch. The breakup was so painful, its remembrance never fail to unleash the waterworks in my tear ducts.

I refused dating other guys for the rest of my academic years seeing that my marital fate was already sealed. The frequency of Akin’s calls and visits increased and I wasn’t surprised. He was already primed for the task ahead. Being someone with a natural aversion for confrontation, I settled into the role of fiancée without much ado. I grew to like Akin over time and showed him respect for the role he was about to play in my life not minding the disparity in the way I feel about him in comparison to Ejiro.  As at the time we got married, I had just landed my first real job in an Oil & Gas  multinational organisation post National Youth Service. For a fresh graduate, I was well positioned in the company thanks to my father’s goodwill.

3 years and 2 months after we got married, it happened. I was one of the delegates assigned by the company to attend an annual Oil & Gas Industry  International Conference in Atlanta, Georgia in the United States of America. I was awesomely excited at the prospect of this. It would be the first time away from Akin since we got married; I needed to exhale! He had already declared since the 4th week of our marriage that he has now satisfied the parents and he’s willing to play house with me as long as I don’t disturb his equilibrium, meaning – his liberty to exercise his masculinity beyond the confines of our marriage. He also did not forget to add the need for us to postpone having children till after our fourth year of marriage. Neither of these went down well with me but I stayed put, too afraid to challenge him. There was no way I could mention this to my parents either, Akin could do no wrong before them.

As fate would have it, it was in the land of far far away somewhere in America, while on this official trip that I met Ejiro again. He was also attending the same conference. As a matter of fact, we were lodged in the same hotel, on the same floor, even, the same wing.  We wasted no time, seeing all the elements had come together for us, we picked up from where we left it years back…my soul came alive again. We  did our best to exercise uttermost discretion in how we sneaked into each other’s room every night  of the 5 days we spent there. Evidently it wasn’t good enough. Upon my arrival back home, Akin presented me with photographic evidences of my escapade with Ejiro! How on earth did he get these? Your guess is as good as mine, he obviously had me spied! Damn!!!

My escapade with Ejiro wasn’t planned in any way, we lost contact since he graduated…the circumstances simply played out. He works and lives  on a different continent so the chances of a repeat are narrow.  Before the incidence, it had been 11 months since any coitus action happened between Akin and I. He was always too busy or too tired. I knew those were just excuses, he sure was getting his groove on elsewhere; I’d seen enough incriminating bbm chats and phone call records to corroborate this. Although, I may never love Akin the way I love Ejiro but I was not ready to throw my marriage away…too many things at stake. So, for these reasons, I came clean, gave my deepest and most sincere apologies to him and he said, “I forgive you”. As a matter of fact, his niceties took a turn for the better which honestly got me worried. Something didn’t feel right!

Her sarcastic laughter from the distance was loud enough to startle me out of my state of reminisce. I raised my head from the piece of paper in my hands to behold Akin and Irene whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. With the corner of his eyes, he caught me and for what seemed like eternity, we held each other’s gaze; he made no attempt to comport his actions with Irene and without remorse he looked away.

Source: Google Images


I am in a state of confusion and I am absolutely clueless on what to do now. My plan was to break the news of my pregnancy to Akin after the celebration party but clearly, Akin & Irene had other plans. What am I going to do now? Should I tell him I am carrying his baby or not? Should I walk away, get rid of it and pick the pieces of my life and start over again, probably with Ejiro…at least he is not married? Should I get the parents involved? What should I do? I am so shattered!!!

– Tade 😦

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Pleas find the comment link below to leave your thoughts, thanks!