Beyond The Binary 3
Shola’s curiosity was piqued. “What does Titi have to do with Mezino?” she asked, reminding her PA that Mezino was male and, therefore, not a person of interest for her as a lesbian.
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WherStories
Beyond The Binary 2
After the call dropped, Mezino struggled with himself, but his dad’s disapproving gaze upon his return home made him crave a night out. Seeking a fresh escape, Mezino rummaged through his wardrobe for the perfect outfit for the high-profile party. He desired something classy, yet modest; masculine, yet feminine enough to showcase his self-acceptance at
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The Body Needs Care
Cynthia winced as she lowered herself onto Halima’s couch, cradling the heating pad against her stomach. The warmth seeped into her skin, dulling the sharp cramps that had been tormenting her all morning. Halima, still in her pajamas, hovered nearby, her eyes filled with concern as she stirred sugar into Cynthia’s tea. “You really don’t
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Beyond the Binary (Part 1)
Shola’s eyes gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of her opulent living room, her mind a million miles away. The Lagos skyline, once a symbol of her success and freedom, now seemed dull and uninviting. Her thoughts were consumed by the toxic relationship she had finally escaped. Her ex-partner, Titi, had been a master manipulator, using
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Our Two Different Skies (Part 3)
Ada hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen, the weight of Kamsi’s stare pressing into her. She could feel the tension between them, thick and unrelenting, like the heat swarming and scorching outside their hotel window. “It’s Joy, isn’t it?” Kamsi’s voice was calm, but there was a tremor beneath it. Ada sighed and locked
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Our Two Different Skies (Part 2)
Abuja was supposed to be a fresh start. A chance to bridge the gap that time and distance had carved between us. Kamsi had picked the hotel, excitedly sending me pictures of Bon Hotel’s elegant suites, its rooftop pool glistening in the sunlight. “It’s perfect, Ada,” she had said over the phone. “Just you and
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Our Two Different Skies (PART 1)
I still remember the moment Kamsi walked into my life, or rather, my hostel room. A first-year student, lost in the maze of Awka’s campus life, she had followed the wrong hostel trail. Her oversized UNIZIK hoodie swallowed her slim frame, but her voice, though hesitant, carried warmth when she asked for directions. From that
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RIPENING MANGOES
The smell of the mango tree wafted through our house whenever the rain fell. Ours was a smallhome, two bedrooms with a singular toilet and bathroom. Papa was a strong hunter and mymother loved farming. On days when the sun shone too bright and too hot, i and my brothernnaemeka would run off to play
Dust and Dead Leaves 1.
When I returned to Ibadan, my compound was covered with dry leaves, and my house was filled with dust. Tamuno had packed every bag that belonged to her and had kept my keys under the doormat. I met Tamuno at a Jazz bar in Lagos. She was dressed in a red bandage dress and sat
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Live Like I Am
Andrew has been married to his wife Serah for more than a decade and they have both built one of the most respectable families in their neighborhood. The happiness in their home reflects on their children even. The couple has never had any reason to question their place in each other’s lives and that became