Driving away from the event center, Mezino glanced back and saw Vally watching them, dumbfounded, his hands on his head. Turning away, he looked at Shola, her expression smug yet visibly upset. The drive to the hospital was long and silent, tension thick between them. Upon arriving, Shola rushed to the passenger side, ready to […]
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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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
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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