Shades Of Deceit

The pastor is cheating

We die here

Following... I'm not surprised if the pastor is cheating

So meaning pastor Michael is cheating abi? Interesting times ahead, continue sha!!!

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[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 3: The Man In The Man Of God[/b] THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 11th, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 10:40AM Laide took her husbands’ luggage from him as he stepped into the sitting room leading the way to their bedroom. It didn’t escape her that his eyes shifted away from hers, preferring instead to draw her to himself in a warm hug. She sensed something was wrong, but she couldn’t lay a finger on it. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, she thought to herself as she watched him take off his jacket, but why would he cut her call and switch off his phone, if there was nothing to hide? She asked herself, her lips mute but her eyes travelling, searching for signs on her husband that didn’t exist. The man was clean. ‘You will take a shower before your meal I guess?’ Laide asked, placing the luggage at the foot of the bed. ‘Sure,’ Michael replied as he unbuttoned his shirt. His eyes still very shifty, avoiding the gaze of his wife. He had an already scripted answer in his head but the question had not been asked. This was a delicate game of timing. Answer before the question is asked -you’re pronounced guilty. Don’t answer rightly when the question is asked -you’re also pronounced guilty. He just had to wait for the right time to spew forth the words he had already constructed in his head. With those thoughts running around in his mind, he made for the bathroom. Laide watched his retreating figure as he disappeared into the bathroom. Her fingers reaching out for his phone immediately her ears picked out the sound of running water. She knew he would not be in the bathroom for more than five minutes, so there was no time to waste. Her eyes narrowed on the calls log as she confirmed her number on his list, My Good Thing…03/09…22:20, she pushed the touch pad to the blackberry messenger, her fingers working feverishly on the device. She found her subject and tapped on the touch pad to open up the chat history. Her salivary glands stopped functioning, leaving her mouth dry and her eyes all popped out as she stared at the nude pictures on the screen of the phone. She shook her head, trying to get Ivie’s nude images off her vision as she searched for Priye’s ID on her husband’s phone. It seemed like a perfect case of Deja vu as she tapped on the touch pad to open up the chat history. This chat has no subject. You can add it anytime using the menu… She looked at the phone suspiciously, her face wrinkled in worry. Something was wrong. How could Priye’s chat history be blank when just last week, it had some innocent church conversations? Yes, her curiosity had led her to check her husband’s phone, particularly Priye’s conversations knowing that she would be in the company travelling to the conference. It had gladdened her then to see that they had only sparse discussions between them, the last one dating back to January, and prior to the church’s praise night. It was the singular reason she had not pressed for the inclusion of her loyal spy -Nike in the entourage. ‘But Nike would not have been able to stop them from chatting,’ she muttered to herself, At least she was sure nothing physical happened between them, seeing that Pastor Tony was part of the trip. There was no way they could have done anything unseemly with him hanging not too far off, she thought within herself, desperately trying to console herself. ‘If nothing happened physically, how could she be so sure nothing happened via chatting?’ She asked under her breath, her thoughts running riot. It was the singular reason the blank chat history bothered her. What could have been in the chats with Priye that would have made her husband go as far as deleting chat history -another set of nude pictures? *** *** *** Michael stood directly under the shower, letting the water massage his head as it ran down his body. It was supposed to have a soothing effect but the confusion inside of him neutralised any of such effects. She was in his head. We can’t do this now. Not with Pastor Tony somewhere in the hotel. What if he comes to my room? He asked, protesting as tamely as he could as she sat astride him. ‘O ye of little faith. You have not received a spirit of fear, but of love,’ her voice cooed sensuously in his ears. Her lips munching the tip of his left ear lobe, setting his body aflame with desire. It’s of power and of love and of a sound mind. He corrected her. ‘You’re the Pastor,’ she said as her hands navigated the familiar territory of his chest, ‘I’m a singer, I think it’s time you do your job so I can sing,’ she said as she cupped her breasts with his hands. That was the exact moment the song Olo mi by Tosin Martins serenaded the room, it was his special ringtone for his wife. She cut the call and put the phone off, tossing it further away from them before lining his lips with a hot kiss. He was entranced. ‘Do you know I can’t remember when I cut the call and put off my phone? I was so fast asleep,’ Michael muttered to himself, rehearsing his answer to his wife’s anticipated question. He turned off the shower, grabbed a towel from the rail and mopped his body. It was time to face the music and face it he must, he sighed as he stepped out of the bathroom. *** *** *** Gwarimpa, Abuja. 10:47AM Nike glossed over the report on the table for the umpteenth time, she wanted to be sure there were no mistakes on the final edit copy of the report. She was that thorough. Satisfied with the work, she rose up from her chair, picked up the report and made for the pastor’s office. As she entered the office, she opened up the report and scanned through the pages again before placing it strategically in front of the chair on the desk. She wanted to make sure it would be the first thing he saw when he sat on his chair. She was sure he had arrived Abuja from Lagos already, as she was the one who had booked a first flight for the trio who had gone for the conference. She however didn’t expect him in the office till it was about eleven thirty or twelve noon, as she knew he would first make a stop at home to see his wife before coming over to the office. She let her fore finger drag on the Ciello executive desk, feeling the smooth finish of the exquisite furniture as she took a stroll around the office, her eyes surveying the room to make sure everything was in its proper place. As her finger ran along the desk, memories of countless escapades on top of the desk flooded her mind but the memory of the first time, stood out from the others -it was a classic. ‘We can’t do this,’ she pleaded, as they took a break from their long kiss. ‘Why?’ he asked, his eyes fierce like that of a predator. She thought of a reason why they couldn’t do it and all of a sudden there was none, after-all she wanted it too. ‘You’re a man of God,’ she said almost in a whisper. Cursing herself deep down for the words that just came out of her mouth and hoping that he didn’t hear them. ‘You’re right, I’m a man of God,’ He said, his hands still wrapped around her waist, eyes staring deep into hers. ‘But I’m first a man, before I’m of God and right now, the man in this man of God wants this beautiful lady,’ he whispered into her ears as he lifted her up from the ground, sitting her gently on the desk. The session was classic. Nike snapped out of her reverie as she heard the hello sound from her office. It sounded like the voice of Pastor Ben. She took one last glance around the room as she hurried out to attend to the voice. *** *** *** Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 10:50AM Michael could feel his wife’s eyes on him as he buttoned his shirt. He knew the question was going to drop anytime soon. He had the answer ready, Do you know I can’t remember when I cut the call and put off my phone? I was so fast asleep. ‘Why is Priye’s chat history blank?’ Laide asked, her eyes fixed fiercely on her husbands’. She wanted to take in every bit of his body movement, to know whether to believe his words or not. Michael was transfixed. That was the wrong question. His head was still searching for an appropriate answer when he heard his mouth speak, ‘what sort of a nonsense question is that?’ ‘The kind that a wife would ask?’ Laide fired back, her eyes showing her anger. Michael kept quiet as he brushed his hair, peeping into the mirror to catch a glimpse of himself. As he dropped the brush on the shelf, he could feel the scalding eyes of his wife burn through his back. ‘I can see your mind has started cooking things up again, I will ignore you,’ he said as he made for the door. Laide got up quickly from the bed and intercepted her husband, her eyes demanding a different answer from the one her husband was currently offering. ‘Have you started fooling yourself with Priye just like you did with Ivie?’ Laide asked, her voice laced with contempt. The response was fast. It was a lightning slap across her face as the force of the back of his left palm sizzled on her left cheek, sending her crashing to the ground. ‘Don’t you ever talk to me in that tone of voice in your life again,’ Michael barked as he grabbed the car keys from the hangar, the sound of her sobs trailing him as he stormed out of the bedroom, shutting the door with a bang. ***

owkay

I thought u are a real man of God

This is shit ??,,,, u can't stand to be reminded of your sins man of God so u resolve into slapping your wife.... Pregnant wife for that matter coz she said the truth? If I were the one u can't imagine what I will do to u... Nkt! Mtcheeew

This is rubbish

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 4: The Pastor. The Wife. The Drama[/b] SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 13th, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 2:50AM The song filtered into her head as she drifted between sleep and reality. She had dozed off while listening to a program on radio with her phone on the bed. She knew the song. My skin is like a map Of where my heart has been And I can’t hide the marks It’s not a negative thing… Laide winced in pain as she felt her swollen lips with her tongue. Her hurt was not from her swollen lips, it was from a broken heart. I bruise easily So be gentle when you handle me There’s a mark you leave Like a love heart carved on a tree… The tears rolled down her cheeks as Natasha Bedingfield’s velvety voice seeped out from the phone’s speakers. In a former life, before she became a Pastor’s wife, this was one of her favourite songs, but never had she connected with the lyrics of the song the way she presently connected with it. She sniffled as she wrapped her arms around her son, not like one seeking to protect her child but as one seeking protection from her child. His room had been her refuge for the past two nights as she had refused all entreaty from her husband to return to their shared bedroom. She would however have to return to their bedroom when it was daybreak as her sister Yewande was arriving from Lagos for a short stay. She couldn’t let anybody, not even Yewande, know that Pastor and Mrs Igbinedion were not living as a happily married christian couple, let alone as the respected christian leaders that they were supposed to be. They had a reputation and she had to play her part to protect that reputation. Who would believe that Mrs Laide Igbinedion, wife of the charismatic and heavily anointed pastor of a ten thousand member congregational church had sad nights like these? Who would believe that she was a victim of abuse in a marriage that was globally acclaimed as a model for what a good and happy marriage should look like? Michael had hit her once while they were courting and she remembered how he had begged and grovelled for months before she eventually forgave him. That was six months before he proposed. He would eventually start his assault on her four years after they were married, when Jeremiah was just two years old. She remembered vividly that the argument was about his seeming closeness to Ivie whom he had elevated from being just a leader of one of the home fellowship units in the church to being his personal assistant. She had explained away his closeness to Ivie to the fact that they both hailed from the same tribe, but having her as a personal assistant was way more than she could logically explain. In the first place, why did he need a personal assistant, and a female one at that? ‘These days, with the amount of speaking invitations that I get, if I don’t get an assistant, I might end up having to sleep in church,’ Michael explained. ‘I need time with you and my growing son. I don’t want to be an absent dad,’ he said, planting a kiss on her lips. As usual, she was bought. Ivie was eventually employed and Michael continued to sleep in church, closing just as late as he used to. ‘You’re not stupid enough to infer that I’m going out with my P.A, are you?’ Michael asked, his face contorted in anger as he responded to his wife’s questions. ‘You are not stupid enough to go out with her, are you?’ She asked, throwing the question back at him. ‘Is that question for me?’ He lashed out with a slap right across her right cheek. The sound was like a thunder clap. Shock was riddled on her face for the first thirty seconds and as the tears rolled down her eyes, all she could say was, ‘Michael, you slapped me because of Ivie?’ ‘I slapped you because you insulted me,’ he replied, walking out on her. It was also the first time they had slept in separate rooms. She missed church the next day being a Sunday as her eyes were swollen and reddened by the slap. It was the last time, Michael hit her on her face and on a Saturday. His assaults had since become more planned and strategic as the three other times he had hit her was either on a Thursday or a Friday and he had lashed her with his belt and on her buttocks, after over-powering her on the bed and muffling her cries with a pillow -like she was an errant child. He had not followed this rule two days ago when he slapped her on her face. It was reminiscent of the first time he hit her since they became husband and wife. ‘Please, no one must know of this,’ Michael pleaded as she looked at him with disdain. ‘I thought you said you both had nothing between yourselves?’ she asked, waving the phone at him. ‘This is nothing right?’ Her eyes glancing at the nude pictures of Ivie plastered on the screen of the phone. Michael was quiet. ‘You will sack her immediately,’ she said, her voice fierce and authoritative. ‘And if you must have a personal assistant, then I will choose that person,’ she continued, her mind already set on Nike whom she trusted and was like a younger sister to her. Marriage was not supposed to be perfect and hers was not. The only difference with her marriage was that everyone seemed to believe that she and Michael were living a fairy-tale. He was the poster boy for a good man and her, for a virtuous woman. They were a perfect marriage. If only they knew. If only they knew. She muttered into the dark cold night. *** *** *** Maitama, Abuja. 8:50AM Chika Ezenwa stared at the suspended ceiling boards in his room, his eyes seeing nothing, as his mind x-rayed his life in the past five months. It was a sad life. Where there used to be patters of the tiny feet of his son Josh, there was quiet. And where there used to be the body of his wife lying next to him as a human heater, there was emptiness and cold. He missed his family, but most especially, he missed his son. But how do you forgive a woman, whose sex tape is right now on the internet? It was a question he had been unsuccessfully trying to find an answer to and no matter how hard he tried to push the images to the recesses of his mind, the pictures from the tape remained crisp and clear. They haunted him. He loved Amaka with his life but now he was not so sure. What he was however sure of was that, his heart was not hating her as much as he would like. It was looking for excuses to forgive her. How do you hate the mother of your only child? The mother of Josh. He exhaled loudly as the handsome face of his son formed in his mind and his tiny voice rang out in his ears. Daadi. What if she was right that the video was done way before they met? There was nothing to prove it, but what if she was right? Was it not enough to take her back for? ‘Too many questions,’ Chika muttered as he closed his face with a pillow, ‘Too many questions,’ he repeated. He missed his family and he wanted them back. *** *** *** Gwarimpa, Abuja. 3:03PM Michael watched the couple as they argued between themselves. ‘Pastor, this is exactly what I’m facing,’ the husband said exasperated. ‘I don’t know if she is the husband, or I am the husband. She doesn’t even let me drink water and put the cup down. If I talk one word, she will talk twenty, if she could, she would wear the trousers in the house,’ the man said, his eyes showing his frustration. The woman sat still, hands folded across her belly, her gaze fixed on her husband. Michael smiled. ‘She’s a woman Mr Nweke, talk is what she knows how to do best.’ The wife grunted in acknowledgement, a quiet way of saying, tell him. Michael smiled, ignoring her very quiet interruption. ‘The bible urges you to love your wife and one of the ways of showing love is to love and eat her food, no matter how angry you are. She has spent time in cooking, you should eat.’ The wife’s eyes glowed as the pastor spoke, visibly pleased with the path the discussion was towing. ‘And madam, you know you have to submit to your husband?’ ‘Yes Pastor,’ the woman replied, her face slightly bowed. ‘It’s easy to draw out his love in that manner, the bible recommends it,’ Michael stated. His eyes settled on the clock in his office. It was reading, 3:12. He was running late as he had planned to leave the office by three ‘o’ clock to get some gifts for his wife. His mind ran on the kind of gifts he could get to break the ice that was currently in his home. Romantic apology card? Check. 10 sweet cherries & 12 swizzled strawberry chocolates? Check. 3 dozen long stemmed red roses? Check. Diamonds? Check. Sweet session of lovemaking? Check.Check.Check… Pastor Michael Igbinedion smiled to himself, nodding his head as Mr Nweke’s mouth opened and closed. He wasn’t hearing one word, but that was no problem, there was always a bible verse to fill up that space. He had to close up the session as soon as possible so he could go and prepare for the very long night that was surely ahead in the home of the Igbinedions. ***

This is not a man of God but a disaster

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 5: Sins of Days Past[/b] SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 14th, 2014. Wuse 2, Abuja. 8:15PM ‘Table for two?’ The waiter who was smartly dressed in a white shirt hidden behind a black waistcoat and tucked into a black pant trousers with a black tie to match asked, as soon as they stepped into the restaurant. Priye could feel an aura of celebration as Ben pulled out a chair for her to sit. He had insisted on doing it, even though the waiter was already set on the task. He had been smiling all evening on their way down to the restaurant. ‘You’ve been smiling, what’s the news?’ She asked, searching his eyes with a smile. ‘Just be patient Madame P, the night has only just begun,’ Ben replied, his eyes set on the road before him. He was visibly excited. If only he knew that she was aware that his excitement was about the new salary package for pastors and church staff, maybe he wouldn’t guard it so jealously. She indulged him, feigning ignorance as she couldn’t also defend how she had gotten the news. How could she tell him that the senior pastor had told her as they both lay cuddled in bed after a steaming session? She rolled her eyes as the thoughts of that night ran through her mind. ‘I can see you like the place,’ Ben said as he watched her roll her eyes. ‘It’s a lovely place,’ she replied smiling. Her attention back in the present. Ben put out his hands to close up hers. He loved this woman so much. He couldn’t wait till they were officially married so he could finally know her fully as a husband. All he knew right now was the fragile nature of her ribs when they greeted in a side-hug, the softness of her palms as they held hands when they went for their strolls in the park and of course that magic moment when their lips touched for two seconds in what nobody would call a ‘k’, talk less of a ‘k’iss. She had pulled herself away expertly from his arms. We can’t do that until we’re married. That was the day she won his heart. He knew she was not a virgin, she had told him that much, but she had also told him that she wanted to do things rightly this time. She was just his dream woman. Posh, beautiful, classy, real, intelligent, minister in songs and definitely God-fearing. ‘What?’ Priye asked, ‘You’ve been staring at me for the past thirty seconds. ‘Besides…’ She glanced sideways at the waiter who had been standing by their table since they arrived, waiting for instructions. ‘You know I love staring at you,’ He answered, ‘it’s my favourite past-time.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said to the waiter who responded with a slight bow. ‘We’ll be having the specials for the night.’ Priye glossed through the page. It contained a lot of intercontinental dishes. She wondered what the specials for the night would be. She allowed her eyes to scan the place as Ben excused himself to the gents. In front of her was the LED menu board with the bright lights blinking WELCOME. As the waiter placed the tray of what obviously was the hors d’oeuvres, her taste buds went to work as she gazed at the tempting array of snacks before her. They were beautiful to look at. ‘And this would be called?’ ‘Canapé Madame,’ the waiter replied as he gave a slight bow and took his leave. She dipped her fingers into the tray, having previously washed her hands. She couldn’t bother to wait for Ben as the tray was too tempting to resist. She guided the snack carefully into her mouth. It tasted heavenly. And just as she lifted up her head slightly, she saw it. It was her name being read out on the LED menu board. PRIYE It blinked at her severally. She stopped, very surprised. The snack in her hand, refusing to come up to her mouth. What was happening? Her mind was in a haze. She looked towards the door that Ben had disappeared into, hoping he would emerge soon as she didn’t know what to make of the situation and just then, her name scrolled up from the middle of the board to the top and she choked for a second as she saw the words displayed on the board. PRIYE WILL YOU MARRY ME The snack fell off her fingers as she felt a slight tap on her shoulders. Still masked in surprise, she turned around to see Ben on bended knees, holding out a ring bedded in a case to her. Ben was talking, but she couldn’t hear him. She was in cloud nine. This doesn’t happen in Nigeria, no Nigerian man, let alone a pastor, would be this romantic. Her head was fuzzy. She felt the tears roll down her face and all she could hear herself say, was ‘Yes!’ *** *** **** Lokogoma, Abuja. 9:15PM Amaka Obi Ezenwa sighed and fell back on the couch, the single piece of furniture in what was the sitting room of the Boys Quarters that she had recently rented and just moved into. After five months of reconciliatory meetings, pleas and false hopes, the reality of the situation was becoming very clear -her marriage was over. She sighed again. She stared at the ceiling tiles as her mind travelled back to that Monday, the 13th day February, 2012, when Bode walked into the bank. He looked very handsome, and as usual had all the females gushing like they had always done when he was still working at the bank. He was with an oil servicing company now and he looked every inch the part. ‘Is Amaka around,’ He asked a colleague as he rounded up his transactions. She was right at his back. ‘So because I have caught you in your sneaking moves, you have suddenly decided to ask after me, right?’ She teased. ‘Aah! You know that’s not possible,’ Bode replied smiling. His dimples in full force as he took her by the hand, leading her out of the banking hall. ‘So tell me what is?’ She asked as she followed him to the car park. ‘I can see that you have started paying your valentine dues into the accounts of your many girlfriends.’ Bode laughed heartily. ‘Why won’t I have many girlfriends when you abandoned me for an Abuja big boy, besides I’m spending this valentine with you,’ he said matter of factly. ‘Or would you rather spend it alone?’ He asked. ‘And who says I’m spending it alone? It’s just 2pm and there’s still a 4pm flight to Abuja you know,’ her eyes glinting even as she spoke. ‘Oh I see,’ Bode said with his trademark smile playing on his lips. ‘So I don’t get one last date before you say ‘I do’, right?’ ‘No you don’t,’ she cooed, ‘and that’s cos’ you’re a very bad boy.’ They both laughed as Bode said his goodbyes, letting out two sharp honks as his car strolled out of the park. He was a man she once loved and while they were together for roughly more than a year, they actually had a proper relationship for only three months. The other times, what they had was undefined. Bode was always distracted by other women, but the only woman whom she truly considered as a true competition was a ghost. She was his ex -Julia. He never got to share with her what happened between them but she could feel it on several occasions, that she was only a rebound. His heart had been scarred too deeply by his break-up and he was still not ready for a relationship. ‘Thank you for spending the day with me, I had fun’ Bode said as they walked up to the car, his right hand placed lightly on her waist, as he opened the door for her. ‘I had fun too,’ she said when he joined her in the car. ‘You know you always have fun when you’re with me,’ his fingers scanning the radio stations for God knows what. She heard the tune as the scan skipped past and as she reached out for his hand to stop him, he stopped abruptly. He had heard the tune too. Turn up the bass, turn up the treble, I’m about to take it to a whole another level! ‘DJ turn off what you’re playing,’ they chorused at the same time, singing along with T-pain and Chris Brown, as the track, Best Love Song, boomed out from the radio. They burst out laughing. ‘This will forever remain our jam,’ Bode said, as his hand squeezed hers. She smiled. She could hear the mush in his voice as much as she could feel the butterflies in her stomach. The car was electric. ‘And now we’re in the car and she touching me…’ Bode continued soloing with T-pain, paraphrasing when it suited him. ‘I’m not touching you,’ she countered almost in a whisper. It was a mistake to have spoken as her hormones were louder than the words she had just said. Go ‘head and kiss your baby And now we’ve got the whole stadium in love like eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh She knew he would try to kiss her when the song reached that point and as much she tried to build a resistance for the moment, she felt herself go as his lips touched hers. ‘We can’t do this here,’ she moaned, when she finally could take in some air. Bode didn’t need any more prompting as he started the engine of the car and drove straight to his house. Everything felt familiar, the house, the room…even his body, but the experience was different. It felt wrong and that made it even more exciting. Bode called her twice after that night but she ignored both calls, preferring to send him a text, telling him that she was very busy with her upcoming wedding. That was the last time he called and that was her last connection to that night -up until five months ago, on that Saturday morning when Chika called her into the study and she saw the video of her sexcapade with Bode, playing on the laptop. The video did not remind her about that valentine’s night with Bode, instead it reminded her of karma, as she was always reminded about that night every time she stared into the little eyes of her son, Josh.   ***

What happened amaka after that night with bode? How did the video come out

Observing

Everywhere is full of deceit, nawa oo!!!

No update today? Biko.....

Go on

What is happening, continue

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 6: Family Nakedness And Shock[/b] THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18th, 2014. Garki, Abuja. 10:23AM Chika ran his hand on his head in a sweeping movement as he fixed his gaze on the laptop on his desk. The design was proving to be a much more bigger challenge than he had anticipated, his eyes squinting as he tried to fashion out fine details in the work in front of him. Incoming Call – Sylvia He hissed. It was the fifth time she was calling in less than three minutes, obviously to let him know that she had left his office. He had left an instruction with the receptionist barring her from seeing him, after the last time she visited. He smiled as the thought of a ‘restraining order’ seeped into his mind. It sounded like a good idea but definitely not in Nigeria. The police that is supposed to effect the order would actually be the ones to escort the person you are seeking to restrain, to you, maybe even blaring sirens as they come. ‘Stupid people,’ he muttered as he swivelled in his chair, distracted from work by the funny thoughts in his head. Why was he even wasting his thoughts on Sylvia and the police when he had real issues to deal with? His eyes fell on the planner on the table, with the green circle drawn around 26 immediately seizing his attention. It was his birthday but it meant nothing anymore. He had drawn green circles around special days earlier in the year to remind him to spend it with his family, but it just didn’t make any more sense now that there was no family. The saying finally made sense to him; special days are special, because of special people. ‘I miss my boy,’ he said to himself. He would have loved to switch that to ‘I miss my family,’ but he wasn’t so sure about his wife. He missed her, but he just couldn’t bring himself to forgive her now. The sting from the tape still felt fresh. You know you’re such a proud fool, right? The familiar voice that had become his companion since the separation, whispered in his head. What stops you from making that call now? It continued. Like he was on auto-response, Chika reached out for his phone, too drained to argue with the voice like he would normally do. He tapped a button and watched the screen of his phone as it dialled his wife’s number. She was still on his quick dial. He plugged the phone to his ears and soon enough there was that familiar buzzing sound from the other end. He paused as he searched his mind for the right word to say after the ritual of hello. His mouth felt dry as he drummed his fingers on the table with his free left hand. ‘Hello,’ she said, from the other end. Her voice composed and strong. ‘Hello,’ He replied, not sure what his next words would be. The only thing he was sure of at the moment was that he missed his son, and just maybe, his wife. *** Lugbe, Abuja. 11:05AM Priye ran her fingers on his chest, snuggling up to him as she felt his hand wrap her up some more. This was the best part of their meet-up. It usually made her feel like he was hers for real. How she coveted him. ‘I’ll miss us,’ she said, her lips vibrating on his chest as she spoke. ‘I’ll miss us so much,’ she repeated. ‘Are you relocating?’ Michael asked, his head propped up against the pillow on the bed. ‘Relocating? No!’ ‘So?’ Michael questioned further, ‘you sound like you’re going somewhere, cos’ I’m not.’ ‘Ben proposed,’ Priye breathed, as she lifted up her hand to display the ring on her finger. ‘What!’ Michael gasped, as he rose up to a sitting position on the bed. ‘When? How? Why?’ He spluttered. ‘On Sunday, I told you we were dating.’ ‘Not formally. And Ben also never spoke to me about it,’ Michael replied with an air of lordship. ‘Besides Ben cannot adequately provide for you.’ ‘Hmmn,’ Priye grunted as she lifted her head from his laps to gaze at him. ‘And he’s a pastor in your ministry?’ She asked defiantly. ‘I know someone who can take care of you,’ Michael continued, ignoring her question. ‘He has come to take permission from me to speak with you, which is the proper way to go about such things. His name is Harrison, he’s a deputy manager at…’ ‘Ben has proposed to me and I said yes,’ Priye cut in, not interested in hearing the full story. ‘Do you love him?’ Michael asked. ‘Atleast I know him and I like him,’ she answered. ‘Besides, what has my loving you all this while fetched me, apart from being a mistress?’ Priye asked, her eyes blazing as she spoke. ‘Mistress?’ ‘Yes Pas-toor,’ Priye replied, with a slur on the ‘Pastor’ to amplify the sarcasm in her voice. Michael’s eyes brightened up as Priye’s words hit him. He made to climb down from the bed, but Priye grabbed him, holding him back. ‘I’m sorry,’ She said, her voice soft and sensuous. Her grip around him tight. ‘I’m not surprised at your attitude. After-all, you have seen the nakedness of a man of God,’ Michael said as he unlocked her arms from around him and climbed down from the bed. Priye held back her chuckle at ‘nakedness of a man of God. ‘I’m very sorry,’ she repeated, her head lowered. Michael’s fingers worked mechanically as he buttoned up his shirt, his eyes wearing an angry stare. He didn’t see Priye’s descent from the bed as she closed him up in her arms from behind. ‘You’re becoming too familiar with the anointing,’ he said, his palms closing up the knots formed by her hand. ‘I’m enjoying the dispensation of grace,’ Priye whispered into his ears, as she teased his ear lobes with her tongue. ‘All the scriptures you know are for seduction.’ Michael teased, as he turned to face her. Priye laughed. ‘I love you,’ she said as Michael closed her up in a bear hug. She didn’t get a response as usual, but it did not matter to her, as him being so close, felt so good that the walls in the room disappeared and she could feel herself sailing in space. He did not need to say anything, if he could just hold her like this in his arms, forever. If words were ever needed to be spoken between them, she would do the talking for both of them. *** FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 19th, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 10:45AM Yewande Johnson heaved a sigh of relief as she hung the last piece of clothing on the line. She was beginning to feel the bite of hunger but she had just one last chore to take care of before settling for breakfast; her sister’s room. Laide always insisted on fixing her room herself, almost always stopping her from arranging the room, but now that she was home alone with Jeremiah, she could go on to sweep the room at-least, as it was almost always very well kept. They were a very neat couple and she adored both husband and wife. She smiled at how her brother in-law being from Benin had influenced her decision to go out on a date with Osas two years ago and with him now being her fiancé and the man with whom she will exchange marital vows come December fifth and sixth, she could truthfully say, she had no regrets about her decision. As the youngest of four girls and the only one yet to be married, she had the privilege of visiting her sisters’ homes and even though they all seemed happy in marriage, the person’s home she would like to replicate was this one, her eldest sisters’ home. Inasmuch as her choice could be mistaken to be solely based on the very special relationship she enjoyed with her eldest sister, to the extent that everyone in the family referred to them as mother and daughter, it was also very highly influenced by Uncle Michael. Who would not want a husband that is not only God-fearing but also dotes on you when you’re together in public places? Who would not desire a man that possesses so much knowledge and yet shows so much humility? Osas was presently not so far off the mark as he was very expressive about his love for her, but he paled in comparison to her brother in-law, Uncle Michael, who was just on a class of his own. She respected him that much. ‘Aunty Yewande, come and take me on a spelling drill,’ Jeremiah said, as she stepped into his room to check up on him. ‘Not now.’ ‘When?’ The boy asked, tugging at her fingers as he tried to woo her to join him. ‘Jerry boy not now,’ she said, rubbing her hand on his head fondly. ‘Just give me fifteen minutes, I should be through with cleaning up your parents room, then we can do the spelling drill for as long as you want.’ The room was looking very well arranged, with every item seemingly placed in their proper positions and the bed well spread out with no visible crease on the bed-sheet. Yewande sighed. ‘What a couple,’ she said as she scanned the room to find out what she could possibly do to make it look better. She just couldn’t help but wonder who amongst the couple was responsible for making the room look so good. It could have been either of them as Uncle Michael was not a man to shy away from cleaning up the house as she has so often seen him do, while her sister, even while being heavily pregnant still insisted on doing some house chores as she claimed it made her fit and prepared for her due date, calling it delivery day exercise. Her eyes caught the gift bag sitting idly on the ground by the corner of the bed and her curiosity was stirred, forcing her legs to move in the direction of the bag. She had seen Uncle Michael bring it in with him on Saturday, the same day she had arrived from Lagos, but she had not yet had the opportunity to see its contents. The bag was empty, save for a black velvet case and a card. Her instincts went immediately for the case and as she opened it, her eyes lighted up as the glitters from the diamond pieced jewellery, twinkled at her. ‘Wow,’ she gasped. ‘This is beautiful.’ Her hands quickly reached out for the card, wanting to see the beautiful words scripted down in it as she made to recreate the emotions and the atmosphere in which the presentation was made. She salivated as she opened the card, her being trembling with anticipation as she imagined the magical words that her eyes were about to behold, but as she read out the words in the card, the look on her face switched from delight to shock as she blinked in disbelief at what she was seeing. The diamond pieced jewellery suddenly felt cold and the last shred of belief in fairy tales which she had kept with her since she was a young girl, vanished. ‘This is not true,’ she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she read out the words in the card slowly, like someone in a trance. I’m sorry I hit you again. This definitely is the last time. And even though I know I have said that before, I promise to keep my promise this time. I love you booboo. You’re ‘MyGoodThing’.   ***

Sorry for the late update, really busy with an important project so I wont be regular to the site till Sunday evening.. Pls bear with me

That Micheal is not qualified to be a Man of God with all those immorality... I wonder how he's still enjoying such sumpteous grace as depicted by the popularity and growth of his church. Priye! I dn't know what to say about that one. It's a pity such an innocent, God fearing Man in the person of Ben is hooked with such a seductress

It's curiosity dat killed de cat,were u not told DAT de bedroom is out of bounds? As for u Pastor Michael,I just dey watch u with one eye closed!!!

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 7: Semantics and Suggestions of Murder[/b] SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 21st, 2014. Gwarimpa, Abuja. 11:28AM Pastor Michael could feel the charged atmosphere and he knew he had the congregation’s full attention at the moment. ‘But it’s true,’ he continued, his eyes questioning the congregation, ‘Stop looking at me like you have not heard people translate woman to woe man, expanded further to mean woe unto man. And also the assertion that God has not rested, ever since He made woman,’ He paused for effect, letting his words sink into the congregation as his eyes scanned through the auditorium, seeing nothing but a sea of heads. ‘But I’m sure you want to know what really happened in Eden, right?’ He asked, smiling as he heard the shouts of Yes Pastor! His smile bore an uncanny resemblance to the knowing grin of a father, who was about to present to his children, their Christmas gifts. And just then he started, ‘In Eden, God never set out to make woe man, like some people have now dubiously coined woman, what He did when He put man to sleep in Eden, was a se-pa-ration, not a cre-a-tion, get that right,’ he said, stressing the ‘separation’ and ‘creation’ for emphasis. The church was quiet. He liked it when the congregation was as quiet as this; he could feel them almost begging him to serve them some more. ‘Can I close up service now?’ He asked, teasing the congregation. No Pastor! They screamed aloud, urging him on. ‘Ladies, you just cannot afford to miss the women conference that’s coming up from the tenth to twelfth of October, you need to know these things and not let any man tell you different,’ Pastor Michael digressed, while making sure he looked straight into the congregation to hold their focus. This congregation didn’t look like they had a plan to go anywhere. They were entranced. ‘Just the way we have different types of cars, what God was making in Eden was a different type of man. This is not creation, this is make-tion,’ he said, causing a section of the congregation to erupt into laughter, while pictures of members nodding their heads in admiration flashed across the big screen. ‘I don’t have all the time, but in closing I’ll just try to describe the emotions that were present in the male-man in Eden, that led to the formation of the word, woman.’ The atmosphere in the church was super charged, but the congregation was super quiet. Thousands of eyes peered at the man on the pulpit in anticipation of his next words. ‘When a truck, sees a Porsche for the first time,’ Pastor Michael started, choosing his words like bullets, and shooting every syllable from his lips to the congregation with the deliberate precision of a sniper, ‘it’s inability to find words to describe the elegance of the machine and it’s excitement would make it go, Whoa! Car!! And in the same way, when Adam, who by the way is built like a truck, woke up to see this beautiful, exquisitely made, intricately designed being in front of him, he was struck with awe, and his amazement spiked to ecclesiastical proportions, leaving him with no choice but to rhapsodize, Whoa!…‘ ‘Man!!’ The church chorused along with their pastor. With excited shrieks of Halleluiah!! renting the air and general applause from the congregation. Rhema!!! A male voice caught in an instant of spiritualistic seizure thundered in pure ecstasy. The big screen captured a few from a slew of the excited faces, with two ladies pictured on the big screen high-fiving themselves. It was a party and everyone was clearly animated. Yewande stared blankly from where she sat, detached from the euphoria that was sweeping across the auditorium. She tried to form a picture in her head of Pastor Michael, the same one on the pulpit preaching, hitting or slapping his wife, but the images just wouldn’t add up, no matter how hard she tried. He was too spiritual. She tried to form another picture of Uncle Michael, her brother in-law, hitting or slapping her sister, Laide, but the images again just wouldn’t form. Uncle Michael was too loving. Maybe her intuition was wrong and she was just fruitlessly looking for trouble in paradise, after-all her sister looked very happy. Ask her, a voice nudged her. ‘I’ll ask,’ Yewande replied, a bit too loudly as the person sitting beside her turned to ask if she was talking to him. ‘No,’ she replied with a smile, cut off from her reverie. ‘It’s the message, it’s just too powerful.’ She lied as she adjusted herself on her seat, her attention now fully focused on the pulpit, where the music group was about to start their ministration. *** MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 22nd, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 12:28AM Yewande held the novel, ‘Ransom’, in front of her face a while longer than she would have wanted to, before tossing it on the bed beside her. It was not because the novel wasn’t interesting as it was written by her favourite writer, Danielle Steel, but rather because this was a time she had been waiting for the whole day, a time when her brother-in-law would leave the house and thus present her with an opportunity to speak with her sister, alone. ‘Where’s Jerry?’ She asked as she stepped into the sitting room, her sister reclining on the chair, watching Joyce Meyer preaching on television. ‘He’s sleeping. He dozed off immediately his teacher left,’ Laide replied, her eyes glued to the television. ‘Eya,’ Yewande said as she sat down on the soft cushioned chair closest to her sister, ‘I thought her schedule was in the morning?’ She asked, referring to the Joyce Meyer broadcast. ‘That’s on TBN,’ Laide replied with a smile on her face, her eyes still fixed on the television. She was engrossed by the message. Yewande was therefore delighted when the program ended shortly after, as she had been deliberating in her mind whether or not to proceed with her inquisition. ‘Sister,’ she called softly, as if scared, immediately the broadcast ended. ‘Yes,’ Laide replied as she scanned television channels with the remote. ‘I’d like to talk with you.’ Laide stopped. Her sister was never this formal with her, except it was something serious. ‘What about?’ She asked, her eyes probing with care. ‘Is it about the introduction?’ ‘No Sister,’ Yewande replied, forcing a smile. She suddenly felt a need to abandon the idea as she didn’t know exactly how to start the discussion. ‘So?’ Laide probed almost impatiently. Yewande sighed, ‘Nothing Sister.’ Laide’s eyebrows curved in suspicion, as she sat up, ‘You know you can talk to me, or is this about the wedding? Are you having issues with Osas?’ Her voice carried a tinge of worry. ‘No …No,’ Yewande stuttered, ‘It’s not the wedding and it’s not Osas.’ She replied, watching her Sister’s face crease in worry, a testimony to her growing impatience. ‘When I arrived on Saturday Sister, you had a bruise on your lip, I was just wondering how it really came about.’ Yewande started. ‘But I told you,’ Laide replied, her eyes squinting inquisitively, not sure where the discussion was heading to. ‘I know you did Sister but …’ Yewande’s voice tailed off as she sighed, raising her head to look her Sister straight in the eyes. ‘I want to be sure.’ ‘Sure …that?’ ‘Sure that the wardrobe was not Uncle Michael’s fist or his palm,’ Yewande blurted out, her eyes lighting up as she spat the words at her sister. She had become obviously tired of the game her sister was playing. ‘And before you cause yourself to sin by lying Sister, I’ve seen the card where he was apologising for hitting you.’ Laide’s upraised body slumped back into the comfort of the chair like the aching body of a boxer would hug the canvas, shortly after receiving a knockout punch. She swallowed the words already formed in her mouth as the quiet sound of saliva went down her throat. ‘It’s just this once,’ she heard herself saying, her eyes avoiding the stare from her sisters’. ‘It’s not the first time Sister, don’t defend him,’ Yewande’s obviously emboldened voice replied. ‘It’s on the card, he apologised for all the times he beat you, promising you like he has always done that this would be his …’. ‘So what do you want me to do?’ Laide asked, interrupting her younger sister’s rant. ‘He’s my husband.’ Her body racked with pain, as those words spilled out from her lips. ‘He’s my husband,’ she repeated, her eyes bearing pain and anguish. ‘Why don’t you talk to daddy, he can talk to him or better still, report him to his parents,’ Yewande suggested as she left her chair to sit on the arm-rest of her sister’s chair. ‘How can we preach against third parties in marriages and then go against our very own counsel?’ Laide asked. ‘Besides how do I explain to the world that my pastor husband beats me?’ ‘Your family is not the world Sister,’ Yewande countered, ‘and trust me those rules changed the moment he raised his hands on you, I’ll kill any man who does that to me and if you won’t tell daddy and mummy, I will,’ Yewande replied fiercely, her voice relaying her anger. ‘You will not do any of such. Yewande you cannot do that, please, I’m begging you,’ Laide groaned, her pain overwhelming her as a tear ran down her cheek. She made no attempt to wipe it off as she held her sister’s hands, searching her eyes for confirmation that the secret was safe between them. ‘I beg you in the name of God, if he hits me ever again, I’ll report him to daddy immediately, but please don’t do it just yet.’ Yewande freed her hands from her sister’s grasp as she closed her up in a tight embrace; it broke her heart to see her sister in such pain. ‘I’ll kill any man who lays his hands on me,’ she whispered to her sister. Laide smiled. ‘Even when you’re married to him?’ ‘That would make his killing even easier,’ Yewande replied, ‘I’ll just poison him.’ Laide unlocked herself from the embrace to look into her sister’s face. She looked so much older at the moment and nobody would have believed that they had ten years between them. And just then she saw the familiar mischievous grin playing around her lips. ‘You’re such a naughty girl,’ she said, as she drew her back into her arms as they both burst out laughing. It felt beautiful to have someone to hold and share her secrets with. As the warmth from the embrace enveloped her being, Yewande’s words resonated in her head, ‘That would make his killing even easier, ‘I’ll just poison him. ‘ ***

Yea that is it little sis

Laide... Are you going to poison him....?

Michael, if God decides to deal with u, u won't like it. U apologised for hitting her, did you apologize for cheating on her? Change! I warn you

okay o

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 8: Parties, Picnics and Crashes[/b] FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 26th, 2014. Maitama, Abuja. 10:52PM Sylvia’s eyes travelled through the sitting room as she admired the use of colours on the wall. It was beautiful but it was not exactly what she would have done. She let herself dream about how she would redesign the house immediately she settled in, the taste of the wine in her mouth helping to inspire patterns for her design. She watched on as Chika chatted and laughed with Fred his best friend, and noted to herself that getting Fred involved in the surprise birthday celebration had been a stroke of genius -even though she had only used him as a pawn. ‘What is she doing here?’ Chika had asked his friend immediately he set his eyes on her as she set the cake on the table. His stare was unwelcoming. ‘She’s the organiser,’ Fred replied laughing. ‘Where else should she be?’ He asked, holding his friend by the arm and leading him away. She rose up from her chair with a bottle of wine in hand and made her way to the gisting friends. Fred was the only guest remaining and until he left, the second part of the plan would just have to wait. ‘More wine?’ She said, offering to fill the glasses of both men. ‘No more for me,’ Fred said rising up. ‘You know I still have to drive home.’ ‘Ah! So soon?’ Sylvia protested. The worry on her face masking the joy she felt inside. She was beginning to think he would never go. ‘I’m the only guest remaining, besides its way past eleven,’ he said as he picked up a well garnished snail from the tray on the table. ‘Let me clear up this place a little, I should also be on my way soon,’ Sylvia said, almost in a mumble as Chika escorted his friend out. She smiled to herself as she cleaned up the sitting room, amazed at how much things could change in just six months. Yes she had been sure the video would rock the boat of Chika’s marriage, but to think that it would break it up and present her with an opportunity like this was completely out of script. ‘Thank you so much for this,’ Chika said as he joined her in cleaning up. ‘I enjoyed myself.’ ‘You’re welcome dear. Anything for you,’ she cooed, sounding as seductive and suggestive as the script would let her, as she let her left hand brush against his. Chika smiled. ‘I think I can handle the cleaning up, it’s getting really late, you should be on your way home,’ he said as he walked her up to the kitchen to drop the saucers in the sink. The second part of the plan was fully underway and even though she wasn’t sure about what the fine details of the plan were, she was very sure that going home tonight was not part of it. She wiped her hand with a napkin, took a wine glass from the rack and handed it over to Chika. ‘If you stay here with me in the kitchen, I should be through in ten minutes,’ she said as she poured wine into the glass. The words struck him like a fist in his gut. Those were the exact words she used to tell him when they were dating as she prepared meals in this same kitchen, and then he usually replied by holding her from behind and kissing the nape of her neck. He searched her eyes to see if the words were spoken deliberately to ignite a reaction from him but her eyes were blank and innocent as she turned her attention back to cleaning up the kitchen. Chika drew the glass to his lips, savouring the feel of the wine as it hit his tongue and travelled down his throat. He felt a need to relive history but he restrained himself. That was a former life, a life that was now firmly buried, in the deepest parts of the forgotten past. *** SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 27th, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 09:22AM Laide placed the phone on the head of the bed and turned her attention to the set of clothes neatly stacked beside her on the bed. She could tell from her mother’s voice that she was worried about Yewande’s preferences for her upcoming wedding even though she could not see a reason for it. Laide, better talk with your sister, you know you’re the only one she listens to. I wonder why she insists on having only a hundred guests when my guests alone, number close to fifty. Is she sneaking away from the house or it’s a wedding?’The mother had complained bitterly over the phone. As these thoughts coursed through her mind, her eyes landed on the picture frame on the mirror stand. Her hands reached for the frame, as the picture brought back beautiful memories. It was her wedding day. She remembered every little detail of the day like it was yesterday and she couldn’t believe that come October ninth, which was barely two weeks away, she would be celebrating her tenth year in marriage. She traced her fore finger on her husband’s face in the picture, letting it rest on the smudge of red on the left corner of his lips. She smiled as she remembered exactly how a portion of her lipstick found its way to that corner, staring straight into her husband’s eyes in the picture like he could see her. ‘These tops are fine,’ Yewande said examining one of the blouses she picked up from the stack on the bed. Laide was roused from her day-dreaming as she placed the picture frame back on the stand. She hadn’t noticed Yewande entering the room. ‘I was just searching out tops for Nike, plus I want to give her my gold necklace too,’ she said, her eyes on her sister, ‘the one that has a cross pendant.’ ‘So which of these tops have you decided to give her?’ Yewande asked, running her hands through the stack to get a better view of the collection. ‘Everything,’ Laide replied as she picked her jewelery box from the ground and placed it on her laps. ‘Aah! Sister I’m taking this one,’ Yewande said as she removed the blouse she had been examining from the collection. ‘These are all new tops!’ she exclaimed, as her hand ransacked the stack for another. Laide smacked her sister’s hand off the stack of clothes, ‘that’s the only one I’ll let you take, after-all I’m aware that you have a box of clothes you are yet to touch.’ ‘But I’m your sister o,’ Yewande protested, her face forming a mischievous frown. ‘Nike is my sister too,’ Laide replied. ‘Ehen mumsie called, and she says I should help…’ ‘I put soup on the fire,’ Yewande interrupted her sister as she hurried out of the room laughing. ‘If it’s because of the tops that I’m begging for, that has made you bring your mother’s matter up again, you can keep the tops. I don’t want them anymore. All I know is that I’m not having anything more than a hundred guests for my wedding.’ Laide burst out laughing. ‘Come and take tops now,’ she called after her sister, but Yewande was far gone, as her laughter rang out from the lobby like the jingling of bells. She opened the case in her hand and peered into it, checking to make sure that the necklace was in excellent shape. She closed back the case and placed it atop the stack of clothes beside her, satisfied with what she had seen. She scoured the room with her eyes for a shopping bag in which to put the gifts, humming as she scanned the place. The radiance from her expression reflecting the joy she felt inside of her. There was nothing that gave her as much joy as acts of giving, and apart from Yewande, there was no one whom her heart loved giving to, like Nike. *** Maitama, Abuja. 09:12AM Amaka steered the car into the compound and parked behind her husband’s Toyota Highlander, which was the next best option as a car was sitting cosily in her usual parking spot. She gave no special thoughts to the car as she made to unlock the belt from around Josh -her son. He had been extremely excited hearing that they were going to visit daddy but was right now soundly asleep in the car. With the belts unlocked, she made to lift up her boy but changed her mind almost immediately, as she instead picked up a bag from the back seat. Josh was her husband’s responsibility today. She smiled as she stepped out of the car. She was getting used to calling him her husband again after it had seemed like the damage done by the video tape to their marriage was irreparable. Chika had suddenly started calling her again and had called her every day of the past week in the excuse of talking to his son Josh whom he usually spent just a minute with, while talking to her for nothing less than three minutes on each call. He had called her three times yesterday and even as late as eleven fifty in the night to remind her of today’s picnic with Josh. And like he joked, she was only coming as an escort. She was not overly expectant as to what the picnic would do for her marriage but she could feel a change in Chika’s disposition towards her and was optimistic that it could only get better. As she made ready to press the bell, the door opened. ‘So you’re still wearing your boxer shorts, when we scheduled picnic for ten ‘o’ clock,’ she said as she slid past him into the sitting room. ‘Good-morning,’ Chika said, finally finding his voice, ‘I did not think you’d make it so early,’ his voice groggy. ‘I can’t believe that you’re just waking up’ Amaka said smiling, as she placed her bag on the chair. This certainly was not the welcome she had expected as the space between them seemed a bit too tense and edgy. It was very different from the vibes from their recent conversations on phone. ‘Where’s my son?’ Chika asked, still standing by the door, with a smile on his face as he watched Amaka tease him. ‘Your son is sleeping in the car; you can go and fetch him. After-all you said I was just an escort,’ Amaka replied as she settled into the chair closest to her. ‘Whose car is parked outside? I actually thought you had an early morning visitor.’ ‘Car?’ Chika repeated, his eyes displaying a bit of panic. ‘There’s a black CRV parked outside in your house,’ Amaka stated with a bit of mischief as she picked the remote control from the stool beside her. ‘Or you didn’t know?’ She asked, her brows arched inquisitively. ‘It’s mine,’ Sylvia replied sashaying into the sitting room, with a glass of water in hand. Amaka’s countenance turned ghostly, as she stared at the figure with the glass in hand. She was clad in one of Chika’s shirts with no visible piece of clothing underneath, while her top buttons were exposed to show off a bit of cleavage. The ladies were not strangers to each other as their eyes locked in a hateful stare that was borne from familiarity. Amaka rose up from her chair, picked up her bag and made out of the door. Chika followed her immediately, reaching out his hands to hold her back as she approached her car but she shrugged him off. ‘Don’t you dare!’ She spat out angrily, her eyes fierce with rage as she opened the door to the car. ‘It’s not what you think,’ Chika said, smiling sadly in resignation as his eyes caught the face of his sleeping son in the front seat. Amaka hissed, doing a reverse as she let out two sharp honks to the gate-man to open the gate. She turned her gaze briefly to the parked CRV and cursed under her breath. Sylvia had not only succeeded in taking over her parking spot in the compound, she had also succeeded in taking over her parking spot in the bedroom. She felt the gentle raps of Chika’s knuckles on her side windows but refused to lower the glass, speeding off into the main road immediately the gate was opened. ‘Men can be such unforgiving bastards,’ she muttered, stepping on the gas pedal as the traffic light went from green to amber. The whole stretch of the road was free being a Saturday morning and she was not in the mood to wait for another thirty seconds for the next green light. She zoomed past the light as she saw the flicker of red come up from the corner of her eyes and just as she glanced sideways to the right, to check that there was no incoming vehicle from the adjoining intersection, she heard the familiar sound of screeching tires, quickly followed by a crashing sound, bang! ***

And Amaka crashed both herself and the son just cos of anger giving Sylvia the upper hand.. World of wickedness! Imagine Laide seeing Nike as a sister and treating her as one whereas the same Nike is going behind her back to sleep with her husband

No say....

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 9: Clouds and Doubts[/b] SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 27th, 2014. Maitama, Abuja. 09:57AM Chika raised his eyes to the clock on the wall as he heard the sound of the gate being opened so that Sylvia could drive out. It was 9:57; about twenty two minutes after Amaka had stormed out of the house. He picked up his phone from the stool beside him, waiting patiently for ten o’ clock so he could make the call to his wife. He was sure she would be home by that time as he didn’t want to make the call while she was still driving. He was surprised that he felt bothered that she was angry after seeing Sylvia walk out from the kitchen in his shirt, when he could easily be revelling in the knowledge that he was making her feel a bit of the pain he felt as he watched her sexcapade on that tape. His actions could easily be explained away as payback, but the irony of the matter was that her assumptions were totally wrong. He didn’t sleep with Sylvia. He smiled to himself as he remembered Sylvia’s persistent knocks on the door after he had locked himself up in the study, when she had crept into his bed at night, cuddling close to him. He had felt her nipples bristling against his back, as the familiar volcano erupted in his loins. He was on fire. A sure bet for the money would have been that he would scoop her up in his arms and tear off his shirt from off her flesh like an excited kid would rip off the wrap from off his birthday gift – and oh! What a birthday gift she would have been. He had instead eased off the bed like a robot and made straight for the study, his legs heavy and unwilling as he trudged out of the room into the company of his books. He had cradled up to the couch in the study, laughing at the ridiculousness of his decision, his mind alert as he waited for his predator. The sound of the turn on the door handle sliced through the silence in the study and then he heard his name. Chika. First it was like a whisper and then it grew in confidence with each new call. Chika, this is childish. I won’t rape you, or will I? She had asked, sounding irritated. It surprised him that he didn’t feel any urge to let her in as he took a more comfortable position on the couch, the continuous raps on the door serving as a lullaby as he drifted off to sleep. The vibration of his phone in his hand stirred him out from his reverie as his consciousness returned to real-time. He glanced at the phone and his eyes opened up in surprise as he saw the sweetest tag on the screen of the phone. It was his wife calling. He had pulled out her special ringtone after the quarrel but had left her on as his ‘sweetest’ in his phone-book, a tag the events of the past hour had shown was deeper than just a phone identity. ‘Hello,’ he spoke into the receiver, ready to start the, ‘it’s not the way it looks’ toasting, before the sound of the voice at the other end stopped him. ‘Hello,’ it was a male voice. ‘This is my wife’s number,’ Chika said, his voice carrying a tone of inquisition with it. ‘I was actually hoping for that,’ the voice replied. Chika was on pause mode as he listened with rapt attention. ‘Your wife has been involved in an accident,’ the voice continued. ‘And it requires your immediate presence in the hospital.’ ‘Accident? What happened? How is she? And my little boy?’ Chika asked all in one breathe, his voice laced with worry as he straightened up on the chair, his right palm moist with sweat as he clutched the phone to his ears. He listened as the voice called out the name of the hospital over the phone but his thoughts bordered majorly on the condition of his family. ‘Yes I know the place, it’s not too far from me,’ he replied, ‘but please is it possible I speak with my wife now?’ He asked. ‘Sir, she’s not in a position to talk right now and it’s very important you get here as quickly as you can,’ the voice stated calmly but firmly before ending the call. Chika’s mind was in turmoil as he slipped on his trousers quicker than he had ever done before in his life, throwing a t-shirt over his shoulders as he dashed out of the house. His fingers quivered as he turned the key in the front door, while clicking on the unlock button on his car’s key fob at the same time. ‘Adamu, please open up,’ he called out to the gate-man as he hurried to his car, his mind mapping out the shortest route to the hospital. If there was ever a time it was right to drive like a James Bond, this was that time. ***   Gwarimpa, Abuja. 09:50AM Nike removed the ear-phones from her ears as the three Pastors trooped out off the Senior Pastor’s office. She knew the meeting would not last up till ten o’ clock as there was a wedding in church that one of the pastors was sure to conduct. She held an envelope in her left hand as she stepped into the office; with Pastor Michael only raising up his head from what he was reading when she closed the door behind her. ‘Nike, so you came to work?’ Pastor Michael asked with a teasing smile on his face. He usually allowed her to have her Saturdays off, especially when there was no program in church that she was needed for. Such off-Saturdays were not very often and this Saturday was one of them, hence his surprise at seeing her in the office, even though he could also see that she was not dressed for work. ‘This outfit looks like an owambe outfit to me,’ Pastor Michael continued with his teasing. ‘Sir, I came for Sister’s Fejiro’s wedding,’ Nike replied, lowering her eyes somewhat shyly. She could not understand why she sometimes felt shy in his presence, considering the intimate and extremely passionate moments they’ve shared together. The last of their encounters was about two months ago and even though the lull gave her a sense of spiritual purity, she couldn’t deny the sexual tension she felt when she was alone with him. She actually missed him. ‘You have something for me?’ Pastor Michael asked, obviously oblivious of her thoughts, as his attention focused on the envelope in her hand. ‘Yes sir,’ she replied as she passed the envelope over to him. ‘It’s an invite from Bishop Desmond to speak at theTransformation Master-class.’ ‘Oh that,’ Pastor Michael said as he opened up the envelope. ‘Bishop called me yesterday and told me about it. I gave a verbal confirmation; you can go ahead and do send them a confirmation letter.’ ‘Pastor, October eight is our pre-women conference Wednesday,’ Nike said. ‘I know,’ Pastor Michael replied. ‘My wife usually ministers on that day.’ ‘Yes Pastor, but you usually don’t miss it.’ Nike reminded him. Pastor Michael had a smile on his face as he tapped his fingers on the desk. ‘That’s true, but you also know that it will take a lot for me to refuse an invite from my mentor. I would have to be outside the country on an engagement for that to happen, you know that right?’ Nike nodded. ‘Exactly my point, so I don’t know why you want to set me up,’ Pastor Michael said, laughing. Nike smiled. ‘I’ll send the letter Sir.’ ‘Thank you, I’ll appreciate that. And you know you don’t have to do that today, you can make that on Monday,’ Pastor Michael said, as he handed back the envelope to her. ‘Ok Sir,’ Nike replied, receiving the envelope from him and swaying her hips as she left the office. She could feel his eyes scorching her back with every step she took and as she approached the door, she turned slightly backwards in a bid to catch his stare but his eyes were fixed on the material on his desk. He had not noticed her cat-walk. Her eyes dimmed in disappointment as she stepped out of the office but at the same time she was grateful to be finally out as the pace of her heart-beat slowed a notch back to normal. She could finally breathe again. She wished she didn’t feel these sinful desires that were threatening to consume her. She wished she could muster the resolve to say No! The next time Temptation came calling. Maybe she could, but she wanted just one last taste of the forbidden fruit before she would. ‘Just one more,’ she muttered to herself as she stepped into the church through the side entrance. The wedding ceremony was already in progress as Sister Fejiro looked like an angel in her glistening white wedding gown. ***   Maitama, Abuja. 10:35AM ‘Can I go now, I guess it should be up to thirty minutes I’ve been lying here?’ Chika asked the laboratory scientist attending to him as she walked into the mini room where he was on a bed rest. She had insisted that he remains on bed rest after his blood was drawn for a minimum of twenty minutes, while the fractionation process continued. ‘Sure you can sir,’ she replied, ‘I was beginning to think you were enjoying our hospitality.’ Her face creased into a smile. Chika smiled back. ‘Do I need to take anything back to the doctor?’ ‘Yes, your certificate,’ she replied. ‘It’s ready.’ ‘I guess we’re compatible right?’ Chika asked, his brows arched. ‘Of course you are,’ the laboratory scientist replied as she handed over an envelope to him. ‘You’re an ‘O’ negative, makes it easy.’ Chika smiled as he stepped out of the laboratory, his feet leading him back to the block where his wife and son were being cared for. His mind was clouded with thoughts of worry and he still could not bring himself to believe that he was in a hospital donating blood to rescue his son, while his wife was on a sedative induced sleep to calm her nerves after the huge shock of the accident. It was all his fault. If he had not allowed Sylvia to spend the night in the house, he would have been enjoying a picnic by this time in a park with his family. He made straight for the doctor’s office to show him the certificate, waving a quick hello to a nurse whom he had seen attending to Josh earlier. He’s an ‘O’? That’s strange. He paused in his stride, his knuckles in mid-air ready to rap at the body of the closed door. He could hear the doctor’s voice from inside, he was having a phone conversation, but that was not why he had stopped from entering into the office. His instincts had stopped him, as he listened in on the conversation from outside the door. She’s an ‘A’ and the boy is a ‘B’, meaning he should either be a ‘B’ or an ‘AB’,’ the doctor continued. But with him being an … ‘Any problem sir?’ a nurse with a file in hand asked, as she walked up to him. ‘No… ,’ Chika answered dismissively as he tried to strain his ears to continue listening to the doctor’s phone conversation. ‘I think the doctor is on a call and I don’t want to disturb him,’ he said. ‘That’s not a problem,’ the nurse replied, tapping gently on the body of the door and turning the handle at the same time. ‘This is work period, come with me,’ she whispered to him with a smile as she led him into the office. Chika forced on another smile. How he wished this nurse would just mind her business. He couldn’t explain why he was eavesdropping on the doctor’s conversation but he had a deep feeling that the conversation was about him. It felt weird. As he took his seat in front of the doctor who was placing the phone receiver back on the box, his eyes landed on a poster on the left side of the wall. 1 THING YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT DNA TESTING He fixed his gaze on the poster, poring over its contents. He was aware from a side glance that the doctor had traced his gaze to the poster and was presently staring at him, but he was not at all bothered. ‘Doctor, can I do a DNA testing here?’ He heard himself say, his voice sounding cold, distant and very strange. And as he heard the doctor echo a ‘Yes’ in reply, he could swear he was having his first out of body experience. ***

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 10: Fathers, Martians and Cheats[/b] MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 29th, 2014. Garki, Abuja. 10:23AM Chika reclined on his chair, wincing occasionally as if in pain as he tried to bring the rampaging thoughts in his head to control. He had tried to distract himself with work but the more he tried, the more the scenes of the weekend played up in his mind -the house drama, the hospital scene and finally, the DNA test. He growled to himself as the thought of the DNA test seeped into his mind. His head aching as images from the doctor’s office did a slide-show on the canvas of his mind. He had informed the doctor that he wanted the exercise done in a very discrete manner and without the knowledge of his wife, to which the doctor had raised no objections, taking the information very coolly and with no visible sign of embarrassment on his face, like he was used to such requests. ‘And how do you want us to deliver the result to you?’ The doctor asked, looking straight into his eyes. ‘Do you have special ways of delivering the results?’ He replied with a question of his own, his eyes locked in a stare with the doctor’s eyes. ‘We can have it mailed to you,’ the doctor replied and added very quickly, ‘We use a speed-mail so you can be sure of getting it the same day.’ ‘That will be perfect,’ he said, the growing look of protest in his eyes softening as soon as the doctor added that the service was through a speed-mail. He had no trust and patience for the regular mail. He remembered how uncomfortable he had been for the first thirty minutes after his wife had come around. ‘Nothing happened with Sylvia,’ he explained, as soon as the nurse left her side. ‘Where’s my son?’ She had asked, ignoring his explanation, her voice sounding drained and her face creased in worry. ‘He’s much better,’ he replied almost nervously. ‘As soon as you’re strong enough to leave the bed, I’ll take you to him,’ he said like he was the Chief Medical Director of the hospital. ‘I’m strong enough now,’ she replied, propping herself up to a sitting position as if to show her strength. The contortion on her face and the deep grunts of pain she let out with every movement she made betrayed the charade she was trying to put up. She was clearly not strong enough. ‘Josh is fine, I can assure you,’ he had said calmly, closing her hand up in his as he gazed into her tired eyes. ‘The doctor thinks you need a little bit more rest as he was so very sure you’d wake up with a lot of body pains.’ ‘I don’t feel any body pains, I’m fine,’ she countered. ‘I know you’re fine and you don’t feel body pains,’ he started with a smile on his face, ‘but in just sitting up, do you realise that you almost poo poo on the bed with all this your hmmn…hmmn?’ He said, wrinkling his face as he mimicked her grunts. Chika smiled to himself in the office as the image of his wife’s smile when he made the joke in the hospital popped up in his head. She was wearing the same smile in the picture he was holding in his hands, only that the light in her eyes at the hospital was a little dimmer than the one he was presently staring at in the picture. The door eased open as a lady walked in with a file in her hands. She approached his table in measured steps. ‘Sir, I thought you said you were closing very early today?’ She asked almost in a whisper, as she dropped the file on his table. ‘Yes I did,’ he replied. ‘I thought I could tidy up the Design Concepts document before I leave so I don’t stall the transaction, but I doubt that would be possible today,’ he added with a sigh as he placed the picture on the table. ‘You can always work on the document tomorrow sir,’ the lady offered, stealing glances at the picture on the table. ‘I know,’ Chika replied, pushing the picture closer to her as he noticed she was sneaking a peek at it. She took the picture from the table with a smile on her face and spent the next couple of seconds peering into it. ‘Your son is just a carbon copy of you,’ she mused. ‘Really?’ Chika asked with a glint in his eyes, his face bearing that questioning look. ‘How?’ ‘His eyes are exactly like yours,’ she said still smiling. ‘And his nose too,’ she added, raising her head briefly to look at Chika’s face as if for confirmation. ‘If it was a mistress and not your wife that gave birth to him and you had denied the pregnancy, this boy would have disgraced you; he’s just a vomit of you.’ Chika burst out laughing, his eyes lighting up, ‘Emem, you’re not serious,’ he said, still reeling with laughter. ‘But that’s why he’s my son,’ he announced like a proud father, his face bearing a big grin. ‘Oya go back to your bit so I can shut down for the day, I really have to go relieve my wife at the hospital. She’s the one sitting by Josh and I don’t think she’s strong enough for that yet. She has stubbornly refused to be on bed-rest.’ ‘Yes sir,’ she replied as she dropped the picture back on the table. She was laughing too. ‘It is well with your family sir,’ she said, turning to leave. ‘It is well,’ Chika repeated, feeling light and unburdened in his spirit. ‘Thank you so much Emem, I appreciate it,’ he said as she exited the office. *** THURSDAY, OCTOBER 2nd, 2014. Kubwa, Abuja. 07:26PM ‘This film is pure rubbish,’ Priye complained with a big frown on her face but with her eyes still stuck on the television. ‘That’s my problem with women. You, my mum, my sisters and infact all of the women I know,’ Ben started, ‘you will be complaining of a movie from the very beginning, but you will not change the channel until that movie ends, your eyes will instead remain plastered on the television,’ He said, making a move for the remote control, which Priye quickly collected from the table. ‘It’s getting late, please start going to your house,’ he joked. Priye smiled, dropping the control back on the table as the credits for the movie started to roll up the screen. ‘Why won’t you chase me out of your house when I’ve finished preparing your stew?’ Ben’s lips pursed in a smile, his eyes wearing a dreamy look, ‘In six months that becomes our stew.’ ‘You like food too much,’ Priye replied shaking her head. ‘The courtship classes will last for three months I guess?’ She asked, switching topics. Ben waved his hands at her as he swung his body in a salsa movement. ‘I love this song,’ he said, dancing to Timi Dakolo’s Iyawo mi. ‘Aah! I’m going to defeat you on that dance-floor on our wedding day,’ he boasted, making funny faces at her. ‘I wish people that call you quiet and shy can come and see you in this mode, I can bet they will not recognise you,’ Priye giggled as she watched Ben sway his body to the rhythm of the song. He pulled her up to him, swinging her hands along with the song. ‘Iyawo mi, ololufemi, ore mi alayo mi, I will love you forever,’ he chorused along with the music. ‘Your dancing is bad enough, please don’t sing,’ Priye said giggling some more, as Ben turned her around and closed her up in an embrace. ‘That’s the fuji version,’ he whispered into her ears, as her laughter caused her to lean heavily on him. ‘Time to go home sweetheart,’ he said with a sigh, planting a peck on her fore head. Priye smiled. If it was a movie, this would have been the picture perfect moment for a kiss, but definitely not with her Pastor Fiancé. She traced the outline of his lips with her eyes and muttered to his hearing, ‘sometimes I wonder what our wedding kiss would taste like.’ ‘I don’t know,’ Ben mused and then added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, ‘I guess it would taste like a holy kiss.’ Priye tapped him lightly on his shoulders, as she convulsed with laughter. ‘And how does a holy kiss taste?’ She asked, her eyes wet with sweet smiles. Ben stared on innocently, enjoying the happy look in her eyes. He felt a strong desire to smother her with hot passionate kisses but he restrained himself. ‘There should be a kissing course in courtship class, I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to ask questions,’ he replied, still holding her in his arms. ‘I’m sure we will,’ Priye said as she picked her bag up from the chair. She knew it was time to go home as she was hundred percent sure she was never going to get the kiss she so much craved for right now, no matter how intense her green light glowed. ‘I’m set.’ Ben cursed under his breath as he turned to put off the television. He had seen the disappointment in Priye’s eyes as she picked up her bag. He really did feel like taking her in his arms and kissing her sweetly, but there was a volcano in him seeking for an excuse to erupt. He could not trust himself to stop at just a kiss and so it was better not to begin at all, so he wouldn’t get burnt. Flee fornication, the bible had instructed, it just didn’t say fornication was a damn good chaser. The thing had the strides of Usain Bolt. Whoever said abstinence was easy, must definitely be a Martian! *** FRIDAY, OCTOBER 2nd, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 12:07PM Laide pored over her notes, still trying to seek inspiration for the title of her message. She wanted it to be an introduction to the women conference that was due to begin next week friday with the theme, ‘Woman Decoded’. She glossed through the several message titles that she had written down on the page but still couldn’t find any that completely satisfied her. She wanted something special as she was due to minister on Wednesday, which was on the eve of her tenth year wedding anniversary. ’10 years,’ she muttered to herself. Who could have thought she would still be here and that there would still be a marriage? She sighed as the thoughts raced through her mind. Not only was she still in the marriage, she had a handsome son to be thankful to God for, and was also expecting a beautiful baby girl that she could not wait to hold in her hands. It had not been a jolly ride for the past ten years but no marriage really is a jolly ride. She was ready to ride out the storms of her marriage and stand to celebrate her twentieth, thirtieth and whatsoever count of a wedding anniversary there would be, if Jesus tarried. Michael was not perfect, but being a Pastor was not a ticket to being perfect, he was also a man with flesh, open to temptations just like other men. All men are cheats. You catch some, you don’t catch some. But remember, all men are cheats. It was the voice of her mum and she could remember vividly the night she spoke those words to her. They were both lying on the bed as they would usually do when her dad was away on one of his supposed business trips when she discovered that he was keeping a mistress. She had been informed by her friend who called in to congratulate her on the naming ceremony of her baby, angry that she was not invited for the occasion. It had turned out to be the naming ceremony of her erstwhile unknown step-brother – Bode. Michael was not into adultery and definitely not likely to surprise her with a step child any time soon, like her father did to her mum, but she knew he was also not squeaky clean, especially not after the Ivie Case. Talking about the Ivie case, lately she had been having the same feeling she had prior to the discovery of Ivie’s nudes on her husband’s phone and it had burdened her for a while, knowing her instincts were almost never wrong. She had stylishly interviewed Nike, her special insurance, like she would normally do to find out about the movements of her husband while he was at work and there was nothing out of the ordinary about them and while she thought she was on to something after the deleted Priye chats, she could also not substantiate anything. The Priye theory was recently trashed after Pastor Ben visited the house with Priye to inform her and Michael about their engagement. She had sat back to study Priye’s body language with her husband’s and all she could see was a woman thoroughly in love with her fiancé and gushing about her engagement. For the first time, her instincts were wrong. Her notepad stared back at her from the table, reminding her that she was yet to settle for a title for her message. She turned away from the pad, preferring instead to dwell on thoughts about her ten years in marriage and to dream about the future. The future where she would finally write and publish her book; The Memoirs Of A Pastor’s Wife. The future where she would grow old and grey with Michael and forget that he was the same man, Yewande had joked about poisoning. The future where Jeremiah and his sister Joy would visit, and bring their kids to come see Grandma. The future that was very certain to come. Her eyes glowed as she dwelt on these thoughts and like a thought lightly dressed up in sound, she muttered a quiet, ‘Thank you Jesus.’ ***

Nike can't mention anything that will make laide suspicious

I really feel sorry for Laide she doesn't deserve this especially not in her condition

Laide has been so faithful in this marriage and doesn't deserve a worst cheater like michael who claimed to be a man of God.

He's sexting priye, nike and more. Michael cheat denied and harm a precious woman like laide. Pastor cheat can't practice what he preach.

Yewande has to investigate it by herself to know about the wife beater he is. It can't be hidden forever to some that he's a cheat too.

Chika's distance from his wife wasn't intentional. After watching the sexting things of his wife amaka. Amaka saw someone familiar in the house.

Sylvia just wanna be with chika even when he have a kid(josh) with amaka...when amaka saw hot sylvia it led to accident...now their quick recovery is the next...their family love is still there.

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 11: Pants Down[/b] TUESDAY, OCTOBER 7th, 2014. Lekki, Lagos. 09:12AM Mrs Remi Johnson was a picture of a very happy woman. The smile on her face seemed like it was permanently plastered on it as her eyes glittered like masterfully cut out diamond pieces. Why would she not be happy when she had been blessed with four beautiful daughters? There was a time it had bothered her that she was having only girl children especially as the taunts of her now late mother in-law, had made her life a living hell. She did not lose heart but had continued to hope and try out for a boy even after the complications that accompanied the birth of her third daughter, Boluwatife. The news of her husband having a son from a hitherto unknown mistress had not weakened her resolve but had actually inspired her to try again, getting pregnant for what would turn out to be her last child. Maybe the son from the mistress would open the way for her own boy child. The child had turned out to also be a girl, a stubborn one at that and her husband chose to name her Yewande. You can’t have any more children Mrs Johnson, to do so would be a big gamble on your life. The doctor’s words sounded like a death knell then as it meant an end to her dreams of ever having a baby boy. Lekan her husband, who had moved in with his mistress and mother of his son, began to visit home even less frequently, and with no one to talk to she found friendship in the queerest of places; her ten year old daughter, Laide. She remembered that very first night little Laide had crawled into her bed as she muffled her sobs with her pillow as was her custom every other night. She had paused as her daughter slid in beside her, not wanting to have to explain to her why she was crying. Mummy, stop crying, Daddy will come back, and even if he doesn’t come back, you have me, Idera, Bolu and Baby. We are God’s blessings to you and we will never leave. The wisdom in those words spoken by little Laide had pierced her heart and brought even more tears to her eyes, but this time the tears were different. They were tears of gratitude. Laide grew up to become a second mother to her sisters, especially to Yewande her last child. And even in their separate marriages, Laide was the go-to-center for her sisters when they had issues in their various homes. It served her well that she was a Pastor’s wife as she seemed to expertly handle all issues brought her way. Who would have ever thought that the wife who was scorned for not having a boy would become this blessed? Here she was revelling in the thoughts of Yewande’s wedding coming up on the sixth of December and Laide’s tenth year wedding anniversary which was in two days time while the one who gave birth to a boy was living in the torture of seeing her son stand trial for rape. A case she heard he was definitely going in for, as there was overwhelming evidence against him. The stupid boy had made a recording of the rape and sent it to his victim – omo oshi. She rubbed her palms together in typical prayer fashion, muttering words for herself, her mate and all mothers in the world. Ki’Olorun sha ma shaanu awa iya oo. ***   WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8th, 2014. Utako, Abuja. 04:52PM Pastor Michael Igbinedion scrolled through his notes on his Samsung Galaxy notebook as Bishop Desmond did the welcome address of the Transformation Master-class. The massive edifice was already filling out as people thronged into the hall with every passing minute. It was an impressive sight considering the fact that it was still work period and most people were yet to close from work for the day. There had been a last minute adjustment to the schedule as Pastor Tony Richards who flew in from America and had been scheduled to take the first session had a flight delay from Lagos and so both of them had to swap sessions. Pastor Michael raised his head up from his note to watch as his mentor enjoined the congregation to have their hearts set for transformation. He felt charged up and ready to go, speaking words of prayer under his breath and just at that moment, his phone rang – distracting his preparation. He reached quickly into his pocket, tapping the silence button at the same time as he checked to see who the caller was. It was a set of displayed numbers as the number was not registered on his phone. He waited for the completion of the True Caller search and saw the names Engr. Antawa pop up after about seven seconds. He had no idea who it was, allowing the call to ring out in the silent mode as he looked around for Nike to collect the device so she could receive his calls as was the usual practice anytime he was ministering. He couldn’t find her. Please do help me make welcome, my son and my friend, Pastor Michael Igbinedion, the Bishop’s voice boomed out from the loudspeakers as he quickly turned the profile settings on his phone to the silent mode to prevent distractions from incoming calls and then slipped the device into the left inner pocket of his jacket. He picked up his Samsung Galaxynotebook from his laps and made his way to the altar, his eyes on Bishop Desmond, who had his arms outstretched towards him with a welcoming smile on his face. The congregation was on their feet by this time and the applause was deafening. ‘Thank you sir,’ he whispered into the ears of the Bishop as they shared a hug. The Bishop pointed to the pulpit and proceeded to leave the stage to a young man he was extremely proud of. *** Gwarimpa, Abuja. 06:13PM Laide powered on the television in the office immediately she settled into her chair and watched as Pastor Ben led the congregation in the prayer session. The door of her office eased opened and Yewande strolled in, bearing the car key fob in her hand. ‘You left the bag in the car?’ Laide asked her sister, surprised that she was not carrying a bag into the office. ‘Which bag Sister?’ Yewande asked as she dropped the key fob on the table and sat opposite her sister, her eyes on the television, watching live events happening in the church auditorium. ‘The shopping bag I stacked Nike’s clothes,’ Laide answered. ‘I put it in the sitting-room; did you not put it in the car?’ ‘Ah! I did not Sister,’ Yewande gasped, realising she had made a mistake. ‘I actually took it back to your room when I saw it in the sitting room.’ ‘Urgh!’ Laide sighed, ‘and that’s the same bag I asked you to remind me to bring to church so I can finally hand it over to the owner. You didn’t remind me and when I put it in a place where I can’t forget, you take it back into the room.’ Yewande smiled, ‘I’m sorry Sister, I thought you said you would hand it over to her on Sunday, seeing that she might not be in church today as she would have followed Pastor to the invitation,’ Yewande said, surprised at how easy it was for her to switch from calling her brother in-law Uncle Michael to Pastor anytime she was in church. ‘Barrister Yewande, I know I said that but I just wanted to bring it in to the office today since I remembered. At-least if it’s already here, I can hand it over to her anytime.’ Laide explained with a mischievous grin on her face. ‘I’m beginning to suspect you have plans for those clothes.’ Yewande laughed. ‘And what about the note pad that I placed at the top of the stack in the bag?’ Laide asked her sister, her eyes searching her sister’s hands to see if she was holding a note pad. ‘I left it on top the stack of clothes in the bag,’ Yewande replied, not sure what she had done wrong this time. ‘That’s your home study note, or is it not?’ ‘Yes it is, but there are important things I wrote down for today’s message. You will have to go back home to get it, whether or not you know how to drive,’ Laide said matter of factly. She was clearly not pleased. Yewande remained silent, knowing she had indeed messed up this time. Laide picked up the car’s key fob from the table and rose up from her chair after stealing a quick glance at the table clock. It was just about 6:25, meaning she had about thirty five minutes before she was scheduled to minister. It was enough time to drive home and back. ‘Let Pastor Tony know that I went home to pick something and that I’ll be back soon,’ she said walking briskly out of the office. Yewande watched on as her sister walked out of the office and even though she felt terrible for inconveniencing her, she couldn’t help but admire her at this moment. She looked so smart and beautiful in the pink gown complete with the jacket ensemble that she put on. And who says pregnant women can’t wear heels? Yewande thought within herself as she remembered her sister’s brisk steps in a pair of heels. You should be feeling terrible, but here you are analysing clothes and fashion. You’re definitely materialistic. Yewande smiled as her mind voice whispered to her. It sounded exactly like what her sister would have said. She turned her gaze to the television and set her heart on the Praise Session going on in the church auditorium. ***   Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 06:22PM ‘I won’t take a minute,’ Pastor Michael said as he turned off the engine of the car in front of his house. ‘If the drink had spilled only on my jacket, I would have worn only my shirt to church, after all I don’t wear jackets on Saturdays,’ he added as he stepped out of the car. ‘Pastor, I’d also like to get some drinking water,’ Nike said as she also stepped out of the car. ‘I’m really thirsty.’ ‘Is that a problem?’ Pastor Michael asked as he secured the car by tapping on the key fob in his hand. ‘You know where the fridge is,’ He said as he opened the pedestrian gate lock, leading the way into the compound. Nike walked behind him, staring lustfully at his image as his long strides kept him safely ahead of her. Her mind wandered to some twenty five minutes ago when he had held captive the attention of about thirty thousand people. The applause, the screams, the endearing look in the eyes of members of the congregation, not only made her proud of him, it made her yearn for him. She dropped the glass cup on top the marble counter top in the kitchen, feeling even thirstier than she was, before she had taken the glass of water. It was the kind of thirst that only his kiss could quench. She felt a tinge of guilt well up in her immediately the thoughts of his kiss entered her mind but she waved it aside preferring to dwell on the pleasure the feel of his lips would bring. If he could initiate sex with her, why did she feel so guilty anytime the thought of initiating sex with him crossed her mind? She walked out of the kitchen, towards the direction of the master bedroom, her mind setting her feet to purpose. She dropped her jacket at the entrance of the door as her fingers worked open the buttons on her blouse. Michael paused as he walked out of the closet, his fingers glued to his shirt and his mouth agape, unable to be held together by a slackened jaw. He was just in time to see Nike toss her blouse to the ground in his bedroom. ‘Stop,’ he said to her as his eyes caught her jacket lying on the ground, just at the entrance. Nike walked up to him, biting her lower lip sensuously as she advanced towards him like a predator stalking a prey. She unclipped the straps of her bra with nimble fingers as she let her nipples stare at him while she quenched her thirst with the joining of her lips with his, her body vibrating feverishly as she felt the sweet sensations of his kiss. It was wrong but it felt like a miracle. *** Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 06:41PM Laide stopped the car in front of the house and was surprised to see her husband’s car parked outside. Is it that he didn’t get to honour the invitation anymore? She thought to herself as the information on the letter he had shown her had read that his session would be starting by 6pm. She smiled as another thought crossed her mind. He was busy planning another big surprise for tomorrow, which was their tenth year wedding anniversary and had come home behind her, to drop his gift. Michael was a master at planning surprises and how it would hurt his feelings and waste his efforts if she should just barge in right now and spoil his surprise. She picked her phone up from the rack by her side in the car and dialed his number. It would be better if he would just bring the bag with the note pad outside to her than for her to walk into the house and spoil his surprise. She gazed at the screen of her phone as she tried the number again, listening to the familiar beeping sound that signified that the call was ringing at the other end, but like in the previous two occasions, the call rang out as her husband didn’t pick her call yet again. ‘There’s no time for this right now,’ she muttered to herself as her eyes caught the time on her wristwatch. She had only ten minutes more to get back to church. She stepped out of the car and made straight for the house, tapping on the key fob as she crossed the entrance of the pedestrian gate. She was surprised to see it open. As she approached the entrance door to the house, she turned the knob, much against her inner prompts to knock on the panel of the door. There was no one in the sitting room but she could tell instinctively that she was not alone in the house. She stepped into the lobby that led to the room and immediately caught the scent of the perfume. It was a female and familiar fragrance but she could not immediately place its owner. She swallowed hard as her saliva refused to go down her throat. Unconsciously she began to tip toe, muffling the sound from her heels, she could feel the pacing of her heart-beat increase with every step and a breakout of sweat from every pore on her skin. She had a clammy feeling that something was wrong, she was too scared to even imagine it, but she knew something was definitely wrong. ***

Semi final on the way

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – EPISODE 12: Colour of Truth[/b] WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8th, 2014. Gwarimpa Estate, Abuja. 06:56PM Laide’s fingers trembled as she approached the entrance of her room, her limbs aching with every step she took but she just could not get herself to stop as she inched closer to the sound of the moans coming from inside the room. She slid into the room through the door as noiselessly as she could and as her eyes caught the image of the conjoined bodies on the bed, she suddenly stopped. Her legs, her breath and even her trembling fingers stopped as she watched the Siamese figures moan and groan as their bodies moved like the rhythm of the waves, rising and falling on her bed. Laide’s lips began to tremble uncontrollably as tears streamed down her eyes, blurring her vision. And just as it seemed like she was going to be blinded by her tears, the face underneath her husband’s body came into full view, the eyes on the face were closed and the left end of her lower lip was tucked in between her clenched teeth. Laide could hardly recognise the face before her as the face of the person she had held closely to her heart as it had become a picture distorted by pleasure. ‘Nike,’ she breathed, but the sound stayed stuck in her chest as her phone slipped out of her grasp and crashed to the ground with a clattering sound. She felt her heart-beat stop in an instant as her legs buckled under the weight of her pain, bringing her body to the ground with a thud. It was lights out. *** Gwarimpa, Abuja. 07:40PM Yewande stared at her phone as she tapped the send button and in some five seconds later, the operator repeated for the umpteenth time that the number she was trying to call was currently switched off. Yewande knew something was definitely wrong. ‘Have you been able to get through to her?’ Pastor Ben asked as he walked into the office. ‘No,’ Yewande replied, tapping the speaker option on her phone so he could hear the operator’s voice. ‘I would suggest we go to the house immediately,’ Pastor Ben said, his voice calm and steady as he tried to speak the words without causing panic. Yewande sprang up to her feet, ‘I’m ready Pastor,’ she said, her eyes on the door, waiting for the pastor to lead the way out of the office before the sound of her ringing phone interrupted the procession. It was Pastor Michael. Yewande’s heart skipped a beat as she saw the number calling her, why would her brother in-law who was supposed to be ministering at an invitation be calling her? ‘Hello,’ she replied into the phone, her voice unsure and unsteady. Pastor Ben watched on, not sure if the call was connected with the issue on ground. He would have to inform Pastor Emeka that they were going to check the house as all the pastors were already aware of the situation on ground even though it had not been escalated to a crisis situation. ‘Okay Sir,’ Yewande said into her phone, her expression becoming a bit more relaxed than before she had picked the call. ‘Yes, I know the hospital,’ she answered, nodding her head at the same time. Pastor Ben’s attention was on the phone conversation now as he could tell it was connected to the issue on ground with the kind of response Yewande was giving and then he heard he heard her mention his name, Pastor Ben will bring me down. ‘She’s in the hospital, Pastor,’ Yewande said, raising her head to meet with Pastor Ben’s gaze after ending the call, a smile replacing the worry on her face, ‘it’s the baby, it’s on its way.’ Pastor Ben exhaled, as he relaxed with the bit of news. ‘I’ll pass that information to the pastors and meet you up at the car park so we can be on our way to the hospital,’ Pastor Ben said as he walked out of the office. ‘Sure,’ Yewande answered as she ran her eyes around the room in a sweeping movement to make sure she was not about to forget anything. It was a half hearted task as she was soon turning the key in the lock of the door in less than five seconds, as she could not think of anything that was so important in this situation that could not be forgotten in the office, especially if it did not relate to child delivery. She hurried towards the church auditorium to pick up Jeremiah so they could meet up with Pastor Ben in the church’s car park. Her mind was already set on being with her sister as they welcomed the newest member of the family, whom scan results had revealed to be a girl. She was about to have a niece from her favourite sister and six year old Jeremiah was about to have a sister and become big brother. *** Maitama, Abuja. 08:30PM ‘We’ll be going home soon,’ Amaka said to her son with a smile as he slapped her laps with his tiny hands, urging her to get up. He was secured in a cot like wheel chair and his rib area still wore bandages but Josh was in his best form since the accident eleven days ago. She watched him fiddle with the secure straps of the wheel chair, trying to free himself but she held his hand softly. ‘If you free yourself, the nurse will give you injection,’ she warned him, smiling as he recoiled at the mention of injection. Watching him lie helplessly on the bed, those first days after the accident was nerve wrecking as she blamed herself for his condition. She expected Chika to do same but he never mentioned a word, even though sometimes, she could see it in his eyes as he stared at their son lying on the bed, with so many connections to his body. As the days wore on and with Josh’s condition improving steadily by the day, the tension between herself and her husband eased up and the atmosphere in the ward became a little bit more relaxed as they chatted freely once again, spending more time together than they had ever done since their separation. ‘I want to go home with my daddy,’ Josh had cried three days ago as Chika stood up to retrieve a card from the breast pocket of his jacket. The boy had mistaken his father’s movements as a sign that he was about to leave. She watched as father and son engaged themselves, amused at the effort Chika was putting in to explain to the boy that he was not about to leave for home, but it was all in vain as Josh continued crying. Chika was stunned. ‘Are you just going to stand there smiling and not help me out with this?’ He asked her as he went about consoling the boy. ‘He thought you were leaving,’ she replied as she drew closer to the bed to help with consoling their son. She had scripted the whole plan by telling Josh to insist on following daddy home, but Josh was definitely acting past the script as she had not pictured him crying. ‘You know I can’t leave now,’ Chika said to her, lowering his voice. She knew that too as he usually left the hospital after Josh was asleep and that could sometimes be as late as midnight. ‘He always asks after you when he wakes up at night,’ she whispered back to him. Chika had smiled almost wearily, turning to the boy on the bed who had grown quiet after the intervention of his mum. ‘If you get strong enough tomorrow, you, mummy and daddy will go home,’ Chika said, speaking to the boy like he was talking to an adult. Josh’s recovery after that night was nothing short of dramatic as even the doctor was amazed that the little boy whom he had predicted would only be strong enough to be discharged on Friday was fit and raring to go by Tuesday. He however insisted on an extra day of observation in the hospital, delaying the discharge till Wednesday. ‘When is daddy coming?’ The young boy asked, cutting into his mother’s thoughts. ‘Daddy said he’s taking us to our real house,’ he said, making a dancing movement with his head and wearing a big grin on his face. ‘Daddy will soon be here,’ Amaka replied smiling. She tapped on her phone as she tried to put a call through to her husband to find out where he was at the moment. He had been delayed at the office by an impromptu management meeting but the last time she had called him, he had told her that he would be with her in fifteen minutes, saying he could not talk at the moment as he was close to a police post even though it didn’t sound at the time like he was driving. *** Gwarimpa, Abuja. 08:30PM Pastor Michael stared blankly into space in the waiting area in the maternity ward of the hospital, his mind flooded with thoughts that threatened to break his sanity. He rubbed his head vigorously with his left hand, muttering some incoherent words to himself as he tried to convince himself that this nightmare was really not happening. The picture of his wife collapsed in a heap in the room as he had sex with another woman on their matrimonial bed was always before his eyes, so much so that he had to shut them as a way of escape. And even when his eyes were shut, the picture re-appeared on the canvas of his mind tormenting him mercilessly. How would he face her when she came around? How could he hurt the one he loved so much just for pleasures that were momentary and fleeting? How would he begin to ask for her forgiveness this time, seeing that he had so cruelly disrespected her on the eve of their tenth year wedding anniversary, in their house, in their room and on their bed? ‘Hey!’ He exclaimed as the severity of his actions hit him and as the questions to which he had no answers raced across the lanes in his mind. He had messed up this time and he had messed up big time. He had been so confused at the time of the incident that after placing Laide in the car, he wanted to drive her down to the hospital wearing only his boxers until Nike called his attention to his bizarre outfit. ‘You can’t go to the hospital dressed in your underwear,’ she reminded him as she tried to get herself together, buttoning the top of her blouse. Only then did he realize that he was wearing just his boxers. Laide lay lifeless as they stretchered her into the theatre with the nurses racing around the place as they tried to make sure everything was in the correct order. Your wife’s blood pressure is extremely high, it’s a case of pre-eclampsia and the only thing we can do right now is a procedure to get both the baby and the placenta out. If you’re not opposed to that, you can fill out the documents at the reception, while I and my team get started, there’s really no time. It’s the only way we know to save her life at this moment. The tone of the doctor’s voice was grim but the news that his wife who looked dead to him still had a chance of life was in itself a big miracle. ‘Jesus please help me,’ he prayed an umpteenth time as he couldn’t think up anything else to say. He sighed, tapping his right leg continuously on the epoxy floor finish of the hospital until the almost distant cry of a baby seeped into the waiting area from the closed lobby that led to the theatre. His glanced at his sister in-law who was sitting on the opposite side of the waiting area, with her hands clasped on her laps. Her eyes turned to him too at the sound of the baby’s cries. She looked really worried but not half as worried as she would be if she knew the truth about the situation and the events that led to her sister going into labour. That truth would however have to wait until Laide regained consciousness as he was not ready to begin a confession and neither was Nike whom he had tactfully asked Pastor Ben to drive to the house under the guise of baby-sitting who had fallen asleep. He could not allow a situation where Laide would wake up to see Nike by his side in the hospital. It made no sense. The matron opened the door to the lobby that led to the theatre and signalled to him. He rose up from his chair, his legs heavy as lead as he also beckoned on Yewande to join them. ‘Who’s she?’ The matron asked curiously. ‘My wife’s younger sister,’ Pastor Michael replied. ‘Oh! That’s good, she can be of help,’ the matron said with a sweet smile. ‘The baby is a girl.’ Yewande face also creased into a smile, her little niece had arrived. ‘And my wife?’ Pastor Michael asked almost disinterested at the news of the baby. His wife was his first concern at the moment. ‘I should believe the worst is over, they’re closing her up about now,’ the matron replied still smiling as she led them along the lobby. Pastor Michael’s countenance relaxed hearing that the worst was over. He was now in a better state of mind to meet with his daughter as he trudged along the lobby behind his sister in-law and the matron. As much as he tried to pre-occupy his mind with the thoughts of the new-born all he could think about was how he would face up to his wife when he was finally allowed to see her.   *** Maitama, Abuja. 08:35PM Chika gazed at the decorative wall paper plastered on the wall of Josh’s room and he loved the work. There were pictures of cartoon characters printed on the wall paper and the only character he could recognise from amongst them was Tarzan or was that Mowgli from jungle book? He was not even sure, but he liked what he saw all the same. It had been Emem’s idea to redecorate the house and give it a freshness as he asked her about ways to make his family’s home-coming special. She had suggested yesterday morning when he told her that Josh was being discharged from the hospital today and for the whole of the day up until this moment, all he had busied himself with was getting the house ready for home-coming. Telling his wife that he had an impromptu meeting was just his way of buying time but as he inspected the finished works in the house, he felt content at the amount of time that he had put into the work. His big surprise was finally ready. His phone rang again and without looking at the device, he was sure it was his wife calling to know exactly where he was. ‘Hello,’ he said, as he stepped out of the sitting room, his eyes catching the big Welcome Home banner, sitting on top the television area. ‘I should be with you in fifteen minutes,’ he said as he locked the door, ‘I’m close to a police post so I can’t talk now,’ he lied as he cut the call. He smiled to himself, excited about the thought of what his wife’s reaction would be when she walked into the house. Even if she managed to mask her surprise at the Welcome Home banner, he could literally hear in his mind a gasp of Wow escape from her mouth when she finally step into their room. He had instructed that their room be remodelled with a romantic theme and the result was simply fantastic. With a very deep red lighting background to almost envelope the room in darkness, an already set table of a bottle of red wine with two glasses was brought into focus by the shimmering star-like glitters from the spotlight installed on a board on the wall. The rose petals sprinkled on the ground from the doorway to every part on the bed and the unlit Ylang Ylangscented candles positioned in strategic places in the room was also an important part of the magic that he couldn’t wait to unleash on his wife when Josh was finally asleep in his cartoon haven. He had planned out the selection of classical love songs that would be playing when he finally would lead his wife into the room and yes his favourite love song of all time, I’ll Make Love To You by Boys II Men was the first track on his playlist. If he was going to do this after seven months, he was sure going to make it memorable. He honked his horn to get Adamu to open the gate as he reversed the car, bobbing his head to the song playing on the radio. He normally would skip such songs but today was different as he chanted along, surprising himself with his knowledge of the song even though all he had to say was Ijo shoki, terere,terere terere, Ijo shoki, terere, terere terere… ‘Oga, postman bring letter for you when you dey inside house,’ Adamu said, poking an envelope at him through the glass. Chika received the envelope and tossed it on the passenger seat, still dancing to the song booming on the radio and as he waited for the gate-man to push open the gate, his eyes fell on the logo on the envelope and immediately his thoughts raced to the one subject he had dumped in the recycle bin area of his thoughts -his DNA result. He picked up the envelope from the chair and saw the hospital name crested at the top, left end corner. He reduced the volume of the music to the minimum as he tore open the envelope. He didn’t want any distractions at this time and the music was a very big distraction. He peered at the table of result in his hand, staring blankly at the figures inserted in columns under headings STR Locus, Allele Range, Alleles Called, and could not understand a single bit of the words staring back at him. He ran his eyes down to the bottom of the page and then stopped abruptly. He had come across the first words that seemed to be written in English language and his lips moved in sync as his eyes scanned through the section, word for word. Statement of Results: Alleged relationship is excluded. Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged Father, Mr Ezenwa Chika, is excluded as the biological Father of the Child, Ezenwa Joshua, because they do not share sufficient genetic Markers. Of the genetic identity systems tested, 9 of 15 do not match and the applicable Combined index is less than 100. ***

your comments will be highly appreciated

Hmmmm! It's getting really bad oo!! Things are falling apart gr8ly.... I feel for Laide... Pastor Micheal has really treated her badly... Even Nike whom she hold so dear to her heart. I dnt even know what to say about Chika and Amaka's relationship but the truth is that it wasn't really Amaka's fault

Amaka see how u spoiled everything, sorry Chika

[b]SHADES OF DECEIT – FINALE: Drop The Curtain[/b] WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8th, 2014. Gwarimpa, Abuja. 09:50PM Yewande’s eyes strayed from her sleeping niece in the incubator to her elder sister on the bed. They had so much in common as they lay still on their various beds, the slight heaving of their chest area, the only sign of life from mother and child. The doctor had suggested that the baby be moved with the incubator from the nursery into the same room with her mother so the mother could draw emotional strength from the sight of her child when she finally regains consciousness. Yewande had drawn a chair close to the bed, refusing to take a nap on the couch at the far end of the room like her brother in-law had urged her to, insisting she was fine sitting on the chair as she waited for that magical moment when her sister’s eyes would snap open. She batted her very heavy eyelids as she struggled to keep them open, her head jerking forward as it threatened to fall off her shoulders as she dozed off on the chair. It was clear she was gradually losing the battle to stay awake but that was not the most difficult part of the night as having to repeat to her sisters and her parents that Laide was yet to wake up was becoming more difficult on every subsequent call as she could feel the anxiety in the voices of her family members especially her mother who had drawn a long worried sigh on the last call as she heard that her daughter was yet to come out of the induced coma. Yewande could not believe that her sister whom she had spoken to just three hours ago could be lying so helplessly in front of her on the bed. She stared at her, not sure what to do to help, having done all that she could imagine to do; praying like she had never prayed before and pinching the back of her sister’s palm. She wondered if all of this would have happened if she had taken Nike’s gift bag into the car instead of back inside the room like she had done. ‘This certainly would not have happened,’ she muttered painfully to herself. All of this was partly her fault. *** Lokogoma, Abuja. 11:07PM Amaka stared at the ceiling tiles on top of her as she lay on the bed in her room.  It was quiet, save for the frequent sniffing sound coming from Josh who had cried himself to sleep. It was usual of him to make those sniffing sounds after a crying bout even though she could not understand how a child would keep sniffing even while deep asleep. ‘Daddy said he was taking us to our real house,’ the boy had started as soon as the taxi stopped in front of the house. She had bundled him out of the car, not ready to listen to his protestations as she paid the taxi-driver off, trudging into her apartment with a heavy heart. There was no form of entreaty she had employed to appease the little boy that had worked as he had cried inconsolably insisting that he wanted to go to their real house. Hearing him cry out daddy, gnawed at her heart so much, the tears began to roll down her cheeks. How could she tell him that Chika had ceased to be his daddy? How could she communicate to someone his age that this place was their only real house for now? She clasped him closer to herself, making sure not to hurt his side that was under bandages as she drew him close. Josh soon stopped crying as he stared at her wide-eyed. He was surprised to see her crying instead of consoling him that he began to wipe her face with his little hands. He slept off soon after, with his sniffing the only remainder that he had cried himself to sleep. As pained as she was lying on the bed next to her son, she felt a queer sense of peace in the midst of her collapsing world, knowing that she had brought her present predicament upon herself. She had made her choices and now it was time to suffer the consequence. Her fingers curled around her phone as she read through the text message again. The words stabbing at her heart as she could imagine the pain Chika was going through at the moment. She dialled his number again but listened as it rang out for the umpteenth time as he continued to ignore her call. She was calling him to apologise for her actions and not to seek his forgiveness and reconciliation as she realized that it was too late to ask for that. This revelation definitely closed up any talk of reconciliation as she could not imagine any Nigerian man, talk less a proud Ibo man from Imo state who would accept to father a son conceived by a cheating wife. This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Her thoughts shifted first to the pain this news would cause her mother who had done everything within her power to save her marriage and then to the irresponsible decision she had taken almost three years ago that was back now to both haunt and shape her present reality. What would have been the story if she had only just ignored Bode’s valentine advances? Amaka smiled painfully in the darkness, there was no saving this marriage now. She had built her home on deceitful foundations; it was time to watch it crumble like a pack of cards. *** Maitama, Abuja. 11:35PM The phone vibrated endlessly on the cold marble floor like a baby seeking attention, but Chika ignored the call, staring past the phone like he had just seen the device for the first time in his life. His mind was jaded as he circled his left hand around the bottle of whiskey sitting very close to him on the ground. For the first time in his life he was drinking himself to stupor. He picked up the DNA result that lay next to his right hand and brought it up to his eyes. He saw the lines of the print as they joined together to form Josh’s face. The eyes, the lips, the little nose and those very small set of teeth. He broke down in sobs as his body racked with pains he had never felt before in his life. Why was life treating him so terribly? What did he do to deserve such pain and heartbreak? Fate had played a cruel trick on him, laughing spitefully in his face as it turned a homecoming that would have brought him so much happiness into a day of so much pain. He raised the bottle to his mouth again and felt the hot liquid burn down his throat. With every gulp he took, he could feel a disconnection with reality. The only problem was that he was carrying with him the two people he was trying to run away from -Amaka and Josh. He hit the back of his head against the chair he was resting his back on as he tried to exchange the scathing hurt he was feeling deep inside with physical pain. It didn’t work. He craved for the comfort of his bed to cuddle him to sleep but the thought of stepping into the room brought shudders to his spine. The deep red theme of the room reminding him more of blood than of romance and the scented candles bringing to his imagination, scenes that could have been, but will never again be. He dragged his body to the ground, hugging the hard marble floor as he lay face down to accept the fate, life had thrust upon him. And what if fate was playing a joke on him? What if the DNA result was wrong? What if Amaka had a good explanation to all of this? He closed his eyes in sleep as the ‘what ifs’ continued to bubble around his mind. What if he could find the strength or become stupid enough to forgive his wife and get his family back, so they could live happily ever after? What if in the morning after, he woke up to discover that all of this had just been a nightmare? What if … *** THURSDAY, OCTOBER 9th, 2014. Lekki, Lagos. 01:31AM Mrs Remi Johnson woke up with a start, her heart beating furiously against her chest as her eyes snapped open into the darkness. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she came to the slow realisation that it had only been a nightmare. She was scared but could not tell the reason why as she glanced sideways at her husband who was sleeping peacefully and thought it wise to let him be. She groped around the bed for her phone, her eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness as she stepped down from the bed, dragging her wrapper to the ground as she exited the room, with her phone firmly within her grasp. She tapped a side button on her phone to put on the back-light, scratching her cheek lightly with her fingers as she went through the motion of waking up. It was 1:39 in the morning. She dialled her daughter’s number but watched as the call dropped with the Network busy prompt displaying on the screen. If there had been a change in the situation, Yewande would have called her, she thought to herself as she tapped on her phone to call her son in-law. As she waited for the call to connect, she tried to remember what exactly had frightened her in the nightmare but she could not remember a single detail even though she was still trembling with fear from the experience. Network busy. ‘Argh,’ she hissed irritated at the sight of another dropped call and just then her eyes caught the network signal strength on her phone. It read SOS. She slumped on the dining chair closest to her, gazing at her phone helplessly, with her arms folded across her breasts. She knew no matter how much she tried, she would not be able to get across to anyone with her phone as long as the network signal remained as SOS. She didn’t feel sleepy anymore as she worried about her daughter, Laide. Her heart bearing a heaviness that she had never experienced before as the tick tock sound from the wall clock added a creepy chill to the night. *** Gwarimpa, Abuja. 01:31AM Laide got up from the bed, her eyes taking in the view of the room in one glance. She walked up to where Yewande was sleeping on the couch close to the wall and listened to the faint sound of her breathing, her eyes hovering over her sister with a deep sadness. The baby in the incubator caught her attention as it shifted slightly in its sleep. She smiled at the little girl who was a split image of herself as she slept peacefully, pursing her lips at that instant as if to give her mother a kiss. She walked slowly away from the sleeping duo towards the door, her heart broken but peaceful as her thoughts rested on her husband. The sight of him on top of Nike had literally stopped her heartbeat and broken the delicate organ into a thousand pieces. A man she had given her life and her love to, a man whom she had so willingly covered his shortcomings before her family and who on this day some ten years ago had vowed to love and to cherish her. She had forgiven him and Nike almost immediately and bore no regrets for loving her husband as much as she did. If she didn’t love him so much, what then was the essence of marriage? She rested on the doorjamb, her eyes casting a sad longing look at her younger sister who was still sleeping. If only she had been more open to her family The tear drop rolled down her cheek as the voice of Yewande re-echoed in her mind, your family is not the world Sister. *** Your family is not the world Sister, Yewande muttered from sleep as her eyes opened up slowly, heavy with sleep. She pinched them softly with her thumb and forefinger, stretching her limbs as she sat up on the couch. She had been talking in her sleep, something she could not remember having done before. She also could not remember sleeping on a couch in the hospital before so maybe that explained why she was sleep-talking. Her eyes travelled to her sister lying on the bed and Laide looked just as peaceful as she was some few hours ago, before she had dozed off on the couch. She checked the clock on her phone and it read 1:52, meaning she had only slept for two hours. Her tired limbs yearned for more sleep. As she rested her head on the arm rest of the couch, her eyes caught a twinkle on her sister’s cheek as the light reflected from her face. Yewande got up from the couch, dragging her legs to her sister’s bedside, curious to find out why there was a twinkle on her far cheek. ‘Ah!’ She gasped as she saw the ball of tear drop on her sister’s cheek. She touched it with her little finger and felt the wetness of the fresh tear sting her finger. ‘Sister,’ she called, fear gripping her body as she realised that something was different about the certain peace on her sister’s face. The heaving of the chest had stopped. ‘Sister!’ She called louder, her eyes lighting up as her body became animated with confusion. ‘Doctor! Nurse!!’ She called out, her voice piercing the still quiet of the hospital. She ran towards the reception of the hospital where she knew she would find some nurses and of course Uncle Michael. ‘What?’ A nurse asked as she bumped into the hurrying guest. ‘My sister, my sister,’ Yewande repeated tearfully as she dragged the nurse into the room towards Laide. ‘She’s alive? Say she’s alive,’ Yewande muttered like a mad woman as her teeth chattered and her hands trembled uncontrollably. The nurse was quiet as she felt for Laide’s pulse, grabbing her by the wrist and taking a hard look at the body lying in front of her. ‘Say she’s alive!’ Yewande called out much louder as she grabbed the nurse by the arm. ‘Le..let me get the doctor,’ the nurse stuttered as she hurried away from the room. ‘Sister please … Sister please I beg you, I will put the bag in the car, I will not forget to take the bag into the room again, Sister please now, Sister I will not trouble you again. Sister wake up!’ Yewande rambled on as hot burning tears began to roll down her eyes. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, her eyes fixed on the still body of her sister on the bed. If there was ever a time she could do with a miracle in her life, this definitely was that time. *** 02:01AM Pastor Michael washed his hand in the wash hand basin and peered into the mirror trying to recognise the image of the stranger that was staring back at him. ‘Forgive me Lord,’ he muttered under his breath. It was his tenth year wedding anniversary and here he was in a hospital waiting for his wife to wake up from a coma. A coma he had forced her into by his infidelity. He tried to form words with which to appeal to her when she was strong enough to listen to him but for the first time in his life, he was speechless. What words were there to say? He cursed himself under his breath as he thought about the various times he had hurt his wife over the years, ‘Lord if this goes away, I’ll never be unfaithful in my life ever again,’ he groaned, pained at the condition he had put the love of his life. He sighed loudly as the thoughts about how he had taken for granted her happiness, her love and most of all her loyalty streamed through his mind. ‘Why do we always hurt the ones we love?’ He asked himself quietly, scared so as not to let his words seep into the ears of the walls. ‘Why do we complicate our lives with shadows when the substance is standing right in front of us?’ He bit his lower lip in anguish, his mind set on his wife as he strolled out of the convenience, into the lobby leading into the reception area. Sister No! Sister!! The cry cut into his thoughts as he recognised Yewande’s voice. His heart sank into his belly as his legs became heavy. ‘Lord Jesus No,’ he breathed as he moved as quickly as he could to his wife. ‘She’s my life Lord Jesus, she’s my life…she’s my life…that woman is my life,’ he repeated to himself, his legs gathering pace as he drew closer to the screams. Sister No! Sister you can’t go. Doctor Please … He walked in through the door, his eyes on the bed where his wife lay just the way he had left her. ‘My good thing,’ he called to her as the tears rolled down his eyes, his body quaking as he felt her face with his hands. ‘My good thing,’ he called again, feeling the tugs from his sister in-law and hearing her cries but lost in his own world of pain. He killed her, he finally killed her. He took her for granted because he felt he was always going to get a second chance, but not this time, not when she’s dead. He had everyday to show her how much she meant to him, how much he valued her, but he didn’t. And now she’s gone. ‘My good thing is gone,’ he muttered to himself, lost in his tears. ‘My good thing is gone,’ he repeated, feeling his strength leave him and his world crumbling. If only he could turn back the hands of time. If only this was a movie, that he could pause, rewind and edit, or a story that he could scratch and re-tell, but this is life and it’s about the people you love, his life was about Laide and he never valued her. He can’t value her now, because she’s gone. You really don’t know what you’ve got -till it’s gone. The End Of The Beginning. ***

What!!! Nooooo! This is not good at all... Why should Laide die after all this? Now, Pastor Micheal's true self will remain a secret.. Gosh!

This is not just a pain 4 laide to take into her heart. It was a deadly pain to her simple mind. It was a war to her gentle mind.

It was all hidden in her mind. But it's still open that the deceit is also open. That the man that did this to her must confess to his cheating ability.

Fake pastor michael must confess if he truely loves this woman as he claimed and clear his guilty mind filled with a cheating murder case.

Yewande must know, i will call her later. Before that, laide has not been buried. Miracle is wonder that can make the dead to rise again. Miracle can still happen.

Fake pastor michael preachings was supposed to move nike to some church things. But it motivated her 4 sexting because he started this nonsense cheating against laide and jeremiah and new baby.

It was really amaka's past that came back. She's humble and really wanna make amend in this marriage. Chika should just forgive her and sext her 4 new babies. Josh is still that big boy.

The End of the beginning.

Is this story really ended? Like, there's no 2nd thread?

No, Laide does not suppose to die like that