• My father called and complained that rain removed our roof. So I sent some money to fix the problem.

    When I traveled home for the holidays, I noticed that the old roofing was still intact. I called daddy and enquired, he smiled and replied "when you were in school collecting money from us for photosynthesis, medulla oblongata, experiments, repair of broken atmosphere etc, you think we didn't know?
    Now it's our turn.
    #schoollife
    #nakupenda
    #Discipline
    My father called and complained that rain removed our roof. So I sent some money to fix the problem. When I traveled home for the holidays, I noticed that the old roofing was still intact. I called daddy and enquired, he smiled and replied "when you were in school collecting money from us for photosynthesis, medulla oblongata, experiments, repair of broken atmosphere etc, you think we didn't know? Now it's our turn. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 #schoollife #nakupenda #Discipline
    Haha
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  • Sunday Night Thoughts

    As the weekend fades and a new week begins, take a moment to reflect:
    What did you learn? What made you smile?
    Let it all settle. Rest isn’t laziness — it’s preparation.

    Here’s to a calm mind and a strong start tomorrow.
    Goodnight, and go into the week with purpose.


    #knowledge
    #gbemiking
    #SundayNight #MindfulMoments
    #Recharge #NewWeekNewGoals
    #RestWell
    Sunday Night Thoughts As the weekend fades and a new week begins, take a moment to reflect: What did you learn? What made you smile? Let it all settle. Rest isn’t laziness — it’s preparation. 🛌✨ Here’s to a calm mind and a strong start tomorrow. 💪 Goodnight, and go into the week with purpose. 🌟 #knowledge #gbemiking #SundayNight #MindfulMoments #Recharge #NewWeekNewGoals #RestWell
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  • # softsmile
    #Attendance
    #passion
    # softsmile #Attendance #passion
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  • Tonight, my heart is full! I received a beautiful a tip and gift, and it made my day. I’m going to bed with a big smile and the peace that comes with feeling loved. Grateful for the little things that bring so much joy. Sleeping like a baby tonight! Goodnight, fam.
    #GratefulHeart #FeelingBlessed #SpreadTheLove on #NakupendaVibes
    #PeaceOfMind
    Tonight, my heart is full! I received a beautiful a tip and gift, and it made my day. I’m going to bed with a big smile and the peace that comes with feeling loved. Grateful for the little things that bring so much joy. Sleeping like a baby tonight! Goodnight, fam. #GratefulHeart #FeelingBlessed #SpreadTheLove on #NakupendaVibes #PeaceOfMind
    Love
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  • Good morning, fam! Start your day with a kind word, a smile, or a prayer for someone. Love is powerful, use it.

    #SpreadTheLove #TeamB #PeaceOfMind
    Good morning, fam! Start your day with a kind word, a smile, or a prayer for someone. Love is powerful, use it. #SpreadTheLove #TeamB #PeaceOfMind
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  • Title: Adira and Zayd: The Flame and the Echo

    Adira had always known the forest, its whispers, and its balance. Since childhood, the trees and winds had guided her, giving her a purpose she had never questioned. She had been the Keeper of Echoes for years now, protecting the realm from the unseen chaos that sought to break its harmony. But despite the wisdom the forest had bestowed upon her, a nagging sense of something missing lingered in her heart.

    She had always wondered about her past—about her family. The village had raised her, and the elders had never spoken much of her lineage. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was bound to the forest, born during the rare lunar eclipse. But the stories she had heard spoke of one other child, one born under the same eclipse, whose fate was unknown.

    Zayd, on the other hand, had lived a life of freedom, roaming the lands without purpose or direction. He was a wanderer, a seeker of truths that didn’t exist in maps or legends. His only companions were the whispers in the wind and the journal he kept, filled with the fragments of forgotten places and ancient memories. Zayd’s life was unmarked by magic—at least, until the day he found the Ember Gate in the Ashen Wastes.

    The gate was an anomaly in the desert, a towering archway made of blackened stone, pulsing with hidden energy. Zayd had felt it before he saw it, an invisible pull that seemed to draw him closer. When his hand brushed the surface, the gate had activated, filling his vision with a city made of fire, its towers flickering like coals beneath a twilight sky. Then, the voice had come—old, aching, and full of fire.

    "You are the Flamebearer. Will you remember us?"

    Zayd didn't understand what it meant, but he felt a strange stirring within himself, like an ember reigniting after years of cold.

    It was then that the mark appeared—like a faint outline of a burning sun on his right hand. And in that moment, Zayd knew that his wandering had led him here for a reason. He wasn’t just a traveler. He was bound to something greater, something ancient.

    Back in the forest, Adira felt it too. The winds had changed, the trees had murmured a different name. It was a name she had never heard but felt in her bones: Zayd. Her heart ached as though she were being pulled in two directions at once.

    The forest had always been her guide, but now it seemed to be telling her something more. She had been born for the balance between worlds, but now, the forest whispered of another—someone who shared her blood, someone who was her counterpart.

    Adira stood at the edge of the forest, feeling the pull of destiny. The balance between realms was shifting, and she could feel a new presence on the horizon—someone who, like her, was touched by magic.


    ---

    Their Meeting:

    Zayd’s journey brought him to the outskirts of the village. The wind carried with it a familiar scent, something that reminded him of the fire that had burned within him since the day of the Ember Gate. As he walked toward the forest, the trees seemed to part for him, guiding him deeper into their embrace.

    And then he saw her—Adira, standing like a figure made of the forest itself. Her hair, wild and dark as the roots of the trees, moved with the wind as if it were alive. Her eyes, though filled with a deep wisdom, held something else—a recognition, a knowing.

    "You..." Zayd whispered, stepping forward.

    Adira’s heart skipped a beat. She had never seen him before, yet she knew him. The forest had told her of him. He was her brother, her younger brother , born under the same eclipse. The Flamebearer. The one who would help restore balance.

    "You’re not a dream," she said softly. "You’re real."

    Zayd smiled faintly. "I was wondering when we’d meet."

    The world around them seemed to hold its breath as if the very earth had been waiting for this moment. Adira stepped closer, her hand instinctively reaching out, and Zayd did the same. The moment their hands touched, the air hummed with energy, like two forces coming together to complete something long lost.

    "Fate brought us together," Adira said, her voice steady with newfound certainty. "We are the balance—fire and earth, flame and echo."

    Zayd nodded, his hand still resting in hers. "The Ember Gate opened for me. It told me I was the Flamebearer. But you... you were the one it called to, weren’t you?"

    Adira nodded. "The forest has always called me. But now, it calls to us both."

    Together, they were more than they could ever be alone. The balance was shifting, and with it, the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. They were siblings born of fire and forest, and together, they would protect both.


    ---



    Title: Adira and Zayd: The Flame and the Echo Adira had always known the forest, its whispers, and its balance. Since childhood, the trees and winds had guided her, giving her a purpose she had never questioned. She had been the Keeper of Echoes for years now, protecting the realm from the unseen chaos that sought to break its harmony. But despite the wisdom the forest had bestowed upon her, a nagging sense of something missing lingered in her heart. She had always wondered about her past—about her family. The village had raised her, and the elders had never spoken much of her lineage. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was bound to the forest, born during the rare lunar eclipse. But the stories she had heard spoke of one other child, one born under the same eclipse, whose fate was unknown. Zayd, on the other hand, had lived a life of freedom, roaming the lands without purpose or direction. He was a wanderer, a seeker of truths that didn’t exist in maps or legends. His only companions were the whispers in the wind and the journal he kept, filled with the fragments of forgotten places and ancient memories. Zayd’s life was unmarked by magic—at least, until the day he found the Ember Gate in the Ashen Wastes. The gate was an anomaly in the desert, a towering archway made of blackened stone, pulsing with hidden energy. Zayd had felt it before he saw it, an invisible pull that seemed to draw him closer. When his hand brushed the surface, the gate had activated, filling his vision with a city made of fire, its towers flickering like coals beneath a twilight sky. Then, the voice had come—old, aching, and full of fire. "You are the Flamebearer. Will you remember us?" Zayd didn't understand what it meant, but he felt a strange stirring within himself, like an ember reigniting after years of cold. It was then that the mark appeared—like a faint outline of a burning sun on his right hand. And in that moment, Zayd knew that his wandering had led him here for a reason. He wasn’t just a traveler. He was bound to something greater, something ancient. Back in the forest, Adira felt it too. The winds had changed, the trees had murmured a different name. It was a name she had never heard but felt in her bones: Zayd. Her heart ached as though she were being pulled in two directions at once. The forest had always been her guide, but now it seemed to be telling her something more. She had been born for the balance between worlds, but now, the forest whispered of another—someone who shared her blood, someone who was her counterpart. Adira stood at the edge of the forest, feeling the pull of destiny. The balance between realms was shifting, and she could feel a new presence on the horizon—someone who, like her, was touched by magic. --- Their Meeting: Zayd’s journey brought him to the outskirts of the village. The wind carried with it a familiar scent, something that reminded him of the fire that had burned within him since the day of the Ember Gate. As he walked toward the forest, the trees seemed to part for him, guiding him deeper into their embrace. And then he saw her—Adira, standing like a figure made of the forest itself. Her hair, wild and dark as the roots of the trees, moved with the wind as if it were alive. Her eyes, though filled with a deep wisdom, held something else—a recognition, a knowing. "You..." Zayd whispered, stepping forward. Adira’s heart skipped a beat. She had never seen him before, yet she knew him. The forest had told her of him. He was her brother, her younger brother , born under the same eclipse. The Flamebearer. The one who would help restore balance. "You’re not a dream," she said softly. "You’re real." Zayd smiled faintly. "I was wondering when we’d meet." The world around them seemed to hold its breath as if the very earth had been waiting for this moment. Adira stepped closer, her hand instinctively reaching out, and Zayd did the same. The moment their hands touched, the air hummed with energy, like two forces coming together to complete something long lost. "Fate brought us together," Adira said, her voice steady with newfound certainty. "We are the balance—fire and earth, flame and echo." Zayd nodded, his hand still resting in hers. "The Ember Gate opened for me. It told me I was the Flamebearer. But you... you were the one it called to, weren’t you?" Adira nodded. "The forest has always called me. But now, it calls to us both." Together, they were more than they could ever be alone. The balance was shifting, and with it, the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. They were siblings born of fire and forest, and together, they would protect both. ---
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  • Smile is an antidote to sadness. Put smile on someone face before the end of the week #Favour #ForTUNate_2016
    Smile is an antidote to sadness. Put smile on someone face before the end of the week #Favour #ForTUNate_2016
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  • She was just a cleaner trying to get to work. One splash of mud changed all her life! The rich woman behind the wheel had no idea – someone powerful was watching...
    The city woke in silence, cloaked in early mist and leftover rain. Streetlights blinked against the morning haze, and the air still carried the chill of night. Along Crownville Avenue, a young woman moved with quiet purpose. She wasn’t in a rush, but her pace was steady—like someone used to walking the long road.
    Her uniform was clean, her shoes worn from use. A small bag hung from her shoulder, packed with her breakfast and cleaning gloves. No makeup, no umbrella, no shield from what life might bring that day.
    At the next corner, a sleek white SUV waited for the light. Its engine hummed with soft power. Inside sat a well-dressed woman in large sunglasses, sipping something green from a straw and scrolling her phone.
    And then—
    A splash.
    A sharp burst of water from a puddle.
    And the young woman stopped, soaked from head to toe.
    There was no time to react.
    The SUV rolled past, slowing just enough for a voice to call out from the window—cheerful, distant, maybe even amused. Then it sped off, disappearing into the traffic like nothing had happened.
    She stood still for a moment. No screams. No anger. She just adjusted her bag, blinked a few times, and kept walking.
    But someone else saw.
    From across the street, a dark sedan sat quietly. Behind its tinted windows, a man watched the entire moment unfold. His eyes followed the woman, then shifted to the SUV fading into the distance.
    He didn’t smile.
    He didn’t speak.
    But his fingers tapped the steering wheel once—then again.
    He picked up his phone.
    “Can you find out who she is?” he asked, voice calm but firm. “The girl who just got splashed.”
    A short pause.
    “Yes, sir,” came the reply.
    The line clicked off.
    The young woman never looked back. She didn’t know anyone had noticed. She didn’t know her morning had been quietly recorded in someone else’s mind—and that her quiet resilience had just shifted something unexpected.
    Because sometimes, the smallest moments leave the biggest impressions.
    And not all acts of kindness are random.
    Sometimes, someone sees more than we think.
    And sometimes, it all begins with a splash.....
    #DISCIPLINE
    #NAKUPENDA
    She was just a cleaner trying to get to work. One splash of mud changed all her life! The rich woman behind the wheel had no idea – someone powerful was watching...😲😲😲 The city woke in silence, cloaked in early mist and leftover rain. Streetlights blinked against the morning haze, and the air still carried the chill of night. Along Crownville Avenue, a young woman moved with quiet purpose. She wasn’t in a rush, but her pace was steady—like someone used to walking the long road. Her uniform was clean, her shoes worn from use. A small bag hung from her shoulder, packed with her breakfast and cleaning gloves. No makeup, no umbrella, no shield from what life might bring that day. At the next corner, a sleek white SUV waited for the light. Its engine hummed with soft power. Inside sat a well-dressed woman in large sunglasses, sipping something green from a straw and scrolling her phone. And then— A splash. A sharp burst of water from a puddle. And the young woman stopped, soaked from head to toe. There was no time to react. The SUV rolled past, slowing just enough for a voice to call out from the window—cheerful, distant, maybe even amused. Then it sped off, disappearing into the traffic like nothing had happened. She stood still for a moment. No screams. No anger. She just adjusted her bag, blinked a few times, and kept walking. But someone else saw. From across the street, a dark sedan sat quietly. Behind its tinted windows, a man watched the entire moment unfold. His eyes followed the woman, then shifted to the SUV fading into the distance. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. But his fingers tapped the steering wheel once—then again. He picked up his phone. “Can you find out who she is?” he asked, voice calm but firm. “The girl who just got splashed.” A short pause. “Yes, sir,” came the reply. The line clicked off. The young woman never looked back. She didn’t know anyone had noticed. She didn’t know her morning had been quietly recorded in someone else’s mind—and that her quiet resilience had just shifted something unexpected. Because sometimes, the smallest moments leave the biggest impressions. And not all acts of kindness are random. Sometimes, someone sees more than we think. And sometimes, it all begins with a splash..... #DISCIPLINE #NAKUPENDA
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  • I went to Jeremy's school yesterday. I went and parked in front of the school.

    It was the same spot I parked on Tuesday when I came to look for him.

    When the school had closed, I stepped down from the car, I was anxiously watching to see Jeremy walk out of the gate. I waited for a while and suddenly, I saw him amongst a group of friends strolling out.

    One of his friends tapped him on his back and pointed to me. Jeremy screamed in excitement.

    "Daddy..."

    And ran to me. He embraced me warmly. His friends came to say hello to me. I greeted each of them, brought out some change, and gave to them to buy something for themselves on their way home.

    They were so happy.

    Jeremy looked at me.

    "You came to pick me up?"

    "Yes. I did."

    He grinned in excitement and waved at his friends.

    "Bye, everyone. See you tomorrow."

    And he entered the car.

    While we were driving I noticed a finger mark on Jeremy's cheek. It was like a cut. It had the shape of a fingernail.

    "Who gave you this cut on your face, Jeremy?"

    He touched it with his hands.

    "My mum. She slapped me this morning."

    "Why?"

    He looked at me and turned his gaze back to the road.

    "My mum insists that I should take the public bus to school from now on. She doesn't want me to follow you anymore."

    "Why?"

    "I do not know."

    "Before now, did she know I dropped you off at school?"

    "Sometimes. I told her."

    "And she is not happy I do that?"

    He nodded his head and turned to look at the road.

    "I came by at your house today and heard her shouting at you. I am sorry I could not intervene. I was scared it would make things worse for you."

    He was speechless.

    While driving past Kilimanjaro, an eatery at the old airport, he kept staring at the place. I saw his face and knew he'd want to go in. So I took a turn into the building.

    I told him to come down so we could buy some snacks together.

    He smiled.

    We walked in, picked some snacks and ice cream and both walked out.

    While we were driving home, Jeremy said to me.

    "Thank you, Dad. My friends have told me about about how they visited this place. Today I visited it too and will tell them the story. Tomorrow they'll also be telling me how rich my dad is because of the money you gave them today."

    I laughed.

    I dropped off Jeremy at home and drove back to work.

    This morning I waited until 7:15 and when I didn't see Jeremy come to my house as he usually does, I drove off to work. I knew he had taken the bus just like his mother instructed.

    I am at work now, and considering the second option.

    I want to meet Jeremy's mum tonight. I am not evil. I am just a young man who loves her son as much as she does.

    That's all.

    My name is #Chibuzo Eze and I am the best at what I do.
    #Discipline
    #nakupenda
    ™ I went to Jeremy's school yesterday. I went and parked in front of the school. It was the same spot I parked on Tuesday when I came to look for him. When the school had closed, I stepped down from the car, I was anxiously watching to see Jeremy walk out of the gate. I waited for a while and suddenly, I saw him amongst a group of friends strolling out. One of his friends tapped him on his back and pointed to me. Jeremy screamed in excitement. "Daddy..." And ran to me. He embraced me warmly. His friends came to say hello to me. I greeted each of them, brought out some change, and gave to them to buy something for themselves on their way home. They were so happy. Jeremy looked at me. "You came to pick me up?" "Yes. I did." He grinned in excitement and waved at his friends. "Bye, everyone. See you tomorrow." And he entered the car. While we were driving I noticed a finger mark on Jeremy's cheek. It was like a cut. It had the shape of a fingernail. "Who gave you this cut on your face, Jeremy?" He touched it with his hands. "My mum. She slapped me this morning." "Why?" He looked at me and turned his gaze back to the road. "My mum insists that I should take the public bus to school from now on. She doesn't want me to follow you anymore." "Why?" "I do not know." "Before now, did she know I dropped you off at school?" "Sometimes. I told her." "And she is not happy I do that?" He nodded his head and turned to look at the road. "I came by at your house today and heard her shouting at you. I am sorry I could not intervene. I was scared it would make things worse for you." He was speechless. While driving past Kilimanjaro, an eatery at the old airport, he kept staring at the place. I saw his face and knew he'd want to go in. So I took a turn into the building. I told him to come down so we could buy some snacks together. He smiled. We walked in, picked some snacks and ice cream and both walked out. While we were driving home, Jeremy said to me. "Thank you, Dad. My friends have told me about about how they visited this place. Today I visited it too and will tell them the story. Tomorrow they'll also be telling me how rich my dad is because of the money you gave them today." I laughed. I dropped off Jeremy at home and drove back to work. This morning I waited until 7:15 and when I didn't see Jeremy come to my house as he usually does, I drove off to work. I knew he had taken the bus just like his mother instructed. I am at work now, and considering the second option. I want to meet Jeremy's mum tonight. I am not evil. I am just a young man who loves her son as much as she does. That's all. My name is #Chibuzo Eze and I am the best at what I do. #Discipline #nakupenda
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  • #softsmile
    # passion


    One day the sun will rise, and you won't. so live like today is borrowed.

    GOOD MORNING
    *(PLEASE STAY SAFE)*
    #softsmile # passion One day the sun will rise, and you won't. so live like today is borrowed. GOOD MORNING *(PLEASE STAY SAFE)*
    Yay
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  • #softsmile
    #Passion



    Sometimes saying sorry is the most difficult thing on earth. But it is the cheapest thing to save the most expensive gift called relationship.

    GOOD MORNING
    *(PLEASE STAY SAFE)*
    #softsmile #Passion Sometimes saying sorry is the most difficult thing on earth. But it is the cheapest thing to save the most expensive gift called relationship. GOOD MORNING *(PLEASE STAY SAFE)*
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  • #Discipline
    #nakupenda
    SHE WAS 8 YEARS OLD WHEN THEY FORCED HER TO MARRY AN 80-YEAR-OLD MAN AND THIS HAPPENED

    She was only eight. She still played with dolls, still chased butterflies barefoot in the dusty yard, still slept with her head on her mother’s lap. Her name was Amina, and all she ever wanted was to go to school, eat sweets, and laugh with her younger brother. But one morning, her mother pulled her aside, eyes red, voice trembling. "You are to be married next week." Amina blinked. Married? She thought it meant putting on a pretty dress and playing bride, the way she did with her friends. She didn’t understand why her mother cried harder when she smiled and asked if there would be cake.

    Her father didn’t explain. He only said, “This will save us all.” The man—Alhaji Umar—was 80 years old, rich, with hands that shook and breath that smelled of bitterness. He had four wives already. The youngest was 40. Now he wanted a fifth, and he wanted Amina. Because her father owed him. Because her father was drowning in debt. Because no one in the village would dare refuse Alhaji Umar.

    The night before the wedding, Amina asked her mother if she’d be allowed to go back to school afterward. Her mother didn’t answer. She just held her tighter. And when the drums began the next morning, when the guests gathered to dance and eat and celebrate what they thought was a blessing, Amina sat in the middle of the room in a white dress too big for her tiny frame, not knowing she was being led into a nightmare.

    The marriage was celebrated with loud music. But the silence in Amina’s heart was louder. She didn’t cry during the ceremony. She didn’t cry when she was taken to his house. But she cried when he locked the room that night. She cried when he touched her tiny hand and called her his "new beginning." He didn’t hurt her—not yet. But his eyes did. They looked at her like she wasn’t a child. Like she was property.

    Days turned into weeks. She didn’t go to school again. She cleaned the house. She sat beside his bed. She listened when he ranted about how none of his sons respected him. She became a shadow in a palace she never asked for. And the worst part? No one came for her. Not her father. Not her mother. They had vanished into the silence of guilt.

    But one night, when the wind howled and the rain slapped the windows, Amina heard someone at the door. A stranger. Wet, tired, breathing heavily. He said he was Alhaji Umar’s grandson. A university student back from abroad. “Who are you?” he asked, staring at her with confusion. “Why are you wearing a wedding necklace?”

    “I’m his wife,” she whispered.

    The boy’s face went pale.

    That night changed everything.

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    #Discipline #nakupenda SHE WAS 8 YEARS OLD WHEN THEY FORCED HER TO MARRY AN 80-YEAR-OLD MAN AND THIS HAPPENED She was only eight. She still played with dolls, still chased butterflies barefoot in the dusty yard, still slept with her head on her mother’s lap. Her name was Amina, and all she ever wanted was to go to school, eat sweets, and laugh with her younger brother. But one morning, her mother pulled her aside, eyes red, voice trembling. "You are to be married next week." Amina blinked. Married? She thought it meant putting on a pretty dress and playing bride, the way she did with her friends. She didn’t understand why her mother cried harder when she smiled and asked if there would be cake. Her father didn’t explain. He only said, “This will save us all.” The man—Alhaji Umar—was 80 years old, rich, with hands that shook and breath that smelled of bitterness. He had four wives already. The youngest was 40. Now he wanted a fifth, and he wanted Amina. Because her father owed him. Because her father was drowning in debt. Because no one in the village would dare refuse Alhaji Umar. The night before the wedding, Amina asked her mother if she’d be allowed to go back to school afterward. Her mother didn’t answer. She just held her tighter. And when the drums began the next morning, when the guests gathered to dance and eat and celebrate what they thought was a blessing, Amina sat in the middle of the room in a white dress too big for her tiny frame, not knowing she was being led into a nightmare. The marriage was celebrated with loud music. But the silence in Amina’s heart was louder. She didn’t cry during the ceremony. She didn’t cry when she was taken to his house. But she cried when he locked the room that night. She cried when he touched her tiny hand and called her his "new beginning." He didn’t hurt her—not yet. But his eyes did. They looked at her like she wasn’t a child. Like she was property. Days turned into weeks. She didn’t go to school again. She cleaned the house. She sat beside his bed. She listened when he ranted about how none of his sons respected him. She became a shadow in a palace she never asked for. And the worst part? No one came for her. Not her father. Not her mother. They had vanished into the silence of guilt. But one night, when the wind howled and the rain slapped the windows, Amina heard someone at the door. A stranger. Wet, tired, breathing heavily. He said he was Alhaji Umar’s grandson. A university student back from abroad. “Who are you?” he asked, staring at her with confusion. “Why are you wearing a wedding necklace?” “I’m his wife,” she whispered. The boy’s face went pale. That night changed everything. TO BE CONTINUED...
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