Curve a smile on someone's face 😊 #passion #trending

#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)*

"A tender moment frozen in time, a mother's loving gaze meets her child's innocent smile, radiating warmth, comfort, and unconditional love that transcends words." #feelinglove #Nakupenda

Never trade your smile for money. A Good smile is medicine to the soul. #Favour #Choicy

Don't forget to put a smile on someone's face 😊 #Comfort_Fumnanya_001 #attendance #passion

Nakupenda is not just an app, it’s a movement of love, culture, and connection. Let’s be the reason someone smiles today. #SpreadTheLove #TeamB #PeaceOfMind

Abeg tag one person wey don make you smile recently. No wait for birthday to hype your person. Give dem their flower now! [iamdajek] and [sanford_casimer_yx6z] take your flowers 🌹 🌹 😊 #SpreadTheLove #TeamB #PeaceOfMind

You don't have to be rich to give your time or you smile 😊 your words of encouragement are enough #SpreadTheLove in #NakupendaSpirit #PeaceOfMind

My Only Crime Was Being a Slim Girl Sitting beneath the silver glow of the moon, Anita exhaled softly, fighting back the tears swelling in her eyes. She ran a hand through her thick, curly hair as her mind drifted back to the events of the day. The morning had started with a wave of nausea—it felt like her period was around the corner. “Ugh,” she groaned, stepping carefully down the brown wooden staircase. Her family was already seated at the breakfast table. “Good morning, everyone,” she greeted quietly, sliding into the seat beside her father. “I feel sick,” she muttered. “Well, if you ate more, maybe you wouldn’t feel that way. Look at you—you’re all bones and skeleton,” her sister Janice said, casually. The room fell silent. “Janice!” their mother snapped, eyes wide. “That’s a very rude thing to say to your younger sister. Apologize now.” She passed the golden Penny butter to Anita, whose face had already fallen. “I’m sorry. I was only joking. Anita knows that,” Janice mumbled with a nervous chuckle. Anita forced a smile and shrugged, but those words clung to her like a shadow. The rest of the day dragged by. She kept to herself, brushing off her friends’ attempts to cheer her up. At school, things only got worse. Amarachi, the class bully, didn’t hold back. “Anita, this your cloth no fit you at all. You be like broom wey dem dress up. You sure say breeze no go carry you one day?” she sneered. Laughter exploded around her. Anita didn’t flinch, but her heart did. Now, under the calm night sky, Anita sat in silence. She licked her lips, wondering why the world could be so cruel to someone who had done nothing wrong—except exist in her own skin. But as the breeze touched her cheek, she made a silent vow: she would no longer give anyone the power to define her worth. No more shrinking back. No more tears. No more allowing people to body-shame her into silence. She would love herself—slim body and all. Her only crime was being a slim girl. And that was no crime at all. --- Dear Reader, Have you ever been judged or body-shamed for being too slim, too fat, too short, too tall—just too something? You're not alone. Let’s speak up and lift each other. Drop a comment below if you've ever experienced body shaming and how you overcame it. Tag someone who needs to hear this. Share to spread love, not judgment. © Juliet Chinenyenwa Alex #grace #julietchinenyenwaalex

Put a smile on someone's face today #ForTUNate_2016

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

A Barrow Pusher Became Rich After Public Insults and Abandonment Episode 1 The sun was merciless that afternoon, pouring its heat down like punishment on the busy streets of Onitsha. Chijioke’s skin was browned from years of exposure, his hands calloused from pushing his barrow through tight markets and uphill roads. He had just finished delivering a load of yams to a woman in Ose Market and was making his way back, tired but hopeful. Business had been rough, but today, he had made a little more than usual. It was enough to buy garri, sugar and a little amount to send to his mother in the village. As he paused by a roadside kiosk to buy pure water, he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in years — sharp, familiar, and once dear. “Is that not Chijioke?” the voice echoed. He turned, and his heart thudded. Ada. Beautiful, proud Ada. The same Ada he had once given his heart to in their village school. Now she stood radiant in makeup and fancy clothes, flanked by two other girls. He smiled awkwardly, lifting his hand in greeting. “Ada, long time—” She cut him off with a mocking laugh. “Chijioke! You still dey push barrow? Haba! Na wa o. Look at your mates! They drive cars, they wear suits. And you?” Her friends burst into laughter. One even took out her phone to snap a picture. A small crowd began to gather. Traders stopped. Bus conductors paused their chants. People stared. Chijioke’s heart sank. He felt like the ground should open and swallow him. “I used to like you before,” Ada continued, “but now I thank God I said no to you. See your life!” He stood rooted, too stunned to speak. The bottle of water slipped from his hand. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Instead, he picked up his barrow slowly, nodded once, and pushed it forward. Each step felt like a hundred lashes to his pride. People whispered, others laughed, some just watched. It was the longest walk of his life. By the time he reached the edge of the market, his legs were shaking. He veered off the main road, found a quiet spot behind an abandoned shop, and sat on a broken cement slab. For the first time in years, he let the tears come. He cried for his dreams, for his shame, for his father who had died too soon, for the mother whose body was fading from sickness. He cried for being mocked, for being poor, for being helpless. But somewhere in the middle of the tears, a thought began to grow. What if this was not the end? What if her insult was a mirror showing him who he’d become — and who he could still be? The pain turned into fire. A quiet vow formed in his heart: They will never laugh at me like this again. #worldwide #africanfolktales #Discipline #nakupenda