ONE CHANCE by ucsmile

Hello Hi,

I hope you are doing great. It's been a short while, school-work! Today, I have an interesting story written by the talented doctor and writer - 'ucsmile' who still chooses to remain anonymous.

Please leave your comments behind and share with your friends. Thank you. Enjoy:

One Chance

photocredit: www.garda.com

It happened on a Good Friday, and I didn't go to church that day. I was rushing to get back to Ajah from Badagry and was feeling very awkward standing on the road and flagging down cars after a long while. It stemmed from a bad decision to leave my car back in Lagos and I was now paying for it.

One of the cars pulled over and the driver asked, "Mile 2?" I was quick to reply in the affirmative; luck doesn't shine on you twice!

"Mile 2 #250" he said, in their typical way of asking for more. "#200", I replied, and he opened the door for me to enter.

As I entered the car, I felt uneasy. Normal taxi drivers would have insisted on that fare. I quickly assessed the situation. The driver had red shot eyes and the driving mirror had a rosary hanging from it. There was just a single passenger sitting behind me, while I was on the passenger seat. That means that the driver should be looking for more passengers but he  wasn't enthusiastic in his search for more passengers. He sped past waiting passengers, making half hearted attempts at picking them. At some point, he stopped for a man and the whole drama of haggling was repeated with him settling for #200 again and the passenger entered.

At this point, I put my hand into my pocket and brought out my rosary which was never far from my side. That singular action made the driver cast a sharp look at me which I pretended not to notice. I kept a calm exterior while the inside was riotous. Stories of assualt and robbery along that route kept going through my head. Even at that, I didn't stop praying the rosary; I knew it was only God that could save me from the situation.

As we approached Ibereku Barracks, he hesitated a bit, and then drove on to some short distance and suddenly stopped the car.

"Oga were you tell me say you dey stop? No be Ibereku barracks?", the Driver asked in pidgin English.

The first paasenger replied, "Na Ibereku barracks. We don reach?"

"Na im we just pass o!"

"Ahh! I tell you say I no know the place. You for tell me on time. Make I come down. Open your boot make I take my bag."

At this point, I heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe I was being paranoid after all. But my relief was shortlived.

"Oga, you get bag for inside my boot?", the driver asked again.

"Yes na!"

"Oga, you bin dey this car when those women dey come down and I dey ask who get the bag and you no talk. Wetin dey inside the bag?"

"Na just my clothes and personal effects."

"Oga, no be you get the bag. Make you enter the car back."

As he got into the car, the driver moved off again at a low speed and at the same time, ...into a narrative directed at me.

"Bros see e, I carry this man with some women all the way from Seme. E no tell me wetin im carry. As the women dey come down for Badagry, one of their zips come hook im bag, and the bag open. Na so so dollar and foreign currency wey full the bag!" Oga tell me, how you get the money? Tell me the truth!"

At that moment, one thing was on my mind: How do I get down from this car?! The new passenger was nodding vigorously and was very eager to make his own contribution to the conversation. I had just confirmed my worst fears: they were all in this together!

The 'accused' stuttered, "Okay. I go talk true. Alhaji go Mecca, leave im wife. Im wife come die. I come carry all the gold and money waka. Abeg, make una no report me."

"Oga, we go carry you go our park. Na there we go talk waiting we go do you".

Park? This was the moment they were all waiting for; the moment I will choose to either go along with them, or drop. I wasn't interested in knowing what would become of the "dollars". All I was interested in was getting out of the car as fast as possible!

I spoke up, "Please, can I drop here?"

"Okay bros".

And he stopped the vehicle, and I, clutching my rosary tightly, scampered down. They zoomed off immediately, probably to look for the next greedy prey.

This time around, I waited for a yellow painted city bus and flagged it down.

"Mile 2?"

"Mile 2 #200."

And with relief, I hopped in quickly!

Thank you for reading, please share your experiences in the comment section. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did; I always laugh when I hear about these "one chance" stories. Fortunately I have never encountered any. I hear they are a lot in Abuja and Lagos so please always be careful wherever you stay. Have a great week. Cheers!

Twitter @vivio_cao . Instagram: Ugochiukah

HAPPY NEW YEAR. IT'S 2015 – TURN UP!

Hello Hi,

Happy New Year. I'd like to thank all of you for ever visiting my blog. I started this blog last March, 2014 and it already has over 11,000 views. It means a lot to me as I know it takes a lot of patience and commitment to read through a story, so thank you, thank you, thank you! :) I wish you the very best this year and like my dad would say "Last year has come and gone, we are grateful to God and we pray for a better year." So please my dear friends, no matter what you go through, remain hopeful for a better tomorrow.

 I cannot mention names of all the people who have supported me in this writing journey as you are so many but please know that I appreciate your support always. Special thanks to my eldest brother for making me start this blog; before now, I just used to write stories and send via emails to a few friends bugging them to read (hee hee, you know yourselves). Shout out and many thanks also to my younger sister, Odi and happy birthday too (New year baby :)). She says she is my biggest fan/AC :p.

Anyway, for today's story I did something I loved to do but I have not done since secondary school. I wrote this story using titles, words or phrases from other sources (this time around, the sources were all the published stories of mine). So where ever you see a highlight in the story, it is got from a different story to which I have the link attached. I hope you enjoy it and it brings back memories from the previous stories for you, just as it did for me. Once again, happy New Year and here is the story:

Adaobi sat down in the restaurant waiting for her boyfriend, Emeka. They had been dating for nearly three years now and most of her friends who had begun their relationships after hers were already married or at least engaged. She had just received a wedding invitation from her friend Blessing and her boo Effiong and even though she was not particularly happy for anybody at the moment, she had sent a “Happy Anniversary” text to her other friend Ije, who was celebrating her first wedding anniversary. Why could it not have been her sending out wedding invitations? She wondered. She had shared her concerns with her grandmother when she travelled to the village for Christmas and Mama had tried to comfort her saying “Oh Nwa'm, don’t worry. You will marry soon.”

“But what is stopping him? He has a good job and I’m not getting any younger!” Adaobi was not convinced.

“You’re looking at things from only one angle; you need to see things from different vantage points. He might be waiting for other things besides a job” Mama said.

“What is he waiting for? What if he never asks me to marry him? What if...?” Adaobi blurted out the voices within her mind bitterly. Her grandmother held her hands and shook her head “Never say never. It will happen in God’s time.” Mama spoke with so much assurance that Adaobi was compelled to believe her and relive her hopes once again. A few hours later, Mama prepared her favourite Uha soup to cheer her up which they delightfully ate together with fufu.

Today marked the beginning of a new year and she was certain that Emeka would propose today. She had expected the ring yesterday but it did not come, just the same way it did not come last April when she thought that it had. Instead of a ring in the box that he had handed to her as a present, she received a brooch inscribed with ‘Happy Easter’. She forced a smile at him as she muttered “Many thanks” even though she knew instantly that she would never wear it. Whilst she waited for Emeka at the restaurant, she reminisced about how they had first met. It was on a Sunday morning, to be precise on Palm Sunday. She had just resigned from her work place and moved back to Nigeria from the UK after living most her life there. Recently heart-broken from a tumultuous relationship with her ex-boyfriend whom she had thought would be that 'special someone' for her, her grandmother had advised her to come back home. She had been away from Nigeria for so long that it had been challenging for her to cope with the environment and she had hated returning at first. She was slowly adapting to the country after having a few hitches and colloquial mishaps. Looking on the greener side, relocating had been very useful in finding her African roots as she got to meet some relatives that she never even knew existed. In fact, she was beginning to enjoy the country except for the terrible traffic in the city. That day, she arrived late to church as usual and had forgotten to bring her palm leaves along. She rushed to a nearby palm tree in the church compound and tried to get herself some for the procession ceremony. That was when Emeka saw her; he came to her and offered her some of his leaves and after that, they became good friends. They shared similar interests and morals about life and it did not take long before they started dating.

Adaobi was awakened from her thoughts when a waitress served her a bottle of Fanta. “It’s on the house” she said with a smile and walked away. Adaobi looked towards the counter and saw the other waiters and waitresses looking her. She felt slightly embarrassed and wondered what was going on inside their minds. She hoped that they did not get it twisted and think that she sat there hoping to meet a stranger or to get free drinks. Emeka was taking too long to show up; she checked her phone to make sure that it was on melody so that she would not miss his call in case of any changed plans. She did not want to call him because she was already getting inpatient about the present matter and she feared that she might use a tone over the phone that would eventually make the conversation a dreaded dialogue.

He strolled in happily fifteen minutes later without giving any reasons for making her wait for over an hour at the restaurant. They quickly ordered some food and ate mostly in silence. By the time they had finished their meals, he had neither offered an apology for his lateness nor a ring to soothe her. As he drove to her house to drop her off, Adaobi was very upset; she wondered if she had been wasting her time with him for the past three years. When they got to her place, she quickly opened the door to get out of the car without saying a word to him. He caught hold of her arm and asked “Sho’ry, why are you looking so down? This is a New Year, 2015! Turn up!” His act of ignorance felt like a slap on her face and she got angrier. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him that she needed a break from their relationship, he had brought out a ring and this time, he popped the question.

The End

Please don't forget to like the page, drop comments and share with your friends and family. You can also follow my blog to get updates. Have a lovely weekend.
Twitter:@vivio_gogo IG: @ugochiukah

*Uha and fufu are some native foods

HE CAME TO ME

Hello Hi,

First of all, I would like to say a big thank you to those of you that voted for me in the etisalat flash fiction of 300 words max. If you haven't read it yet, you can see it here:-

http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/a-mothers-bane/

Last week, Bella Naija also published one of my writings (http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/11/27/ugochi-ukah-i-am-what-my-grandmother-ate/).

Today, I have a new story for you and as usual, please leave your comments here and don't forget to share, below. Thank you and Enjoy:-

Photo credit: babyworld.co.uk

“He came to me” Amaka said, looking a tad flustered.

“What came to you?” Nkechi asked uninterestedly, barely looking up from her novel and sipping her drink.

“Uncle Joseph” Amaka replied.

“Mhmm?” Nkechi grunted.

“He tried to rape me.”

Nkechi was so startled that she spilled some of her drink and almost choked on it. “Is this a dream?”

Amaka nodded slowly.

“Haa!” Nkechi sighed aloud. “Okay then but I’m not in the mood for any scary moonlight tale. It’s nearly midnight and I want to finish reading this book so that I can return it by tomorrow.”

“Just listen please; it has a happy ending” Amaka said.

 “Please make it short.” Nkechi said, pushing her novel aside.

Amaka continued. “He tried to rape me again…”

“Hold on. You said ‘Again’. So is this a recurrent dream then?”

Amaka nodded again and continued.

“This was the third he had come. I was lying down on my bed, half-asleep. As usual he did not knock before coming into my room. He used a chair to wedge the door so that no one could come in and then, he quickly undressed. Thereafter, he pounced on top of me and before I could scream, he covered my mouth with his hand. Then he asked to dance and every time I refused, he hit me hard. So even though there was neither music in my ears nor in my heart, I danced, and danced, and dan…”

“Okay I get your point, you danced! What happened next?” Nkechi interjected impatiently.

“Yes, I danced with as much strength as I could muster although I felt dead inside. I hoped that the dancing would make it quicker so that he would go away but instead he continued; much stronger and striking me even harder, even though I was dancing.” She took a deep breath.

“He struck my cheek once again, making my face turn to the right. Then, my eyes beheld it! In the midst of my tears and sorrow, it was as if my prayers had been heard and answered. I looked at him; his eyes were tightly shut, his sweat dripping all over my body like midnight dew. So I danced the best I could, so that he could enjoy his music even more. I slowly reached out for it and whilst he danced along, I pierced him, just at the right place, with the right depth. His eyes suddenly opened and this time, I was the one that quickly covered his mouth before he could scream.” She paused. “And just as he lay still on my bed, I woke up.” Amaka added smiling, concluding her story.

Nkechi did not look amused and her mouth was agape. After a short pause, she cleared her throat and asked angrily “What part of this story is happy?”

“Oh! It is very happy for me because I know that he would never come to me again. And I forgot to tell you what the best part was. It was you who saved me! So thank you” Amaka replied cheerfully and hugged Nkechi before walking out of the room as if nothing was amiss and leaving Nkechi open-mouthed again.

Nkechi shook her head and tried to resume reading her novel but she could not concentrate anymore. She had always known that her cousin, Amaka, acted queer most of the time but she found this story very disturbing. Could she have been talking about a spirit husband? She had heard of such stories but had never really believed them. She shrugged and decided to go to bed without finishing the novel.

***

It was as Nkechi walked past Amaka’s room the next morning and stopped to check if she was awake, that she froze at the door. Amaka’s stepfather, Uncle Joseph, was lying on Amaka’s bed in his pool of blood with a knife in his chest; the same knife that she had used to peel some oranges the previous evening and had forgotten in Amaka’s bedroom.  Nkechi let out a scream and Amaka who had been sleeping right next to him woke up.

Have a beautiful week :). Follow me on twitter @vivio_gogo and IG:@ugochiukah

A Hero's Tale

Hello Hi,

I hope you're doing great. I wrote a short story (300 words) for the Etisalat prize fiction. Please read, share and vote for me; you can also vote everyday. Thank you. Here's the link:

http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/a-mothers-bane/

I was going to put up a short story today but my friend sent me a beautiful poem which I could not resist especially as I find poem-composing very challenging. He chooses by go by his pseudonym - ucsmile (some of you may know him or may have seen his other lovely works). So please enjoy and leave your comments below.

photo credit: www.wattpad.com

A Hero's Tale

Such stories are often told

By the wizened ones of old

Who with backs steeped in age

Recount battles fought on life's stage

Reminiscent on the eternity of youth

Toes tingling for dancing shoes and boot

But with a lesson to impact

On those with bodies still intact

This story has never been told

For none could conceive something so bold

Or even perceive the workings of a man's heart

Determined to play a part

In utter disregard of the applause

Which some need to stay on course

When placed on the spotlight

In a quest for the fairest and white

This is a tale of man’s bravery

One whose end can vary

Depending on the path that one should tow

Or the mouth from which the tale is told

Of an adventure in the Jungle of Ardor

Whose key is strength and valor

And the price the rarest of all

The lone bloom in the Fall

She is like a flower

Which some see and cower

Words fleeing down parched throats

Sweat dribbling down hot clothes

Feet tapping in a confounded pattern

Wrapped in shoes spick-and-span

All set to dazzle the fair maiden

The pride of the garden

Her body was enshrouded in vanilla

Which sent each warrior to Nirvana

Her voice that of a nightingale

Piercing each heart and mail

Her touch was the gentle wind

For which each warrior yearned

Her eyes a seamless deep fountain

That a multitude of warriors cannot drain

Each warrior sought her

Leaving behind a grisly nightmare

As they tear through the jungle

Every step, a pleasant struggle

Undaunted by the prick of the thorn

Nor perturbed by armor that is worn

With shredded skins they went on

For the maiden is just for one

Some turned back the trail

For their pace could not match a snail

A few fell on the way side

Content with another as bride

Others went off to a new quest

Convinced that they will fail the test

And alas our hero is left

But with the bravest and heft

They searched high and low

Till they came on top a brow

From which summit they could see

Our maiden bathed in a sea

Of golden rays of morning sun

Reflected in the eyes of a python

This was poised to end the life

Of a creature with so much love rife

Without a pause our hero moved

And enwrapped the maiden as she stood

Even the pain of the python bite

Could not weaken the hand that held on so tight

And with eyes misted with love and warmth

He strove to say with his dying breath

My love, I die joyful knowing you are alive

With the thought that one like me did live

ucsmile®

Have a great week ahead.

Twitter: @vivio_gogo  IG:ugochiukah

I HEAR SO I SPEAK

Hello Hi,

It's been a short; thank you for your patience. Last week Bella naija published an article of mine:

http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/11/04/bn-prose-turn-down-for-what-by-ugochi-ukah/

So this week, I am posting an article from a young, talented writer - Etoh Collins.

Please leave your comments below and share. Enjoy:

 Photo credit: Grupyolddeafies

As usual my eyes quickly ran straight to this young boy that was always around me. He was always in the same house with me, showed the same affection I did show to my parents, slept in the same room with me, entered the same car with me when we went to church, eats on the same dining table with me and always smiled at me like it was going to make my day. I was surely older than him, because he treated me as such; at least he was always getting me everything I needed, and ensuring I lacked nothing when he was around. He greeted me every morning, and sometimes bowed his head in respect when he came asking me for something but the most significant of all was that he was smaller in height compared to me.

Although I wasn’t there when he was born, I had gotten so used to his face in the house that talking to him wasn’t as important as getting to see him look pitifully at me; we had this chemistry which proved we could connect even in silence. Even when he looked upset and seemed to be shouting, I would always smile at him and show him I didn’t care if he was angry. This I did because I noticed that anytime I got angry at him, my parents would act displeased and disappointed at me.
It wasn’t easy being an elder brother even when I doubted my position in the house. I sometimes never got to know what was been served for breakfast or lunch until I was at the table. I never was told anything until I saw it happen. I never was to go anywhere unless someone accompanied me. It was more like I was much cared for, even beyond my expectation. Most times I felt relaxed in troubled situations; at least I always or never was aware of it until days or weeks after, in some occasion months after, and other times I never even got to know. And these things beat my heart so much that I would almost want to give out a loud shout but what could I say?

I was the quiet type and I didn’t care if my being quiet was something that was to trouble me. The times I felt uncomfortable and uneasy was anytime I was out of the house and mostly in areas with so much people; because I was quiet, people won arguments I was involved in, even before I uttered any statement. One of the few times I went out alone, I boarded a bus and made sure I paid the fare as I always do  when I was alone, but my change wasn’t given to me. I guess it was because the man thought I didn’t care, or that he was bent on cheating this quiet boy, or probably like my daddy would always illustrate with his hands gesturing in the air the unrealistic nature of how things have gone hard in recent times. But I guess he took advantage of my quiet nature, and made the most part of me by refusing to give me my change.

So many times I have tried to speak up at injustices and about the evils people perpetrate in my presence and sound absence, and still I all the time choose to be quiet and watch in awe. So many people I think misuse the idea of speech in today’s world. Everyone wants to speak up all at once, but the bad thing is that they all speak either of the same thing or of nothing at all. I watch my parents talk and laugh, I see my brother shut his ears with a rope-like thing as he seem to be talking in a style that resembles one singing, and my mom would always have to hit him before he noticed he was being spoken to. I notice people talk hard and then fight and then laugh and then talk some more; but no one seems to be changing anything. As for me, I still wait for my chance to say so many things on my mind. I await my great chance to speak out even for one day. I plead unto the omnipotent to grant me the power just like Samson in the bible to use just one more might to exclaim something…anything just to ease this burden I have carried since I was born. And until I do so, this world still remains the quiet world it has always been to me. And as I count on my eyes to also do the hearing and the talking, I still brush my teeth daily, and use the cotton bud on my ear holes, hoping that someday, they would become useful, and I would no longer be referred to as the ‘deaf and dumb boy’.

Thank you and have a beautiful week ahead.

Follwo on twitter @vivio_gogo and IG; @ugochiukah

VANTAGE POINTS

Hello Hi,

I have heard people say that there are always two sides to a conversation. I sometimes believe that there are more than two sides or ways to everything, depending on how you look or the type of glasses you wear e.g. 2D, 3D etc. Hee hee! Anyway, it was Nigeria’s Independence Day about 2 weeks ago (October 1st) and some conversation I heard inspired this writing. Enjoy:-

                                            Photo credit: blog.ourchurch.com

                                                          

                                                                 Curtain opens...

Man: Why are you dressed in green and white?

Lady (smiles): Because it is our Independence Day of course and I am supporting my country, Nigeria.

Man: What is there to support – that we lack electricity, or water, or that we are still a highly corrupt nation? Let’s face the fact, this country is useless.

Lady (sighs): oh well, I guess you are right. I just wanted to be patriotic and this green top is really nice (she clutches her blouse) or don’t you think so?

Man (ignores her question): You know, I wish we had a man like J.J Rawlings in Nigeria.

Lady: J.J? The footballer?

Man: You don’t know the Ghanaian Rawlings; that helped Ghana fight against corruption?!

Lady: Oh! I did not hear you clearly; I thought you said something else. Of course I know him. I wish we had him too.

Man: Yes, yes! Nigeria would definitely be a better place (He shakes his head)

Lady (She shakes her head too): I completely agree!

Man: But to be fair, Nigeria is trying a little bit at the moment. At least we are beginning to emulate a few good habits from abroad.

Lady: Yes, I was about to say the same. Did you hear about that Lagos guy that proposed to his babe in the cinema?

Man (looks confused): What are you talking about?

Lady (clears her throat): I was just mentioning some ways that Nigerians have improved like the western world (she sips her soda).

Man: I meant like having isolation units for infectious diseases and raising awareness ever since the Ebola outbreak.

Lady (looks slightly embarrassed): Oh! Ebola things! And that as well. They are all improvements!

Man: Anyway, I would definitely love to run for president sometime in the near future. I think I can make this place much better or what do you think?

Lady (pauses): Can I be your first lady?

Man: Huh?

(Awkward silence follows)

                                                        Curtain closes

Don’t forget to leave your comments behind and share please. Happy Sunday people :D

Follow on twitter @vivio_gogo, IG:@ugochiukah

NEVER SAY NEVER

Hello Hi,

Last week, I had a new article posted on Bella Naija. If you missed it, you can view it below:

http://www.bellanaija.com/2014/09/24/ugochi-ukah-finding-your-african-root/

You can leave your comments here if you prefer.
I have something new for y'all today. As usual, please leave your thoughts in the comment session and share. Enjoy.

She met him in Spanish class; the moment she saw him she knew she was attracted to him. He was dark and good-looking and when he stood up to help her get a chair, she noticed that he was also tall and gentlemanly. She had been the last to come into the class that day because she had come straight from work, which was quite far away. She knew that the distance from her work place to the lesson venue may be a problem for her, but she had decided to take the lessons because the cost was the cheapest she had found so far and she really wanted to learn Spanish. It would be an added asset to her natural brain and beauty, and would open more doors to working overseas; so she had registered for the class at the last minute, just before the deadline. She sat down quickly next to him and muttered her thanks, barely looking at him.

The class was made up of eight people and the Spanish instructor, Mr. Nicolas was a smallish, amicable man. He handed out some learning materials that he had printed and as she reached to grab a copy from her neighbour, she noticed the band on his wedding finger. “He is married and out of bounds”, she said to herself. Mr. Nicholas asked the class to introduce themselves to their neighbours, in Spanish. She turned to him and their eyes locked; it was then that she noticed his hazel eyes and for half a minute, neither of them said a word. He eventually smiled and introduced himself as Pablo. She smiled back, introduced herself and asked him how come he was taking Spanish classes when he had a Spanish name. He laughed and said that his country of origin had been colonized by Spain in the past but their official language was English and so, he could barely speak Spanish. The rest of the class was fun; everybody was friendly with each other and when it was over, they said their goodbyes.

She left the class a little later than the rest because she stayed behind to ask the instructor some questions. As she walked out of the building, Pablo was standing outside. She wanted to stop and talk to him but it seemed like he was waiting for someone. So instead, she passed by him and said “Adios”. He smiled and responded back in Spanish. As she made her way to the bus station, she wondered if he had been waiting for her but she could not fathom any reason why he would be; besides he was probably married and she did not like being too friendly with married men.  When she got home, she quickly dialed her friend’s number to return her missed call. “So, how was the Spanish class?” Anna asked. “It was great, cool teacher and nice students. I actually saw a good looking guy…” she began to describe Pablo excitedly. Anna sounded excited too as she talked more about him until she added “…but I think he is married; he was wearing a ring.” Anna sighed “Oh well! Out of bounds.” Both of them laughed and talked about how hard it was to find a good, fine, and successful young and single man.

The next week came and this time, she left the office earlier and arrived half an hour early. As she made her way into the building towards the class, she heard her name. It was Pablo, sitting at the reception. He said that the classroom was still locked and so, he was waiting for the instructor. She sat down next to him and tried to do the assignments that Mr. Nicholas had given them the week before. Pablo laughed at her and said he had only just completed his too. The conversation got rolling, with both of them finding out that they had similar educational background and interests. He had a Bachelors degree in Psychology, just like her and now he was studying Law just like she was; only that he was a year ahead of her. They were both foreigners in the land and had similar dreams of going into entertainment law in the future. They talked about their families, most of whom were in the United States and how lonely it was being in Australia. He was very easy to talk to, with a good sense of humour and she found herself enjoying the conversation so much that when their instructor arrived, she almost wished that he had not. They sat next to each other during class like the week before and after the class, as they walked to the bus station together, he asked her if she had any relatives around. She answered no and inquired about him and even though she knew what the answer was, she was surprised at her own disappointment when he told her that he was married with a kid. They parted at the bus station and she tried hard to push him out of her mind on the way home. She spoke to Anna again that day. “Hmm… please be careful, you know he is married” Anna said, not sounding pleased. “I know, and that’s why I did not ask for his contact even though we are in the same department. You don’t have to worry about me; I can never have an affair with a married man. Never!” Anna was not convinced “I know you have never done that but still, keep your distance please.” “I will, I promise. That is way below my values and standards” she said confidently and they moved on to other topics of interest. The next couple of weeks passed by; Pablo was her closest friend in the class but she made sure she kept it official. They usually took the same bus back home after class and although, she always got down first since her house was closer, she never invited him into her home.

The end of the school term drew closer and deadlines were approaching for final assignments and exams. She and her study group members were struggling with a particular question that their Law teacher had given to them. It was then that it occurred to her to ask Pablo for help as he may have done the course the year before. So after the next Spanish lesson, she spoke to him about it on the way home. He gave her some good ideas and references to look up, which she found useful and so she asked him for a favour - to teach her more, when he had the time.  He agreed and asked her to meet in his office the next day after work hours. She was desperate for solutions and saw no harm in meeting at an official place; she had also grown to trust him as he seemed like a responsible man. However, she decided to go with one of her study mates, Eve, to his office. The meeting was fruitful and they booked another for the next day and the day after, same venue, as exams were fast approaching. The next day, Eve canceled because she fell ill but she said she would definitely make the day after. So she met alone with Pablo. He was an intelligent man and she found the session alone with him even better than yesterday’s. Time flew by and it was 11 pm, so they left to continue the rest on the following day with Eve.

The following day, Eve was still ill so she and Pablo met and resumed from where they had stopped the day before. Nothing odd happened the whole time and she could not have been more grateful at the end of the session. And so it was out of gratitude that she hugged him that night as they stood at the bus station, waiting for their bus. “Gracias, you do not know how much you have done for me. I owe you one” she said and then released him. He smiled as usual and for the first time since after their first day in the Spanish class, their eyes locked again. It was then that they kissed; a kiss so long and sensual, probably the best she had ever had and yet the one she knew that she would always regret. They did not stop until the bus came and when she got home, she blamed herself bitterly, although her body still had Goosebumps from the thought of him. She had crossed the line and broken her “values” and she knew that she would never tell Anna or anybody else. She never got to find out how he felt about everything, as she never called nor picked up his call afterwards. She quit the Spanish class; which she told herself that she should have done after the first class anyway.

Thank you for reading and have a beautiful week.

Twitter: @vivio_gogo. IG @ugochiukah