Real - Times

 Philip and Prisca’s love began like a dream—gentle, warm, and full of promises. Before marriage, Prisca was everything Philip thought a woman could be: loving, caring, tender, always asking if he had eaten or slept well. Philip believed he had found a treasure, and when they finally got married, he walked into his new home with joy overflowing. A year later, Prisca became pregnant. She stopped working so she could rest and prepare for motherhood. Philip did not complain. “She will return to work when the baby is born,” he told himself. He worked harder, smiling through the stress, believing the sacrifices were temporary. But even after their baby turned two, Prisca refused to work. She stayed home from morning till night doing nothing, yet complaining that she was tired. Philip, determined to provide a good life for his family, pushed himself beyond human limits. Every morning at 3:00 a.m., he woke up quietly, slipped out of the room, and went to drive his small taxi. By 6:00 a.m....

 Lucy started buying herself clothes and good pomade to take care of herself. She now wore new clothes and paid attention to her appearance. Quietly, she provided for the home without a single complaint. With time, she began to glow—her beauty returning, her eyes brightening with a joy she had long buried. Sam, her husband, noticed the change. Instead of being happy for her, he became suspicious. He started monitoring her every move, hoping to catch her in some wrongdoing. But day after day, he found nothing—no fault, no secret, no hidden life. One afternoon, Lucy returned from work holding a small parcel. She greeted Sam softly and went straight to the bedroom. Curiosity pushed Sam to follow. He tiptoed behind her, stretching his neck to peep inside. He was so engulfed in his spying that he didn’t hear her turn. “Sam… are you looking for something?” Her voice froze him. Lost and embarrassed, he stuttered, unable to explain himself, and quietly went back to the living room. Lucy wa...

 The sun had barely risen when Kwaku stepped out of his elder brother’s house, stretching his tired limbs. He had come home from the university for vacation—a time he hoped to rest, help around the house, and prepare for the next semester. His brother had asked him to buy fruits from the nearby fruit stall, and Kwaku, always willing to help, agreed without complaint. He locked the gate and began walking down the dusty road. But just a few meters away, he stopped. A small boy, not more than five, sat on a low cement block beside a gutter, his tiny shoulders shaking as he cried. His clothes were dirty, and his eyes were swollen from tears. Kwaku’s heart softened immediately. “My little brother, what’s wrong?” he asked gently as he knelt beside him. The boy did not speak. He only wept harder and pointed somewhere behind him. “Where are your parents? Did someone hurt you?” Kwaku asked again. But the only answer he received was frantic hand gestures and sobs that pierced the quiet morni...

 I was just sixteen when I had my baby. I still remember the pain—not of childbirth, but of everything that followed. My parents could not bear the shame. In their eyes, I was a child who had brought disgrace upon the family. They took my daughter from me before I even had the strength to stand, before I could memorize the shape of her tiny fingers, before I could call her mine out loud. Then they sent me back to school as if nothing had happened. I buried the pain because I had no choice. Day after day, I carried a silent emptiness in my chest. I studied hard, not because I loved school, but because books were the only place where my thoughts could hide. By sheer determination, I earned a scholarship to America. Leaving Nigeria felt like an escape—a chance to rebuild myself from the ruins. Years later, life finally seemed kind. I met Chinedu again, my former classmate—the boy who always smiled at me even when I had nothing to smile about. He loved me deeply, completely, without ju...

 My name is Clara. I thought I had everything a woman could dream of—a husband who adored me, a beautiful home filled with laughter and warmth, and a business I had built from nothing, piece by piece, sleepless nights turning into dreams realized. I traveled across cities, working late into the night, believing every sacrifice, every missed meal, every lonely evening was for the life we were building together. I trusted Daniel, my husband, completely. I believed he was the partner of my dreams, the man who would hold me through every storm. And yet, while I was away, life quietly turned into a nightmare I never saw coming. Daniel’s younger sister, Rose, had been living with us for some time. She was soft-spoken, gentle, and shy, and I treated her as if she were my own sister. I provided for her schooling, clothes, everything she needed, always telling myself that a safe home was all she deserved. I thought I was giving her security, love, and protection. I never imagined that those...