‎I have never once been a good person,

‎Never a good friend,

‎Brother, son,

‎And I definitely never have been a good lover.

‎

‎I falter in so many terrible ways.

‎I forget birthdays,

‎I don't show up to weddings,

‎And I miss funerals of loved ones.

‎

‎I plan the worst dates and still show up late.

‎I have made lovers cry,

‎Shattered hearts with my bare hands,

‎And watched them bleed out in utter pain and agony.

‎

‎I am a monster—

‎A demon sent from the depths of hell

‎To inflict pain

‎On those who choose to love and trust a corrupted soul such as mine.

‎I fill lives with disappointment,

‎I'm not the kind you can count on.

‎

‎But...

‎I do try so hard

‎To be the best version of myself I can be for you.

‎I know it's hard to believe,

‎But I try.

‎

‎I might look like a freshly painted house,

‎But this house has a cracked foundation,

‎And the inside is filled with demons in each room—

‎Ghosts that won't set me free from their torment.

‎And I battle them every day

‎While trying to show up for you.

‎

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‎It also pains me to be a disappointment to you.

‎I hate myself just as much as you do whenever I fail you.

‎

‎I know I have never once been a good person,

‎But oh, how I try.

‎But in the end that's all any of us can do,

‎For perfection is not something we were ever meant to find.

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‎I smile a lot,

‎Hold myself together,

‎Make jokes and make everyone else smile too.

‎I like a room to be full of joy while I'm in it.

‎

‎It's nice being the funniest in the room.

‎My life is perfect.

‎I have never known pain.

‎Everyone wants me around.

‎It's nothing but sunshine and rainbows on this side.

‎

‎At least, that's what I tell myself.

‎I make the jokes,

‎Hoping that it masks the pain that I carry inside.

‎Maybe their laughter would help me forget how lonely I am—

‎But it doesn't.

‎

‎I carry something deep inside that I hope no one sees.

‎I try to win their validation.

‎Maybe it will bring me some form of healing,

‎But it never does.

‎

‎Everyone thinks that I'm the happiest man alive,

‎That I have the brightest smile.

‎What they do not know

‎Is that it all turns to gloom as soon as they leave.

‎

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‎I love making them laugh,

‎It's nice to see everyone else happy.

‎All the attention is given to me,

‎But no one ever sees me.

‎

‎I tell myself that I'm being strong,

‎But deep down,

‎I wish that someone would see through this fake euphoria

‎And ask the funny guy

‎If he's really doing okay—

‎

‎If there's anyone who makes him laugh

‎The way he makes other people laugh.

‎

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‎I sit in a crowded room,

‎All eyes on me,

‎Laughing, happy—

‎But I'm really by myself.

‎Everybody wants to hear something funny,

‎But nobody bothers to ask the jester

‎If he's really doing okay.

‎

‎So I go back home.

‎I'm alone, wretched.

‎But tomorrow,

‎I'll put on the mask again,

‎Because even in my misery,

‎They still need to laugh.

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Sorrow planted a seed in my heart

Despair gifted me a life gone dark

Maybe darkness brings a brighter outcome

Maybe pain is something we're meant to learn from

Embrace the woe, the misery and anguish

Endure the torture, discomfort and sting

Embrace it all, even if it doesn't feel right

For without pain, how do we know that we're truly alive

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‎Keep your mouth shut.

‎They keep telling you this.

‎You may not realize it, but sometimes it's true.

‎How do you know the ones whose intentions are for good?

‎You don't,

‎And that's the truth.

‎

‎You went and told Kenny,

‎Because Kenny is your best friend and you think that he loves you.

‎And yes, maybe he really do.

‎But there was one thing you didn't think through.

‎You see, Kenny might be your best friend, but his best friend was never you.

‎Neither were you the one he gave his loyalty to.

‎

‎So Kenny got excited and went to tell it to Drew,

‎The friend that he's closer to.

‎Not that he had bad intentions towards you,

‎He just respects Drew more than you.

‎Now Drew likes to talk— he's not the kind you give secrets to.

‎

‎He went and told Brian, Dami, and even those he doesn't speak to.

‎Now the gossip ran through town,

‎And suddenly everybody knows about you,

‎Including Joshua, the one who has spent his life despising you.

‎

‎It hurts him to see you do good,

‎So he plots against you,

‎Devising means to do all sorts of evil,

‎Thwart your plans, and see that your dreams don't come true.

‎He's bothered by your good news,

‎Unsettled to see you do anything but lose.

‎

‎He puts his plan in motion,

‎Sets things up to make sure you miss your breakthrough.

‎You notice a setback.

‎You don't know what went wrong.

‎You wonder what it is that you must do

‎To pull you out of this hole that you've fallen into.

‎

‎But all of this could have been avoided,

‎If only you had learned to

‎Keep your mouth shut,

‎As they've been telling you to do.

‎

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‎It's raining right now.

‎

‎And all I can think about is you, with me,

‎Laughing as your hair sticks to your face,

‎Dancing around together in the rain,

‎My hands around your waist,

‎Our eyes meeting and refusing to look away,

‎The world around us becoming nothing but a blur.

‎

‎I don't mind getting soaked in the rain,

‎Not if it means sharing the moment with you.

‎

‎Because no matter what I do,

‎As long as I'm with you,

‎I'll always be glad,

‎My sweet peach.

‎

‎So tell me, would you dance with me in the rain?

‎Would you wrap your arms around me

‎And kiss me deeply,

‎As though the rest of the world had vanished, and all that was left was you and me?

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‎Here we go again—

‎Another day of weeping

‎In a land with an insatiable hunger

‎For the blood of those who dwell on it,

‎Constantly hunting for its next victim,

‎Planting sorrow and gloom

‎In the hearts of siblings and parents.

‎

‎Arise, O compatriots!

‎For the Fatherland has been getting fat

‎On the flesh of his own children—

‎Turning them into sacrifices

‎For his own ruin,

‎Quenching his thirst with the blood he was meant to protect.

‎

‎Now we tremble on the very lands that used to be our haven.

‎The shepherd has now become the wolf

‎Hunting down the sheep

‎He was meant to guard,

‎Serving their meat as supper

‎To satisfy his gluttony.

‎

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‎Who do we turn to

‎In this hour of pain?

‎When the seed that poisons the land

‎Was planted by the sowers

‎We trusted with its care.

‎

‎No one but ourselves.

‎No one but ourselves.

‎No one but each other—

‎To break free of this bondage,

‎This bondage

‎We brought upon ourselves.

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INSECURITIES

‎How do you do it?

‎How do you manage to stay positive when it feels like the world is constantly against you?

‎Trying every single thing it possibly can to break you

‎Throwing all forms of rocks it can hit you with

‎

‎Because I try

‎Oh I try so hard

‎But it seems like, no matter what I do

‎I don't ever seem to get it right

‎Nothing ever works in my favor

‎It's constant rejection after rejection

‎Failure upon failure

‎The pain never stops

‎

‎I'm starting to feel like a fraud

‎A big fat joke

‎That the universe just sits to watch with a giant bowl of popcorn whenever it wants to have a laugh

‎I see the stars aligning

‎But only to point at me and cackle

‎

‎The voices in my head scream

‎Failure, disappointment, failure, disappointment

‎I'm ashamed of the man I see in the mirror

‎I know everyone around me sees it too

‎They smile and say "it's okay, you're doing great."

‎but I know I'm not

‎And I know they see it too

‎They'll soon get weary of me

‎They'll all leave eventually

‎They always do

‎That's the cycle that I'm used to

‎Everyone leaves

‎

‎My whole world is crumbling around me

‎And I'm just supposed to suck it up

‎And act like everything is perfect

‎Like I don't wake up every morning,

‎Screaming into my pillow

‎Hoping that each day I spend on this plane would be my last

‎

‎I can barely breathe

‎It feels like I'm drowning 20 feet deep in the ocean

‎The pain is unbearable

‎I don't know how to push through

‎I really don't

‎

‎How do you do it?

‎How do you manage to stay positive when the world around you is filled with so much negativity?

‎Because right now, I feel all the pressure

‎And I don't think I can go on

‎So, maybe this is goodbye

‎Goodbye to the pain, the suffering

‎The unending bitterness

‎The world is probably a better place without me in it.

‎

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‎

‎

THE RESPONSE

Hi there my friend

I heard everything you had to say

All your grievances

I see the pain you're going through

All the suffering you've had to endure

I'm not here to say that you'll be okay

Or that it gets easier

Because it probably won't

It might even get tougher, it might even get harder as time goes on

And I'm not trying to invalidate your pain

You have every right to express yourself

Your emotions matter

You matter

And these thoughts don't make you weak

It just means that you're human

You ask how I manage to stay positive

And honestly, life gets real hard

But you can't let it break you

Find joy in the little things

Waking up to see the sun

Hanging out with your friends

Completing a project

Submitting an application

When you really look, you'll see

That there's so much to be grateful for

Don't die yet

There are people who love you

No one is disappointed in you

And you shouldn't feel like a disappointment

The world is beautiful because you're in it

Don't die yet

Think about your dreams

All the goals you've been aiming for

Don't give up until that life you've imagined

Becomes your reality

There's a reason God put you on this earth

You have a purpose

And you have to fulfill that purpose

There are so many people whose life depends on you finally getting that win

Don't let them down

But most importantly,

Don't let yourself down

I know it seems hard

But the troubles make the story even sweeter when you finally see the light

So how do you stay positive?

Hope

Let the hope of a beautiful life keep you afloat

Don't die yet

“And if I fail?”

If you fail, you dust

yourself up and keep going

Failure teaches you new things

You learn from the failures

And don't stop

Not until you win

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‎I told myself many times

‎That I would never fall in love again.

‎Locked my heart in a box,

‎Sealed it with a metal lock,

‎Wrapped it with heavy chains,

‎And threw it into the ocean—

‎To sink to the bottom,

‎Never to be found again.

‎

‎But every single time,

‎Someone shows up,

‎Rocks my world,

‎Brings a temporary illumination to my murky life.

‎And for a while, it feels like the box is floating back to the surface—

‎Like my heart is about to be free of the box,

‎And finally about to feel again.

‎

‎But it always ends the same...

‎With my heart punctured,

‎Left to bleed out till there's nothing left of me.

‎So I run back to the box

‎To keep whatever's left of my shattered heart,

‎And toss it back into the ocean—

‎To sink to the depths,

‎Never to be found again.

‎

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‎This time,

‎You are that someone.

‎And I know it all seems like summer in a sunflower field right now,

‎Like 1 Corinthians 13 coming to life.

‎But I know how it ends—

‎How it always ends:

‎With one of us leaving the other in a pool of tears.

‎So I must call it before it moves further.

‎

‎I just don't think I'm meant for love,

‎At least not in this moment,

‎And not for many moments to come.

‎I am sorry if that aches your heart,

‎But I must leave my heart buried in the depths of the ocean—

‎Never again to be touched by light.

‎

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“If you no shine your eyes for Lagos, dem go too whine you.” I've heard this statement almost my entire life but it took me losing my phone five different times to finally understand how serious it was. Was it even five? I guess I lost count. lol.

Phones have been stolen inside my house, pick pocketed in public transport etc. out of all the times that I lost my phone, there are two incidents that really stand out to me, situations that I found myself in that I look back at now and say, “Kolade, how were you this stupid?!”

Well, I might have been stupid then but I'm smarter now… I guess.

I think the first one was back in 2016 if I can remember correctly. I was 17 at the time and fresh out of secondary school.

A friend of mine had come to pay me a visit and I was walking her back to the bus stop as she was leaving.

As soon as we got to the next street after mine, a strange looking guy walked up to me and began exchanging pleasantries. To be honest, I found it really weird at first because this looked like a kind of person that I would never engage at all. Bro had all sorts of scars on his face, the kind that you get by engaging in numerous amounts of violence.

“How far bro?” He said. His voice, thick and intimidating.

I stopped. Now that I think about it, I wonder why I stopped in the first place.

I noticed my friend had already gone to stand at a reasonably safe distance (it was literally all man for himself at that moment.)

“I dey.” I responded casually.

“You no know me?”

“I no know you.”

“No be you dey always dey that barber shop?” He asked. “No be you dey sing?”

That was it. That was all he needed to fully grab my attention. Yes, I used to hangout at one barber shop and yes, I am a singer and back then in my hood, I was kind of popular (I mean, I'd like to believe that I was. People de always hail me nau, me sef no small 🥱)

So, I greeted him with a bright smile. I thought I met a fan, little did I know that I was about to end up swimming in my own tears.

This brother suddenly started asking, no, demanding for money, money that I didn't have (I mean, I was 17 years old. I even still de write jamb o).

“How far, show love nau.” He said, refusing to let go of my hand.

“I no get anything, my oga.” I responded, trying to free myself of his grip but he tightened it even harder.

It was at this point I don know say water don de pass garri. I sighted one of my street guys at a distance. This particular guy had told me to always raise alarm whenever I was in danger because prior to this event, I was once bullied into giving money to a thug (that's another embarrassing story that I would rather take to the grave).

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So, immediately I saw this guy, I waved. Kolade, you waved ke 🤨. I didn't just wave, I even waved with a smile 😔 and that made things worse because the guy didn't suspect that I was in distress. I mean, how would anybody suspect danger when the victim is shining 32 🤦🏽‍♂️.

The guy refused to let go for some minutes, it was either I gave him money or I wasn't going to leave there because back then, I didn't know how to change it for stupid people because, let's face it, I was a stupid person… omo. Through out all of this, my friend was still observing from a distance, she probably thought that I knew this crazy looking guy because of the way I was relating with him.

After asking me for money and getting nothing, he suddenly tried to dip his hand inside my pocket. I blocked one pocket, the pocket that had some cash in it because I actually thought that he wanted to take out money from my pocket (omo, Kolade you foolish gan o). I didn't block the other one where my phone was (now that I thinks about it, why did I even let it get to a stage where a stranger was doing all sorts of nonsense with me and I did not attack the werey?😭).

Before you know am, the man lifted me up and started tickling me and I started laughing. (At this point, let me just console myself by saying that he used jazz on me, that's the only reasonable explanation please 🙏🏽).

No one could come to my aid because it looked like we were very familiar with each other. Who would let a stranger dip hands into his pockets? Well, Kolade did, only Kolade could have actually done something so absurd.

Remember, I mentioned that I was only blocking one of my pockets. My mind didn't even think about the second pocket because the whole time, I was thinking that he only wanted to take money from my pocket but apparently, he was aiming for something bigger.

All of he sudden, he put me down and boarded a bike that had been parked there for a while and left immediately.

That was when my friend finally came back to meet me o.

“How far, who was that?” She asked.

“I don't know him o.”

“Ahahn! And he was carrying you like that?”

“He was trying to remove money from my pocket and I no wan gree for am.” (You no gree for am truly… ode)

“Nawa o.”

It wasn't until after a few minutes before I checked my pocket to see that my phone was no longer with me. By the time I would turn around to shout, dude was long gone (Now you can shout. You had every opportunity to shout but you were busy laughing like an overpaid clown 🤡).

“Ah! My phone!” I screamed. (Now you have a voice, this boy.)

“He don comot your phone?” My friend asked.

“I swear.” I started searching around like I was expecting to see the phone just lying on the floor.

People began to gather around me, asking what happened but it was too late already. I got so many unsolicited attention that day. Omo, advice full ground o. To waka for street sef that period, shame go de catch me.

That popularity that I thought I had, I finally got it. Whenever people saw me, I would hear silent comments like, “na that boy wey dem tiff him phone be that. He dull gan.”

Omo, the shame, the struggle, the disgrace. It took a couple of weeks to finally be free of the stigma.

Craziest thing was that, it wasn't even the fact that my phone was stolen that pained me, it was my sim card and my memory card with so much stored data that hurt the most 💔.

As embarrassing as this was, it wasn't even as silly as the second incident I'm about to tell you.

I'll tell you about the second incident in the next part. If you'd like to read it, please subscribe.

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‎Shut up!

‎"Shut up, sit down, and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to."

‎That’s what it means to be a Dustborn child.

‎

‎"But… but..."

‎"Did you not hear what I said, child?"

‎"Shut up. Sit down. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to."

‎"This is what it means to be a Dustborn child."

‎

‎"But that doesn’t feel right."

‎"How dare you question me?"

‎"Did you just raise your hand at me?"

‎"I didn’t."

‎"So now you’re calling me a liar?"

‎"But what you said wasn’t true."

‎"How dare you call an adult a liar?"

‎"Shut up. Sit down. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.

‎And adults can’t lie."

‎"This is what it means to be a Dustborn child."

‎

‎But is this what it really means?

‎To live a life of fear,

‎A life where you can't freely express,

‎Where having an opinion is seen as disrespect—

‎Is this what it really means to be a Dustborn child?

‎

‎And you wonder why we're filled with anxiety,

‎Why our minds end up troubled.

‎You wonder why we grow up unable to speak for ourselves,

‎Why our society is filled with overthinkers.

‎

‎We're not even allowed to chase dreams

‎We have to be what the adults want—

‎A flock of children living out borrowed dreams,

‎Completely ignoring their own.

‎

‎We, the Dustborns, have created a cycle of pain—

‎A cycle of lies,

‎Of broken kids with so much potential, wondering what could have been.

‎All too scared to rise from the dust,

‎Yet we lie to ourselves, saying we have the best form of discipline.

‎

‎Sometimes, I wonder if anyone would be bold enough—

‎Bold enough to break the cycle.

‎To come out of the:

‎"Shut up, sit down, and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to."

‎To speak up and express thoughts and emotions,

‎Even if it means calling out a liar who's older.

‎To chase dreams and passions of their own.

‎To come out of the dust and touch the clouds.

‎

‎We might be Dustborns,

‎Taught silence before speech,

‎But we don't have to remain quiet—

‎And we can always come out of the dust.

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‎8 billion people.

‎8 billion unique stories.

‎All unfolding in one moment,

‎Each life as complex as mine.

‎I sit on a park bench, and I observe

‎All these different people,

‎Different roads leading to this singular moment,

‎Narratives we might never get to know.

‎An old man having a picnic by himself,

‎Reminiscing about the time he shared with his wife.

‎A couple having the time of their lives,

‎Relishing their newfound love.

‎Some enjoying their last moments,

‎Others trying to get by one more day

‎Stories woven in misery and ecstasy,

‎Diverse people, distinct lives... countless stories.

‎And every single one of them matters.

‎Each one, a protagonist in their own story

‎Maybe happy, maybe sad,

‎Maybe disappointed, or maybe content.

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‎Every life: a narrative so detailed, so intricate.

‎I just can't help but wonder—

‎What chain of events

‎Led each one of us here in this instant?

‎In these instants of sonder,

‎I can't help but be amazed:

‎How infinite the universe,

‎Inside each beating heart.

‎We all have a journey of our own,

‎Yet, still a part of each other's stories

‎A main character in my script,

‎A brushstroke in another's painting.

‎Somehow, all our destinies intertwine,

‎Like one giant entangled web,

‎Filled with 8 billion people

‎And 8 billion heartbeats

‎All pulsing the same eternity.

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‎Shove it down.

‎Dig a hole six feet deep and bury it down there.

‎Cover it with sand and never let it back up again.

‎Feelings slow you down.

‎

‎That's what they tell you.

‎Be a man.

‎Be strong.

‎Men don't say when it hurts.

‎

‎Use your brain and dismiss your heart.

‎Your feelings aren't on the schedule.

‎Only results are counted.

‎No one wants to hear about your misery.

‎

‎That's what everybody says.

‎Be a man.

‎Be strong.

‎Your emotions change nothing.

‎

‎Now many of us have gotten used to shoving it down,

‎Digging holes and burying it six feet deep.

‎But it comes back up eventually,

‎Haunts us like we're in a ghost town.

‎

‎We try to follow what they say.

‎We try to be men.

‎We try to be strong.

‎Emotions are nothing but weakness.

‎

‎But eventually, shoving it down becomes overwhelming,

‎And we're the ones buried in the hole six feet deep—

‎Eating dirt, never to come up again.

‎And everybody weeps, wondering why we stayed quiet.

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Read my book THE SACRED SIN

What does it feel like to fall in love?

What does it feel like to find someone who makes your life better in every way?

Someone who makes you forget that there was ever such a thing as darkness in the world?

Who loves you for you and actually cares after years of betrayal and heartbreaks?

I’ll tell you what it's like. It's like having a cold shower after a really hot and stressful day at work. Like finding an Oasis after giving up hope in a desert. It's like seeing the sun after a lifetime of storms.

How do I know this?

I know this feeling because that was exactly how I felt when I was with Daniella. She brought a ray of light into my once dark world. After meeting Daniella, I finally realized that true love does exist.

I met Daniella back when I was in university. I was in class that day when I saw her outside looking confused and instinctively went to meet her.

I didn't think much of it at the time but Daniella was the most beautiful woman that I had ever laid eyes on. She was so pretty that it almost felt like the rest of the world suddenly became blurry and all I could see was her.

“Hi there.” I said gently as I approached.

“Hi.” She responded with a smile.

“Let me guess, you're a fresher, right?” I chuckled.

“It's that obvious?” She giggled.

“Pretty much.” I let out a soft laugh and nodded. “Are you lost?”

“Um… yeah, I'm looking for Dr. Mary’s office.” She said softly.

“Well, this is it right here.” I pointed to the door next to us. “But she isn't around right now, you'll have to come back later.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

“I'm James by the way.” I stretched out my hand for a hand shake.

“Daniella.” She shook my hand.

I can still remember how soft and warm her hand felt. I held it for a while, almost not wanting to let go.

“In case you ever get confused about anything on campus, you can always reach out to me… I'm the president of this department.” I said calmly.

“Alright, Mr president. I'll make sure I remember that.” She said with a smile as she left.

I didn't ask for her number then, I didn't see any reason to. At least not then.

I would later become much more familiar with her. Daniella made sure that I always noticed her whenever she saw me.

She would always scream at the top of her lungs, “President!” with a bright smile and I always waved at her with a smile in return.

The way she always called my name with warmth and so much glee kind of made me start admiring her, from a distance at first. We didn't have each other's contact, so all I and Daniella did was greet each other whenever we met on campus. No long talks, no discussions, just greetings, but those greetings carried something deeper and we both felt it.

“IF YOU WANT ME TO… I WILL”

It wasn't until after a month before I would finally bring myself to ask for Daniella's phone number.

I was on my way out of the campus when I heard Daniella's voice calling out to me.

“President!” She screamed with so much excitement.

I turned around to see her rushing towards me. Normally, I would just wave and keep moving but for some reason, I decided to wait and talk to her.

Her expression was bright and warm as usual and I couldn't help but smile. She shook my hand and this time, neither of us were willing to let go as we stared into each other's eyes.

“Are you going home?” She asked with a sheepish smile.

“Yes, I am.” I responded gently. “You want me to stay longer?”

“Will you?” She giggled.

“If you want me to… I will.” I smiled slightly.

“I don't want to stress you, you must be tired already.”

“Oh, thank you for being so considerate.” I teased.

We both laughed.

“Alright, bye then.” She said softly, slightly waving a hand in the air.

“Bye, see you tomorrow.” I responded.

I was already on my way out when I stopped myself. I had wanted to have her number for a while and this seemed like the perfect opportunity which might not come up again.

I turned around and went back to meet Daniella, I had absolutely no idea of how I was going to ask her so I thought of the most random thing to say in that moment.

“Daniella.”

She turned around to see me. “I thought you were already leaving.” She said playfully, folding her hands as she approached me.

“I wanted to ask if you'll be coming with us for the retreat tomorrow.”

“Well, I'm not sure I'll have time for it tomorrow.” She said, letting out a soft chuckle.

“You have to be there, it's gonna be of great benefit to you as a student.”

“I'll think about it.”

“I want to see you there.”

“Okay, I'll try.”

I paused for a moment. “You know what, let me have your number so I can make sure that you actually come with us.” I said finally.

She instantly put her number in my phone without even giving it a second thought. That was it, the whole point of the ridiculous conversation that I had started.

From that moment, I started to become even closer with Daniella. We spent a lot of time together at the end of classes everyday even when we had no tangible reason to, we just wanted to enjoy each other's company.

I contemplated about telling her how I felt and asking her to be my girlfriend, but just like asking her for her number, I couldn't find the right moment or the right way to ask her.

It didn't take long before Daniella asked me to be her boyfriend. She beat me to it and without giving it a second thought, I obliged and that would be the beginning of a beautiful love story.

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I sat alone in a Sikdang. A few tables across from me sat a couple putting food in each other's mouths and laughing hysterically. They were so carried away by each other and so loud that they got the attention of everyone in the Sikdang.

Some people might have found them annoying… I didn't. All I could think about in that moment looking at them was how much I wished that was me and Daniella.

I and Daniella made so much imaginary plans. We had gotten together when I was still trying to make something of myself and I promised her that I would one day take her to South Korea when I finally made it and we would have the best Gogigui, Bibimbap and Kimchi that we could find and that we would visit as many tourists spots that we could.

Daniella was always obsessed with Korean Dramas and I really wanted her to experience it in person. She once spent an entire afternoon showing me pictures of Korean street food on her phone and insisted that we would try every single one when we visited someday.

It's painful to think that when I would finally come to Korea, I would come alone and Daniella wouldn't be with me.

Looking at that couple that seated across from me didn't make me feel annoyed. I wasn't angry that they were stopping me from having a quiet and peaceful meal like I had wanted. I was jealous, jealous that it wasn't me and the love of my life, Daniella that was having that meal and disturbing the peace and quiet of everyone in the Sikdang.

To think that I had tasted what it was like to be loved, to be truly loved and I willingly threw it away for a reason that didn't quite make sense to me anymore in that moment made something twist inside my chest.

I stared at the couple for a long moment, daydreaming that it was Daniella and I. The tears slowly began rolling down my cheeks.

There was a buffet right in front of me and I didn't even think of touching it until it went cold. I watched the couple until they were done. As soon as they left, I asked for the check and paid for the meal that I had refused to touch. It just wasn't worth eating if I wasn't eating it with her and now there was absolutely no way that I could eat with her anymore.

Everything in South Korea reminded me of Daniella and I just couldn't bear it.

Later that evening, I laid down on the bed in my Airbnb trying to sleep but I couldn't bring myself to sleep. I kept thinking about the couple, the food, the tourism centers, all the things I had promised to do with Daniella if we ever were to come to Korea. My mind just couldn't stay quiet.

I suddenly sat up, picked up my laptop and booked a flight to leave the next morning. It was hopeless, trying to find clarity in a country that reminded me so much of the person I loved. Maybe in a different place, I can finally clear my head and truly find myself.

A YEAR WITHOUT DANIELLA - CHAPTER 1(CAN WE TALK?)

A YEAR WITHOUT DANIELLA - CHAPTER 2 (MY FIRST LOVE)

If you loved this story, you would definitely love my book THE SACRED SIN available on Amazon.

‎From the depths of my heart,

‎I write for the girl who carries life's burdens.

‎You never chose this baggage,

‎It got strapped to you like a saddle on a restless horse,

‎And you've carried it with diligence.

‎

‎The world has tried to limit how high you can fly,

‎Telling you what you can or can't be.

‎But every single time, you turn doubt into fuel,

‎Break barriers, and push forward.

‎Doing the very things they said you couldn't.

‎

‎I know life throws rocks at you sometimes,

‎Trying to break you and make you fall.

‎But you take every hit like the warrior that you are,

‎And you keep going,

‎Weathering every storm, letting nothing shake you.

‎

‎In case you never hear it from anyone,

‎This is me telling you how strong a woman you are.

‎The way you face life's battles head on—

‎Never flinching. Never folding—

‎You are nothing short of spectacular.

You can still get my book THE SACRED SIN on Amazon

Peter didn't stop running even though it was already late and very dark outside.

He didn't look back. He was too scared to do that, not because he was wondering if his friends were running after him… no, that was the least of his worries.

The weight of what happened in the hospital hung heavy on his chest. Patricia’s dead body on the hospital floor didn't sit right in his mind after everything he had seen.

Suddenly… BOOM!!!

A loud gunshot sounded from behind him. Peter paused at first and slowly turned around to see where the sound came from.

A group of four men were approaching him with dane guns and machetes in hand.

“Stop there!” One of them yelled at him. “Who are you?”

He just stood there frozen, staring at them as they approached him, his heart was racing, his breath unsteady. He was confused as to what to do next.

“Omo, olode.” He whispered to himself. Peter was stuck between relief and panic.

On one hand, he could ask them to help him get home but then he kept thinking about the dead body in the hospital and how much trouble he might be in eventually if someone were to see his face around that area.

The vigilantes kept approaching him with guns pointed directly at him, hostile and ready to shoot.

“Ole ni e!” (You're a thief!) One of them yelled, already prepared to shoot at him.

Peter panicked and ran even faster now.

Footsteps thundered behind him. “Stop there!” They screamed.

Peter found a nearby uncompleted building and quickly hid there.

And just then in the darkness, a figure appeared seated right next to him. Peter wanted to scream but he couldn't. If he did, the vigilantes would know where he was hiding so he swallowed it. His breathing became intense, his heart was almost about to burst out through his ribs.

The figure came closer, Peter couldn't move. It was Patricia with a dark, sinister smile, her breath was warm and thick against his face.

He closed his eyes and tried to look away, his breathing became heavy.

“Thank you, Peter… for bringing your friends to set me free.” Patricia whispered to Peter.

By the time he opened his eyes, she was gone. He saw a young girl walking away quietly.

Right outside, he heard the voices of the vigilantes.

“Shey you see am?” One asked.

“I no see am o.” Another responded.

“Omo, he don escape sha.”

The footsteps slowly began receding until it finally faded completely. The vigilantes were gone.

Peter got home, heaving and slamming the door shut with urgency.

His mom was seated quietly in the dark living, she was wide awake and had waited up all night for him to get home.

She turned on the lights and said, “where have you been?”

Peter jumped in shock. “Jesus!” He exclaimed.

“Why are you so agitated?” Mrs. Adewale asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Why did you scare me like that nau? Shey you want to give me hypertension ni?” Peter said with a sigh.

“Ahahn, what happened that you're panicking like this?” She asked again. “Where are you coming from?”

He exhaled through his mouth. “Mummy, see I'm tired, I just want to go and sleep.” He said, walking past her and heading for his room.

“I'm talking to you and you're walking out on me? Come back here!” She yelled but he didn't listen.

Peter threw himself on the bed and wrapped himself in a blanket, trying to force himself to sleep after everything that had happened.

Meanwhile, back at the hospital, the others were still debating on how to dispose of Patricia's corpse.

“Wetin we wan do like this?” Selena asked. “We can't just carry the body outside like this, somebody might see us.”

“That's true o.” Kemi agreed.

“So what are we going to do?” Amaka asked.

“We go gats cut am into pieces o.” Ezekiel suggested.

They all looked at him in shock. “Ehn!?” They all exclaimed in unison.

“You say wetin?” Kemi asked, completely bewildered by Ezekiel’s suggestion. “How did you even think of something like that?”

“Una no de watch true crime stories ni?” He asked. “Una no de see how Dem de dispose bodies?”

“Guy, what the hell?!” Selena exclaimed.

“The fact say you fit even think of this kind thing dey dear me.” Amaka said with a trembling voice.

“See, na the only option wey we get be that o.” Ezekiel responded and slowly turned to face Kemi. “See, na you de with the dead body. If we leave am like this, na you go get issue because me I no fit follow you go jail.”

Kemi stared at him for a while, she couldn't hide the fear etched on her face.

“Okay, let's do it.” Kemi panicked. “Since that's the only thing we can do.” She agreed with Ezekiel.

“Ah!” Selena exclaimed. “You’re agreeing with him?” She asked, surprised by Kemi’s statement.

“Omo, there's no other option o.” Kemi slowly approached Selena and grabbed her hand gently. “See, let's just wrap this stuff up and go on with our lives. If anybody finds this body here, it won't be long before they trace it back to us and we'll be going to Kirikiri for something we didn't even do.” She said softly.

Selena began pacing back and forth with her hands over her head, she couldn't stop the tears that were pouring out of her eyes.

“Omo! And Peter warned us o!” Selena cried out.

“That stupid boy that ran away. Maybe he was the one that killed her sef.” Ezekiel said angrily.

“What do you mean?” Amaka asked. “He was in the ward with us through out.”

Ezekiel stared at her for a moment. “Wo, let's just get rid of this body once and for all.” He said finally.

“What are we going to use to cut it into pieces and what will we use to dispose it?” Kemi asked quietly.

“Hold on.” Ezekiel searched around the reception, looking for anything that was sharp enough to cut through human flesh.

He found nothing. He searched all around the hospital, moving from ward to ward, office to office but there was absolutely nothing sharp anywhere.

“Omo, I no see anything o.” Ezekiel sighed.

“Wetin we go do now?” Kemi asked, her voice trembling.

“I swear, I no know.” Ezekiel said, exhaling through his mouth.

He went to look behind the receptionist’s table which he had already searched before and laying there was a cutlass and luggage bag placed carefully like someone had just put them there.

Ezekiel quickly grabbed them. “Omo, see something.” He said with excitement, lifting up the cutlass and luggage bag for the others to see. “I no even see am the first time wey I come check.”

“How did that even get there?” Amaka asked with a look of confusion on her face.

“That one no matter like this. Let's do what we want to do and leave here, time don dey go.” Kemi interrupted. “Ezekiel, you fit do this thing?” She asked, looking at Ezekiel.

“I never do am befor nau.” Ezekiel sighed.

“Omo.” Selena whispered softly to herself with one palm on her forehead. She exhaled through her mouth.

“But anyhow, I no get choice.” Ezekiel said quietly.

He lifted the cutlass high up in the air and struck it down on her neck, leading to a heavy splash of blood all over his shirt.

“Jesus!” Selena screamed. She curled herself up and sat down in a corner, crying.

“Omo, calm down o. Me wey de do am sef, I never start to de cry.” Ezekiel said angrily, staring at Selena.

He struck it again and again until the head was separated from the body. Then, he did the same to the arms and then the legs, separating Patricia's limbs and organs from her body.

He flinched at first and gradually became more comfortable with each strike, chopping her up into tiny pieces with quiet ease like it felt natural to him.

The entire reception floor was wet with blood and the room smelled like metal.

Amaka couldn't hold it in anymore, she suddenly vomited right there on the floor.

“Amaka small small o. You dey give us more things to clean up.” Kemi lashed out at her.

“How can you guys be so comfortable with this?” Amaka asked with a look of disgust on her face.

“Because we have no choice.” Kemi responded.

“Nawa o.” Amaka said quietly.

Ezekiel proceeded to put the body parts inside the luggage bag, tossing them all in until there was nothing left on the floor.

“We gats clean this floor.” Ezekiel suggested.

“Okay, no problem.” Kemi said, running to bathroom to get some soap, bleach and a mop.

“Amaka, Selena. Come and help me.” Kemi wasn't asking, she spoke in a commanding tone.

They stared at her for a moment before finally obliging. The three girls cleaned up the blood and Amaka’s vomit together.

Shortly after, they decided to take the bag full of Patricia's body parts out of the hospital to dispose it.

“Where are we going to throw it now?” Kemi asked.

“That back gate that people pass through to the store. We'll pass through there, hopefully there's a bush there and we'll just hide it there.” Ezekiel suggested.

“You sound like you've already mapped the whole place out before but we've only been here once, Ezekiel.” Selena pointed out with her eyes narrowed.

“I didn't say anything with certainty, I only said that I hope there's a bush there.” Ezekiel responded calmly.

He carefully lifted the bag. “Omo, this thing is heavy o.” He said, heaving as he carried it.

The all quickly went downstairs and out through the back gate.

“I didn't notice this gate the first time we came here o.” Selena whispered.

“Well, I did.” Ezekiel responded, defensive. He put the bag down and turned to face her. “You don de talk different things since. Is there something you want to say?” He asked.

Selena stared at him for a while and said nothing, she simply shook her head and walked past him.

He picked up the bag and continued moving. To their surprise, as they got through the gate, they found an empty forest. About two acres of nothing but trees.

Selena sighed. “Empty bush, just like you said.” She gave Ezekiel a stern look.

“I just guessed.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as he just kept walking deeper into the forest with Kemi.

“Where are you going now?” Amaka asked running after them. “Sheybi you said we'll drop it here.”

“We can't just drop it at the edge. We have to bury the parts separately.” Ezekiel responded gently.

Selena stood there for a moment, trying to bring herself to understand everything that was happening. “If this is what is here, how come people were coming in through here to the store?” She whispered to herself.

She let out a loud sigh and slowly followed behind the others. “I swear, I should have just followed Peter.” She whispered again.

They all went in deeper into the forest, burying each of the body parts that they had chopped up. Each one was far away from the other. Once they were done, Ezekiel threw the bag as far as he could into the forest.

They all let out a loud sigh of relief after they were done. The worst was finally behind them, they thought.

Kemi looked at Ezekiel for a while, staring. “What of this your shirt? There's blood on it.” She said finally.

“I go burn am, no worry.” Ezekiel replied. His face was calm, utterly matter-of-fact like he hadn't just chopped up a human body into pieces.

After that, they all went to their separate homes with hopes that what had happened wouldn't be traced back to them in any way as they waited to defend their final year project.

The next morning, there was a loud knock on Peter's door.

“Police! Open the door now!” The officer yelled, pounding heavily against the door.

Mrs. Adewale rushed to open the door. “What do you people want?” She asked, frustrated. “You just woke my entire family up with your insensitive knocking.”

“Madame, is your son at home?” One of the officers asked.

“What is this about?” She asked.

Just then, Peter came out of his room, rubbing his eyes and yawning, still sleepy.

“Mummy, what's going on?” Peter asked as he yawned.

One of the officers pushed his mom out of the way and quickly approached him. He pulled out an ID card and showed it to Peter, it had Peter's face and details on it.

“Is this yours?” The officer asked.

“Yes, that's my school ID card.” Peter responded.

He brought out a lapel microphone also. “So, I'm guessing this microphone also belongs to you.”

Peter stared at the microphone for a moment, he already knew what this was about. His heart began racing, his hands shaking as he spoke.

“Yes… those, uh… those are mine.” He stuttered.

The officer immediately flipped him around and pushed him to the ground, face first. He climbed on top of him and put a pair of handcuffs in his hands.

“What are you doing to my son?!” Mrs. Adewale yelled out, crying.

“Peter Adewale, you're under arrest for the murder of Patricia Okafor. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do would be used against you in the court of law. You also have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, the state will provide one for you.” The officer uttered as he apprehended Peter.

He lifted him up and took him away.

Mrs Adewale kept on crying as they took him away. “Don't say anything to anybody, I'm going to meet you at the station now.”

Peter remained quiet, tears rolling down his cheeks gently. He knew that this was one hole that would be very tricky to get out of.

If you like this story, you would also like my book THE SACRED SIN which is currently available as an eBook on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H1QFN8D8

WARD 9 - CHAPTER 1: COME BACK AT 9

WARD 9 - CHAPTER 3: HE TRIED TO TELL YOU BUT YOU WOULDN'T LISTEN

‎What exactly do we call this thing we share—

‎This need to dwell in each other's presence?

‎

‎Long conversations, ignoring the passing of time,

‎Unknowingly holding hands,

‎Going on extremely long walks.

‎

‎I long to be around you.

‎You long to see me daily.

‎Why do we stare so deep into each other's eyes,

‎Piercing holes into our souls?

‎Everyone around us calls it something more.

‎

‎It feels like souls getting intertwined.

‎But even when we drown in each other's embrace,

‎And we hold on—

‎Neither of us wanting to let go—

‎Our faces draw near,

‎Our lips come close,

‎Almost touching...

‎

‎We both hold back,

‎Stop ourselves,

‎And come back to reality.

‎

‎Because even though we're drawn to each other,

‎And we're probably meant for each other,

‎We're still just friends—

‎And nothing more... I guess.

‎

Read my book: THE SACRED SIN… It's available on Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H1QFN8D8

‎

‎I see an old man on the other side of the room.

‎He's got a very bright smile on his face,

‎Overjoyed and at peace,

‎At a table surrounded by everyone he loves.

‎He sits in a rocking chair that never creaks.

‎No form of pain in his body or heart.

‎

‎Freedom flows from him,

‎A kind of freedom that feels unearthly.

‎His hands rest easily, unshaken by time.

‎At last, he belongs

‎After years of wandering.

‎

‎Everything on that side of the room rests as it should:

‎No complications, no trouble, no burdens—

‎Just peace.

‎Peace like morning light slipping through thin curtains.

‎

‎That place fills my heart with longing.

‎I yearn to be in this perfect world,

‎Free of chaos.

‎I want to sit at the shore of this lake that doesn't remember the storm,

‎To be free of this place that fills my soul with pain.

‎

‎I reach out, but my hands can't get past this side of the room

‎I notice that I have only been looking into a mirror,

‎And I realize that I am the old man on the other side.

‎And that side of the room, untouched by sorrow,

‎Is a place I go eventually,

‎But not for a very long time.

‎

‎For now, I remain on this side of the room,

‎Holding hope for the calm that awaits me,

‎For the life that awaits me beyond this room.

‎Let's talk about my fears for a moment.

‎I am afraid of many things,

‎And many things bother me.

‎There are a vast number of battles that I fight.

‎

‎I'm afraid of heights.

‎I'm afraid of drowning in the ocean,

‎Afraid of getting hit by a truck,

‎Of getting struck by lightning,

‎Getting thrown in jail for a crime I didn't commit.

‎

‎If I decide to state them all,

‎It would take a billion light-years.

‎Like I said, I fight a vast number of battles,

‎And so many things trouble me.

‎

‎But nothing scares me more

‎Than the thought of losing you.

‎How would I live

‎If one day you decide

‎That I'm no longer a part of your perfect future?

‎

‎I have pictured a dozen realities,

‎And in every single one,

‎You are right beside me,

‎Conquering the world together.

‎

‎I don't know what a life without you looks like.

‎I never want to find out,

‎Because a world without you in my life

‎Would already be hell on earth.

‎

‎There are 86,400 seconds in a day,

‎And I spend every one of those seconds

‎Thinking about you.

‎I don't want to spend another second on this earth

‎If you're not with me.

‎

‎I want you and only you—

‎To hold you,

‎To protect you,

‎To love you,

‎Always and forever.

‎And if my future doesn't have you in it,

‎Maybe I don't want that future.

‎

‎I love you more than life itself,

‎More than I have ever loved anything.

‎Since the dawn of my existence.

‎And I will give every drop of blood in my veins

‎If that's what it takes

‎To spend eternity with you.

‎

‎Of all the ways that this world could break me,

‎Losing you would be the only one I wouldn't survive.

‎

‎A million things scare me,

‎But not one of them

‎Is as scary

‎As the thought

‎Of losing you.

Follow me on Tiktok for more of my poems:

https://www.tiktok.com/@koladepeteru?_r=1&_t=ZS-96iJMH7fRRM

The parsonage felt different when Grace wasn’t in it. It was quiet, cold.

Delilah could notice it the moment she stepped inside.

Nathaniel opened the door himself. He didn’t greet her with surprise or hesitation, just stepped aside as though this had already been decided long before she arrived.

“Come in,” he said simply.

Delilah walked past him, her eyes taking in the space with careful attention. The arrangement of furniture, the soft scent of polish and something faintly floral beneath it, the way everything was placed just right.

This was Grace’s world or at least, the one she was allowed to maintain.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Nathaniel moved closer, his presence filling the space without needing to raise his voice.

“You took your time,” he said.

“I was finishing up at the church,” Delilah replied lightly, turning to face him. “Rehearsal was longer than expected.”

He studied her for a moment, then nodded, accepting the explanation without pressing further.

“You’ve been very attentive lately,” he said.

Delilah smiled faintly. “Is that a problem?”

“Not if it’s useful.”

Delilah held his gaze, letting the word settle between them before she responded.

“I try to be helpful,” she said.

Nathaniel stepped closer.

The distance between them closed easily, like it always did. His hand came up, brushing lightly against her arm, then sliding higher with practiced familiarity.

There was no hesitation in him. No question. Just an assumption.

Delilah felt the pull, the habit, the part of her that leaned into him without needing to think. The only difference now was that she was fully aware.

Still, she didn’t step back.

“You’ve been careful,” Nathaniel murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her shoulder.

“Always,” Delilah replied softly.

His hand moved to her waist, drawing her closer. She let him, her heart wasn’t racing but it wasn’t still either.

Nathaniel tilted her chin slightly, studying her face.

“You understand what’s at stake,” he said.

“I do.”

“Good.”

His lips brushed against hers, then deepened the contact without waiting for a response.

Delilah responded anyway because part of her wanted to. Part of her still wanted to believe that this meant something.

They moved together easily, like something rehearsed too many times to feel unfamiliar.

His hands, his breath, the weight of him, it all came with a kind of certainty that didn’t ask for permission.

And she followed him up the stairs into the bedroom, into Grace’s bedroom.

Delilah hesitated for half a second at the doorway just a second and then she stepped inside.

“What if I get pregnant?” She asked quietly.

“You know how you usually handle that.” He responded, dismissive.

He didn’t give Delilah time to overthink it.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, he spun her around and crushed his mouth to hers again, deeper this time, hungrier. His tongue pushed past her lips, tasting her, claiming her. Delilah moaned softly into the kiss, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back with equal heat.

His fingers made quick work of her blouse, buttons popping open one after another until he shoved the fabric off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet. He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, letting her full breasts spill free. His large hands immediately cupped them, thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples before he pinched them firmly, rolling the sensitive buds until she gasped.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled against her mouth.

He backed her toward the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. Delilah sat, then lay back as he followed, crawling over her. His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking hard while his hand kneaded the other breast. She arched into him, a sharp whimper escaping her throat as wet heat flooded between her legs.

He trailed kisses down her stomach, teeth grazing her skin, until he reached the waistband of her skirt. With one rough tug, he yanked them down along with her panties, exposing her completely. Delilah’s shaved pussy glistened with arousal. He spread her thighs wide, staring down at her slick folds.

“Look at this pretty little cunt,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

He lowered his head and dragged his tongue slowly from her entrance up to her swollen clit, tasting her juices. Delilah cried out, her hips bucking. He didn’t tease. He devoured her—lapping at her clit with firm, relentless strokes, then sucking the sensitive nub into his mouth while two thick fingers plunged deep inside her dripping hole.

“Oh God, yes!” Delilah moaned, her hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he finger-fucked her fast and hard. His fingers curled, stroking that spongy spot inside her with every thrust. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room as her pussy squelched around his digits.

She came suddenly, violently. Her thighs clamping around his head, back bowing off the bed as her cunt spasmed and gushed around his fingers. He kept licking and sucking through her orgasm, drawing it out until she was trembling and gasping for breath.

He rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock was already free, thick, veined, and rock-hard, the head flushed dark and leaking precum. He stroked himself once, twice, spreading the slickness.

“Turn over,” he ordered.

Delilah obeyed, getting on her hands and knees on Grace’s bed, ass raised high. He gripped her hips, lined up his cock with her soaked entrance, and slammed in with one brutal thrust.

“Fuuuuck,” Delilah groaned, the stretch burning so good as her pussy swallowed every inch of his thick shaft. He bottomed out, balls pressed against her clit, and started pounding her immediately— deep, punishing strokes that made her tits swing and the bed creak beneath them.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed loudly in the bedroom. His cock drove into her again and again, hitting her cervix with every thrust. Delilah’s moans turned into desperate cries as another orgasm built fast.

He reached around and rubbed her clit roughly while he fucked her. “Come on my cock, Delilah. Let me feel this greedy pussy squeeze me.”

She shattered again, screaming as her walls clenched and fluttered around his pistoning dick, milking him. Her juices ran down her thighs.

With a guttural groan, he gripped her hips harder, slamming into her a final few times before burying himself to the hilt. His cock pulsed as he came hard, flooding her spasming cunt with thick, hot ropes of cum.

They collapsed together onto the sheets, breathing ragged, bodies slick with sweat.

He stayed inside her, softening slowly, as Delilah lay there catching her breath, still tasting the strange mix of guilt and raw satisfaction on her tongue.

---

Later, the room was quiet.

The sheets were tangled around them, the air heavy, the world outside reduced to distant, irrelevant noise.

Delilah lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her breathing steadying slowly.

Nathaniel lay beside her, one arm resting across his chest, completely at ease like nothing had happened or like everything that had happened was exactly as it should be.

Delilah turned her head slightly, studying him. He looked calm, untouched, untroubled.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

He didn’t look at her. “What is it?”

She smiled faintly. “You’ve seemed… tense lately.”

That got a reaction, small, subtle. But it was there.

“I have responsibilities,” Nathaniel said. “That comes with pressure.”

“Of course,” Delilah replied. “It’s just… things feel different.”

He turned his head then, his gaze settling on her.

“In what way?”

She shrugged lightly, keeping her tone casual.

“People are acting kind of weird lately,” she said. “Like they’re thinking before they speak. Watching the words that come out of their mouths.”

Nathaniel watched her for a moment longer than necessary.

“And you’ve noticed this?” he asked.

“I notice a lot of things.”

He didn’t smile.

“Be careful,” he said.

There was a subtle warning in that and Delilah heard it.

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, her gaze still on him.

“Do you ever feel like people around you aren’t exactly who they seem?” she asked.

Nathaniel’s expression didn’t change immediately but something in his eyes did.

A flicker that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. But Delilah was quick enough to notice it.

Nathaniel exhaled slowly.

“People are rarely what they seem,” he said. “That’s why structure matters.”

“Structure,” she repeated softly.

“It keeps things in order.”

Delilah nodded, as though that satisfied her but it didn’t.

Not completely.

She lay back again, her gaze returning to the ceiling.

She thought about how she had seen Grace and Elias together earlier, how she had once seen them in the administrative office. The way they fit together like something already decided.

Delilah’s lips curved faintly.

She turned her head again, looking at Nathaniel.

“There’s something I think you should know,” she said.

Nathaniel shifted, turning fully toward her now, his attention sharpened.

“What is it?” he asked.

Delilah held his gaze for a moment, long enough to feel the weight of the decision.

She could tell him right now and watch what it would do to him. To see how he would react or She could wait, learn more and use it to her advantage when the time comes.

Her expression softened, almost thoughtful.

Then she smiled slightly.

“Actually…” she said quietly, “I think I’ll wait.”

Nathaniel frowned, just barely.

“For what?”

Delilah opened her mouth to respond… but then a sound came in.

It was the front door downstairs, opening. Both of them froze.

The sound carried clearly through the house.

Followed by the soft, unmistakable click of it closing.

Delilah’s eyes met Nathaniel’s.

Footsteps clicking inside the parsonage, moving further in and heading towards the bedroom.

Grace was home.

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Delilah found herself glancing at the entrance of the church more often than she cared to admit. Wondering if Elias would walk through it any given moment.

He did not come. Instead, Nathaniel did. He arrived later that morning, immaculate as always, authority stitched into every movement. When he walked into the sanctuary, everyone straightened up immediately, conversations softened. His presence automatically commanded respect.

His eyes searched the room and he saw Delilah almost immediately. She felt it before she saw him. Attention had weight and that of Nathaniel's always pressed down, it never just brushed past. Their eyes met and he gestured subtly for her to follow him. He immediately turned towards the administrative wing without waiting to even see if she was coming with him or not.

She complied and went with him.

The corridor was quiet, insulated from the hum of church activities. He stopped in from of his office, turning around to fully face her now.

“You have been doing well, my dear.” He said, his voice was low, deep, approving. “I've noticed.”

Delilah smiled and looked down, clasped her hands together behind her back as she wiggled her right foot. “Thank you, sir.”

He smiled at that, at the obedience and admiration in her tone. Something about the way Delilah always strokes his ego aroused him.

“Grace seems… distracted lately,” he continued, staring deep into her eyes as he talked. “But not you… never you.” He lifted his hands and placed them gently on her shoulders. They lingered there, his thumbs stroking her lightly. “You remain… consistent, and I like that.”

This was not new, the closeness, the way Nathaniel touched her, the way his touch never startled her anymore, how she even welcomed it and anticipated what came next. It all spoke of a familiarity that had been rehearsed too many times to be accidental.

Delilah did not step away. They walked into his office and he closed the door behind them, locking twice with his key to ensure there was no interruptions and complete privacy.

Nathaniel leaned back against his desk, looking at her like someone assessing something that belonged to him. His fingers brushed her wrist, slowly moving upwards before pausing, as if he was reminding her where he could touch and where he chose not to touch for now.

“You understand loyalty,” he said quietly. “That's rare.”

Delilah swallowed, smiled and tilted her head upwards to look in his eyes. There was no innocence in her eyes anymore.

“I only serve where I'm called,” she replied.

His smile widened, her soft replies were doing something to him.

“That's what I like about you, you're obedient… respectful… efficient… beautiful and that ass, oh father in heaven.” He said as he stroked her hair, tucking them behind ears.

He stepped even closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne, familiar and heavy, close enough that she already knew how this would end because it had ended this way before with her back against the desk, his presence overwhelming but controlled, his voice lowering until it was meant for her alone.

His hand slid down to her waist, settling there with ease. He grabbed it firmly pulling her towards him until they were belly to belly with no space remaining between them. Delilah did not stop him, she allowed everything.

He kissed her gently and they kept on kissing, his hands around her waist, her arms wrapped around his neck and they were both enjoying the moment. There was no romance in it, no illusion of tenderness.

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The kisses turned feral, she reached for his belt, unbuckling it with trembling fingers. She popped the button and yanked down the zipper. Her hand reached inside, wrapping around his thick, hard cock. She stroked him firmly, her thumb circling the slick precum beading at the tip.

He groaned into her mouth, breathing heavy, his hips bucking to her grip. One of his hands left her waist, dipping between her thighs, fingers parting her wet folds, sliding through her arousal, circling her swollen clit with deliberate pressure. “Oh pastor!” She moaned, legs parting wider as he teased her entrance. He slowly pushed two fingers inside her tight heat.

“Fuck! You're so wet.” He growled, thrusting his fingers slowly, curling them to hit that spot that made her shake in the knees.

She stroked him harder in response, matching his rhythm, feeling him throb in her palm.

And then there was no more space for words. Only need. The heat and quiet certainty of bodies choosing each other without apology.

He withdrew his fingers, wet with her juices and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while looking straight into her eyes. The sight made her even wetter.

He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her harder against the wall. His cock nudged at her pussy, hot and insistent.

She reached down, guiding him as he thrust in, slowly at first, stretching her inch by inch and then filling her completely. They both groaned at the sensation, her walls gripping him tightly.

“Oh yes pastor! Please give me all of you.” She screamed. Not bothered if anyone could hear them through the door.

“Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?” He whispered as he thrusted his cock harder inside her wet pussy.

“It's yours pastor, all yours.” She screamed, hands wrapped tight around his neck.

He paused, buried deep, letting her adjust, foreheads pressed together, breaths ragged.

Then he moved, deep, deliberate thrusts that built into a steady rhythm. Hips snapping against hers. Her back arched against the wall, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks as he pounded harder into her, the wet sounds of their bodies joining filling the room.

“Good God, you feel so good,” he grunted, one hand sliding to pinch her nipple through her dress.

She clenched around him deliberately, drawing a hiss from his lips. “Harder… please.” She begged.

He obliged, fucking her with raw intensity. Her climax built fast, crashing over her in waves. “Yes, yes!” She screamed, pussy pulsing around his cock, milking him as she came.

He followed moments later, thrusting deep one last time, spilling hot inside her with a guttural moan, body shuddering against hers.

They stayed like that for a moment, locked together, breaths slowing, sweat filled skins cooling off.

Later, the room would remember what they had done but for now, it belonged only to them.

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