VESSEL

Ivie Thomas came expectant. She hadn’t come all this way, physically and emotionally, just to spectate. If she wasn’t serious about meeting with the God her Personal Assistant, Rita Adedeji, spoke of with childlike certainty and unwavering passion, then why had she come at all? The usher who greeted her at the door was a small-framed woman with a bright scarf and a smile that lit up her entire face. Her energy was warm, almost disarming, and before Ivie could overthink it, she found herself being gently guided to a seat in the third row. She obliged with a soft nod and a careful, deliberate step, one hand instinctively resting on her protruding belly for balance. As she lowered herself into the seat, she took a moment to soak in her surroundings. The church was not what she had expected. No gaudy chandeliers or intimidating religious symbols. Instead, the space was defined by simplicity and airiness. The concrete ceiling slanted in elegant angles, forming a concave canopy that curved ...

  "Ma, you should be resting. I didn’t hear you come in.” Rita’s voice was soft but laced with concern as she looked up from her task.  Ivie smiled, a hint of warmth in her expression as she reached into the fridge, pulling out the last bit of cookie dough ice cream. She gestured to Rita to join her, a silent invitation that felt like comfort in the midst of their busy lives. “And you shouldn’t be cleaning my apartment, You’ve done so much already Rita,”  Rita was carefully folding the blankets and placing them into the washing machine just across the hallway. The machine hummed quietly, and through the open door, the view of the glittering five-star resort beyond the balcony was visible, its lights twinkling like stars. Ivie smiled as she handed over the spoon. Rita eagerly dug into the rich, creamy ice cream. "And I intend to do more, Ma. Don’t try to stop me," Rita added with a grin.  Ivie raised her hands in mock surrender, her laughter filling the room. "I woul...

                   Rita could feel the tension in the air as she watched Ivie, her boss, rub her foot absentmindedly, the weight of the decision she'd been carrying for days heavy in her posture. With a reluctant sigh, Ivie lifted her feet off the cool terrace floor, the rough tiles beneath her now feeling too real, too grounding. The terrace was her little retreat, her private sanctuary from the sterile, minimalist furnishings of the rest of the office. It was the only corner of the company that felt like a personal space, with a few more touches of comfort than the basic ambiance that defined the rest of the company’s utilitarian design. She was grateful, though, for Rita. Her assistant had proven to be more than just a diligent worker. After witnessing the storm that had brewed between Ivie and her husband, Rita had shown a rare, tender kind of empathy. Despite the chaos Ivie had been living through, Rita had not forced the issue, had...

                                       How could she not think on these things? The Keke napep swerved sharply at the T-junction, its metal frame creaking as the driver maneuvered through the narrow space. Ivie clutched the iron bar at the roof of the tricycle with a white-knuckled grip, her body jolting with every rough turn. The jarring motion threw her against the side, but she steadied herself, holding on tight as the vehicle regained balance. They were back on track, the journey unfolding in the same bumpy, unpredictable rhythm it had started with. Osaze’s incessant reminders of her past echoed in her mind, and though the words tried to pierce her peace, they couldn't find purchase. How could he still cling to the remnants of the life she’d left behind? His constant reminders of her drinking and smoking habits felt like deliberate attempts to drag her back into the mire. But she woul...

  PROVERBS 18:24B  The invite had read " a touch of Ankarafabulousness ” a playful twist of words that made Bugo chuckle as she stood in front of her mirror, styling her hair with care.  Her new look was a braided front that gave way to a lush Afro puff at the back, a fusion that felt both modern and rooted. She had asked the stylist at The Deloitte Hairs to thread two strands on each side of her face and decorate them with ancient-looking ivory beads, each bead catching the light as she moved, adding a playful, girlish charm that whispered of heritage and boldness. She loved her hair. It made her feel grounded, yet elevated. Regal, yet approachable. As she patted her face with gentle dabs of setting powder, she took her time to apply her new matte lipstick, a rich terracotta shade that gave her lips a warm, earthy glow. She outlined carefully, then pressed her lips together and smiled. There was something sacred about using your own money for the first time in a while. ...

FRIENDSHIP   The silence in the cramped room was almost tangible, each heartbeat echoing in the stillness as Bugo gently dabbed away her tears with trembling hands. The soft murmur of her gratitude hung in the air like a fragile promise. “Thank you for helping me with the rent. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with my landlord, God bless you abundantly in Jesus' name. Amen, Ma. I promise, I will pay you back when I can,” she whispered, her voice quivering with a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. Cautiously, she stepped closer to the battered chair where Bugo had sunk into solitude and shame. With deliberate tenderness, she lifted Bugo’s chin, her fingers lingering as if to infuse strength into every callused line on her hand. “I will not collect anything from you,” she reassured with a quiet smile. “I did this out of pure love, and love alone.” Bugo’s tears refused to abate, streaming down her face in relentless, shimmering cascades. Each tear carried with it an uns...