VESSEL

  The drive had grown so still, so heavy with unsaid things, that Osaze found himself stealing glances at her, just to be sure she was still there. Ivie sat quiet, her gaze fixed on the window, as though the trees and buildings flashing by could offer more clarity than the silence sitting between them. They were making progress, or so she believed. Slowly inching toward presence, toward some form of co-parenting rhythm for the babies on the way. But she hadn’t expected him to suggest something beyond the bare minimum. Not more care. Not… consideration. His words had lingered long after he spoke them. “I’ll make the guest room available for you. Rita will also be popping in from time to time.” It sweetened her heart in a way she wasn’t ready to name. A warmth bloomed quietly, stubbornly, one she wanted to brush aside but couldn’t. He had thought about her comfort. Her needs. And in its own quiet way, that meant something. Osaze gave a small, grateful nod, his expression un...

  “It is a blessing to have you join our Men’s Fellowship, sir. We are elated to have you here,” Minister Abraham said warmly. His firm voice carried a weight of sincerity, and the way he stood, back straight, shoulders squared, reflected a life of steady discipline. His low-cut hair was precise, and his well-cleaned, neatly shaven beards gave his face a defined, polished look that made him seem both approachable and commanding. Osaze listened closely, nodding slightly as the words sank into him. A lot can change in a week, he thought. He had become a member, not just in name but in presence too, walking his way slowly but surely into consistency, a man now trying to keep his words and honor his steps. Minister Abraham shook his hand heartily, the grip firm and brotherly, before offering Ivie a brief greeting in passing. Osaze's smile deepened as he caught the sweet lilt of her voice. Ivie stood a few feet away, her sunflower-colored flare pleated gown flowing softl...

  ππππππ The silence in the apartment was the kind that could break a wall, thick, weighty, and echoing with things unsaid. It hung in the air like incense after a long prayer, seeping into every corner of the room. Ivie sank into the plush brown sofa, exhaling as she adjusted herself for comfort, her swollen feet propped on the ottoman he’d pulled close. The weight of the triplets pressed on her lower back and bladder, a constant reminder that rest was no longer just a want, it was a necessity.  Ivie needed rest but she knew Osaze needed answers. Osaze knew Ivie needed rest but he also didn't want to start a fight, he needed to be careful with how he said what he said.  He moved around her kitchen with careful steps, like a man tracing familiar footprints in a new season. He opened the cabinets without asking, his hands finding what they needed almost instinctively. There was no pride in his movements, just a quiet determination to be useful. Present. In a few minutes, h...

  She had been given a heads-up by Rita, so she wasn’t caught completely off-guard. But no amount of warning could have fully prepared her for the effect seeing Osaze again would have on her. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, he still took her breath away.  She quickly steadied her thoughts. Rita had quietly asked her to at least hear him out. And she would. For Rita’s sake. “Have your seat,” Ivie said, gesturing toward one of the wooden-carved chairs opposite her desk. “Thank you,” he replied, stepping cautiously into the room. Osaze took in the office, his eyes sweeping over the subtle changes since he had last been there. The cream-colored walls now carried a calming presence, softened further by warm, floral accents that brightened the corners. A large cream sofa stood against the window, tastefully adorned with throw pillows in dusty rose and sage green. There was a soft jasmine scent in the air, probably from the reed diffuser beside the bookshelf. Her d...

  Rita stood in front of her bedroom mirror, adjusting the collar of her cream blouse. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the fan above her. She let out a long sigh, staring at her reflection.  Her boss had stopped coming to church, and lately, she barely said more than a polite “good morning.”  Rita knew why. It was her fault. She’d crossed a line, even if her intentions had been good. But knowing that didn’t make things easier. The cold shoulder stung.  “Lord, please help me,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m stuck.”  She picked up her powder and lightly tapped her face, trying to brush away the tiredness. Then she reached for her lipstick, her favorite one, the Maybelline Super Stay Matte Ink. The deep red always gave her confidence, like it added a little fire to her calm.  With one swipe across her lips, she forced a smile. It didn’t come naturally today, but she held it anyway. ππππππ Her due date was in three weeks, and the last thing ...

ππππππ Osaze sat on the edge of the plush velvet seat, one foot tapping anxiously against the floor, his arms folded and unfolded in a loop of restlessness. The soft murmur of chatter had faded, the lights dimmed to a cinematic glow, and the large projector screen had already begun to fill with the first few scenes of The Forge. Yet, unlike Emmanuel, who was already immersed in the film and crunching popcorn without guilt, Osaze’s mind was elsewhere. He hadn't come for the movie. His eyes darted from row to row, squinting through the ambient shadows of the darkened church hall. The space had been brilliantly transformed into a mini cinema—rows of chairs perfectly aligned, the aroma of buttered popcorn mingling with hints of anointing oil and wood polish. The media team had truly outdone themselves, creating a cozy yet sacred atmosphere. Still, all Osaze could think about was Ivie. She had to be here. He could feel it in his chest, like an invisible string was pulling him closer. “S...

As Osaze eased his sleek black Mustang through the gates of Cakes & Coffee Restaurant, the scent of warm pastries and roasted beans met him halfway, a familiar comfort.  The restaurant stood like a quiet gem in the heart of Ojota, where rustic street corners met the slow encroachment of modernity. It was the kind of place that married two worlds with grace, where a market woman could enjoy puff-puff and coffee beside a banker relishing her red velvet cheesecake. Cakes & Coffee wasn’t just a business; it was a bridge, soft jazz played through the outdoor speakers, lilting over the mixed chatter of customers. Families, students, couples, it welcomed them all. The chalkboard menu, hand-drawn and colorful, changed with the seasons. And the air always smelled of hope, butter, and ambition.  Leaning against the wooden arch at the entrance, Emmanuel waited for his cousin, arms crossed, eyes squinting from the sun. His apron was dusted with flour, a badge of honor in the heat ...

She knew before she even saw the sheen of sweat glistening on Rita’s brow that she had an uninvited guest.  Rita stood nervously by the doorway, her breathing shallow, eyes flickering with silent apology. “I’m so sorry, Ma,” she whispered, wringing her hands. “I tried to stop him from going in, truly I did, he just pushed past me.” Ivie nodded, her expression calm, almost unreadable. She had known this day might come. She also knew exactly who awaited her behind her office door.  “It’s okay. Thank you for holding the fort,” she said gently, her voice low but steady. “Please move my 12 p.m. meeting to 4.” Rita hesitated, biting her lip, worry etched into her features. She wanted to ask, will you be okay alone with him? but instead, she gave a tense nod and stepped aside. Ivie inhaled deeply, then pushed the door open. ππππππ “Good morning, Osaze.” Her tone was cool, polite, too polite. She walked in with grace, setting her structured black leather bag onto the couch with d...