Tera Mayo Funny Storyteller, Moncton, NB (2025)

09/15/2025

WHY I S!EPT WITH MY LANDLADY’S HUSBAND TO KEEP MY APARTMENT 😱❤️🔥
Episode 1
My name is Aderonke. I am 25 years old, born and raised in a small Yoruba town not too far from the buzzing city. Life had not been easy for me since my parents passed away when I was in secondary school. From hustling to sell clothes in the market, to learning tech skills in hopes of getting remote jobs, my life has been a journey full of struggle, ambition, and heartbreak.

When I finally secured a small one-room self-contain apartment in the heart of town, I thought my problems had ended. The rent was high, but at least it gave me a sense of independence. I had peace of mind, freedom, and the hope that one day I would upgrade to something bigger as my online business grew.

But peace in Nigeria is sometimes temporary. My landlady, Madam Dupe, was a fierce woman in her early 50s. She was tall, light-skinned, and had the sharp tongue of an angry market woman. Her husband, Alhaji Kareem, was the opposite. Calm, gentle, and always well-dressed. He was respected in the community because he once worked as a school principal before starting his poultry business.

The trouble started when I missed rent for two months. I had invested most of my savings in a new digital marketing business that had not started yielding profits yet. Madam Dupe stormed into my apartment one morning, shouting:

“Aderonke, if you no pay your rent this week, I go throw your load outside. I no dey care who you be. This house no be charity!”

Her words cut deep. I felt tears sting my eyes. I had nowhere to go. My online work wasn’t stable yet, and the little I made from selling clothes couldn’t cover the rent.

Later that evening, while I was sitting quietly in front of my room, I saw Alhaji Kareem walk toward me. He greeted me warmly.

“Ronke, don’t worry too much,” he said with a calm smile. “Life is full of ups and downs. If you can’t pay the full rent now, maybe we can find another arrangement.”

His words gave me hope, but the way his eyes lingered on me made me shiver. There was something in his look, something that made me uncomfortable yet strangely curious.

The following week, Madam Dupe traveled for a burial in another town. That was when Alhaji invited me into his office, which was attached to the compound. He asked me about my online work, how I was learning about tech, how difficult it was for young women to balance career dreams, business, and dating life in this economy. I opened up to him because he sounded like a father figure. But soon, the conversation shifted.

“Ronke,” he said softly, leaning closer. “You are a beautiful young woman. I can help you keep this apartment, but you must also help me with something I need.”

My heart raced. I understood what he meant, even before he explained. My chest tightened, and my throat felt dry. I wanted to run, but the thought of being homeless haunted me.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I thought about all the sacrifices I had made since secondary school, the jobs I lost, the relationships that failed because I didn’t have stability. I thought about how society always judged women harshly, how some girls were pushed into dangerous situations just to survive.

The next day, Alhaji came to my door again. His eyes were gentle, his voice low. “Ronke, you are too fine to suffer. Let me take care of you. Nobody needs to know.”

Against my will, against my pride, I agreed. That was the night I s!ept with my landlady’s husband. His touch felt wrong, yet it held a strange power. My mind was torn between survival and shame. I knew it was a dangerous path, but at that moment, I felt trapped.

Afterward, he looked at me and said, “As long as you are with me, nobody will send you out of this house.”

I left his office trembling, my mind filled with guilt and fear. What if Madam Dupe found out? What if people in the community discovered my secret? What would happen to my dreams of building a business, a career in tech, and maybe finding true love someday?
The scariest part was not what had happened that night, but what could happen next.
👉🏽 Read the remaining Episode 2 and 3 here: https://storytera.com/stories/54

❓Will Madam Dupe discover my secret with her husband?
❓Will my choice to survive destroy my future love and career?
❓Or will I find a way out before it’s too late?
To be continued in Episode 2 on my website 👆

NOTE TO READERS:
use the links above to read episode 2 and 3.
This is just episode 1 out of the full 3 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera

09/14/2025

💕 From Tears to Triumph: A Love, Money & Struggle Story in Yoruba Land 💕
Episode 1: Tears by the Hostel Window
I remember a morning that still makes my heart heavy whenever I think about it. I was the head boy of my school, one of the brightest students in class, and my teachers respected me. My parents had always told me, “Adekunle, education is the key that will open your doors to a brighter future.” I believed them with all my heart. But sometimes, even when you are doing well, life will test you.

That day, the test wasn’t mathematics or English; it was life itself.

Examinations had started. Everyone was rushing to their classes with their pens and papers ready. The school had warned us that any student who hadn’t paid school fees would not be allowed to sit for the exams. I knew deep down that my parents hadn’t paid mine because they simply couldn’t afford it at the time.

Right after the morning assembly, while others were heading joyfully into the examination hall, I quietly turned my back and walked toward the hostel. My steps were heavy, my heart even heavier. I didn’t want to face the embarrassment of being chased out in front of my classmates.

From the hostel window, I stood and watched as my friends entered the hall. Some of them laughed, others revised their notes one last time. Tears rolled down my cheeks 😢. It felt like the world had turned its back on me. I asked myself: *Why me? Why now?*

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I picked up my bag and started the long walk home. As I walked through the dusty road of our town, I thought about how much my parents had already sacrificed for me. My father was a carpenter, making chairs and doors for little pay. My mother sold garri and palm oil at the market. They struggled every day just to put food on the table.

When I got home, I saw the sadness in my mother’s eyes. She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her lips. She couldn’t eat that morning. I heard her making calls, begging relatives, church members, neighbors, even her old friends. “Please, my son is writing exams. I don’t want him to miss out,” she pleaded.

That night, I lay on my bed thinking about love—not the romantic kind at first, but the love of a parent. A mother’s love is powerful. It will push her to do the impossible for her child. That was the first time I understood that true love is sacrifice.

The next day, by God’s grace, my mother raised some money through loans. I went back to school, and they allowed me to continue my exams. Even though I had missed one paper, I promised myself that I would not let their sacrifice go to waste.

I studied harder, burning the midnight candle with my lantern. Sometimes hunger distracted me, sometimes sleep tried to steal my time, but I pushed myself. Eventually, when the results came out, I still had the highest average in the class. My teachers were shocked, my classmates admired me, and my parents cried tears of joy.

That period taught me something deep: that the strength of a man is not seen when things are easy, but when life tries to break him. My struggles became my motivation.

Years later, when I entered university, I carried the same fire in me. Life wasn’t easy there either. I did small jobs on campus—helping people write assignments, tutoring students, even working at a small tech café. That was how I fed myself and supported my parents back home. I learned about business, relationship management, and how to handle money wisely.

But even in the middle of all these struggles, I met someone who added a different kind of light to my story. Her name was Abimbola. She was in the faculty of education. We met at the library one evening, and it started with a simple greeting. Her smile was like sunrise, bright and warm.

At first, we were just friends, sharing books, notes, and encouraging each other. But slowly, something deeper started growing between us. Love, real love. Not just the type you see in movies, but the kind that makes you feel alive again even when life is tough.

One night, as we were reading together, our hands brushed. I looked into her eyes, and she looked into mine. We didn’t need words. The world seemed to pause. That was the first time I understood what it meant for the heart to race. Eventually, we shared our first k!ss under the dim light of the library bulb. My heart leaped, and I knew my life was about to change forever.

But life has a way of mixing sweetness with bitterness. Just when things seemed better, another storm came my way.

My university fees piled up again. This time, it wasn’t just about missing exams—it was about being asked to withdraw from school if I didn’t pay. I thought about how much my parents had already done. Should I burden them again? Should I give up my dreams? Or should I take a risk in business, tech, or even love to find a way forward?
👉🏽 Read the remaining Episode 2 and 3 here: https://storytera.com/stories/53
The answers weren’t clear yet, but I knew my story wasn’t ending. It was only beginning.
* Should Adekunle risk telling Abimbola about his struggles, or will love fade when money is scarce?
* Will his passion for tech and business become his breakthrough, or will financial hardship bury his dreams?
* Can true love survive poverty, or does it need money to breathe?
To be continued in Episode 2 on my website 👆

NOTE TO READERS:
use the links above to read episode 2 and 3.
This is just episode 1 out of the full 3 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera

09/13/2025

SHOULD I KEEP STAYING IN MY YOUNGER BROTHER'S MARITAL HOME? 💔🏠
Episode 1
My name is Akinlolu. I am 39 years old, a graduate of Political Science from one of the big universities in Yoruba land. When I was in school, I used to dream of working in government, wearing fine suits, driving good cars, and being respected as a successful man. But life did not go as planned.

After our father died, my younger brother, Kayode, dropped out of school because Mama could not sponsor the two of us. She looked at us with tears in her eyes and said, “Akinlolu, you are the elder one. You must go and finish your university education so that you can come back to lift the family.” Mama then sold the last piece of land we had. She used most of the money to pay my tuition fees, buy books, and feed me in school. The little change that remained, she gave to Kayode to start a small trade in spare parts in the local market.

I thought the plan was perfect. I would graduate, get a government job or work in a big tech company, and support the family. Meanwhile, Kayode would only be doing business temporarily until I rise up. But life had another script. Kayode’s small business blossomed. He had a sharp mind for money, and he was always kind to customers. Before I finished school, he already expanded his shop, employed apprentices, and was making good cash.

When I graduated, I was full of joy. I believed the world was waiting for me. I applied for jobs in Ibadan, Lagos, Akure, everywhere. I wrote countless tests, attended interviews, and even tried online applications for remote tech jobs. But every time, the response was either silence or rejection. “We are sorry, we found someone with more experience.” How could I have experience when no one would employ me?

Years passed. Almost 10 years after graduation, I still had no stable job in my field. I did some minor work—teaching in a private school for little salary, writing business proposals for people, helping with history and political science assignments for students. But it was never enough. Meanwhile, my younger brother was already a success story. He built a house in Ibadan, bought cars, and Mama always said, “Kayode, you are the one God used to bless us.” I loved him, but I felt ashamed inside.

When Mama died three years ago, it broke us both. She was the glue that held our family. After her burial, it was just the two of us left in this world. Kayode told me, “Egbon, come and stay with me. You are my blood. I cannot leave you alone.” I moved into his house. At first, everything was fine. He treated me well, and we shared jokes and memories.

But last year, things changed. Kayode got married to Ronke, a beautiful young woman from Ogbomoso. She was respectful at first, and I was happy for him. But slowly, her true character showed. She does laundry only for my brother. She would wash his clothes, iron them neatly, fold them, and arrange them in the wardrobe smelling fresh. But my clothes? Not even one shirt. They pile up, and I wash them myself whenever I have strength.

It may look like a small thing, but in Yoruba culture, respect is deep. I am her husband’s elder brother. Shouldn’t she honor me too? When I see her washing only Kayode’s clothes, it makes me angry 😡. I feel humiliated. Sometimes, I imagine Mama shaking her head in disappointment.

The worst part is when my girlfriend, Funke, comes around. She would quickly take over the house chores, wash my clothes, clean the sitting room, and sometimes even help Ronke in the kitchen. She would even add some of Kayode’s clothes to mine out of respect. That double standard eats me up. Why should a girlfriend treat me better than my brother’s wife?

Lately, I have been feeling like Ronke sees me as a burden. Maybe she whispers to Kayode at night, “Your brother is just staying here eating and contributing nothing.” I see it in her eyes sometimes. I feel like an unwanted guest in my own brother’s house.

But what can I do? I am still searching for good jobs, still sending applications to companies in Lagos, Abuja, even some remote online platforms. I have also been thinking of starting something small in business or even tech freelancing, but I need startup money. Should I confront Ronke about the way she treats me? Or should I keep quiet and swallow my pride?

I lie awake at night on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily, asking myself: “Should I keep staying in my younger brother’s marital home? Or should I go out into the world, even if it means suffering?”

Love, respect, money, family—these things are so complicated. I wonder if my brother even notices the silent tension between his wife and me. Or maybe he knows but prefers to ignore it.

Now I am confused. What should I do?
👉🏽 Read the remaining Episode 2 and 3 here: https://storytera.com/stories/52
Will Akinlolu confront his brother’s wife about the way she treats him? 🤔
Will his younger brother support him, or will this lead to a family conflict? 😢
And what role will love and his girlfriend Funke play in his next decision? 💕
To be continued in Episode 2 on my website 👆

NOTE TO READERS:
use the links above to read episode 2 and 3.
This is just episode 1 out of the full 3 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera

09/12/2025

Title: Why I told My Boyfriend Not to Tell his Family that I Helped him Financially to Achieve All These? 💔💍
Episode 1
My name is Kenny. I was just 19 years old when my love story began with Joshua, a young man of 29 at the time. Some people around me thought I was too young to start dating a man ten years older than me, but my heart didn’t listen to them. I saw something unique in Joshua that many of my age mates could not see.

Joshua wasn’t the kind of guy who sat idle, waiting for miracles. He was always chasing something meaningful, always running after a dream. He had different kinds of hustles — buying and selling small things, doing delivery jobs, running errands for small companies, and sometimes even helping people negotiate land sales. At first, I thought it was just random, but as I got closer to him, I realized Joshua wasn’t confused. He was ambitious. He was building himself step by step.

I remember the first time he took me to a land he bought in Ibadan outskirts. He was only 30 years old then, and already laying foundation for a small bungalow. I was shocked. How could someone of his age, with just petty hustles, already have a piece of land and even start building? He laughed that day and told me, “Kenny, I believe in slow but steady. Even if I don’t have much, I will keep pushing till I stand on my feet.”

That day, my respect for him doubled.

By the time I turned 21, I had finished school and started working with a Fintech company in Lagos. The salary wasn’t so big, but it was stable. Meanwhile, Joshua was still hustling here and there, growing his businesses. It was during this stage of our relationship that I made a decision many of my friends thought was crazy: I began giving Joshua almost all of my salary every month.

Yes, I know it sounds odd. Why would a young lady just hand over her money to her boyfriend? But to me, it wasn’t odd at all. Joshua had a vision, and I trusted that vision. He wasn’t wasting money on drinks or clubbing like many other men. Every naira I gave him went into something serious — blocks for the house, little investments, expansion of his trade, and even savings in cooperative societies.

I remember one month, I had only 5,000 naira left after giving him almost my entire salary. I had to trek to work for days, hiding my shoes in my bag so they wouldn’t spoil. But I didn’t complain. I believed in us. I believed in our future.

But there was one thing I never liked: Joshua loved to tell his family and friends about everything. Whenever I gave him money, or whenever we achieved something together, he wanted to announce it. He would call his elder sister in Ilorin and say, “Ah, Kenny is the one helping me with this project. If not for her, I wouldn’t have gone this far.”

Each time he did that, I would frown. I told him many times, “Joshua, stop telling people about how I support you. Don’t tell your family, don’t tell your friends.”

At first, he thought I was shy. But I was not. My reason was different. I didn’t want the world to see me as a woman sponsoring her man. I didn’t want them to start gossiping about me, saying I was wasting my youth and money on a man ten years older. I didn’t want my name on everybody’s lips in the neighborhood.

I told Joshua, “If people know too much about me, they will use it against me tomorrow. Let all your success look like it is from you alone. I am your backbone secretly, and that is enough.”

But Joshua didn’t like that reasoning. He feared that if people did not know about my impact, one day when he grew old or if anything happened to him, everyone would think he built all his wealth alone. He often said to me, “Kenny, I don’t want to die and my family will take everything, forgetting you. If they know your contributions now, they will respect you later.”

I shook my head. I didn’t agree. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “What matters is that you and I know what we are building together. We don’t need the world to clap for us.”

It became one of the few issues we argued about in our relationship.

But aside from that, our love was strong. Very strong. Joshua was not just a hustler; he was also a man who knew how to treat a woman well. He respected me even though I was younger. He never made me feel like a small girl. He would call me his queen, his partner, his everything.

And I too, I gave him all my heart. There were nights we would hold each other close in his unfinished house, the windows not yet fixed, mosquitoes disturbing, but we didn’t care. We would whisper dreams to each other in the dark — dreams of a big house, a registered company, children running around us. In those moments, nothing else mattered.

Sometimes, when passion overwhelmed us, we would touch and caress deeply, exploring each other’s bodies with trembling hands. His k!sses always left me breathless. The way he held me, the way he whispered my name, the way my body melted under his — it was more than just pleasure, it was love mixed with trust. I gave myself to him because I believed he was the man I would marry, the man I wanted to spend forever with. And even though I was young, I didn’t regret it.

By the time Joshua turned 33 and I was 23, the fruits of our sacrifices began to show. His petty hustles had grown into bigger businesses. He now had two houses — one completed, another halfway. He owned a small provision store, a keke napep he gave out for daily returns, and some money invested in agriculture. Everyone in the neighborhood respected him. They called him “the young boss.”

But nobody knew the secret behind his growth. Nobody knew about the girl who silently carried him financially, the girl who trekked, fasted, and sacrificed to see him shine. Nobody knew it was me. And I wanted it that way.

Yet Joshua still begged me, “Kenny, let me tell my family. Let me tell them how supportive you are.”

And I still said no.

Little did I know that one day, this decision would return to hurt me deeply.

Now, looking back, I ask myself: was I right to keep everything secret? Or should I have allowed him to tell at least one trusted family member?
👉🏽 Read the remaining Episode 2 and 3 here: https://storytera.com/stories/51
My story is not just about love, it is about money, business, trust, and decisions that can shape the future.
If you were in my shoes, would you also hide your financial support from your boyfriend’s family, or would you let them know? 🤔
To be continued in Episode 2 on my website 👇

NOTE TO READERS:
use the links above to read episode 2 and 3.
This is just episode 1 out of the full 3 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera

09/11/2025

WHY I JOINED THE WHITE GARMENT CHURCH? ❤️⛪
Episode 1
Segun was just 21 years old, yet his life already looked like the dream of many young men in the village. With his tall height, broad chest, and handsome face, many people mistook him for someone older. His physique and wealth made him look like a man in his thirties. He had four cars parked inside his compound, his own house not far from the white garment church, and he was known everywhere in the community.

But behind all the flashy lifestyle, Segun was deep into illegal online hustles known as “yahoo-yahoo.” 💻 He spent his nights chatting with strangers, pretending to be who he was not, and making fast money. To the young girls in the community, he was a dream husband, the perfect catch. They didn’t care how the money came, as long as Segun could provide them with luxury.

Segun, however, was restless. No matter how many ladies he had dated, no matter how many times he had tasted pleasures, he was not satisfied. It had become like a drug to him—always looking for the next girl, always looking for another conquest. His friends knew him as the champion of romantic adventures. At night parties, after some bottles of alcohol, Segun would boast of his experiences with different ladies.

One of his closest friends, Taiwo, often shook his head whenever Segun shared his stories. Taiwo was not like Segun; he didn’t like chasing ladies. He would join the group when they gathered for drinks, but he never had the appetite for womanizing. Still, he couldn’t hide his amazement when Segun bragged about how he had been with almost all the young women in their area.

In fact, it became so bad that Taiwo developed a negative view about women. Anytime he saw a fine girl in the street, he would sigh and mutter to himself, “See her, she looks innocent, but I know Segun must have entered her too.” This mindset grew stronger each day, and Taiwo eventually decided not to talk to any girl around the neighborhood again. He lost trust.

But this situation raised questions in Taiwo’s mind:

Why do many young ladies run after men who only want to use them for pleasure? Why do they allow money and luxury to blind their eyes from true love? Why do they forget that these youthful lusts and careless living will cause them regret when they are finally ready to settle down with a serious man?

Segun, on his part, felt on top of the world. He enjoyed the attention, the whispers of ladies calling him “fine boy, rich guy, correct man.” But as days rolled into weeks, and weeks into months, he began to feel an emptiness inside him. All the parties, all the pleasures, all the nights of showing off—it was not enough. His heart was restless.

One morning, Segun sat in his compound, staring at his cars. He asked himself, “What next? What do I really want?” Then, an idea struck him. He decided to change his appearance. He would act simple, gentle, and holy. He would disguise as a humble church boy. That way, he would find new ladies who had not yet fallen into his trap.

On the following Sunday, Segun dressed in a shining white garment, his wrist glistening with expensive jewelry. He walked confidently into the nearby white garment church.

The atmosphere of the church was different from the clubs and parties he was used to. The worshippers were dressed in neat white garments, clapping their hands, and dancing genuinely in praise. The drumbeats and songs filled the air with joy. Segun’s eyes scanned the congregation, and what he saw made him smile. Beautiful spinsters, glowing in white, dancing with all their heart.

“Waoh,” Segun whispered under his breath. “This is my Rehoboth. I have found fresh waters. From here, I will get as many girlfriends as I want.”

He joined the service, clapping his hands and pretending to be deeply involved. Some ladies stole glances at him. His broad shoulders, handsome face, and air of confidence stood him out. By the end of the service, he had already noticed some girls whispering and smiling at him. His plan was working.

Week after week, Segun continued to attend the church. He acted humble, greeting elders respectfully, joining in prayers, and sometimes even sharing testimonies. But deep inside, he was still the same Segun—the hustler who only wanted to use his wealth to lure ladies.

Slowly, some of the sisters in church began to crush on him. They admired his “gentle” behavior, his sweet cologne, and most importantly, his wealth. In the neighborhood, his name started spreading like fire. “That guy Segun is fine, cute, and loaded with money.”

Segun’s heart swelled with pride. He felt untouchable. He believed no girl could resist him.
But the story of life is like a drum; you may think you are beating it, but sometimes, it beats you back.
👉🏽 Read the remaining Episode 2 - 10 here: https://storytera.com/stories/50
Will Segun succeed in his plan to use the church sisters for his pleasures?
Will the truth about his hidden lifestyle ever come out?
What will happen when he meets the one lady that will challenge his ways?

To be continued in Episode 2 on my website 👇

NOTE TO READERS:
use the links above to read episode 2 to 10.
This is just episode 1 out of the full 10 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera

09/10/2025

THE CHILD OF MY BOSS IS MINE, AND I NEVER KNEW – I WAS ONLY A HOUSEMAID 😭

Please keep me anonymous. My name is not important. Just know I’m a 22-year-old lady working as a housemaid for a rich young couple in Lagos.

Four years ago, when I had just turned 18, I became pregnant. I was doing two jobs back then: I worked as a salesgirl during the day and, sadly, I also did runs (night hustles) to survive. Life was hard. I didn’t know who among my customers got me pregnant because I was sleeping with different men during that period.

When I discovered I was pregnant, I was scared—too scared to go for an abortion. So, I kept the pregnancy and gave birth to a baby boy.

But after breastfeeding and caring for him for a year, I couldn’t cope anymore. I was broke, desperate, and tired. One dark night, an evil voice whispered to me: "Just abandon him, you’ll be free."

So I did it.

I wrapped my baby in a shawl, dropped him by a roadside where I hoped someone would find him, and ran away. 😭😭

Since then, I returned to my salesgirl job and continued the runs lifestyle, until life forced me to stop. Recently, I found a new job—as a housemaid for a wealthy couple with a young boy. They were nice to me. My duty was to clean the house and take care of their only son, a playful, bubbly little boy.

From day one, the boy took special interest in me. He loved resting his head on my chest. He would cry if I wasn't around. He called me "Aunty" but clung to me like I was his mother. I thought it was just normal child attachment. But something felt... deep.

Then one day, while cleaning my boss's room, I saw an open envelope tucked between books. Curiosity got the better of me. I peeped.

It was a fertility lab test. The result showed the wife was medically unable to conceive. And it was dated just a few months after their wedding.

I was shocked.

I thought: "Then how did they have this boy? Was he adopted? Stolen? What if—No, it can’t be…"

I quietly returned the result to where I found it and minded my business.

But fate had plans to expose the truth.

One day, the boy fell seriously ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. The doctors said he needed an urgent blood transfusion. Both the husband and wife donated blood, but the lab rejected theirs—they weren’t compatible donors. The wife, panicking, begged me to try.

I agreed. I genuinely cared for the boy. Guess what?

My blood was a perfect match. 💔

I didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe it was coincidence? But after that, the boy recovered and became even more attached to me. He wouldn’t eat unless I was there. He slept better when I was around. It was strange, but beautiful.

Behind the scenes, unknown to me, my boss did a DNA test—between me and the boy.

When the result came back, the truth hit like thunder:

I AM THE MOTHER OF THE CHILD. 😭😭😭

That child I abandoned 4 years ago is the same child I’ve been serving, bathing, feeding, and loving without knowing he came out of my own womb.

Now, I’m confused. I cry silently every night.

Should I collect my son back from them?
Should I tell them the truth and walk away?
Or... should I claim the man too? After all, he’s the one who impregnated me. Maybe he met me during my runs days and doesn't even remember.

But I’m tired of being just a housemaid in the house of people who are raising my son.

I want to enjoy love. I want to enjoy motherhood. I want to enjoy the money too.

Please, what should I do? 😭😭😭
Advise me. I don’t know where to start from. 🙏🙏🙏
👉🏽 Read the next short story here: https://storytera.com/stories/9

NOTE TO READERS:
use the links above to read next sweet short story. All stories are freely available on StoryTera, no subscription required to read. 100% free.

Tera Mayo Funny Storyteller

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