Tera Mayo Funny Storyteller, Moncton, NB (2025)

12/09/2025

Who do you love better between your Mùm and your wìfe?
Your wìfe💓 is never to be compared with you Mùm💓.

12/09/2025

Can I marry a guy that can't feed himself? 🤔🙏❤️💓

12/09/2025

Embassy Drama as Lady’s Passport Gets Swapped Before Interview.
Episode 1: The Unexpected News That Changed Our Journey
My name is Mofe, and if anyone had told me that a single mistake inside an embassy hall could turn my whole life upside down, I would have laughed and ignored the person. But life has its own way of reminding us that small moments can open big doors—either to miracles or to storms we never planned for.

I met my husband, Teramayo, four years ago during a community leadership workshop. He was the quiet, observant type who spoke only when necessary, but each time he opened his mouth, wisdom followed. I was the talkative one, the woman who could turn anything into a story. Yet somehow, we matched like sunrise and morning breeze.

From the first day we met, our dreams aligned effortlessly. We talked about building a peaceful home, raising children with strong values, and one day exploring the world together. Even when things were tough, we supported each other. When I lost my teaching job two years ago, Teramayo held my hand and told me, “Your destiny is not tied to one office. Better opportunities will come.”

He was right.

Early this year, I got a remote customer service job with an international company, and after seven months, they offered to sponsor my relocation for further training. The only step left was my embassy interview. That interview meant everything—hope, breakthrough, and a fresh start.

The night before the interview felt like Christmas Eve. Teramayo ironed my dress, polished my shoes, and even helped arrange all my documents in a transparent folder. He checked the document list at least seven times—passport, application letter, job offer, receipts—he wanted everything perfect.

At some point, he sat beside me on the bed and whispered, “Mofe, we will succeed. Your success is my success.”

I smiled and leaned on his shoulder. “Thank you for believing in me.”

He pulled me into a hug that felt like a shield against every future problem. That was one thing about him—his love felt safe.

We slept late, partly out of excitement and partly out of fear. You know how embassy matters can be sometimes; even when you have all your documents, you still pray like your life depends on it.

We woke up by 4:00 a.m., prepared, prayed, and left the house before sunrise. The road was calm, and the wind felt cool on my skin. I sat at the back of the taxi, holding my document folder tightly as if someone wanted to drag it from me.

By 6:10 a.m., I was already in the queue outside the embassy gate. People were everywhere—nervous applicants, restless parents, agents whispering instructions, and embassy staff trying to control the crowd. Some people held their documents tight to their chest like newborn babies.

I noticed a lady standing beside me. She wore a pale-blue gown and kept fanning herself with her passport. She sighed loudly and said, “Sister, this place is stressful, oh.”

I nodded and smiled politely. “It’s always like that. We’ll be fine.”

She returned the smile and continued fanning.

After about thirty minutes, the security guards began allowing small groups inside. That was where real tension entered my body. I started sweating even though the sun was not hot yet. When it got to my turn, one guard checked my appointment letter and scanned my bag. Everything looked fine.

Inside the compound, they directed us to the waiting hall. The hall was large, cold, and filled with long rows of chairs. Each row had different groups based on the type of visa. I sat in the third row beside the same lady who was fanning herself earlier.

People kept whispering prayers. Some rubbed their palms together nervously. Some scrolled through their phones, pretending they were not scared. At that moment, all I could do was hold my passport tight.

Then it happened.

The embassy staff came to our row to collect passports for pre-verification. I handed mine to the woman politely, and she placed it inside a stack with others. When she finished collecting from our row, she carried the stack to the verification desk.

I watched her carefully, following her every move with my eyes. My heart beat faster with every step she took. After a few minutes, she returned to distribute the passports back to us.

She walked row by row, name by name. I sat up straight, ready to collect mine.

“Mofe Teramayo!” she called.

I raised my hand, and she gave me a passport. I collected it with both hands and checked the cover immediately. Everything looked normal… until I opened it.

My breath caught.

The picture staring at me was not mine.

The name was not mine.

The passport was not mine.

I blinked twice, thinking maybe stress was making me hallucinate. I turned the pages again—same thing. Someone else’s passport. My chest became tight. My palms turned cold. A strange heaviness pressed on my shoulders.

I looked up quickly to call the staff, but she had already moved to the next row. Panic rose inside me like boiling water.

I stood up instantly.

“Excuse me, ma!” I called out.

She turned.

“This is not my passport,” I said, my voice trembling.

She frowned and returned. “Let me see it.”

I handed it to her. She flipped through the pages, then asked, “Where is the one we gave you earlier?”

“That is the one,” I replied.

She checked the list in her hand. “Your name was on the stack. I gave you the correct passport.”

“No ma,” I insisted gently, “this is not my face, not my name. Please check again.”

She sighed as if the situation was irritating her, then signaled to another staff. They checked the stack of passports left on the table—mine was not there. They checked under the desk—nothing. They checked the next stack—still nothing.

I felt my legs becoming weak.

Each second felt like a hammer hitting my chest.

The other lady who had been standing beside me earlier—the one in the pale-blue gown—kept glancing at me anxiously.

“Maybe it’s mixed with another row,” one staff said.

But after checking all rows, nothing came out.

One staff whispered to another, and they both exchanged a worried look.

That was when fear began to crawl into my bones.

What if someone mistakenly collected my passport?
What if the passport fell somewhere outside?
What if someone walked away with it?

The thoughts were too much.

“Madam,” one staff finally said, “you need to calm down. We will trace it.”

Calm down? How?

My whole future was inside that passport.

My job.
My relocation.
My dreams.
My family’s hopes.
Everything.

I felt like screaming, but tears filled my eyes instead. Losing a passport on the day of my interview felt like a nightmare.

I stepped aside to call my husband. When he picked up, I didn’t even greet him.

“Teramayo… my passport… they can’t find it.”

Silence.

Then he replied softly, “Where are you? I’m coming now.”

No questions. No blame. Just support.
As I ended the call, one thought kept haunting me:
How did my passport disappear inside an embassy hall?
Was it truly a mistake… or something deeper?
Who took Mofe’s passport inside the embassy?
Was it a simple mix-up or a deliberate setup?
Will she get it back before her interview is called?
To continue to Episode 2 below👇,
https://storytera.com/stories/131/episodes/13102
Episode 3 is here below👇, https://storytera.com/stories/131/episodes/13103
Episode 4 is here below👇, https://storytera.com/stories/131/episodes/13104
Episode 5 (The End) is here below👇, https://storytera.com/stories/131/episodes/13105
Kindly like👍, share✔️ and comment✏️ your own view to this story🙏.
❤️‍🔥If you copy🚫 my story and paste⚠️ it on your own page, remember I sabi how to find and rèpørt⛔️ your pàge🤗.

NOTE TO READERS:
This is just episode 1 out of the full 5 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera.
Note: This is 100% Fictional, and not having resemblance to any true events or characters.

12/08/2025

Please Take care today, remember I love you. God will be with you as you go out and come in. Amen

12/08/2025

My name is Mofe, and this is the story of how a quiet home in the city of Oregun nearly collapsed because of an unknown woman and a trusted household member.

Teramayo and I had been married for six years. Life was not perfect, but it was peaceful. My husband worked with a private logistics company, and I ran a small fruits and home goods store beside the main road. Our only household member, whom I will call X1 to stay within coded guidelines, lived with us. X1 had been with my mother before she passed; so bringing her into my home had felt right. She was young, humble, and always busy with chores.

Or so I believed.

Things began to change when Teramayo got promoted to the main office at G-Road. His new schedule was demanding—leaving home as early as 5 a.m. and returning after 10 p.m. I missed him terribly, but I supported him. That promotion had taken years to achieve.

At first, the issue was small—too small to notice.

X1 started dressing differently. Not exposing anything, but more expensive perfumes, more neat hair, and more polished clothes. It wasn’t the style that bothered me; it was the timing. Why now? Why this sudden change?

Then she began waking up earlier than me—something she had never done before.

One morning, around 4:50 a.m., I woke up and heard hushed footsteps. I tiptoed toward the corridor. To my shock, X1 was fully dressed and standing near the main door. I watched silently as she opened the door, stepped outside, and gently shut it behind her.

My mind raced.

Where was she going so early?

I thought about waking Teramayo, but he had barely slept after working late. So I waited. About 20 minutes later, she returned. Her face was glowing. Not from sweat, not from stress—but from something warmer, something suspicious.

She froze when she saw me awake.

“You woke up early today, ma,” she said quickly.

I nodded. “Where did you go?”

She swallowed. “I went to buy bread.”

But there was no bread in her hands.

That was the first lie.

I asked no more questions, but something shifted inside me. A quiet alarm began ringing in my spirit.

The next strange thing happened the following week. I noticed Teramayo and X1 laughing softly in the sitting room one evening. It was not the laughter that bothered me. It was how fast they stopped laughing when they saw me enter.

I asked, “What’s funny?”

They looked at each other briefly before Teramayo answered, “Nothing serious, just talking.”

But I knew my husband’s laughter. This one was different—too light, too relaxed.

Two days later, X1 walked past me, and I perceived the scent of the perfume I bought for Teramayo’s birthday last year. I blinked and stopped her.

“Come back,” I said.

She turned slowly.

“Which perfume is this one you’re using?”

“It’s something I bought outside,” she replied quickly.

My chest tightened. X1 didn’t earn enough to buy such an expensive scent, and I also never saw it among her things before.

I checked our bedroom that night. The perfume was missing.

For the first time in years, I couldn’t sleep beside my husband. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of every possibility—some innocent, some dangerous, some heartbreaking.

Then came the night that broke everything open.

I returned home earlier than usual because rain had disrupted my business. As I approached the front gate, I heard soft giggles. Female giggles. Familiar giggles.

I paused and listened again.

Then I heard a male voice—calm, warm, and frighteningly familiar.

Teramayo.

My heart dropped.

They were not inside the house. They were in the small shade beside the water tank, where we usually kept old buckets.

I moved quietly and stood behind the wall, listening.

“I told you to be careful,” Teramayo whispered. “Why did you come out at that time yesterday? She almost saw you.”

“I’m sorry,” X1 replied shyly. “I just missed you. And you… you’ve been avoiding me since your promotion.”

I felt my knees weaken.

Avoiding?
Missing?

My ears rang.

My husband sighed. “We have to be careful. If Mofe finds out—”

My heart cracked open before he could finish.

I stood frozen. My breath stopped. My legs trembled so much I thought I would fall.

X1 suddenly gasped. “Wait, I think I heard something.”

I panicked and slipped back toward the gate quietly, then rushed inside the house through the back door before they could catch me listening.

The entire time I walked, my hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my phone.

When they came inside minutes later, I pretended to be busy washing plates in the kitchen, but my heart was wounded beyond words.

Was this truly happening?
Was my husband… with her?

I waited until Teramayo entered the bedroom before calling X1’s name.

She stepped into the kitchen with her head slightly lowered.

“Where did you go just now?” I asked calmly.

She hesitated. “I went to put water in the drum.”

“Who were you talking to outside?”

She froze. Her lips trembled. She swallowed. “Nobody, ma.”

That was the second lie.

I almost confronted her right there—but something inside me whispered, “Wait.”

That night, I lay beside my husband silently, thinking of every moment we shared—our first date, our wedding, the plans we made. Now, those memories hurt.

Before I slept, I came to one conclusion.

I needed proof.
Not suspicion.
Not assumptions.

Real proof.

Only then would I know the truth behind the unknown woman secretly dating a household member—because what I heard could mean something deeper… or something far more dangerous than an affair.

And I wasn’t ready for the explosion that proof would bring.
Who exactly was the unknown woman mentioned outside?
Was it really what Mofe thought, or was there a darker twist waiting to be uncovered?
What secret was X1 hiding that could destroy the entire family?
And why was Teramayo suddenly scared that Mofe might find out something?
To continue to Episode 2 below👇,
https://storytera.com/stories/130/episodes/13002
Episode 3 is here below👇, https://storytera.com/stories/130/episodes/13003
Episode 4 is here below👇, https://storytera.com/stories/130/episodes/13004
Episode 5 is here below👇, https://storytera.com/stories/130/episodes/13005
Kindly like👍, share✔️ and comment✏️ your own view to this story🙏.
❤️‍🔥If you copy🚫 my story and paste⚠️ it on your own page, remember I sabi how to find and rèpørt⛔️ your pàge🤗.

NOTE TO READERS:
This is just episode 1 out of the full 5 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera.
Note: This is 100% Fictional, and not having resemblance to any true events or characters.

12/07/2025

I love you❤️, Happy Sunday everyone

12/07/2025

Who Sent the Fake Travel Visa That Almost Ruined My Life?
Episode 1: The Day My Dreams Received a Message That Looked Like a Miracle
My name is Mofe, a simple woman from the quiet part of our town where people believe that if you work hard and pray well, your life will open like morning flowers. I grew up hearing stories of those who travelled abroad and returned with glory. Some built houses. Some opened big businesses. Some changed their families forever. So the dream to “travel out” was always in my heart like a small fire waiting for wind.

I married my husband, Teramayo, five years ago. He is everything I used to pray for when I was younger: calm like evening rain, patient like a teacher, hardworking like a market woman, and romantic in a coded way that only I understand. Our love was never perfect, but it was real. We were still building our foundation—still struggling, still hustling, still dreaming. But we were content.

Until the day everything changed.

It was a Tuesday morning. The sun had already risen angrily, the kind of heat that makes even the smallest stress feel heavier. Teramayo had gone to work, and I was in the living room sorting clothes when I heard my phone vibrate. At first, I ignored it. But the vibration continued, like someone insisting that I must see the message.

When I finally checked, I saw a notification from an unknown number. The message looked official. The logo at the top looked like something from a foreign travel office—although now, looking back, I have no idea if it was real or photocopied. It read:

“Congratulations, Mofe. Your request for the T-Paper to Northshine Country has been approved. Kindly check the attached document. Your flight date is in two months.”

I froze.

My breath left my chest like someone pulled it out with a rope. I scrolled again to be sure it was my name. It was. And there was an attachment. A document that looked very real.

But the problem was simple and clear:
I never applied for any T-Paper.

And nobody else applied for me.

Or so I believed.

At first, I thought it was a mistake. Maybe they sent it to the wrong person. Maybe someone was playing games. Maybe my eyes were deceiving me. But the message looked too detailed to be a mistake. It even contained my full name, date of birth, and phone number.

Fear rushed into my chest like cold water.
How did they get my details?

Before I could think too much, another message entered:

“Your sponsor has fulfilled the first stage. You only need to confirm your readiness.”

Sponsor?
Which sponsor?
I had no sponsor.
I wasn’t even planning to travel.

My hands began to shake. My legs lost strength. I sat down slowly.

I stared at the document again. It looked like the real T-Paper many people brag about online. The one some people spend millions to get. The one that could change a person’s destiny in one journey.

But I knew deep inside that something was wrong. Something wasn’t adding up.

Still, a tiny part of me—the dreamer inside me—started to wonder:
What if someone genuinely decided to help me?
What if this was a miracle?
What if God was opening a door for me through someone unknown?

Maybe a distant relative.
Maybe a secret helper.
Maybe someone I once helped.
Maybe even my husband.

I stood up and paced around the house, my heart doing drumbeats. I dialed the unknown number, but it didn’t connect. I dialed again. Nothing. I dialed the third time. Still nothing.

That was when panic whispered softly in my ear.

But the surprise of my life was still on the way.

Later that evening, when Teramayo returned from work, I didn’t know how to talk to him about it. He noticed my silence. He noticed my shaking hands. He noticed that I didn’t even smile at him when he entered—a rare behavior for me.

“Mofe, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

I swallowed hard and handed him my phone.

He took his time reading the message, scrolling carefully, checking the attached document. I kept studying his face, hoping he would laugh and say, “Ah! My love, I did this for you. It’s a surprise.” But instead, his face darkened. His eyebrows squeezed. His lips tightened.

“This thing is not making sense,” he said quietly.

That was when fear became real.

“If you didn’t apply for this T-Paper,” he continued, “and the sender refuses to pick their calls, this is suspicious. Something is not right.”

My heart sank deeper.

But then, I saw another expression on his face—something like jealousy mixed with sadness mixed with fear of losing me.

“Mofe,” he said and looked into my eyes, “is there someone… someone who may have done this for you?”

It felt like a sharp stone hit my stomach.

“What? No!” I almost shouted. “Why would you think that?”

He let out a tired sigh. “Because people don’t just send T-Paper to married women for free.”

His words cut me deeply.
I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me, but I also knew he was scared.

But before I could defend myself further, another message entered my phone. The timing was almost like the sender was watching us.

“Your flight will be delayed if you don’t confirm your sponsorship soon. Reply ‘YES’ to accept.”

Teramayo grabbed the phone immediately.

“Don’t reply anything!” he said. “Don’t click anything. Don’t send anything.”

I nodded, but my heart was beating too loud to think straight.

That night, I didn’t sleep. I kept turning on the bed, thinking of every possible person who could have done such a thing. Was it someone from my past? Someone who once admired me? Someone who wished to separate me from my husband? Someone who wanted to use me?

Or was it simply a scam?

But if it was a scam, why did they include my real details? Why send an official-looking document? Why address me directly? Why not ask for money immediately?

The questions refused to stop.

By 2 a.m., I had cried silently without even knowing tears were falling.

Teramayo pulled me close, wrapped his arms around me, and whispered, “We will solve this. Just don’t panic. And please… don’t hide anything from me.”

That last statement hurt more than the mysterious message.

I wasn’t hiding anything.
But something somewhere was definitely hiding from us.

And whoever sent that T-Paper—real or fake—was about to shake the peace of my home.

Little did I know that the worst was still ahead.
That the message I received was not just a mistake…
It was a trap.
A trap designed for me.
A trap that almost destroyed my marriage.
A trap that almost landed me in the R-Zone.

And the person behind it was someone I least expected.
Who sent the mysterious T-Paper?
Why did they have Mofe’s personal details?
And why does it feel like someone is secretly watching her next move?
Continue to Episode 2 on my website here👇
storytera.com/stories/129

Kindly like👍, share✔️ and comment✏️ your own view to this story🙏.
❤️‍🔥If you copy🚫 my story and paste⚠️ it on your own page, remember I sabi how to find and rèpørt⛔️ your pàge🤗.

NOTE TO READERS:
This is just episode 1 out of the full 5 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera.
Note: This is 100% Fictional, and not having resemblance to any true events or characters.

12/06/2025

What If the Maid You Employed Is Actually Looking for Your Husband?
Episode 1: The Silent Alarm That Mofe Ignored
I still remember the exact day she entered our home — the girl who would later shake the foundation of my peaceful marriage. Her name was Sewa. A quiet-looking girl with shy eyes and a voice so soft it almost disappeared into the air. NOTHING about her suggested danger. Nothing about her hinted that her real mission in my house was not just cleaning, cooking, or assisting me… but something far deeper and darker.

At least, that was what I thought.

I, Mofe, lived in a calm part of town with my husband, Teramayo. We had been married for four years, and life had been simple — sometimes stressful, but filled with love, laughter, and plans for the future. The only thing missing was a child. And because of the stress of work and monthly hospital runs, my doctor advised me to reduce stress at home. That was how the idea of employing a live-in helper started.

My friend Mariam recommended a girl from her church. She described her as humble, hardworking, gentle, and trustworthy. The way Mariam spoke about the girl, you would think she had found an angel walking barefoot on earth. I trusted her judgment. I didn’t even bother doing too many checks. I just needed relief.

The day Sewa came in, she greeted me with her knees on the ground, her face almost touching the tiled floor as she said, “Good evening ma.”

I smiled, relieved.

She looked innocent.

But innocence is sometimes a mask people wear when they enter your life quietly, intentionally, and dangerously.

That first night, everything seemed normal. I showed her around the house, allocated her chores, and gave her a small room beside the kitchen. She listened attentively, eyes lowered, nodding at everything I said. She even offered to wash the dishes immediately, even though I told her to rest.

But the first seed of warning was planted the next morning.

I woke up early to prepare breakfast, only to find her in the living room, already dressed in a clean gown that hugged her body too nicely for someone working as a house helper. I paused. Something in my chest tightened, a silent alarm I waved away too quickly.

“Why are you up so early?” I asked.

She smiled. “I wanted to help so you won’t stress yourself, ma.”

Her voice was soft… too soft. Like she was trying to melt into your emotions. But I refused to overthink.

When Teramayo came out of the room getting ready for work, she greeted him with a bowed head. But when she lifted her face to look at him, it was only for a split second… yet I saw it.

The look.

That quick scan women give a man when they want to size him up.

It was small. Subtle. So easy to dismiss.

Mariam once told me, “Women are naturally observant. But women with intentions? They observe with purpose.”

I should have remembered that.

Teramayo didn’t notice anything. He simply nodded and said, “Thank you.”

But Sewa’s eyes lingered just a moment too long.

I brushed it off again.

She’s just shy.

She’s just adjusting.

She’s just… innocent.

Days passed, and she blended into my home like she had lived there for months. She was helpful, obedient, and fast. She scrubbed, cleaned, arranged, and cooked as if she was trained for this all her life.

But little things kept pricking my attention.

One evening, I walked into the sitting room and found her watching Teramayo through the mirror while he ironed his shirt. She didn’t know I entered. Her eyes were fixed on him like she was studying him. I cleared my throat, and she jolted like she had been caught stealing.

“Ma, welcome.”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing ma. I was just looking around.”

But I had seen it.

Another day, I overheard her gently humming while she swept. It was a love song — one old Yoruba love tune my husband used to tease me with when we first started dating. How did she know that song? Why that song? Why that tone?

Still… I ignored it.

I didn’t want to be paranoid.

I didn’t want to be “that wife” who suspects every shadow around her husband.

Then came the morning I will never forget.

I had gone to pick something in the guest room when I heard faint voices near the dining area. I paused. I listened.

It was Sewa.

She was talking to someone on the phone, whispering — but not whispering enough.

“Yes, he’s nice… very nice… He is a good man. Any woman will fall for him. Even me…”

My heart froze.

The phone shook slightly in her hand as she giggled in a quiet, hushed tone.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” she added.

My chest tightened.

My breath stopped.

For a moment, the entire house felt distant — like I was standing underwater.

I wanted to believe I heard wrong. I wanted to believe it was a misunderstanding.

But deep down, a truth I wasn’t ready to face began to rise like smoke inside my stomach.

This girl…

This girl was not who she appeared to be.

Finally, that evening Teramayo returned from work. I watched her eyes as she greeted him. The way she held her smile just a little too long. The way her face softened when he walked past her. The way her body angled whenever he entered a room.

It was no longer subtle.

It was intentional.

I could feel hands trembling inside me. Fear? Anger? Jealousy? I didn’t know which one was louder.

But one thing was clear:

This girl had entered my home with a mission.
And I… I had opened the door for her.
What exactly did Sewa tell the person on the phone that day?
Why is she so interested in Teramayo?
And is she working alone… or is someone using her for something bigger?
To be continued in Episode 2 here right Now below👇:
https://storytera.com/stories/128 📺

Download the ebook📚 to read offline here:
https://storytera.com/products/128
Kindly like👍, share✔️ and comment✏️ your own view to this story🙏.
❤️‍🔥If you copy🚫 my story and paste⚠️ it on your own page, remember I sabi how to find and rèpørt⛔️ your pàge🤗.

NOTE TO READERS:
Read episode 2 to 12 in the link above.
This is just episode 1 out of the full 12 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera.
Note: This is 100% Fictional, and not having resemblance to any true events or characters.

12/05/2025

It was too late When I realized I had been making Love with my Twin brother 😱
Episode 1
My name is Joy, a 26-year-old lady from Oyo State, Nigeria. This is not just a story—it is my true life encounter, one that has haunted me for years. Even as I write this, my hands are shaking, my mind is replaying the images, and my heart is torn between shame, anger, and a deep scar that may never heal.

Growing up, my life was not smooth. My mother told me that I was the only surviving child after she lost my elder brother in an accident before I was even born. My father was a strict man, a man who believed in silence more than truth. Whenever I asked questions about our family history, I was told to keep quiet. "Not all questions deserve answers," my father would say.

I grew up thinking I was an only child. My childhood was lonely. I had cousins in Oyo, but my father always avoided family gatherings. He preferred we stayed in our own corner, away from extended family drama. I never understood why, until much later.

After secondary school, I got admission into a university in Benue State. That was where everything began. That was where I met "Emeka"—the man I would later discover was not just a stranger, not just a lover, but my blood, my twin brother.

When I first saw Emeka, I felt something strange. It was like my soul recognized him before my mind did. He was tall, with sharp eyes that looked like mine when I stared at the mirror. His smile carried a warmth I couldn’t explain. The first time we spoke, he said something that shook me: "You look familiar, like someone I used to know in my dreams."

We laughed about it, thinking it was just coincidence. But that feeling of connection never left me. Each time I looked at him, I felt both safe and restless. It was as if the universe was drawing me to him, but at the same time, whispering warnings I ignored.

Weeks turned into months. Emeka became my best friend. He was always there for me. When I struggled with assignments, he helped me. When I had malaria, he rushed me to the clinic. He knew my moods before I even spoke. People around campus began to tease us, calling us "couple goals." We laughed it off, but deep down, my heart was already entangled.

The night that changed everything came during a departmental party. There was music, laughter, and drinks everywhere. I didn’t take alcohol often, but that night Emeka handed me a cup and said, "Don’t worry, this one is light." Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t—I just knew I felt lightheaded after a while.

Emeka walked me back to my hostel. On the way, I held his hand. I don’t know if it was the drinks or the hidden emotions I had been suppressing, but my heart pounded uncontrollably. When we got to my room, I didn’t want him to leave.

He looked at me with those deep eyes, and without a word, we started what I can only call the beginning of my greatest regret. That night, I S!ept with him. At the time, it felt like love. It felt pure, natural, and destined. I thought I had found my soulmate. But little did I know, I had just crossed into a forbidden path.

After that night, we became inseparable. We were more than friends, more than lovers—we were everything to each other. He even introduced me to his "uncle" who lived in Makurdi. Something about that man’s look gave me chills. He stared at me too long, almost as if he knew me.

One Sunday afternoon, Emeka decided to travel with me to Oyo to meet my parents. I was excited because I wanted to show my family that I had finally found someone who completed me. I thought they would be proud of me.

But that journey exposed the dark truth.

The moment my mother saw Emeka at our doorstep, she froze. Her lips trembled, her eyes widened in shock, and she almost fainted. My father rushed out, and the look on his face was not just shock—it was fear, deep fear.

"Where did you meet him?" my mother asked me, her voice shaking.

"In school," I said, smiling. "This is Emeka, my boyfriend."

She screamed. Yes, screamed. "No! This cannot be! This is your blood! This is your twin brother!"

My world stopped. My ears rang. My chest tightened. I thought it was a joke. But my father sat me down and confessed everything.

I had a twin brother—Emeka. When we were born, my father secretly separated us. He gave Emeka away to his brother in Benue after a family quarrel, and told my mother he had died during childbirth. My mother was forced to believe him because she was too weak to argue after delivery complications.

All my life, I lived thinking I was alone, while my brother was growing up elsewhere, searching for love and identity. And fate, wicked fate, brought us together as strangers who fell into forbidden love.

Tears rolled down my face. My body trembled. I wanted to scream, to vanish, to wake up from a nightmare that felt too real. I realized I had been making "love" with my own twin brother.

My heart broke into pieces. My soul felt dirty. How could destiny be this cruel? How could ignorance lead to such abomination?

That day was the beginning of my pain, my scars, and my endless battle with guilt.

But wait—was this truly fate? Or was it my father’s hidden lies that cursed my destiny? 🤔
If you were in my shoes, how would you handle the truth that your lover is actually your twin?
Do you think my father was to blame for hiding such a heavy secret?
Is destiny cruel, or was I just careless to ignore the signs?
To be continued in Episode 2 here right Now below👇:

https://storytera.com/stories/60 📺

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NOTE TO READERS:
Read episode 2 to 3 in the link above.
This is just episode 1 out of the full 3 Episodes. All episodes are available for free on StoryTera.
Note: This is 100% Fictional, and not having resemblance to any true events or characters.

Tera Mayo Funny Storyteller

12/09/2025

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