Uchefada

10/04/2025

Part 3
I found love in foreign land.

A Different Malik.
After Malik, I told myself I was done with love.
Three kids, a heart worn thin by disappointment, and a life that seemed more about surviving than living—I couldn’t imagine opening myself up again. The thought of starting over felt exhausting, not exciting. I moved through my days on autopilot: working, mothering, existing.
But life, as always, had its own plans.
I met Ibrahim at a community event for immigrants—a gathering meant to foster connections, though I had only gone for the free childcare and a brief escape from the four walls of my home. He wasn’t like Malik. Where Malik was reserved and steady, Ibrahim was vibrant and talkative, always with a joke at the ready and a wide, inviting smile.
At first, I kept my distance. I didn’t want charm; I wanted peace. I wasn’t interested in butterflies or stolen glances—I wanted stability.
But Ibrahim wasn’t trying to romance me. He didn’t offer grand promises or poetic lines. Instead, he spoke about his struggles: the difficulty of balancing three part-time jobs, the loneliness of starting over at 40, and the sting of a marriage that had ended long before he left home.
We bonded over shared exhaustion—two people who weren’t searching for love but found solace in honest conversations. No masks, no pretences—just raw, unfiltered reality.
It started with small things: him offering to help fix my leaking kitchen tap, me packing an extra sandwich for him when we both worked late shifts. There was no rush, no pressure—just a quiet companionship that grew stronger with time.
When he finally told me he had feelings for me, I didn’t know how to respond. My heart, still tender from Malik’s betrayal, hesitated. But Ibrahim didn’t push.
"I know you’ve been hurt," he said softly. "I’m not asking you to forget—I’m asking if you’re willing to heal with me."
And so, I let him in—not as a savior, but as a partner. Someone who understood that love wasn’t always a blazing fire—it could be a steady ember, warm and constant.
Of course, the world had opinions. My mother, upon hearing about Ibrahim, sighed heavily over the phone.
"Another man already? Be careful, my daughter. You have children to think about."
Friends whispered, too—some out of concern, others out of curiosity. "Are you sure he’s not just using you to get settled?" "What if he’s another Malik in disguise?"
Their doubts didn’t surprise me. After all, I had my own.
But Ibrahim stayed. Through the late-night hospital runs with the kids, through my moments of doubt and fear, through the days when I couldn’t see past my own scars—he stayed.
Then, life threw me an unexpected curveball.
At a routine parent-teacher meeting at my children’s school, I saw him—Malik. The first Malik. He was standing at the entrance, talking to one of the teachers, his head tilted slightly the way it always did when he was listening intently. My heart, traitorous as ever, skipped a beat.
We exchanged polite greetings at first, co-parenting cordiality at its finest. But then, one meeting led to another. A shared concern about our eldest struggling with math. A brief conversation about a school event. And suddenly, it wasn’t just about the kids anymore.
It was the way he offered me his chair when the room was full, how he remembered that I liked my coffee black with a hint of sugar. It was the familiar softness in his voice when he spoke to me, the quiet glances when he thought I wasn’t looking.
One evening, after a long discussion about the children’s summer activities, he stopped me as I was about to leave.
"You look tired," he said, his hand lightly brushing my arm. "Are you okay?"
And just like that, the wall I had carefully built around my heart cracked again.
The memories of the man I first fell in love with—the man who once walked me home in the rain and gave me his jacket without a word—came rushing back.
Slowly, we reconnected. It wasn’t dramatic or sudden—it was a series of small moments that reignited something I thought was long gone. Regretfully, I found myself drifting from Ibrahim. He noticed, of course—he always noticed everything.
One evening, I finally told him.
"I’m sorry, Ibrahim," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I didn’t mean for this to happen."
His eyes, kind as ever, held mine for a long moment before he nodded softly.
"I just want you to be happy," he replied. "Even if it’s not with me."
Now, as Malik and I cautiously rebuild what we once had, I find myself thinking about Ibrahim often—not with regret, but with gratitude. He reminded me that love could be gentle, that my heart could still feel.
And so, I’ve made it my mission to find someone for Ibrahim. He deserves a woman who sees him for the steady, patient man he is—a woman ready to love him the way he once tried to love me.
Because sometimes, a different Malik isn’t meant to be your forever—but he can still be a beautiful part of your story.

to be continued...

27/03/2025

Continuation....

I Found Love in a Foreign Land When I Wasn’t Even Looking.
PART 2

When Love Fades in a Foreign Land.
For a while, we were a team—Malik and I. We braved the cold mornings, celebrated small victories, and built a life that felt sturdy, if not spectacular. Love didn't feel like an escape; it felt like a steady hand guiding me through the storms.
Then came the children—three of them, each a blessing, each a test. The sleepless nights blended into exhausting days. Our dreams, once aligned, started to drift. I poured myself into motherhood, while Malik threw himself into work, both of us too tired to notice the widening gap between us.
Conversations became transactional: "Did you pay the rent?" "What time is the parent-teacher meeting?" "We need more diapers." The quiet moments we once shared were replaced with the relentless noise of responsibility.
And somewhere along the line, Malik stopped being the man who noticed when I hadn’t eaten. I stopped being the woman who waited for him to offer his jacket.
He began staying out later, first claiming overtime shifts, then "meeting friends." I didn’t question it at first—after all, we both needed an escape. But then came the unspoken truths. The coldness in his voice when he spoke to me. The way he no longer touched me when he came home. The locked phone, the unfamiliar perfume on his shirt.
When I confronted him, his response wasn’t anger—it was indifference.
"What do you want me to say?" he muttered one night when I asked why he hadn’t come home until 2 AM.
I didn’t have an answer. I just wanted him to care.
The love that once crept in softly, without warning, was now slipping away just as quietly. No loud fights, no dramatic exits—just a slow, painful unraveling.
And when I told my mother, her words cut deeper than I expected.
"I told you to marry before you traveled," she said. "Maybe then, this wouldn’t have happened."
But I know better now.
Love doesn’t fail because you married too early or too late. It doesn’t crumble simply because you’re in a foreign land. It withers when both people stop choosing each other—day after day, moment after moment.
So, if you ever find love abroad, nurture it. Not just in the beginning, when it’s easy—but when life becomes heavy and hearts grow tired. Because love, no matter where you find it, needs more than a spark—it needs a steady flame.

to be continued next week

08/03/2025

I Found Love in a Foreign Land When I Wasn’t Even Looking.

My mother always said, "Marry before you travel. It’s safer that way." She wasn’t the only one. Everyone around me seemed to echo the same advice. My aunts, my older cousins—people who barely knew me but felt entitled to weigh in on my life—insisted that a woman should secure a husband before stepping onto foreign soil. To them, marriage was a shield, a safeguard against the loneliness and dangers of being alone in a new country.
But love was the last thing on my mind when I arrived in the UK. Survival came first.
I stepped off the plane with two suitcases and a heart full of anxiety. The dream of a better life felt heavier than my luggage. There were bills to pay, a job to find, and a future to build from scratch. Every day was a struggle to stay afloat—juggling shifts at a supermarket, attending night classes, and trying not to crumble under the weight of homesickness.
Love? It felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford.
Besides, I had seen too much heartbreak around me. Friends who moved abroad and married in haste, only to discover their spouses were strangers in the worst ways. Men who once seemed kind turned cold under the pressure of starting over. Women who became shells of themselves, bearing the brunt of both financial strain and emotional neglect. I didn’t want to be another cautionary tale.
And then, there was the fear.
The world had changed. Traditional ask-outs were no longer simple or safe. Too many stories of harassment had made women, including me, wary of random advances. A man offering to buy you a drink wasn’t romantic—it was a red flag. A stranger asking for your number didn’t feel flattering—it felt like a risk. Romance had become complicated, tangled in the ever-growing need to protect yourself.
So, I kept my head down, my heart guarded.
Then I met Malik.
It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t even like at first sight. He was a colleague at the café where I worked part-time—polite but distant, more focused on his tasks than small talk. I appreciated that. There were no awkward flirtations, no pressure. Just two people trying to survive in a foreign land.
But over time, something shifted.
It was in the quiet moments—the way he offered to cover my shift when I was too tired to stand, the way he noticed when I hadn’t eaten and shared his lunch without a word. It was the way he respected my space, never pushing, never assuming.
One evening, after a long shift, we found ourselves walking home in the rain. I remember shivering, and without hesitation, he took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders. No grand gesture. No expectations. Just simple kindness.
"You don’t have to do that," I whispered.
"I know," he replied. "But I want to."
That was the moment something cracked open in me.
Our love didn’t explode—it unfolded. Gently, carefully. We built something solid in the midst of chaos. He understood my fears, my hesitations. He didn’t try to "conquer" me or "sweep me off my feet"—he stood beside me, matching my pace, letting trust grow slowly.
When I told my mother about Malik, she was silent for a long time.
"You should’ve married before you left," she finally said.
"I did, Mama," I replied softly. "I just didn’t know it then."
Looking back, I realize that love doesn’t always come when you’re searching for it. Sometimes, it finds you when you’re focused on building yourself. It slips quietly into your life—not as a distraction but as a companion.
So, if you ever feel the pressure to marry before you pursue your dreams abroad, remember this:
Love doesn’t have to be rushed or forced. It can bloom even in the most unexpected places—like a rainy walk home or a shared meal during a tough shift. It can survive the weight of survival.
And most importantly, it can wait until you’re ready.

TO BE CONTD

゚viralシ ゚viralシfypシ゚viralシalシ

24/02/2025

One of the biggest scam is trying to attain financial freedom before starting a family. You might raise emotional absent family.

16/02/2025

12/02/2025

What's are they sharing that side? Owu ukwa?

04/02/2025

I want to believe you o but Evidence don come outside

01/02/2025

Title: RESURFACED. Mistake of DNA test.

About that time, we were approaching the end of second quarter financial year, we had earlier gotten a tip off that auditors will be visiting soon and I didn’t want to let the board down as it was my first financial year as the MD. My doggedness they said they have seen, but they also want to see me translate it into figures for the company “…you don’t need to work hard but work smart, let your hard work translate to figures, that’s what pays the bills around here” the CEO Chief Ibeku told me on one occasion. So, for me it’s both fight for survival and one to defend the gender as I was the first female MD and everyone was patiently expecting me to fail.
One Saturday, we all went to the office to fix our books, sort the files and records for audit purposes. While filing and un-filing with my financial team, my mood just changed. Amid all that restlessness, like someone just shoved my head into a bucket full of my worries unexpectedly, my entire misfortune dawned on me. I gently told them to continue while I rest a little in my office telling them am down with headache. They all sympathized with me while Philip opted that I can retire home while they finish but I disagreed, “No, dear, we need to do this together…” I said, “I will be fine if I rest a little ok” I told him while he nodded in affirmation I tapped his back and headed towards my office. I got inside sat on the center rug and closed my eyes, my childlessness issue popped up first, this is like the compendium of my worries. The misery it has put me through is a horror movie on its own; rigorous medical tests and experiments that has given me trauma, sleepless nights with excruciating pains that go for days and weeks. Then my husband who for some time now hasn’t been the angel of my life like he used to, now has issues with everything I do. I complain of the pains I feel after the medical tryouts but he sees it like I don’t want to even put up a fight. Honestly,some of these tests has them inserting stuffs inside me, hanging my legs in the air or spreading them far wider than necessary for hours, most times leaving me with cuts and agony yet he feels am not doing just enough. Most times after each session I walk slowly with weird posture like someone learning how to walk anew or a woman with a dislocated joint, I get home cry all night, go for days without food yet my husband feels I need to do more. Any day I mistakenly miss my medication or skip hospital appointment, all hell breaks loose. Be it work or any reason at all, the house will be so unbearable,the whole neighbors will know. He doesn’t beat me at all but the shouts drive me nuts. He makes side comments like “…and people will be thinking that a man is not shooting well or don’t know how to shoot…”, “when I can easily take another wife i am wasting my time here with you and you are just there no efforts!” these words break my soul. Then the pressure from both my husband’s family on childlessness issue, my own family for money was just hitting me from all angles without anyone shielding me and to crown it all I was facing my biggest challenge as at the time in the office. It was too much and I was all alone in this fight no confidant no not one, just me and my God who seemed to be too busy to listen to me as at the time. I was going crazy and to be frank su***de came to mind occasionally but taking my life or giving up is something I wasn’t born with.
As all was flooding through my head like a current with the capacity to power a 5star hotel, I broke down in tears. I didn’t want my staff to see me like that so I locked the door, increased the volume of TV set and cried out heavily. Ngozi came around and knocked but I didn’t open up, I took my time to cry it all out and slept off cuddling my knee. I woke up to another knock on the door I checked the time it was past 6. I swiftly rose went to my laptop closed it dragged the door open thinking they have all gone but to my surprise they were all there waiting for me. “oh gosh am sorry guys, I dozed off…you guys should have woken me up like yesterday already…” I was still apologizing and pitying them for keeping them. Ngozi replied “its ok ma, we know you needed the rest so we decided to give you little time more time” “aww… am grateful, I appreciate your understanding”.
After we left the office, I got home feeling so light,went into the kitchen took all the food in the freezer and microwaved it,made myself something and before my husband could come back I already slept off. He honked at the gate and I woke up, he came in took his shower joined me on the bed. I asked if he was going to eat but he didn't answer me he just turned me over did his thing and dozed off. Well, that has been his routine for a while now too, we hardly talk just the monosyllable words and answer except when there is an issue. Making love is a thing of the past he just uses me, when he is done I clean up and sleep. There was a time it was a pain point for me but these days I have taken my fate the way I see it.
The following day I called Phillip to meet me so we could continue our report for audit, I pleaded with him to excuse my encroaching into his personal time and promised to pay him for it. Around 2pm I got to the office he was already there, this time it was just the two of us. We worked and gisted about things ranging from customers to fellow team members we were laughing when the tempo reduced a little. He brought up the event of yesterday, asking to know what happened. "... Ma I want to ask you something..." he started "... Please don't be offended and I know it's not in my place to ask but just thought I should ask maybe there is a way I can help..." I knew where he was going but pretended "oh no it's OK go ahead ask me anything it's fine... " I assured "Ma, erh Ma..." he stammered a little bit " it's about yesterday, why were you crying? I really felt terrible, if it's this audit thing just forget it, we can conquer it.. " "oh.." I chuckled "... It's not office dear its personal, my childlessness is really getting to me..." I gradually poured out everything that has been bothering me to him, of course it didn't happen without tears. Before I could finish I found myself in his arms both of us sitting on the couch, I haven't felt that warmth in a long while "... oh God where has this shoulder been all my life" I wondered. The I felt this strong urge to make love to him, but I needed an alliby I started by telling him how there was a chance that my husband might be the problem.
Before I met and married Charles, I got involved with a guy who got me pregnant and when I took it to him he promised to kill me if I ever mention it to anyone. I was in school then so I didn't visit home for over four months so my mum won't find out, I didn't take any drug or meet anyone for abortion as I wasn't ready to answer a killer but I prayed fervently for it to go out but instead it kept growing. Later after I decided to go to the clinic to check it out and keep the child, the doctor told me I was lucky to have come, that the child was already dead ,I have killed it with prayers (in Igbo) was what came out of my mouth as I sank to the ground in tears. After there they did some stuffs to me to bring out the remains, he said if it had stayed longer that I would have lost my womb alongside. When we got married or even before he asked about my past and I came plain with it, told him exactly how it happened and he didn't see it as much to worry about and neither did I until this childless thing started getting everybody worried. To make matters worse,most physicians we visit keep asking me if I have conceived before when I explain, they make assertions that it could be the reason for my childlessness and Charles will get furious like it's the first time he was learning about it. So with that he thinks it's my fault and not his, tells me stories of how he got 3 girls pregnant when he was in the world and all so apparently it's me the bad egg. Though the physicians keep saying it's not a dead end so they keep recommending drugs and tests but there is no evidence that it's working.
After narrating all to Phillip i proceeded to the next stage giving him responsibility and title "... I would have wanted another person to try but as am talking to you right now, you are the only matured male person closest to me. And I want you to do it for me..." he gently lifted me off his shoulder, looked at me " do what??... No I can't" he explained how he swore never to be with a married woman because he doesn't want his wife to cheat. I explained that his wife cheating is not as a result of him cheating with married women. Even if you don't do married women, if your wife wants to cheat she will and it's how you treat your wife that will make her cheat or not,it doesn't depend on your past. I kept appealing to his conscience asking him to prove me wrong, I want to be sure I am a barren woman, let me just confirm that my husband is indeed wasting his time with me and so on. At a point I felt he was going to give in as I noticed his stock rising, I stretched to touch it but he shoved me aside stood up and headed for the rest room. I took a very heavy breath in and out then stood up and followed him to the rest room. I got to the waiting lobby and stood , immediately he came out he saw me I was already half clad, and still begging. At a point he just had to give in, he took me round the clock like 3times that day and emptied every single drop inside me.
The next day being Monday we resumed and throughout that week we worked as usual though I was happier and more fulfilled, I also didn't notice any change of attitude or insubordination from him so for the one off transaction I was good, or so I thought. The next week was the week of the auditors so it got us the financial team closing real late, especially Philip and I. Philip will first indicate he was leaving, then go to the broken toilet and lock himself up ,when others leave I will go and meet him there for a closing remark then take him to his house before retiring home. I wasn't really expecting any miracle because I was in sin, so I was just catching fun which came out well. I celebrated with the team at a hotel close to office after the Auditors had left and we performed very well and there as we were al drinking and eating Philip called everyone's attention and announced his resignation. I was devastated and broken "why won't my joy just last a little longer?" I was shocked to my bone marrow as I never saw it coming, he thanked everyone , asked me to forgive him for not saying it earlier that he didn't want anyone to discourage him and all. I tried to hold my tears but I couldn't ,I hugged him lightly to avoid suspicions and we all drank but I was restless throughout the remaining minutes we stayed there. I dropped him by his house and followed him to his apartment for the first time, cried and begged him to reconsider but he didn't. I told him I was sorry because I know I was the one pushing him away with our affair then I wished him well, held him tight kissed him vigorously and in seconds we were passionately riding each other and after a while we cooled off, i took my bath there wore my cloths and headed home.
After three months I saw his pictures on Facebook, he had traveled out of the country to further his education at least that's what he told me. So I forgot about Philip, I went back to my shell and boring routine. I didn't want to involve another person; it was too risky so I was left with my husbands pattern. Within that period, I have been feeling very ill and unnecessarily fat. My mind didn't cross pregnancy, I was still on my medications and since I started it, it has a way of making my cycle skip or come late at times. When I first noticed it I was happy and went for a confirmatory test for pregnancy but was disappointed when it came out negative and the doctor said it could be the medications that are altering the frequency. So subsequently I didn't bother about it anymore if I see I take if not I leave. So this time I had to go for a malaria and typhoid test as that's the commonest sickness in this region but I was shocked that I was 3months gone.
My joy that day knew no bounds, I was shouting on top of my voice and jumping up, am sure the hospital wondered the mad woman that has visited them that day. I never thought of who the father was as one thing was certain, I wasn't a barren woman like my mother in-law will always refer to me as. As I was driving home, I got a text from my husband telling me to come home immediately that his mother was around; our house was just down the Allen River, 35mins drive from where I was and normal me will just ignore the message but it felt like the best place to be at that time so I can collectively shame them and take a picture of the shock that will be on their faces when I drop the bomb. I was already arranging the kind of sarcasm I was going to use on my mother in-law especially and few for his son my so called husband. When I drove into the compound holding my letter in my hand, immediately I shifted the curtain and entered the room I saw a young pregnant woman on the same outfit with my husband,I was dumbfounded I kept swallowing my own saliva, as my legs gummed to the ground. The scene seemed like they returned from somewhere I was still analyzing the situation when my husband took the floor " Erh Beatrice this woman here is Tochi, I have just taken her as a second wife..." I tried to cut in "... You have what? …." I didn't even finish my question when his mother stood up " if you open your mouth again here I will use a slap and close it for you..." as everyone beckoned on her to calm down. My husband continued"... Don't interrupt me again please... Ehe I was saying we are just returning from their place and she is pregnant for me as you can see due in few weeks’ time... this is just for your information, process it carefully. I didn't have the mind to say anything else I just turned and entered the car and zoom off.
Getting to a hotel, tears came again but I pushed it away alongside the depression, I wasn't going to let them put me down again not after I have been certified pregnant. I got home that day filled with mixed feelings joy and sadness, we worry mostly that he gave up on us. Just 5years he already gave up, well I don’t blame him totally , some men will not even wait that long, family pressure helped make it more difficult. Around the fourth week she was due then mine was very visible . At first when my husband began to notice it, he was lost between two worlds, he couldn’t get himself to eat his words. He was bold enough to ask me one day when I came out from the bathroom but I didn’t answer him, I shoved him away and went on. He of cause couldn’t manage staying with two pregnant women .He invited his younger sister Uzoh; oh I love that one she tried to encourage me on intervals
and I will in turn shower her with gifts. So Uzoh took care of us, Tochi gave birth to a girl Abigail and months later I gave birth to a boy Kelvin who I fondly call Angel. We all celebrated and somehow joy permanently returned to my household.
I started seeing the man I married again, though the love was now shared but I was grateful and fulfilled. We moved to a bigger place everyone somehow knew their place and we lived all happy, I didn’t bother with DNA test as I wasn’t ready to find out something I couldn’t handle. Since he was capable of impregnating Tochi he probably impregnated me too, let’s just say the medications and prayers finally paid off. After 2years Tochi gave birth to another Girl Lizzy then Mike but I was yet to see another fruit of the womb. It gave me concern but angel is my consolation price, and being the heir gave me more comfort and cherished him to the moon and back.
Ten years later Abigail slowly became continuously sick, we battled to save her but she eventually kicked the bucket. The incident of her death brought more questions and controversy. The doctors diagnosed the cause of her death to be sickle cell anemia, but the argument is; while her mother was a carrier, my husband’s genotype is AA. It only meant one thing, Abigail wasn’t his child. Further query brought to light that Mike and Lizzy weren’t his too they were all sickles. Tochi after much pressure confessed to a running affair with Kingsley her boyfriend before and after the marriage. During this period my world was just contrasting against me, my alibi has disappeared, I am next in line to be exposed because it seemed more possible that my son wasn’t his child too? The humiliation that woman faced both in his hand and in the village is better imagined that experienced. I am more scared now than ever, am sure I am seating on a time bomb and it will most likely consume me when it explodes. I was praying fervently and begging God with all I have that he doesn’t consider DNA test for Angel, the genotype was a possibility so it didn’t raise any suspicion, but the second and most important part of my prayer was never to see Philip again let alone confronting me for Angel’s paternity.
My husband died few days after Angel’s 16th Birthday, we travelled for the burial and came back, the lawyer visited and my husband’s properties were willed to Angel while mike and Lizzy were given N500,000 entrust to be in my custody till they turn 18yrs. He also added in his will that Mike and Lizzy are at liberty to return to their father, I wasn’t happy with my husband’s death but it came with a little relief and a breath of fresh air. Anyway the reason for this long story is last week my greatest fear cut me off guard; at a time when I thought my worries were over, my fear disappeared and my secret going down with me to the grave, Philip Resurfaced. The shock I got the day i laid my eyes on him can be likened to one you get when you see a ghost. It would have been better if I saw my dead husband than seeing Philip again. I wasn’t happy to see him at all and he didn’t disappoint me with his utterance “I came back for my son Angel”. I tried to dissuade him giving him reasons why Angel wasn’t his but he was ready to fight by all means available. The very loyal and humble Philip has grown wild I couldn’t believe it, he even threatened legal action saying I took advantage of him. The only way he would let go was a paternity test and subjecting Angel to it alone was going to make him see me as an unfaithful mother, I won’t want that but seems all odds are against me. I was going to lose everything I have worked for all my life. Firstly, if my husband’s people get to know about Philip, they will accuse me of infidelity and the reason for their brother’s death and there was a chance my Angel will be taken away meaning I will lose my place in their family and in my son’s life…sundered from all sides oh God.
I had to come to terms with the situation, called Angel and spoke with him extensively, God gave me a very intelligent boy; his intelligence can be likened to that of Philip and that scared the s**t out of me. I pleaded with him that despite the outcome of the test I am going to contest for his custody and he should agree to stay with me which he accepted whole heartedly. I Selected the hospital for the test, we went there did the test and it came negative but of course I made moves to manipulate the test which I paid 2milion naira for. We rejoiced but Philip won’t have it as he went further to request for a confirmatory test which will be in a hospital he will choose. I made moves to manipulate it again but I couldn’t reach it and I didn’t know Philip’s contact there so I didn’t want to make matters worse,so I let it slide and was now building a case for custody.
The day came we all waited the tension was very high with my heart beating twice the normal rate in a minute. Soon the doctor entered, handed over the confirmatory test result to our lawyer, it was again negative. I was so happy; my excitement was boundless. I jumped up and hugged my son very tight, I looked at Philip disgustingly and left with my son, with everybody wondering why I reacted more now than before. Philip later came by the office to apologize the way he handled things despite my mourning period, explained he has given birth to 4girls and no male seems to be forth coming and he had no option than to look to my direction,having in mind all these while the suspicion that Angel might be his. Well am glad and grateful to mighty God it went the way it did.
Fresh out from the stables of MEGA MENTALITY PRODUCTIONS
MrBOND.