29 days. 32 teams. 63 games. Only 1 winner. The 2025 FIFA Club World Cup gets underway 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰... 🍿🤩

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL PART 8 The apartment was dark, the air thick with the smell of stale tears and untouched meals. Grace had been lying on the cold floor for hours, her body weak, her mind drowning in regret. The phone, now silent, lay just inches from her limp fingers—the last connection to the family she had pushed away. Outside, the rain poured heavily, tapping against the window like desperate fingers trying to wake her. But Grace didn’t stir. Michael sat at the dining table in their home, staring at his untouched dinner. Sarah, Daniel, and little Joy were unusually quiet, their eyes downcast. "Dad," Sarah whispered, her voice trembling. "What if something’s wrong with Mom?" Michael’s chest tightened. He had called Grace a dozen times. Sent messages. Begged. But there had been no response. Not even a "leave me alone." Just silence. Too much silence. Daniel, always the observant one, spoke up. "What if she’s sick? Or… or hurt?" Michael’s hands clenched into fists. He had tried to respect Grace’s space, to give her time. But this—this silence—was different. Something was wrong. He stood abruptly, grabbing his car keys. "We’re going to check on her." The drive to Grace’s apartment felt like the longest of Michael’s life. The children sat in tense silence, their small hands gripping the seats. When they arrived, Michael knocked—once, twice, three times. No answer. His heart pounded. "Grace!" he called, banging harder. "Grace, open the door!" Still nothing. Panic clawed at his throat. He turned to the building supervisor, who, after seeing the fear in Michael’s eyes, quickly unlocked the door. The sight that greeted them shattered Michael’s heart. Grace lay crumpled on the floor, her skin pale, her lips cracked. Tears had dried on her cheeks, her eyes swollen from crying. "Mom!" Sarah screamed, rushing forward. Michael was at Grace’s side in an instant, lifting her frail body into his arms. She was burning up, her breathing shallow. "Call an ambulance!" he barked, his voice raw with fear. Little Joy burst into tears, clinging to Daniel as they watched their father cradle their mother, his own tears falling onto her face. "Grace," Michael whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "I’m here. We’re *all* here." The sterile white lights of the hospital buzzed overhead as doctors and nurses moved around Grace’s unconscious form. "Severe dehydration," one doctor said. "Extreme stress. Her body just… shut down." Michael sat by her bedside, his large hand wrapped around Grace’s small one. The children hovered close, their eyes wide with fear. Sarah, trying to be strong, wiped her tears and held Joy’s hand. "She’s gonna be okay," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Daniel, ever the quiet thinker, stared at his mother’s face. "Why didn’t she call us?" he asked softly. Michael swallowed hard. "Because she thought we didn’t want her anymore." The words hung heavy in the air. Grace’s eyelids fluttered open hours later, her vision blurry. The first thing she saw was Michael’s exhausted face, his stubble rough, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. Then—Sarah, Daniel, Joy. All staring at her with a mix of relief and lingering hurt. Grace’s breath hitched. They came for me. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as shame crashed into her. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. "I—I’m sorry…" Michael squeezed her hand gently. "Shhh. Don’t talk." Joy, unable to hold back any longer, climbed onto the bed and buried her face in Grace’s neck. "Don’t leave us again, Mama," she sobbed. Grace’s arms—weak as they were—wrapped around her baby, holding her tight. Sarah and Daniel joined, their warmth seeping into Grace’s cold bones. Michael leaned down, pressing a kiss to Grace’s forehead. "We never stopped loving you," he murmured. "We never *will*." Grace closed her eyes, letting their love wash over her. For the first time in months, the storm inside her stilled. Recovery was slow but steady. Michael took time off work, refusing to leave Grace’s side. The children took turns reading to her, bringing her favorite foods, filling the hospital room with laughter and life. One evening, as Grace sat propped up in bed, Michael handed her a cup of tea—just the way she liked it. Two sugars, a splash of milk. She smiled weakly. "You remembered." Michael sat beside her, his voice soft. "I remember everything, Grace." A pause. Then— "Pastor Gideon never came, did he?" Grace’s smile faded. She shook her head. Michael’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press. Instead, he pulled her closer. "You don’t need him. You have us" And for the first time, Grace believed it. As the days passed, Grace’s strength returned—not just physically, but emotionally. The panic attacks lessened. The nightmares faded. Because every time she woke in fear, Michael was there to hold her. Every time she doubted, Sarah was there to remind her, "We love you, Mom." Every time guilt threatened to swallow her, Daniel would slip his hand into hers, silent but steady. And Joy—her baby—would climb into her lap and whisper, "You’re my favorite person in the whole world." Grace had spent months believing she was alone. But her family had never left. Not really. The storm has passed now comes the sunrise TO BE CONTINUED...

Behold the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth much more the wicked and the sinner 🙏 Bless us Lord

The FIFA Club World Cup has had some big winners in the past 😳🏆

I marry early, just 20 years old. My husband na 24 that time. We love ourself well-well. E no even reach one month for our marriage, I don carry belle. We happy as young couple wey dey expect their first pikin. We prepare everything down for the baby. But na for delivery room my joy begin turn to pain. I labour for almost 3 days. When I finally born, na baby boy, but the baby come weak. Two hours later, my pikin d!e. I cry tire. My husband too cry. But we encourage ourself say, "We go try again." Six months later, I carry belle again. After 9 months — another stillbirth. Third belle, the same thing happen. Na so my family say, “This marriage no be for you. Come out, go complete your university.” But I refuse. I love my husband. I believe say better go still happen. Some people say na spiritual matter. We begin waka from church to prophet, prayer upon prayer. Prophet assure us say “This time, e go work.” I carry belle again, the fourth one. I born the baby, the baby even cry small, but by evening the baby d!e. Doctor call am “sudden infant death.” No explanation. Just fear. Na that period doctor advise say make we give gap before we try again. I tell my husband make we try adopt for now. Him agree. I call my cousin wey say she dey work for one motherless home. We give her over 1.6 million. Na so she dupe us carry money vanish. My husband vex. Say him no even believe for adoption before, na just to please me. Him say make I no ask am money again. I begin follow the matter spiritually again. Different prophecies, no solution. One day, my friend tell me about one doctor for East wey young girls dey born give away babies for money. Baby Boy na 1.5 million, girl na 1 million. She say e legit. I tell my husband, he say, "I no dey interestedand i no get any money to bring out." I go borrow money. I give my friend 600k as first payment. One week later, na online I see video of my friend—dem dey beat her say she thief her neighbor pikin wan carry come give me. I shock. My heart cut. I run go show my husband. He say, "Better no involve me for this matter" Next day, police land arrest me. My husband say, “Follow them go. I go get lawyer.” I call my family, dem say, “As you no hear word when we try rescue you, make Love bail you out now.” Just like play, I land prison. No lawyer. No family. My husband visit me only 3 times. After that, silence. My friend wey thief the baby, her people raise money bail her. She promise to help me too. Nothing happen. I stay 5 years for prison for matter I no understand finish. Just because say I want born, just because say I no get patience, just because say I trust wrong people. Different NGO dey come prison. Dem go give us food, tissue, pad — and hope. Many promise to help me after I share my story. But nothing come out. Until one day, one woman wey be women advocate listen to me. She promise to help. I no believe, but she really help me comot from jail. When I reach house, my husband don move. Don remarry with three children already. When I go see am, him say make I find peace. Say our fate no match. That day, I wan just disappear. I tell the woman wey help me. She say, “Come stay with me.” She encourage me. Enrol me back for catering school make I refresh my baking skills. From there I start my small baking business. But inside me, I still dey cry. I no even fit look mirror. I don lose shape, lose beauty, lose hope. One day, I go deliver wedding cake. As i reach the venue the people bounce me — say I no fit enter because I look “dirty.” That day, I cry reach house. I tell myself, “I go change this story.” I download Pinterest app, dey learn how to dress my body type. I watch make-up beginners videos. I start to buy small affordable good clothes. I begin dey apply simple makeup. I switch to skin care wey dey moisturize my skin. I begin see my beauty again. Customers begin notice. Begin compliment me. I start dey take pictures. I start dey smile. My self-confidence begin return. One day, I go deliver cake again. I dress well. The bride say I fine. Na there one man collect my number, say na for business. But na love him come find. Him fine, young, tall — and kind. I open up tell am everything. He say, “Your past no be your name. Let’s build something new.” Today, I don marry again. I don born two boys through CS operation. Dem survive. My first son na 4 years, second one 2 years. My husband say no need to born again — these ones complete us. And truly, I no need anything else again. I don finally become mama. Today I dey grateful say After all my tough challenges God still change my story. --- To every woman wey don carry belle with joy but return house empty-handed — this message na for you. The pain of stillbirth no be small thing. Na one deep wound wey only God fit understand. Sometimes you go dey ask, “Why me?” Sometimes the silence go loud, the tears go come uninvited. But make you hear this one: you never fail. Your womb no betray you. Your heart still be the heart of a mother. And even if the world no see your kind of pain, God see am, and He go still comfort you in ways wey go shock you. To the women wey don lose their self-esteem because dem no get money take take care of their body, or childbirth don change the way dem look — My sister, remember say your beauty no end for body. Start small, love yourself again, dress well, start with your budget, manage your weight if necessary. Self love dey build back self esteem You go rise again and glow in your own time. To the women wey their husband don abandon them — No carry your life hang for one person wey walk away. God never walk away from you. Stand up, dust your pain, start again. Look good, take care of yourself. You still fit laugh again, love again, and shine again. To Every Woman and Family wey dey fight silent battles — May God surprise you with joy wey go wipe all your secret tears. Amen. @highlight

When sinners are gathered for prayer 😁🤣😁

TREATMENT FOR FIBROID* Jigsimur is a good anti histamine medicine. To use jigsimur for treatment follow as below 1. First day: observe a complete 24 hours water fast. During this period you drink only water, about 8 to 10 sachets of water Second day: Drink 30 mls of jigsimur 6am on empty stomach, eat breakfast about 8 am, 30 mls after lunch 3pm and 30mls after dinner. Eat ur dinner about 7pm/7:30pm Repeat for five days and start drink twice daily. If you strictly adhere to above, with d diets and lifestyle changes, using two to four bottles of jigsimur, Fibroid will be taken care of. Note: Avoid chewing gum and sweet. Don't go back to your old eating habits else it will grow again. DM - 08068857039 or 09050357218

Dinner

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

I marry early, just 20 years old. My husband na 24 that time. We love ourself well-well. E no even reach one month for our marriage, I don carry belle. We happy as young couple wey dey expect their first pikin. We prepare everything down for the baby. But na for delivery room my joy begin turn to pain. I labour for almost 3 days. When I finally born, na baby boy, but the baby come weak. Two hours later, my pikin d!e. I cry tire. My husband too cry. But we encourage ourself say, "We go try again." Six months later, I carry belle again. After 9 months — another stillbirth. Third belle, the same thing happen. Na so my family say, “This marriage no be for you. Come out, go complete your university.” But I refuse. I love my husband. I believe say better go still happen. Some people say na spiritual matter. We begin waka from church to prophet, prayer upon prayer. Prophet assure us say “This time, e go work.” I carry belle again, the fourth one. I born the baby, the baby even cry small, but by evening the baby d!e. Doctor call am “sudden infant death.” No explanation. Just fear. Na that period doctor advise say make we give gap before we try again. I tell my husband make we try adopt for now. Him agree. I call my cousin wey say she dey work for one motherless home. We give her over 1.6 million. Na so she dupe us carry money vanish. My husband vex. Say him no even believe for adoption before, na just to please me. Him say make I no ask am money again. I begin follow the matter spiritually again. Different prophecies, no solution. One day, my friend tell me about one doctor for East wey young girls dey born give away babies for money. Baby Boy na 1.5 million, girl na 1 million. She say e legit. I tell my husband, he say, "I no dey interestedand i no get any money to bring out." I go borrow money. I give my friend 600k as first payment. One week later, na online I see video of my friend—dem dey beat her say she thief her neighbor pikin wan carry come give me. I shock. My heart cut. I run go show my husband. He say, "Better no involve me for this matter" Next day, police land arrest me. My husband say, “Follow them go. I go get lawyer.” I call my family, dem say, “As you no hear word when we try rescue you, make Love bail you out now.” Just like play, I land prison. No lawyer. No family. My husband visit me only 3 times. After that, silence. My friend wey thief the baby, her people raise money bail her. She promise to help me too. Nothing happen. I stay 5 years for prison for matter I no understand finish. Just because say I want born, just because say I no get patience, just because say I trust wrong people. Different NGO dey come prison. Dem go give us food, tissue, pad — and hope. Many promise to help me after I share my story. But nothing come out. Until one day, one woman wey be women advocate listen to me. She promise to help. I no believe, but she really help me comot from jail. When I reach house, my husband don move. Don remarry with three children already. When I go see am, him say make I find peace. Say our fate no match. That day, I wan just disappear. I tell the woman wey help me. She say, “Come stay with me.” She encourage me. Enrol me back for catering school make I refresh my baking skills. From there I start my small baking business. But inside me, I still dey cry. I no even fit look mirror. I don lose shape, lose beauty, lose hope. One day, I go deliver wedding cake. As i reach the venue the people bounce me — say I no fit enter because I look “dirty.” That day, I cry reach house. I tell myself, “I go change this story.” I download Pinterest app, dey learn how to dress my body type. I watch make-up beginners videos. I start to buy small affordable good clothes. I begin dey apply simple makeup. I switch to skin care wey dey moisturize my skin. I begin see my beauty again. Customers begin notice. Begin compliment me. I start dey take pictures. I start dey smile. My self-confidence begin return. One day, I go deliver cake again. I dress well. The bride say I fine. Na there one man collect my number, say na for business. But na love him come find. Him fine, young, tall — and kind. I open up tell am everything. He say, “Your past no be your name. Let’s build something new.” Today, I don marry again. I don born two boys through CS operation. Dem survive. My first son na 4 years, second one 2 years. My husband say no need to born again — these ones complete us. And truly, I no need anything else again. I don finally become mama. Today I dey grateful say After all my tough challenges God still change my story. --- To every woman wey don carry belle with joy but return house empty-handed — this message na for you. The pain of stillbirth no be small thing. Na one deep wound wey only God fit understand. Sometimes you go dey ask, “Why me?” Sometimes the silence go loud, the tears go come uninvited. But make you hear this one: you never fail. Your womb no betray you. Your heart still be the heart of a mother. And even if the world no see your kind of pain, God see am, and He go still comfort you in ways wey go shock you. To the women wey don lose their self-esteem because dem no get money take take care of their body, or childbirth don change the way dem look — My sister, remember say your beauty no end for body. Start small, love yourself again, dress well, start with your budget, manage your weight if necessary. Self love dey build back self esteem You go rise again and glow in your own time. To the women wey their husband don abandon them — No carry your life hang for one person wey walk away. God never walk away from you. Stand up, dust your pain, start again. Look good, take care of yourself. You still fit laugh again, love again, and shine again. To Every Woman and Family wey dey fight silent battles — May God surprise you with joy wey go wipe all your secret tears. Amen. #everyoneシ゚ #woman #virals #marriage

Winners repeat what most people resent. Successful people often keep doing the hard, boring, uncomfortable tasks that others avoid or dislike.

A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL PART 3 Grace stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking as she stared at the text on her phone. It was from Michael—short, cold, like always. "Working late. Don’t wait up." She had spent all afternoon preparing his favorite meal—peppered snail soup with fresh bread. The table was set, candles lit, the house smelling of spices and warmth. She had wanted to talk, to finally tell him how lonely she felt. How much she missed him. But now, the food would go cold. Again. Her fingers hovered over her phone. She wanted to type, "Please come home. We need to talk." But she knew what his response would be—silence. Or worse, annoyance. She took a deep breath and called him instead. The phone rang three times before Michael answered. In the background, she could hear laughter, glasses clinking. A restaurant. "Grace, I said I’m working," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation. Her heart pounded. "You’re not at the office." A pause. Then a sigh. "I had a business dinner. I didn’t think I needed to explain every little thing to you." Little thing. Those words cut deep. To her, it wasn’t little. It was another night alone. Another night where she felt invisible in her own marriage. "Michael…" Her voice cracked. "I made dinner. I wanted us to talk. We—we can’t keep living like this." Another pause. Then, "Grace, not now. I’ll be home late." And just like that, he hung up. Grace stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, the dial tone buzzing like a taunt. When Michael finally came home, hours later, Grace was waiting. The candles had burned out. The food was untouched. He walked in, loosening his tie, barely glancing at her as he headed for the stairs. "Michael," she said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk." He stopped, exhaling sharply. "Grace, it’s midnight. Can’t this wait?" No. It couldn’t. "Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away," she whispered, tears spilling over. "Do you even love me anymore?" Michael turned, his face unreadable. "This again? Grace, I’m tired. I work all day, and I don’t need this drama when I come home." Drama. That word shattered something inside her. "This isn’t drama!" she cried. "This is our marriage! You don’t talk to me, you don’t spend time with me—I feel like a ghost in my own house!" Michael’s jaw tightened. "What do you want from me, Grace? I provide for you. You have everything!" Everything except his love. Grace wiped her tears, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "I want my husband back." For a second, something flickered in Michael’s eyes—guilt? Regret? But then it was gone, replaced by cold indifference. "I don’t have time for this," he said, turning away. And just like that, he walked upstairs, leaving her standing there, broken. Grace didn’t sleep that night. By morning, her eyes were swollen, her heart raw. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen. So she went back to the only person who seemed to care—Pastor Gideon. In his office, Grace cried as she told him what happened. Pastor Gideon listened, nodding sympathetically. Then he leaned forward, his voice grave. "Sister Grace… I fear for your life." Grace froze. "What?" He sighed, shaking his head. "A man who treats his wife this way… it’s not just neglect. It’s spiritual warfare. The devil is using him to destroy you." Grace’s hands trembled. "But—but what do I do?" Pastor Gideon placed a hand over hers. "God is telling me… if you stay, you will die in that house. Not just your heart—your life." Grace gasped, her blood running cold. "The Bible says, ‘Come out from among them and be separate.’ You must leave, Sister Grace. Before it’s too late." Her mind spun. Leave Michael? After eighteen years? But the pastor’s words sank deep, feeding her fears. You will die if you stay. That evening, Pastor Gideon "coincidentally" ran into Michael at a charity event. "Brother Michael!" he greeted warmly, clapping him on the back. "How are you, my friend?" Michael, unaware of the pastor’s conversations with Grace, smiled. "Doing well, Pastor. Keeping busy." The pastor sighed sympathetically. "I actually wanted to speak with you. Your wife came to me recently… she’s been struggling." Michael’s smile faded. "Grace?" Pastor Gideon nodded. "She’s… very emotional. I’ve been counseling her to find peace in God’s word. Marriage is sacred, after all." Michael relaxed, grateful. "I appreciate that, Pastor. She’s been… difficult lately." The pastor smiled, hiding his deceit behind holy concern. "We’ll keep praying for you both." Meanwhile, Grace sat at home, staring at her wedding ring, wondering if removing it would save her life—or destroy it. TO BE CONTINUED...