I asked my husband to give me some money to make my hair but he told me he didn't have much on him, so he gave me just #2,500. I was so ángry with him. We have been married for a year and each time I asked him for money, he would always give me an amount that would not be sufficient for what I needed it for.

I had not gotten a job since I relocated to his place after the wedding, so I wasn't financially buoyant. I only lived on the stipends my husband gave me monthly which wasn't even enough to cater for my personal needs. As at that time, I was already six months pregnant.

"What will I do with #2,500? I told you I want to braid my hair. The attachment alone is 6k. My hairdresser will collect at least 4,500 to make the hair. What will I do with this money?" I asked angrily.

"Babe, you should understand how much I'm struggling to take care of expenses in this house. The money I spent on our wedding ceremony has really affected me because I exhausted all my savings. The fact that I'm still able to put down money in this house is because of the soft loan I get from work every month. I've told you about this before. Please, bear with me. It's just a season in time. We will soon get over it." My husband pleaded.

"Bear with me! Bear with me! This is what you say all the time! What kind of hair will I make with 2,500?" I hissed angrily and walked out of the house.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. I went straight to my hairdresser's shop but unfortunately, she was not around. Her shop was locked. I was disappointed.

"Where on earth did this one go to on a weekend like this?" I wondered.

I didn't want to go back home without making my hair, so I decided to try the other hairdresser who was on the third street to my house. I have never made my hair there but I once heard my neighbour mention that she was good at making nice styles... I just wanted to avoid going back home to my husband because I was still very ångry with him.

I got to the salon and thankfully, only one customer was on seat. She was almost done making her hair. I greeted the hairdresser and she offered me a seat.

"Mama Ibeji (a name pregnant women are usually called), will you like to have some water? The sun is hot." The hairdresser offered.

"No... I'm fine, thank you." I declined politely.

The lady making her hair came with a friend. They both continued gisting as the hairdresser continued with the lady's hair.

Few minutes later, I heard the lady who came with her friend say,

"Hey, Salome, see the guy I've been talking about. He's the one driving that car."

The lady making her hair quickly turned her neck to peep through the door and I followed her gaze to see the person being talked about. I was surprised to see my husband, driving slowly past the shop. He slowed down the vehicle as he approached the bump that was across the road.

"That is the guy..." The lady continued. "There is nothing I have not done to attract his attention but he would not even give me a second of his time. Every evening, he visits his friend's shop and they would gist till he would later go home. Since the day I met him there, I've been coming to that man's shop every evening just to make friends with this guy but he never gave me the attention I desire. He would just greet me and carry his face. His friend told me he's married and I'm like, so what? Does that mean he shouldn't make friends with other ladies? Sincerely, I envy his wife. His attitude made me believe that there are still married men who are still faithful to their wives." The lady concluded.

I was shocked... Shocked was an understatement. The guy being talked about was my husband. My lawfully wedded husband! I blinked my eyes severally... I continued to listen to their conversation. The other lady making her hair replied,

"I think his wife gives him peace of mind at home. That is one thing that could make the man so focused on his wife... I mean, what other reason would have made him ignore a beautiful lady like you?"

"I agree with you." The hairdresser spoke for the first time since the conversation started.

None of these ladies knew that the man who just drove past was my husband. I couldn't speak. I watched them argue about whether his wife gives him good s3x, good food or peace of mind at home... They were arguing about me and they didn't know!

I questioned myself if truly I gave my husband any of these three things and if I would be sincere with myself, I wouldn't score up to 50% in each because I knew I could nag! If there's an award for nagging, I should get one. I don't make nice delicacies for my husband either and talking about our s3xual life, it has been epileptic since I got pregnant.

"There are still faithful men, sincerely." The hairdresser's voice cut into my thoughts.

"I wish that guy is mine!" The other lady who wasn't making her hair exhaled.

"God forbid!" I said spontaneously.

They all turned their eyes to my direction.

"What's that?" The lady asked.

"Oh no... I just got a message from someone. I didn't know I was so loud." I l¡ed.

I was sweating where I sat. Before I got to the hairdresser's shop, my husband had called me twice but I refused to pick up because I was still ångry. I picked my phone instantly and dialled his number,

"Babe, I did not see you at your usual salon. Where are you making your hair? I've been calling you, but you didn't pick up." My husband asked as soon as he picked my call.

I gave him the description of the salon where I was.

"Okay. I'm coming there right away." He replied.

In less than three minutes, my husband arrived. He parked his car and entered the salon. The lady who was crushing on my husband was excited to see him.

"The guy is coming here!" She whispered excitedly.

I watched as she set her seductive eyes on my husband. As he opened the transparent glass door, I walked up to him and he gave me a hug. The ladies were shocked, likewise the hairdresser. They could not look at me in the eye. The fumbled with their phones as my husband planted a kiss on my forehead.

There was a perfect silence as my husband and I chatted on.

Soon, the lady got through with her hair and they left the salon shamefully... My husband was the only one that didn't know what was happening.

"Madam, which hairstyle are you making?" The hairdresser asked me, trying to use a fake smile to cover up what just happened.

"I'm okay with a simple cornrows style, please." I replied.

In less than an hour, I was done. I paid the hairdresser and I asked my husband to take me to the neighbourhood market. I added some money to the balance from the money my husband gave me for the hair and I got some pepper soup ingredients with goat meat.

We went back home and I made a nice delicacy for my husband who was surprised at my sudden change of action. He had earlier come to the salon to keep my company and appease my ånger. He was marvelled to see me loving up on him and making him some pepper soup.

In the night, I gave him the best bedroom treat he hadn't accessed from me in a long time. He was so happy that he bought me a fashionable bag and a pair of shoes the following day.

"Where did you get the money to buy these?" I asked him happily.

"I don't mind taking more soft loans at work to make you happy. Last night was a memorable one!" He smiled brightly as I tried the shoes on.

Since that day, I never took my husband for granted again. I stopped nagging around the house and I was contented with whatever amount he gave me to cook or do other things.

I don learn my lesson, biko. The husband I felt was not doing enough was another person's prayer point.

He is the perfect man I ever wanted from God. He is my imperfect perfection.

I hope you learnt something from my story. Value what you have, some don't have it!

:
:

A Fiction
#fyp #fypシ゚viralシfypシ゚viralシalシ

Moyosore Teniola

Dear God,
as July begins, fill our hearts with hope and our lifes purpose. Guide us, bless us,and grant us strength to overcome challenges. May this month bring us closer to our goals, and may we radiate love, kindness, and positivity. Amen and Amen

"Blessednewmonthtous"

"My wife aband0ned me when I was bãnned from football and l0st my Fame. She was only there for the Money and Fame." Paul Pogba

"I realized how empty and meaningless when I was bãnned from football for 4-years. Immediately I stopped being Pogba the rich famous player, people started avoiding me. The w0rst thing which still breaks my heart today was even my own wife abandoned me. Everyone who used to invite me to their fashion events and stuff like that said: «Pogba is of no use now.»
That was a good sit back for me to see my true friends. And my wife proved she never loved me. But I'm very happy now because my phone doesn't ring with fãke friends again. I now know I'm on my own in life." ~ Paul Pogba

Most times, people are just drawn to you because of your success.
Don't live your life trying to please others because no one actually cares

Learn or perish the choice is yours:

Stay putinized.

13 DESTINY KILLERS MEN IGNORE UNTIL IT'S TOO LATE

This is the raw, undiluted truth you didn’t know you needed.
Forget village people — you’re doing yourself in.

Let’s go:

1️⃣ WOMEN, WOMEN, AND WOMEN AGAIN.
Yes, three times for emphasis.
Most men ruin their lives chasing curves and empty thrills.
You spend your small earnings on women who don’t respect you.
Sacrificing time, energy, and peace for people who don’t care.
There’s no trophy for a high body count — only invisible scars and wasted years.

2️⃣ GAMBLING — THE CANCER OF DESTINY.
You think it’s fun?
That “one more bet” might cost you everything.
Time. Money. Peace. Your name.
You don’t win with luck — you win with skill, discipline, and work.

3️⃣ ALCOHOL — THE DRUNK MAN’S DESTINY IS DELAYED.
You drink more than you save.
You inherit hangovers while your peers inherit assets.
A man who spends his salary at the bar leaves his children inheritance of shame.

4️⃣ TIME WASTING — THE SLOW KILLER.
You scroll, gossip, argue football while other men build empires.
Time is currency. Waste yours and life will waste you.

5️⃣ FRAUD (AKA YAHOO) — FAST MONEY, FAST MISERY.
You may flex today but you’ll rot inside.
Quick money is expensive — it costs your peace, your future, and your soul.
It’s not a shortcut, it’s a suicide note.

6️⃣ SMOKING & DRUGS — ADDICTIVE SLOW DEATH.
Weed. Pills. Codeine. Crack.
It starts like fun — ends with depression, job loss, and madness.
You’re numbing pain but feeding your destruction.

7️⃣ LAZINESS — THE ENEMY WITHIN.
You’re broke because you refuse to work.
You want soft life with zero hustle.
If you love sleep more than success, poverty will tuck you in.

8️⃣ LACK OF SELF-CONTROL.
A man without discipline is a loaded gun pointed at his own head.
No routines, no boundaries, no self-mastery.
Weak men self-destruct.

9️⃣ DISRESPECTING YOUR PARENTS.
Insult your parents, abandon them — watch your blessings dry up.
Life may not punish you immediately, but it never forgets.

DEPENDING ON Pet

*From Pain To Praise*
Psalms 30:11 Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;
Samuel Morse is best known for inventing the telegraph. He laid the foundation for the global communications we enjoy today. But behind his breakthrough was a heart-wrenching personal tragedy. Born into a devout Christian home in New England, Morse was a brilliant artist and Yale graduate, celebrated for his portrait work across the American East Coast. In 1825, while away painting in Washington, Morse received devastating news—his wife had died shortly after giving birth to their third child. Because communication was painfully slow, the message reached him too late to return and say goodbye.
Grief-stricken, Morse abandoned his art career and poured his energy into solving the problem of long-distance communication. Driven by purpose and pain, he eventually invented the telegraph—a revolutionary system that transmitted messages in seconds instead of days. His work not only brought him fame and wealth, but also changed the course of history. Yet, through it all, Morse remained deeply humble, always giving credit to God for his success. He once wrote, “It is His work. I am only His instrument.”
Samuel Morse later remarried, raised more children, and dedicated his wealth to Christian missions and education. His life is a shining reminder that God can birth purpose out of pain and turn sorrow into global impact.
If you’re going to become all God has created you to be, you can’t let setbacks stop you. You have to learn to let go of the negative past and move on to your glorious future. You may get knocked down but don’t get knocked out, don't stay down. No matter what life throws your way, get back up and keep moving forward.
Understand that God has a plan of bringing forth beauty out of the ashes. Out of the pain Morse suffered has come forth today the communication technology that has continued to bless humanity.
We serve the God of divine turnaround, who eventually turns our mourning into dancing.
Therefore despite life’s trials, do not fold up, rather keep advancing boldly towards your victorious destiny in Christ: You may be challenged, but you are not permitted to be defeated. Christ causes us to triumph always. This is why we praise Him even in the midst of our battles. Indeed when you turn your worry into worship, God will turn your battles into blessings.
In the scriptures, Job went through all kinds of tough times, but in the midst of his pain Job proclaimed, “I know my redeemer lives”. And in the end God brought full restoration and Job went on to live a blessed, happy life
Likewise let’s keep judging God faithful. As we do so, certainly, He will turnaround every captivity and lift us from glory to glory.
*I Decree Upon Your Life Today*
The recount of evil in your life and family is over now!
God is turning your mourning into dancing and global impact!
God's amazing wisdom for strange works and strange acts is resting on you in Jesus Name.
Hallelujah. Happy Weekenllllllll

Let me share this here.

If this incident that happened a few hours ago.

I wasn’t supposed to stop.

But I did.

There was chaos just ahead of the supermarket gate somewhere in Surulere.

A black Toyota Corolla was surrounded by three LASTMA officials.

The driver, mid-40s, shirt soaked in sweat, kept pacing between them.

And something in his voice stopped me.

"Please. Please just look inside the car. He is not even moving anymore. That’s my son. He is sick, he is very sick. We were going to the hospital. I only stepped in to grab his medication. I was gone for just five minutes."

One of the officials shook his head like he’d heard it a thousand times.

"You people always have stories. Why park where you're not supposed to? You want us to lose our job?"

Another officer barked.

"Oga, if you don’t bring ₦70,000 now, this car is going to the yard. And from there? You’ll need close to ₦400,000 to bail it."

The man reached out. Not to touch them. Just to plead.
They stepped back like he carried something contagious.

"I swear I’m not lying. Please. He has severe asthma. I forgot the nebulizer at home. I was rushing to the hospital, Faithview, just ten minutes from here. Look at him! You have a child, right? Please, have sympathy."

That was when I looked.

The boy,maybe ten, was in the backseat, his small frame slumped against the door, eyes half-closed. His chest heaved in rapid spasms, every breath sounding like gravel grinding in a pipe.

His fingers trembled. His lips were turning dark.

So I stepped forward.

"What’s wrong with him?"

The father looked at me, disoriented.

"Asthma. It started an hour ago. He had a mild attack in the morning, but it’s worsening fast. I was going to get him treated and just stopped for a refill. Please, sir… help me talk to them."

I tried to talk to the LASTMA officers but they ignored me so I turned back to the man.

"Try and sort this with them, let me take him to the hospital."

His eyes widened.

"You…?”

"We don't have another option and there is no time. He needs oxygen. Now.”

He hesitated.

"You’re a stranger."

"I am. But your son is dying.”

He looked back at the boy.

Then at me.

He obviously saw that there was no other option left.

His lips trembled.

"Give me your number. Please.”

I gave him mine.

And he gave me his.

I opened the door and gently lifted the boy from the backseat.

He was warm. Burning. His eyes barely focused on mine.

As I placed him in my car, the father shouted behind me.

"Please, call me the moment you get there. Please don’t let anything happen to him!"

I nodded once. Then I got into the car and quickly drove off.

The hospital wasn’t crowded, I guess because it was a private one.

I rushed in carrying the boy in both arms.

"Emergency! Severe asthma attack. Ten-year-old boy!"

The receptionist stood up so fast her chair hit the wall.

She shouted.

"Treatment Room Two! Get Doctor Okafor!"

While I tried to fill the form I was given, two nurses rushed and took the boy, placed him on the oxygen tank, connected a nebulizer, and began checking vitals.

One of the nurses murmured.

"He’s tachypneic. Respiration over 40. Oxygen saturation 82%."

The doctor said as he rushed in still zipping his scrubs.

"Get the hydrocortisone ready. Nebulize him every 20 minutes. Keep him on oxygen. If he doesn’t stabilize, we’re moving to adrenaline injection.”

I stood there.

My heart pounding.

This wasn’t my child.

But it felt like my fight.

Minutes passed.

Then the doctor came out.

“He is stable."

He said, wiping his forehead.

"That was close. He’ll be okay, but he needs to stay a few hours for monitoring.”

I thanked him so much.

The bill came.

₦89,000.

I paid with my debit card.

I stepped outside and called the boy’s father.

He picked on the first ring.

“Hello! Sir, please, is he?"

"He is stable. He is getting oxygen and treatment.”

A pause.

Then I heard the man begin to cry. Softly.

I didn’t speak. I let him.

But he wasn’t done.

“They’ve taken the car. They refused to wait. I was still begging when the towing truck came. They said the 70K grace was over. I’m at their yard in Iponri now. Sir… they’re asking for ₦385,000 to release my car.”

I looked at the hospital door behind me.

Then at the sky.

Then back to my car.

I didn't know what to say to him.

But all I found myself saying was.

"I’m coming.”

And I meant it.

He couldn't believe his ears.

I arrived at the LASTMA office just before 3PM.

The weather was warm, no sun, but the heat stuck to my skin like wet cloth.

I found him standing by a corner fence, head down, fingers digging into his scalp.

He was tired and confused.

So I said to him gently.

"Sir."

He looked up like someone coming out of a bad dream. His eyes were red, his face streaked with dry sweat and tears.

He approached me nervously.

His voice was hoarse.

"My car… they have impounded it. Said I’ll pay ₦385,000. They even threatened to keep increasing the fine by day. That car is my only source of income. That's my office from where I make money to take care of my son and my wife. God, please, help me."

I told him.

"Stay calm. Nothing will happen to your car, you'll get it back, I believe."

He nodded slowly.

"They have been laughing at me. One said, ‘Your son is sick? Na why you go break law? You think say we be Red Cross?’"

I felt something cold stir in my chest.

Not rage.

Just sadness.

I said to him.

"Please, come with me."

We walked into the building.

Inside, it smelled of engine oil, sweat, and indifference.

I approached the counter.

“Good afternoon. I’d like to speak with your superior officer. It’s regarding a car that was impounded a few hours ago, black Toyota Corolla.”

A thickset officer with bloodshot eyes looked up at me. "Eeyyaa who you be? Police or Army? Abeg everything you want to say, say it here. We don’t have time.”

I responded calmly but firm.

"I was the one who rushed the sick boy to the hospital, I have the hospital card and bill here. He was in the back seat of that vehicle. That child would have died today if I didn’t act."

He scoffed.

"And so? Good for him. E mean say we no go do our job?”

"No one said that but this man was in an emergency. All he asked was a few more minutes. Instead, you people want to extort him. Now you’re billing him almost ₦400,000. This isn’t traffic enforcement. It’s cruelty."

Another officer chimed in.

"Oga, the car don enter system. Na only Oga inside go override am. And e no dey see everybody."

"Then let him see me."

"As governor of Lagos State or as who?"

Silence.

I stood my ground.

"Get your superior. I’ll wait.”

The minutes crawled.

The father stood beside me like a child awaiting judgment.

Fortunately, a senior officer emerged.

Bald, tall, stern. I saw his name tag.

He sized me up before he said.

"What’s the problem?”

I stepped forward and told the story. From the moment I saw the boy wheezing in the back seat, to carrying him into the hospital, to paying the ₦89,000 hospital bill, to returning only to find the car had been towed.

The Commander listened without interruption. Then he asked a single question:

“Do you have proof the boy was sick?”

I handed him the hospital bill and the case card. He studied them for a long moment.

Then something shifted in his eyes.

He looked at the officers behind the desk.

"You towed the vehicle knowing a child was dying in it?"

"Sir, the man parked in a no-parking."

"I didn’t ask that. I asked if you knew a child was in distress in the car."

No one answered.

He sighed.

"Release the car. Immediately. Remove the fine. No man should suffer for saving his own son’s life. And you."

He turned to the father.

"You’re lucky someone still has a conscience in this country. Thank this guy for stepping in."

The man fell to his knees.

"Thank you. Thank you, sir… I swear, thank you…"

When the superior left, he turned to me.

And his voice broke.

"You didn’t know me. Yet you rushed my son to the hospital. You paid for his treatment. And now, you’re standing here fighting for me when I couldn’t even fight for myself."

I helped him to his feet.

He opened his wallet and tried to hand me some money.

"I don’t have much. Please… even if it’s part of what you spent..."

I shook my head.

"Your son is breathing. That’s enough. Please, pick your car and go and see him. God bless you."

He looked at me, eyes trembling.

"Why? Why would you do this for me?"

I didn’t know how to answer that.

So I said the only thing I truly believed.

"Because someone should."

As we walked out into the fading light, I handed him a folded note.

It was the hospital’s follow-up card. His son had to return in two days for further tests.

"I already booked the appointment. He’ll need more care. Don’t miss it."

He opened it slowly, then looked back at me, his lips parted, but no words came.

Only tears.

Only silence.

And behind us, the LASTMA officers watched.

They were quiet now. Maybe even ashamed.

But I left there happy and fulfilled.

You could do the same.

And the world will be a better place.

.

*Chiemelie Kyrian Offor
June 17, 2025*

*IF YOU HAVEN'T BEEN DOING THIS , PLEASE START TODAY*
Dr. John Saka, thank you for attending my dad's wake. Always remember this, sir: you killed my father.

These were the exact words David used to open his appreciation speech during his father's wake. The room fell into a deafening silence and every guest held their breath in disbelief. St. Bernard's Old Students’ members, including Dr. Saka was visibly shocked. The weight of those words hit hard and the confusion on Dr. Saka’s face was evident.

For fifteen long seconds, the silence in the room was unbearable, each person wrestling with their own questions: How? Why? What happened?

David broke the silence, continuing with his speech:
It is true that God gives life and takes it away but sometimes, people—like Judas—play a tragic role in how death occurs. My father's trust and respect for Dr. Saka, who happened to be one of his best friends, led to his early grave. My dad didn't need your mourning today. He needed you to honour him while he was still alive by answering his calls. This is my father’s phone.

David held up the phone for everyone to see.
The record of his call logs and WhatsApp messages is right here. Over the last eight months, my father called you 32 times. You answered only four times, each time promising to call back. On WhatsApp, he sent you 84 messages. You replied to only 22. Out of those, 16 were nothing more than 'Amen' in response to his monthly prayers and greetings. Out of the remaining six, on February 2nd of this year, you wrote: 'I'm not in the country; I will see you when I'm back in two weeks.' You never responded again until June 7, when he sent you birthday wishes and reminded you of your promise to see him. Your response was, Thanks, my friend, I appreciate it.

My father, trusting your medical expertise, held onto the hope that you would help him. On June 12, after reaching out to you, he told you he was very sick and needed your professional advice. You read the message that same day, yet you did not reply until July 21, when he messaged you again, saying, 'John, I'm dying. Your response? 'Sorry, it is been a busy week. Let us see what happens next week.
That 'next week' became two months. When my father sent his last message on September 2, asking why you were ignoring him, you replied: 'Sorry, my friend, I hardly have time for myself these days.' Six days later, my father died.

David’s voice trembled as he continued, "Dr. Saka, my father trusted you more than any other doctor. He believed you cared enough to give him the best advice. He stopped taking his medications, waiting for you to fulfil your promise to see him in February. Instead of telling him that you couldn’t be available, you kept promising later.' He waited for seven months. I know all this because I was the one typing the texts on his behalf. Every day, he would ask, 'Did John send a message?' On the morning he died, he said, 'I made a mistake trusting John, but why didn’t he help?' My father never got an answer to that question, but maybe, Dr. Saka, you can answer to others who may need your help in the future.
Thank you for coming today, though it feels like a belated honour.

At this point, David turned to the audience and asked:
As a doctor, how many of your family members, colleagues and old classmates have you reached out to, inquiring about their health without them asking?
As a lawyer, how many of your family members, colleagues and old classmates have you offered pro bono services to?
As a professional, how many of your family, colleagues and old classmates have you helped for free? As a wealthy person whom God has blessed in so many ways, how many poor and poverty ridden people have you stretched your hands of gift to help out of their financial predicament most especially at this trying period of our National economic hardship? As working class people with mobility, how have you helped your surbordinates to ease their transportation challenges to office or ameliorate their sufferings for food subsidy?
How have you positively impacted people's lives without expecting anything in return as gratification? Let us search our minds and make mends.

David paused and added, If you haven't been doing this, please start today. Surprise people with help. It brightens and elongates life.
Tears flowed down Dr. Saka’s face, and many in the hall wept as well.

LESSONS FROM THIS STORY

1.Never ignore calls or messages from friends, classmates, colleagues, or family.
2.Don't assume you know why someone is reaching out to you. You may be wrong and may not understand their need.
3.Remember that God is the true helper; we are simply messengers.
4.Be humble enough to admit when you can’t help.
5.Do not keep anyone waiting for help if you can not deliver it.
6.Help others when you can—it is a privilege, not an obligation.
7.Always remember, no one is irreplaceable or indisposable.
8.We are all always busy sometimes and having challenges of our own.

Let us not be the cause of someone’s despair, or worse, their early death. You may not be able to save everyone but failing to respond when you could have, might send someone to their grave. Reach out. Help when you can. You never know how much of a difference you can make in someone's life.

Be inspired.

In relationships, it’s easy to find someone who will stay when life is good, when there’s money, success, and comfort. But the real test of love shows during the hard times. When everything else is gone, when you’re broke, broken, or at your lowest, that’s when you see who’s truly there for you.

Some women may love the lifestyle, not the man.
But a woman who stays even when there’s nothing left to offer… that’s the kind of love that’s rare, loyal, and real.

This isn’t about being dependent, this is about character.
So choose wisely. Choose the one who doesn’t love your wallet, but your soul..

So my people I tell you this for free that is better you stay single than to be with an unsupportive partner by Sky Mentor

Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears.

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

Life’s truest happiness is found in friendships we make along the way.

Happiness is not a life without pain, but rather a life in which the pain is traded for a worthy price.