EPISODE EIGHTEEN

The morning sun floods the windshield, bright and unforgiving. Iremide raises her right hand, shielding her eyes and tilting her head to find a patch of shade.

Uchenna glances at her, then reaches across the console with his right hand to flip her sun visor down.

The black plastic flap snaps into place, but the bright glare still hits her forehead directly. She is simply too short for the visor to do any good.

A slow smile tugs at the corner of Uchenna’s mouth. He looks from the useless visor back to her face. “My pocket-sized wife.”

Iremide gasps, her hand dropping to her lap. “You want to insult me, abi? Did you just find out that I am too short for the sun shield?”

Uchenna chuckles, his fingers tapping a light beat on the steering wheel. “My compact model.”

“At least you saw me like this before you married me, abi?”

He lets out a full laugh, the sound filling the warm car. “I am sorry, I am sorry. I just can’t get used to it. Adjusting the driver’s seat every single time you touch this car is an Olympic sport.”

“That is where we are going,” Iremide says, pointing through the glass toward a cream-colored, two-story building.

Uchenna steers the Jeep toward the curb, parking directly in front of the four-flat apartment block. He cuts the engine, the sudden silence wrapping around them. He looks at the peeling paint of the building, then turns to her. “Baby, is it here?”

Iremide nods, her fingers tightening on the strap of her canvas tote bag. “You will wait outside. Fatimah does not like guests.”

Uchenna’s chest tightens. He holds her gaze. “I want to meet her father.”

Iremide searches his eyes, watching the firm set of his jaw. She lets out a slow, quiet breath. “You will stay on the balcony, and I will bring him out to meet you.”

Uchenna nods once. He opens his door, slides out, and walks around to her side. She is already stepping down onto the dusty pavement. He catches the car door for her, his other hand naturally reaching out to take the weight of her tote bag.

They walk into the compound together, their footsteps echoing up the concrete stairs.

“Wait here,” Iremide whispers as they reach the top landing. She gently slips her hand out of his.

Uchenna nods slowly, his eyes immediately scanning the corridor. There is another flat at the far end of the left, its metal gate locked. He steps back a pace, leaning his shoulder against the balcony railing as Iremide knocks quietly on the wooden door.

She checks her wristwatch: 8:05 a.m.

Uchenna watches her knuckles rap gently against the wood a second time. Even her knock is soft.

On the third knock, the door clicks open. A young girl with tired eyes and a faint, shy smile looks out. She glances from Iremide to Uchenna, her grip tightening on the cotton napkin she is holding.

“Teacher Ire, good morning,” she says quietly.

Iremide nods, her voice warm. “Fifi, good morning. Is Mr. Olatunde around?”

Fifi nods, opening the door a few inches wider while keeping her skeptical eyes fixed on Uchenna’s tall frame.

Iremide offers a reassuring smile. “My husband. He is not coming inside; he will stay out here.”

The girl nods slowly, the tension leaving her small shoulders.

Uchenna shifts his weight, his chest rising with a shallow, uneasy breath. He doesn’t like this. Not being able to step inside to quickly check the layout of the apartment makes his fingers twitch against his pockets.

“I am coming,” Iremide whispers to him before slipping inside.

The door clicks shut. Uchenna looks around the small balcony. A metal laundry rack sits near an old outdoor air-conditioning unit, next to a single plastic chair. He walks to the edge of the railing, looking down at the quiet street. The estate is silent—too silent. The neighboring compound is a privately gated wall with no security guard in sight. His jaw tightens.

The door behind him creaks open.

Uchenna turns around. His protective stance softens slightly as his eyes move past Iremide to the man stepping out onto the concrete.

The man wears a tired, weak smile. His hair is thick and overdue for a trim, his checkered shirt is creased at the elbows, and his bare feet in rubber slippers are dry and unmoistured. He looks worn out.

Uchenna lets out a quiet, internal breath, his shoulders dropping an inch. This is not the challenging man he had prepared himself to meet.

“Heartbeat, meet Mr. Olatunde,” Iremide says softly.

“Mr. Okoye,” the man says, extending a hand.

Uchenna takes it, his grip firm but respectful. “Mr. Olatunde. I came here to see who my wife works with”

“I understand, Mr. Okoye,” the man says, rubbing his palms together as Uchenna releases his hand. “And thank you. Thank you for allowing your wife to continue this work. It means everything to me and my daughter.”

Uchenna nods slowly, his eyes tracking the nervous motion of the man’s hands.

“My wife left because of all this,” Mr. Olatunde says, his voice dropping into a flat tone. “The pressure from my family about Fatimah’s autism, the constant stress... she couldn’t take it. She had to leave. I am raising her alone now, with the help of my niece, the girl you just saw.”

Uchenna glances at Iremide, whose eyes are fixed on him.

“Mrs. Iremide changed my daughter’s life,” Mr. Olatunde continues, his voice thick with genuine emotion. “She is the only person who can actually reach her. When everyone else failed, she knew exactly how to calm her down. She tailors everything just for her.”

Uchenna’s gaze drifts past Mr. Olatunde’s shoulder. On the living room center table sits a stack of laminated picture cards, a visual timetable, small reward stickers, half-finished worksheets.

Everything Iremide had described.

She wasn’t exaggerating.

She really had built an entire classroom inside someone’s home.

He looks at his wife, a small, proud smile touching his lips. He turns back to the older man.

“I will wait downstairs in the car,” Uchenna says, his tone gentle. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

Mr. Olatunde nods quickly, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you, Mr. Okoye. Thank you very much.”

“Let me go in and meet Fatimah,” Iremide says, looking up at Uchenna with bright, grateful eyes. “I will see you when I am done.”

Uchenna nods, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a brief second before he turns to head down the stairs.

Iremide opens the passenger door, her shoulders sloped. She rests a foot on the running board for a long second, holding the car frame as if to steady the world, before sliding into the leather seat. She drops her canvas tote bag onto the back seat with a loud thud.

“You left for a while?” she asks, her voice slightly faint.

Uchenna shifts his weight, his eyes scanning her pale face. “I had to drive back home to pick up my laptop for a meeting. And to prepare lunch, because I knew you would be tired.”

Iremide’s expression softens, a small, grateful smile replacing her fatigue. She leans across the center console, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “Thank you, Heartbeat. I am exhausted. My head was already spinning out there.”

Uchenna smiles, reaching into the back to pull out a warm plastic lunchbox and a silver spoon. He offers them to her.

Iremide’s eyes brighten as she pops the lid. The rich, savory aroma of chicken sauce immediately fills the air-conditioned car, steam rising over a bed of white rice.

“I am proud of you,” Uchenna says, shifting the gear stick into reverse and looking over his shoulder to back out of the space. “And you were right about this teaching being your ministry. If the work keeps expanding like this, you might actually need to hire me as your full-time bodyguard.”

Iremide scoops a small portion of rice into her mouth, chewing slowly. “Thank you driving down here and for listening to me,” she murmurs around the food.

Uchenna steers the Jeep out of the estate gates, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror every few seconds. His hands tighten slightly on the leather wheel. “But then, I still do not like the whole teaching unmarried men’s kid.”

Iremide lets out a dry, tired laugh. “I know.”

“The estate is too quiet,” he says, his brow furrowing as he watches the empty street behind them. “And God forbid, evil thoughts can easily enter people’s minds in isolated places like this.”

Iremide swallows, nodding slowly. “You already agreed to let us put security measures in place, so don’t worry.” She suddenly pauses, pressing a flat palm against her chest to steady her breathing. She snaps the lid back onto the lunchbox, setting it down carefully, and reaches for a bottle of water.

“Baby?” Uchenna calls out. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead, one hand steering while his thumb taps the wheel.

“Hmm.”

“How many children have you tutored in total so far?” Uchenna turns his head briefly, but stops when he sees her expression. His brows knit together. “What is going on?”

“I think I want to vomit,” Iremide whispers, her hand trembling against the water bottle.

Uchenna indicates quickly and veers onto the gravel shoulder, bringing the car to a sudden halt. “Baby, you don’t like the pepper?”

Before he can finish the sentence, Iremide throws her door open and rushes out, dropping to her knees near a concrete gutter. Her shoulders heave violently as she throws up. Uchenna grabs a fresh bottle of water, cuts the engine, and bolts out of his side. He is at her side in seconds, holding her hair back with one hand while unscrewing the cap with the other.

He pours a stream of water into her palm. Iremide takes it, swirling the liquid in her mouth to rinse it out, spitting into the drainage.

“I don’t think it is the food,” she says, her voice shaking as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “I have been feeling weak throughout the class today. I think it is malaria.”

Uchenna nods, his eyes darting down the road, scanning the storefronts for a medical sign. The street is completely residential. “Let us get back into the car. I will drive until we find the nearest chemist for malaria drugs.”

He pours a bit of water onto his palm, gently wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. He helps her up, guiding her back to the passenger seat. Before she settles, he reaches down to pull the lever under her seat, tilting the backrest until she is reclining comfortably. He waits until she closes her eyes before walking back to the driver’s side.

Iremide zips open her tote bag, digging out a pack of menthol dragees. She pops two into her mouth, chewing aggressively. “My stomach feels so irritated.”

“Ndo,” Uchenna says softly, using the Igbo word for sorry. He reaches over, wrapping his fingers around her left hand as he drives, his gaze shifting from the left side of the avenue to the right.

Iremide turns onto her side, her fingers reaching for the door switch. The glass rolls down with a quiet hiss, letting the humid Lagos air rush inside. She pops another menthol candy into her mouth.

Uchenna checks his side mirror, then looks back at her. “Baby, you don’t want the air conditioning?”

Iremide shakes her head, keeping her eyes shut. “I want fresh air.”

A small knot forms in Uchenna’s throat. Iremide hates winding the windows down on the highway because of the dust and exhaust fumes. Something is definitely wrong.

A bright blue neon sign for a pharmacy appears just past the next junction. Uchenna swerves into the concrete forecourt, turning the key to kill the ignition.

“Wait here, baby. Let me quickly go inside and buy the anti-malaria,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Iremide pushes herself up against the seat rest. “Let me follow you.”

Uchenna stops, looking at her skeptically. “Can you walk in there?”

She nods, already reaching for the door handle. Uchenna gets down, meeting her at the passenger side to support her elbow as they walk through the glass doors into the cool, fluorescent-lit store.

“Good afternoon,” Uchenna says to the young female pharmacist behind the glass counter. “I need anti-malaria drugs for my wife.”

The pharmacist looks up, her eyes moving from Uchenna to Iremide, who is leaning heavily against his upper arm, her jaw moving rapidly as she chews her mints.

“Sir, how do you know it is malaria?” the pharmacist asks, her voice measured. “Have you done a test to confirm?”

Iremide leans her forehead against Uchenna’s shoulder. “I know it is malaria. I started feeling weak and dizzy a few hours ago, and then I just vomited the rice I ate minutes ago. The food smell and the car AC were just irritating me.”

“Any fever, ma?”

Iremide nods calmly, her hand instinctively moving to her neck to check her temperature.

“What about body pain?”

“Yes, I’m feeling weak and a bit of body pain”

The pharmacist lets out a very low, knowing chuckle. She rests her forearms on the counter. “Madam, when last did you see your period?”

Iremide’s jaw stops moving. She turns her head to look at Uchenna.

Uchenna shrugs, his brow raising slightly as he bends his tall frame to whisper in her ear. “Iremi, isn’t this around the time your monthly flow usually comes?”

Iremide’s eyes stretch wide. She turns back to the counter, her breath hitching. “It... it has been over a month.”

The pharmacist nods slowly, her gaze dropping briefly to the fresh, glittering diamond band on Iremide’s left hand before returning to her face. “I think you should buy a pregnancy test kit first.”

Iremide stares at her. Her chest rises and falls in rapid movements. Her lips move silently, forming the words Holy Spirit. She suddenly releases her grip on Uchenna’s arm as if his skin had delivered an electric shock. She leans over the counter, looking to the left and right to ensure the aisle behind them is empty before lowering her voice to a sharp whisper.

“Ma, we have only had intimacy once. I was a virgin as of last week. It was just once... okay, twice. What do you mean, pregnancy? It is probably late-afternoon malaria symptoms or stress. I was perfectly fine this morning.” She presses her trembling palms flat against the glass counter.

Uchenna’s face flushes, his eyes widening as he pulls her back by her waist. “Why are you telling her all that details?”

The pharmacist maintains her professional smile, exhaling softly. “Madam, I am not saying you are definitely pregnant, and I could be wrong. But I cannot prescribe anti-malaria medication or any strong drugs without being sure. Having intimacy once doesn’t make it impossible, let alone twice.” She turns toward the shelves behind her, pulling down a small pink box.

Iremide turns around fully to face Uchenna, her hands rubbing frantically against the fabric of her skirt. “Uchenna, can you hear her? What if it is triplets? In less than one month of marriage? We agreed to wait for a full year, remember?”

Uchenna draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding under his shirt. “I know we agreed on a year, Iremi. But if we are pregnant, then it is a blessing from God. There is nothing we can do about it.”

“What do you mean there is nothing we can do about it?” Iremide’s voice rises. “I got pregnant before we could even travel for our honeymoon? How can I start thinking about babies right now, Uchenna? I told you we should wait and not consummate—”

“Madam,” the pharmacist cuts in gently, sliding the pink box across the counter. “Take this first. Test before you take any medication. If it is positive, please do not self-medicate for the nausea and fever. See your doctor.”

Iremide glares at the box, then at the pharmacist, before turning on her heel and storming out through the glass doors.

Uchenna quickly taps his phone to complete a bank transfer, murmuring a quick thank-you to the pharmacist before grabbing the box and rushing out.

By the time he opens the car door, Iremide is already curled up on the reclined seat, her back turned to him as she stares out the side window. He slides into the driver’s seat, tossing the test kit onto the back row.

“Baby,” he says quietly, his voice soft.

Iremide turns her head slightly, tears already tracking down her cheeks. “Heartbeat, my life is just beginning, what if I'm pregnant? I don’t want babies yet. I cannot cope with this.”

Uchenna sighs, leaning across the console to take her hand. He uses his thumb to stroke her knuckles. “Baby, I am right here. We are both in this together, and we will take care of the baby together.”

“No, I am the one who is pregnant, not you,” Iremide says, pulling her hand away from his grip. She dabs at her eyes, her breathing jagged. “I will be the one carrying the weight, feeling cranky, dealing with the mood swings, vomiting, and getting irritated by everything.”

Uchenna nods slowly, his hand resting on the handbrake. “Baby, I am sorry.”

Iremide turns her back to him again, pulling her legs closer to her chest. “Let us just go home, please.”

Uchenna nods, turns the key in the ignition, and drives out into the late-afternoon traffic in silence.

Iremide storms through the front door, the heels of her flat shoes clicking sharply against the living room hardwood. She throws her canvas tote bag onto the cushions of the couch, not caring as it drops onto its side, before marching straight into the kitchen. Her fingers taps the double-door refrigerator, and it opens with a sudden rush of cold air.

Uchenna steps in right behind her. He stops at the marble kitchen island, carefully setting the pink pregnancy test box flat onto the surface. His eyes stay on her back as she grabs a chilled bottle of water. He moves in close, his broad hand gently covering hers, sliding the cold plastic out of her fingers just as she raises it toward her lips.

“Baby... until we know what this is, let's avoid cold water first.” Uchenna says, his voice dropping into a soft, careful tone.

Iremide freezes, her shoulders stiffening. She spins around, her lower lip trembling as she scoffs. “So I cannot even drink water again?”

Uchenna raises his hands slightly, his chest rising with a patient breath. “Let me get you room-temperature water.” He turns to the lower cabinet, pulls a fresh bottle from the plastic pack, and twists the cap open before handing it to her.

Iremide stares at the clear bottle in her hand. A fresh wave of tears overflows her lashes, tracking hot down her cheeks. Her knees give way. She slides straight down against the front of the refrigerator, her head resting against the cool metal door. She simply stares at the opposite wall, her breathing uneven, though the sound of sobbing refuses to come.

Uchenna drops to his knees on the floor directly in front of her. He reaches out, his fingers hovering for a second before he gently cups her chin, tilting her face to break her empty stare. “Iremi?”

Iremide shifts her gaze to him. The quiet in the kitchen stretches between them, heavy and thick.

“I only just got married,” she whispers after a long silence, her voice cracking.

“Baby, let us not think about all this right now,” Uchenna says, his thumb lightly stroking her jawline. “Let us just focus on preparing for our trip. When we come back, we can sit down and discuss it properly. Biko. I don’t like seeing you this weighed down.”

“Uchenna.” Iremide sniffs loudly, setting the unopened water bottle flat on the floor beside her thigh. She leans forward, her small, trembling hands gripping his broad wrists so tightly her knuckles turn white. “I do not want a baby right now.”

Uchenna nods slowly, his gaze steady as he absorbs the raw panic in her eyes. “I know, Iremi. I know. But then, this is a blessing. Most couples spend years waiting on God for this. Please, baby. We will go through every single step of this together.”

Iremide stares at him for a beat before leaning forward, pulling him by his neck into a tight, desperate hug. She buries her face into the crook of his shoulder, her breaths coming in uneven sniffs against his cotton t-shirt.

Suddenly, her body tenses. She pushes herself away from him with a sharp gasp, one hand flying to her mouth as her throat moves in a sudden swallow.

She scrambles to her feet, her slippers skidding slightly on the floorboards. “I want to vomit,” she gasps out.

Without waiting for a reply, she turns and bolts down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Uchenna pushes himself up from the floor, his fingers quickly snatching the pink test kit from the island as he runs right after her.

What do we think? 🤭 Iremide getting pregnant this early would be absolute chaos. Uchenna wouldn't know peace for the next 9–10 months. 🤣😂

EPISODE SEVENTEEN

Iremide steps out of the bathroom, the sharp, sweet scent of vanilla body spray trailing in her wake. She adjusts the tight elastic of her black satin bonnet over her braids, her short silk nightgown clinging slightly to her damp skin. She takes a slow, exaggerated step forward, trying to swing her hips in a low, unhurried pace.

Uchenna looks up from his book, the warm glow of the bedside lamp catching the sudden furrow in his brow. He lowers the pages. “Iremide, what are you up to again? Why are you walking like that?”

“It’s called catwalking. I’m trying to seduce you nau,” Iremide says, her voice dropping into a high-pitched, playful whine. “You don’t like my nightwear?”

Uchenna stares at her for a second before a loud, booming laugh escapes him. He drops the book onto the duvet, rolling onto his side as his shoulders shake.

“Iremi, please,” he gasps, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Don’t try that again. There is nothing seductive about that walk. You are walking like an American woodcock. It doesn’t suit you at all. Just stick to quoting scriptures, biko.”

Iremide marches to his side of the bed and delivers a sharp, mock smack to his shoulder. “Why are you comparing me to a woodcock nau? Are you not feeling me?” She crosses her arms, her lower lip pushing out.

“An honest answer, or a husband’s answer?” Uchenna asks, his mouth still twitching.

“Give me the honest one,” she says, side-eyeing him.

Uchenna sits up against the headboard, pulling the duvet over his lap and picking his book back up. “I’m not feeling whatever that walk was. And why do you suddenly need to seduce me anyway?”

Iremide tilts her head, her eyes wide as she mimics a puppy’s expression. She climbs onto the mattress, crawling close enough that her knees press against his thigh. “Oya, lie down properly and let us make love.”

Uchenna snaps his fingers twice over his head with a sharp click. “Tufiakwa. I’m not interested.” A stubborn smile still plays at the corners of his lips.

“Shebi you remember what your village uncle with the red cap said?” Iremide leans in, her fingers wrapping around his forearm, pulling gently. “He said if I ask you to get to bed, it means get to bed. Oya, behave yourself, Uchenna!”

“Do you want to force me in this marriage, Iremide?” Uchenna laughs, pulling his arm back out of her grip. He sets the book on his nightstand. “We both know this is just a bribe so you can walk out of that door tomorrow morning to your clients. I’m not participating.”

“Heartbeat, please nau. It is me, o.” She tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, her voice softening as she pouts.

“Ah-ah. You have officially upgraded from weaponizing scriptures to weaponizing intimacy,” Uchenna says, shaking his head. “Mba. My eye is now clear.”

Before Iremide can counter, a sharp, upbeat ringtone pierces the quiet.

Uchenna nods toward the right nightstand. “See? You have a call. Go and answer it, biko.”

Iremide lets out a loud, frustrated hiss. She releases his shirt, crawling back over to her side of the mattress and grabbing the vibrating phone. “One-zero. In this house, it is the two of us o,” she mutters under her breath. “Don’t come and beg me for intimacy.”

The screen glows with the caller ID: Federal Ministry of Billing (Shade).

Iremide slides her thumb across the glass and presses the phone to her ear, clearing her throat to mask her annoyance. “Shade, how far?”

“Iyawo!” Shade’s voice booms loudly through the receiver, vibrant and energetic. “Why are you sounding like that, Sister Ire? What is happening?”

“Nothing, jare,” Iremide murmurs, pulling her knees to her chest. She adjusts the short hem of her nightgown over her thighs, turning a sharp side-eye toward Uchenna.

Uchenna lets out a low, amused chuckle and rolls onto his other side, turning his back to her.

Iremide hisses quietly, shaking her head. It is not his fault, she thinks, her thumb tracing the edge of her phone case. He should be the one doing the begging, not me.

“Are you even listening to me at all?” Shade’s voice cuts through her thoughts.

“What did you say, jare?” Iremide asks, refocusing.

“I need your help, sis. I need cash for my final-year project expenses,” Shade says, her tone turning pleading. “Even my laptop battery is bad and I need to repair it so I can work with it.”

Iremide rubs her knuckles against her forehead, her chest tightening. “Shade, I just sent all my savings to Mummy a few days ago. I don’t have much on me right now.”

“Sister Ire, nau,” Shade whines. “Help me ask Brother Uche.”

Iremide’s jaw tightens. She is not going to subject herself to that embarrassment. Not when they are in the middle of a cold war. “How much do you need? And how soon do you need it?”

“Tomorrow morning, sister. With my laptop battery repair and everything, I also want to buy something small for my supervisor. Just send me two hundred. I will manage it.”

“Ehn?!” Iremide shrieks.

Uchenna flinches, his head snapping around in surprise. Iremide quickly turns her shoulder away from him, burying her face closer to the pillow.

“See, I do not have that kind of money,” Iremide whispers urgently into the phone. “I have nothing until my next pay comes in, and even my salary is not up to that. If it is two hundred naira you want, fine. But two hundred thousand? I don’t have it.”

A warm weight presses against her shoulder. Uchenna leans over, his face close to her ear. “Does Shade need money for school?” he whispers.

Iremide shrugs her shoulder, trying to shake his hand off. “Leave me, jor.”

Uchenna lets out a soft, warm laugh, his thumb gently stroking her bare shoulder. “Tell her I will transfer it to her.”

Iremide freezes, her eyes widening. She covers the phone’s mouthpiece with her palm, turning her head to lock eyes with him. “Really?”

Uchenna nods once, his gaze steady and calm.

Iremide uncovers the mic, her voice instantly brightening. “Shade, Uche says he will send it to you. Call his line to thank him, o.”

A high-pitched scream erupts from the speaker, so loud Iremide has to pull the phone away from her ear.

“Odogwu! Paranran!” Shade yells happily. “Help me thank Brother Uche! Let me call him. I will talk to you later, let me call better big man!” The line goes dead before Iremide can even reply.

Two minutes later, Uchenna’s phone on the nightstand begins to vibrate.

Iremide rolls over, pulling the duvet all the way up to her chin. She turns her back to him, her mouth pouting in the dark as Uchenna’s low, rumbling voice fills the room, answering his sister-in-law’s joyful praise. She closes her eyes, the sound of his voice eventually pulling her into a deep sleep.

“Our devotional for this morning is ‘Don’t Weaponize Intimacy,’ and you will be reading the Bible verse,” Iremide says, sliding the leather-bound Bible across the marble kitchen island. She leans in close to Uchenna, her hip brushing against his arm where he sits perched on the high barstool.

Uchenna lets out a low chuckle, recognizing the trap immediately. He shifts on his seat, pulling at the hem of his shorts, and lets out a long, slow breath. “Why are we using this old devotional guide? And why are we opening it directly to the middle?” He taps a finger on the corner of the paper.

“I’m the one who decides which devotional we will use and what page we will read from in this home,” Iremide says, smoothing the silk nightgown over her hips, her movements slow and deliberate. “Today, we are reading through 1 Corinthians 7, so you can see exactly why it is wrong to call your own wife a woodcock just because she asked for intimacy.”

Uchenna nods, his mouth curving as he flips the thin Bible pages. “What verse am I starting from?” He looks up at her, his eyes softening as they track her face.

She looks unfairly captivating for someone trying to win an argument. He shakes his head slightly, pulling his gaze back to the text. He cannot let himself get easily swayed today.

“Let us do verse three to five,” Iremide says with a small, triumphant smile, tucking a stray braid back under her black satin bonnet as she leans over his shoulder to point at the print.

Uchenna clears his throat, his deep voice carrying the words into the quiet kitchen. “The husband should fulfill his marital duty to his wife, and likewise the wife to her husband. The wife does not have authority over her own body but yields it to her husband. In the same way, the husband does not have authority over his own body but yields it to his wife. Do not deprive each other except perhaps by mutual consent and for a time, so that you may devote yourselves to prayer. Then come together again so that Satan will not tempt you because of your lack of self-control.”

Iremide lets out a bright laugh, shaking her head quickly. “Glory! Exactly, Uchenna! The husband should fulfill his marital duty to his wife! The husband does not have authority over his own body! Do not deprive each other!”

Uchenna closes the Bible with a soft thud, running a hand over his face as he exhales. “Iremi, you did not quote this scripture when we just got married and I was chasing you around the house o. Remember when you were telling me it is wrong to make love, that only God makes love?”

“Ehn, that was before consummation nau,” she replies quickly, waving her hand dismissively. “And now we have already consummated the marriage. Old things have passed away, and we are now fully man and wife.”

Iremide reaches for her ballpoint pen and her lined journal, her fingers tapping the plastic cap against the counter.

A quiet thought settles right in the center of her chest.

Iremide, was Uchenna withholding intimacy because he wanted to punish you, or because you told him he only wanted your body?

Her pen stops mid-air over the page. She freezes, recognizing the quiet prompting of the Holy Spirit. She slowly turns her head to look at Uchenna, her grip on the pen loosening.

“Oya, I’m sorry I said you only wanted me for my body,” she says, her voice dropping into a soft, genuine murmur. “I was angry, and I just had to say anything to win the argument. I’m really sorry, heartbeat.”

Uchenna’s defensive posture melts, a gentle, tired smile touching his lips as he shakes his head. “That was really hurtful, Iremi. Because I have never, in any way, made you feel used. Did I?”

“I’m sorry nau,” Iremide says, leaning in to nudge her shoulder playfully against his arm.

Uchenna lets out a long, quiet sigh, nodding slowly. “Thank you.”

Iremide looks back down at her open devotional, her finger tracing the black text. “Physical intimacy is a beautiful gift,” she reads aloud. She glances up, her eyes locking onto his. “Did you hear that part?”

Uchenna holds her gaze a second longer. The teasing smile slips from his mouth before he even realizes it.

“Healthy intimacy grows from trust. It should not become a punishment, a bargaining chip, an apology, a distraction, or a reward,” she continues, her voice growing slightly quieter.

Beside her, Uchenna lets out a sudden, hard chuckle.

So, Iremide? Why did you suddenly want intimacy last night? The prompt returns, sharp and clear in her mind.

She keeps her eyes on the page, the truth settling heavily in her stomach. It wasn’t because a wave of desire had suddenly overwhelmed her. It wasn’t about wanting closeness. She had simply wanted the argument to disappear. She had wanted kisses to replace the difficult conversations they needed to have. She had wanted the easy peace, without doing the hard work of resolving the wound underneath.

Iremide swallows past a dry throat, clearing it before she reads the next line. “Here is a journaling prompt.” She looks up at Uchenna’s smiling face before continuing. “Have I ever used affection or the absence of affection to control a conversation instead of resolving it?”

Uchenna points a finger at the booklet, his smile expanding. “Iremi, you should answer first, biko.”

Iremide lowers her eyes to the page. The words refuse to stay on the paper. They settle somewhere much deeper. She lets out a soft, defeated sigh, sliding the booklet an inch away from her. She had brought this devotional out to thoroughly lecture Uchenna, but the words were cutting straight into her own heart also.

She clears her throat again, her shoulder dropping. “All in all, we are not going to be depriving ourselves, and we will actually communicate instead of using intimacy to escape, okay? No more using affection to control a conversation.”

“Yes, I agree one hundred percent,” Uchenna says, his chest rising with a lighter, easier breath.

Iremide smiles, her fingers reaching out to slide into his warm, broad palm, locking their hands together on the marble. “Oya, pray for us.”

Uchenna’s smile softens, his fingers tightening around hers as they both bow their heads in the quiet morning light.

Iremide lowers her weight onto the balls of her feet, her slippers making no sound against the living room wood. Her eyes scan the kitchen island, confirming the small white slip of paper is resting exactly under the base of the fruit bowl. Her fingers tighten around the leather straps of her canvas tote bag, her knuckles turning a pale shade of peach.

She reaches her hand out, her fingertips hovering just an inch above the cold brass of the front door handle.

“Iremide.”

His voice is a quiet, low rumble cutting through the silence from the hallway.

Iremide freezes. Her eyelids flutter shut. She draws in a deep, slow breath, counting down silently from three to one before she opens her eyes and spins around, plastering a bright, toothy smile onto her face.

“Uchenna,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Uchenna stands at the edge of the corridor, his laptop cradled in one arm, his eyes fixed on her canvas bag. He sets the computer down on the kitchen island. “Baby, I can’t stop you?”

Iremide lets go of the door handle and walks back into the room. She steps right into his space, rising onto her tiptoes to bring her face level with his firm jaw. Her fingers reach out, lightly pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “I have a child to teach, Uchenna. A little child who depends on my presence.”

She pouts, looking up at him through her lashes. “Please nau. I’m teaching Fatimah today. She is autistic and screams whenever anyone new walks into their house. I cannot just assign someone else to her. I cannot do that to most of my students.”

Uchenna stares at her, his breathing shifting into a long, resigned exhale. Whatever he had been about to say dies on his tongue. He nods slowly and walks past her to the TV console and picks up the metal keyring. “Then I'm driving you. And I want to meet every single father.”

Iremide’s eyes stretch wide in sudden shock. She searches his face for another argument. It isn’t there, only worry. She blinks twice, her jaw dropping slightly before she quickly recovers and nods. “That is fine.”

Uchenna’s face softens. He leans down, pressing a warm, lingering kiss right into the center of her forehead, his hand reaching out to slide the heavy tote bag off her shoulder to carry it himself.

“And for security reasons, I will need you to share your live location with me,” he says, turning the brass handle and opening the front door. “Especially when you enter any client’s home. And always pick up my calls, biko.”

Iremide steps out onto the sunny veranda, a bright, genuine smile taking over her face as she walks toward the black Jeep parked in the driveway. “Duly noted, Iremide’s husband.”

Uchenna walks beside her, pulling the passenger door open. He leans his forearm against the top of the frame, his face inches from hers. “Does your intimacy offer from last night still hold when we get back?” he whispers, a slow, teasing grin spreading across his lips.

Iremide stands on the running board to meet his length and places the tip of her index finger against his forehead, pushing his head back with a sharp click of her tongue. “Oh, so you want to make love to an American woodcock, abi?” She lets out a dramatic hiss as she settles into the leather seat.

Uchenna bursts into a loud, booming laugh that echoes across the quiet close. “I was referring to that funny catwalk, not you, baby m,” he says, his voice dropping into a deep, affectionate Igbo cadence.

He closes her door with a firm, solid click and circles around the front of the hood to the driver’s side, the keys jingling in his hand.

Here is the famous American woodcock. 👇😂

Uchenna was wicked for this comparison. 😭😹

Don't forget to like, comment, and restack! 🤗

EPISODE SIXTEEN

Iremide lowers her weight onto the balls of her feet, stepping off the hallway and onto the living room hardwood with slow accuracy. She clamps her arm against the side of her canvas tote bag, pinning the metal zipper against her ribs to keep it from clinking.

Behind the closed door of the home office, Uchenna’s deep voice rises and falls with the rhythm of his morning stand-up meeting.

Holy Spirit, help me today. Hopefully, I am doing the right thing. Don’t let Uchenna’s head explode with anger when I come back, o.

She slips through the front door, clicking the lock into place with the smallest twist of her fingers. Standing on the veranda, she quickly scrolls through her phone to request an Uber.

If anyone had told her two months ago that she would be sneaking out of her own matrimonial home like a teenager to go to work, she would have argued until her voice cracked.

She pulls a sharp breath into her lungs. She should have told him all of this during courtship. She had filed the information away because she knew his protective nature would flare up, but keeping the secret had only created a steeper hill to climb. She walks past the manicured lawns of the estate lane, her eyes scanning the road until a sedan pulls up by the curb.

She slides into the back seat, the scent of lemon air freshener hitting her nose. Her fingers immediately find the volume button on her phone, clicking it down until the device is completely silent. Uchenna’s meeting ends in exactly fifteen minutes. Once the clock strikes fifteen after eight, he will call. She has already crossed the boundary line; hearing his voice right now will only make her chest tighten with guilt.

The ride down the main road takes twenty minutes. Iremide keeps her hands folded in her lap, her thumbs rubbing against each other in a continuous circle.

God, please. Just calm his heart down.

She completes the bank transfer to the driver, opens the car door, and steps onto the pavement in front of the two-story building. She walks up to the black gate, her eyes tracking the hands of her wristwatch.

8:22 a.m.

She is late. Her gaze drops to the diamond wedding band on her left finger. With a sudden jerk, she tucks her left hand behind her back just as the small pedestrian gate creaks open.

“Our teacher! Good morning,” the older gateman says, his face splitting into a wide smile.

Iremide forces her lips to curve upward, her shoulders dropping a bit. “Good morning, Baba.” She steps through the opening into the paved compound.

She crosses the interlocking stones, reaches the main entrance, and knocks twice. By now, Uchenna’s name is probably flashing silently across her phone screen inside her bag. She presses her palms against her skirt, forcing her mind to lock onto the lesson plan.

The door swings open, and Mr. Adegboye appears on the threshold with a brief, polite smile. He is holding a set of car keys, his leather loafers already on. “Mrs. Iremide, good morning.”

“Good morning, sir,” Iremide says, adjusting the strap of her bag.

“You are a bit behind time today,” Mr. Adegboye notes, his eyes flicking down to his phone screen.

“I am very sorry, sir,” she says, her smile remaining steady. “Is Oluwatenolami inside?”

“Yes, he is in the living room. Please go on in. I am just running down to the mall to grab a few items,” Mr. Adegboye replies, stepping aside to give her passage.

Iremide steps into the air-conditioned living room. From the far corner, Tenor looks up from his iPad. The moment his eyes land on her, he drops the tablet onto the cushion and sprints across the rug. “Teacher Ire!”

“Captain!” Iremide says, a genuine laugh escaping her throat as she catches his hands. “What are we watching on that screen this morning?”

Tenor grips her fingers, swinging her arm back and forth as he looks up into her face. “I am playing a Scratch coding game. I want to be like your favorite person!”

Iremide’s eyebrows shoot upward. She drops to one knee on the rug, bringing her face level with his. “I don’t understand, Captain. Which favorite person?”

“You told me your favorite big man builds software that helps people do difficult things,” Tenor says, throwing his arms out wide to emphasize the scale. “I want to build things just like him.”

“Ah-ah,” Iremide laughs, her chest loosening as she reaches out to brush a dry noodle crumb off his collar. “So, what exactly would you like to build to help people?”

Tenor taps his index finger against his cheek, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling in deep thought. “Hmm. I want to build a very beautiful robot that looks like you, and it can teach every child in the world like you do!”

“Wow, Captain. Isn’t that a big project?” Iremide stands back up, her fingers gently ruffling his hair. “I guess the world needs more robots like that.”

Tenor nods quickly, his expression serious.

“So, tell me how you are feeling on the scale today,” she says, demonstrating her hands. “Ten means you are super excited, one means you are feeling sad or angry, and five means you are just in the middle.”

Tenor bursts into a clear, high laugh. “Ten! I am with you, so it is a ten!”

Iremide smiles, picking up the iPad from the couch and handing it back to him. “Excellent. Let us move to your study desk and conquer some calculations that will help you build your robot.”

Uchenna steps out of his home office, his eyes instantly sweeping across the empty cream couch. He scans the dining area, his chest tightening slightly. He keeps his hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

I will not call her. Calling means I am already missing her, and missing means I have lost this round.

He walks down the hallway, the soles of his socks sliding silently on the wood. He pushes the bedroom door open. The duvet is neatly smoothed over the mattress, the room smelling faintly of her body spray, but there is no sign of her. He checks the guest room. Empty. He checks the second guest room. Only the scent of fresh paint greets him.

The realization drops into his stomach like a lead weight. She is gone.

He walks back into the kitchen, his gaze landing on the marble island. A small, folded scrap of paper rests under the base of the ceramic fruit bowl. He pulls it out.

Uchenna lets out a long, slow breath through his nose, dropping the note back onto the marble. His eyes drift to the sink, where the two plates they used for the silent breakfast of toast and eggs hours ago are sitting. He slowly rolls his sleeves up past his elbows, turns on the tap, and squeezes green dish soap onto the sponge. He scrubs the ceramic surface with measured strokes.

Lord, what exactly do you want me to do at this point? Iremide has refused to listen, and she is still entering those men's houses.

His fingers hover over his phone in his pocket. He shakes his head, his jaw setting.

Mbanu.

If he calls now, she will think he has accepted her decision. But he hasn’t. Not even a little.

He finishes rinsing the plates, stacks them in the rack, and takes a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator before locking himself back inside his office to stare at his code.

Tenor’s small fingers grip the yellow pencil. He is halfway through a subtraction problem when his hand goes completely still. The lead tip snaps against the paper with a tiny click. The pencil slips from his fingers, rolling across the wooden desk with a hollow rattle.

Iremide looks up from her lesson plan, her pen hovering. “Captain?”

Tenor’s head tilts slowly to the right, his chin resting awkwardly against his collarbone. He doesn’t blink. Then, his shoulders lock. The wooden chair scrapes violently against the floor tiles, crashing backward.

“Oluwatenolami!”

He hits the tiles with a heavy, flat thud. His small arms pull inward, jerking in rapid, violent cycles. His heels drum against the floor. A thin, white foam bubbles at the corner of his lips.

Iremide’s lungs freeze. She drops her notebook, her knees hitting the tiles as she slides toward him. Her fingers tremble as she reaches out, her mind frantically recalling the bullet points from the first-aid seminar she attended months ago. She gently rolls his small body onto his left side, tucking his hand under his cheek to keep his airway clear.

“Captain, Teacher Ire is right here. Breathe, sweetheart. You are okay.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are rolled back, showing only the whites as his tiny limbs continue to convulse.

Jesus Christ! Holy Spirit, we need you.

She grabs her canvas tote, her fingers digging past her purse until they wrap around her phone. She swipes with a slippery thumb, dialing Mr. Adegboye.

The phone rings out.

She presses redial, her breath coming in short, ragged puffs. The call goes straight to voicemail again.

“Baba!” she screams, her voice cracking as she looks toward the front door. “Baba, please come inside!”

The front door rattles open. The elderly gateman runs into the parlor, his plastic flip-flops slapping loudly against the tiles. His eyes expand as he stops near the edge of the rug. “Ah! Madam!”

“Help me call Tenor’s hospital contact for ambulance!” Iremide shouts, keeping her palm pressed against Tenor’s shaking shoulder to keep him on his side.

The gateman nods anxiously, his hands shaking so much his phone almost slips to the floor as he steps back out.

Iremide dials Mr. Adegboye a third time. On the fourth ring, the line clicks open.

“Sir, Tenor is having a seizure,” she says, keeping her voice level despite the rapid thumping in her ears.

A heavy silence hangs on the other end.

“What did you say?” Mr. Adegboye’s voice is thin, panicked.

“He collapsed during our math lesson. He is still convulsing. I am taking him to his hospital.”

“I am on the way, at least thirty minutes away. Please, Mrs. Iremide, do not leave him.”

“I won’t,” she says, cutting the call before he can reply.

The rapid, continuous jerking of Tenor’s limbs finally begins to slow to a limp twitch. His chest rises and falls in uneven gasps. His eyelids flutter, showing tiny slivers of his dark pupils.

“You are doing so well, Captain,” she whispers, using her face towel to wipe the damp foam from his chin.

Within five minutes, an ambulance for a private hospital arrives. They lift the limp boy gently, carrying him out to a waiting car. Iremide climbs into the back seat without a second thought, pulling the car door shut with a solid slam. She holds his small, cool hand in hers during the entire bumpy drive, her thumb tracing his knuckles.

“Stay with me, Captain,” she whispers under her breath, watching the city traffic blur past the window. “You promised me you were going to build that robot, remember?”

Ten minutes later, the double glass doors of the emergency room swing shut, swallowing the gurney and the pediatric nurses.

Iremide stands alone in the white-tiled corridor. The sharp smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol is thick in the air. Only now, with her hands empty, does she notice the violent trembling in her fingers. She looks down at her front. A long, damp smear of saliva stains the sleeve of her button-down shirt.

A sharp, buzzed vibration rattles inside her canvas tote bag.

She pulls out her phone.

Heartbeat ❤️ Calling...

She stares at his name on the screen until the display goes dark.

The phone instantly starts vibrating again, the screen lighting up her palm.

Iremide closes her eyes, leaning her head against the cool plaster wall of the hospital corridor.

I am sorry, Uchenna. Please do not make me choose between answering you and staying with this child.

With a firm press of the side button, she silences the ringer, slides the phone back into the dark depths of her bag.

By 2:55 p.m., the walls of the small office feel too tight. Uchenna carries his laptop out to the kitchen island, placing it next to the fruit bowl. He fetches a fresh bottle of water, a carton of Hollandia yogurt, a bar of dark chocolate, and a clean glass from the cabinet.

He climbs onto the high barstool, his fingers tapping a fast, anxious beat on the counter as he pours the thick white yogurt into the glass. By his calculations, she should have been back over an hour ago.

He looks at his phone. He picks it up, his thumb hovering over her contact card. Enough of the hard guy routine. The silence in the house is too loud. He presses the dial button.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. It cuts to voicemail.

Uchenna shifts his weight on the stool, his chest rising with a shallow breath. What is going on?

He redials. The ringing goes on and on, eventually dropping off into the automated operator’s voice. He sets the phone down with a sharp click against the marble.

By 4:16 p.m., the laptop screen has gone dark. He is pacing the length of the living room in his t-shirt, shorts, and black socks, his fingers continuously rubbing his forehead.

The calls are no longer even ringing; they are going straight to voicemail. His stomach twists into a hard, cold knot. Is she ignoring him because she is angry? Or did something actually happen to her? He doesn’t even have the address of the street she went to, let alone the house number.

Lord, please. Let nothing happen to Iremide.

A sharp wave of regret hits him. He should have at least demanded the addresses of her clients instead of simply telling her not to go. He could have driven there in a situation like this and waited for her. He marches to the TV console, his fingers wrapping around his key ring.

His phone suddenly vibrates, the loud ringtone slicing through the suffocating silence of the room.

An unknown number flashes across the screen.

Uchenna freezes, his heartbeat stutters. Who could be calling him with an unfamiliar number?

He answers immediately, pressing the phone hard against his ear.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Only the faint hiss of traffic somewhere in the background.

His grip on the phone tightens.

“...Hello?” he repeats, louder this time. “Who’s speaking?”

Another beat of silence. Then…

“Heartbeat...”

The quiet voice reaches him through the speaker.

Uchenna squeezes his eyes shut. The breath he’d been holding all afternoon rushes out of him in one long, trembling exhale.

“Iremi.”

He presses a hand over his forehead, his knees suddenly feeling weak. “Thank God.”

He hadn’t realized how tightly fear had wrapped itself around his chest until that single word loosened it.

“Where are you?” he asks quickly, already gripping his car keys. “And whose number is this?”

“I am so sorry,” Iremide says softly. “I borrowed the Uber driver’s phone. My battery died, and I knew you would be worried.”

“Where are you?” he asks again, his voice firmer now. “Send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

“I’m already close to the estate gate,” she replies. “Please don’t worry. I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“Iremide...”

“I’m really sorry, Heartbeat.”

The line clicks dead.

Uchenna lowers the phone slowly, staring at the dark screen for a long moment before dragging both hands over his face. A dry laugh escapes him.

“God help me,” he murmurs to the empty house. “How did I end up so hopelessly in love with my infuriating little wife?”

The front door clicks open, and Iremide slips into the living room. She slides the strap of her canvas tote bag off her shoulder, letting it sink into the cream cushions of the couch. Her eyes find Uchenna instantly. A small, tentative smile touches her lips.

Uchenna crosses the distance between the kitchen island and the sofa in four swift strides. Iremide’s eyelids flutter shut nervously. He wraps his large arms around her, pulling her against his chest with a sudden, tight grip that squeezes the remaining air from her lungs. Iremide freezes in his embrace, her cheek pressed to his shirt, before slowly opening one eye to peer up at his face.

“Uchenna?”

He steps back, his hands sliding down to her shoulders. He looks her over, his gaze traveling from her styled braids down to her flat shoes, checking every inch of her for any sign of harm.

“I'm glad you're safe,” he says, his voice flat as he lets his hands drop and takes a step back.

“I am sorry I got you worried,” Iremide says, her voice dropping into a quiet murmur. “Tenor had a sudden seizure while we were studying, and I had to help him. His father was out of the house. I had to coordinate everything, take him to the hospital, and stay until his father arrived.”

Uchenna locks his eyes onto hers, his breathing shifting. "Were you scared?"

“I was really scared, Uchenna,” Iremide replies quietly, sinking onto the couch with a long, heavy sigh. “Mr. Adegboye met us there later. I had to wait for him to arrive and take over before I could leave.”

Uchenna nods slowly, his gaze lingering on her tired face. He sits down beside her on the cushions. He reaches out, lifts her left leg onto his lap, and begins to rub the arch of her foot with slow, firm strokes of his thumb. “We still have a very big problem, Iremide,” he says quietly, not looking up.

Iremide lets out a soft laugh, her toes curling under his grip. “That’s ticklish.” She reaches down, wrapping her fingers around his wrists to stay his hands.

Uchenna lets out a short, dry laugh, gently setting her foot back onto the couch. “I am serious here, Iremide. I told you clearly that I do not want you going into unmarried men’s apartments, and you still sneaked out of this house. Then you decided to ignore my calls. I called your line several times. I was out of my mind with worry.”

“Those children really need me, Uche. Please nau,” Iremide pouts, leaning her upper body forward to close the distance between them. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to his nose, then his forehead, her lips finally brushing the rough edge of his beard.

Uchenna catches her by the waist, gently but firmly stalling her movements. Without another word, he reaches for her tote bag, zips it open, and pulls out her phone.

“My battery died,” Iremide says.

He walks over to the TV console, plugs the cable into the charging port, and clicks the phone into place.

The screen stays black for a few seconds.

Then, the silver Apple logo appears.

A sharp vibration rumbles against the wood. Another. And another.

The screen comes alive in his hand.

7 Missed Calls

8 Unread Messages

Heartbeat ❤️

The vibrations keep coming in a rapid, buzzing drumbeat as the delayed notifications flood the display. Uchenna doesn’t say anything. He simply stares at the glowing screen.

Iremide watches his profile. Only now, seeing the tight line of his jaw and the quiet intensity in his eyes, does she understand. He hadn’t spent the afternoon nursing a bruised ego or plotting his next argument. He had spent it believing something terrible had happened to her.

Her throat tightens, she swallows hard. “Uchenna...”

He locks the screen, the display going dark, and quietly hands the phone back to her.

“I don’t ever want to feel like that again,” he says, sitting back down beside her.

Iremide offers him a small, mischievous smile, trying to coax the tension out of his shoulders. “Oya, let me make it up to you.”

“How?” Uchenna’s left eyebrow lifts in a cautious, defensive arch.

“Let me go and freshen up, and let’s make love,” she whispers, her palm sliding flat against the center of his chest.

“Ehn? Mba! Mba! Mba!” Uchenna scoffs, catching her wrist and lifting her hand off his T-shirt. “Not until we are okay again.”

“Ahh!”

“So that you can cry again tomorrow and claim I am only using your body? That you are valueless to me?”

“Heartbeat! Are you not a child of God?” Iremide squeaks, reaching up to pinch his cheeks and shake his face. “Why are you keeping malice and grudges like this?”

“Have you forgotten everything you shouted at me yesterday?” Uchenna stands up from the couch, stepping away from her reach. “That I only wanted you for intimacy? Maybe when we finally travel for our honeymoon, we can revisit it. But for now, I refuse to be deceived and still receive insults, biko.” He shakes his head firmly.

Iremide looks up at him from the low cushions, her jaw slightly slack. “Heartbeat, it is me, o.”

“Before we digress further—because I know this sudden offer of intimacy is just to make me drop the issue,” Uchenna says, pointing a finger toward the door, “I am still against you going to those houses. I've already told you how I feel. I do not want you going.”

He turns on his heel, walks over to the kitchen island, and climbs onto a barstool, pulling his laptop open with a sharp click.

Iremide lets out a long, deflated breath, leaning her head back against the cushion. A cold weight of regret hits her stomach. She shouldn’t have weaponized their intimacy during the heat of yesterday’s argument.

She picks up her phone. Tomorrow’s lesson begins at 8:00 a.m.

She closes her eyes. Uchenna had made his position painfully clear.

But the children were still waiting for her.

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Do we think Iremide should still go again tomorrow? 😅

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EPISODE FIFTEEN

Uchenna steps into the bedroom, his rubber soles silent on the rug. Iremide is flat on her back, her gaze locked onto the white plaster of the ceiling. She doesn’t shift her weight or turn her head as the mattress dips under his frame.

He holds out her phone, his fingers tapping slowly against the back of the case. “Iremi, are you angry with me?”

“No,” she says. She takes the device without her fingers brushing his, her eyes still tracing the ceiling board.

Uchenna lets out a long breath through his nose. “Baby, we still need to talk about this thing. You can easily do something else. What—”

Iremide snaps upright, her joints popping in the quiet room as she glares at him. “What exactly do you mean by something else, Uche?”

Uchenna waves a hand, slicing the air between them. “Anything else, baby. Just name it. You can teach from home. You can build digital lesson plans and learning materials right inside our home office. Anything at all, other than walking into those houses.”

Iremide shifts her legs, pulling them tightly against her chest. A small sniff escapes her. “Heartbeat, why are you making my job feel like it doesn’t matter?”

Uchenna leans forward, his palm reaching out to cover her knee. “I am not making it feel small. If you want to launch a new business, I will sponsor it. I will transfer the capital to your account before the end of the week. If you need to sit back at home to figure out a new business plan, tell me. I will pay your current monthly earnings into your personal account every single month.”

Iremide jerks her leg back, breaking his touch. A sharp, bitter scoff leaves her throat, her eyelids stretching wide. “So that is the plan? You want me to live off your income and become irrelevant? To become dependent on what you provide and throw away the passion I spent years building, Uchenna? Leave the children who rely on my consistency? You are asking me to give up the ministry God put in my hands.”

“When did I say you should live off my income?” Uchenna’s voice drops into a tight, quiet whisper, his chest heaving. “And even if you decide to rely on what I provide, is that not your right as my wife? What is wrong with me taking care of you?”

Iremide wipes the back of her palm across her damp eyelashes, then flings both hands into the air. “No problem. Then I have a demand too.” She anchors her feet on the floor. “I am not comfortable with you working with Janet anymore, so you must quit your job, Uchenna! Do something else. Launch a tech startup inside your home office, sell apps or websites, just do not step foot into that company building again!” She slices her hands through the air, mimicking his earlier gesture.

Uchenna’s jaw slackens. “What?”

“Yes! Oh my God! That is exactly how you sound to me right now, Uchenna! Exactly how ridiculous this sounds! I know my salary does not come anywhere near what you bring home, but it is still my job!”

“Baby, can you just calm down?” Uchenna reaches for her wrists, but she pulls her arms back, crossing them tight over her chest.

“Why are you comparing two completely different scenarios here, Iremi?” Uchenna’s voice rises a notch, his fingers gripping his own knees. “I do not go to Janet’s house. I don’t even know where she lives. We meet in the office. I gave you the option of renting a space where these kids can meet you, and you said no. How do you expect me to sit here and be fine with you going into unmarried men’s apartments?”

“Potato, potahto. You’re saying office, I’m saying home. It’s still an enclosed space, and if you’re worried about temptation or something happening, the same thing could happen with Janet in your office.” Iremide snaps, her voice cracking as a fresh tear tracks down her cheek.

“ I have been doing this for close to a year now, Have I ever come home to complain to you about any inappropriate gesture from any father? Why must I be the only person always bending and adjusting in this house? I brought my cousin here, and you refused to even acknowledge him properly throughout his stay. I know you provide for us, but why do you want to scrub my identity away, Uchenna? Why am I always the one receiving instructions? Iremi, don’t quote scripture. Baby, don’t wear this set.”

Uchenna opens his mouth, but she cuts him off, her voice shaking.

“Your family came here yesterday and started listing a whole book of rules of what a wife must do and must not do. You told me to ignore them, and now you are sitting on this bed doing the exact same thing! Iremi, you cannot do this. Iremi, you cannot go there!”

Uchenna runs both palms over his face, letting out an unstable exhale that moves his whole shoulders. “Why are you dragging all of these things inside this matter now? Why are we bringing Azeez and my parents’ visit into a conversation about safety? When have I ever tried to change who you are?”

Iremide nods slowly, her gaze dropping to the rug. “Uchenna, I see exactly what you are doing. You want to turn me into a housewife and then place me on a monthly salary. Your family already warned me not to let my job stop me from tending to your needs, so you have decided to take my career away so I can be inferior to you. You want to—”

“Iremide, stop it!” Uchenna stands up from the mattress, his frame towering in the center of the room. “Stop, please. I do not like the direction this is going at all. Why are you attaching old, unrelated issues to this? When have I ever made you feel inferior in this house? When have I ever asked you to tend to me? Why should you even tend to me, am I a handicapped man?”

Iremide pushes past him, standing by the foot of the bed. “I have done everything you asked of me from the very first day of this marriage. Pleasing you, pleasing everyone around you. But not this time. I am done with this conversation. And I am not quitting my job.”

Uchenna freezes, his arms hanging limp at his sides as he stares at her. The quiet defiance in her tone leaves a heavy, ringing silence between them.

“Iremide, I married a teacher, yes,” he says, his deep voice vibrating against the bedroom walls as she turns toward the open door. “But I never imagined my own wife would spend her days inside unmarried men’s homes. I cannot make peace with that.”

“You should learn to make peace with it,” she calls back over her shoulder, her flip-flops clicking rapidly against the hallway floor. “Excuse me, please.”

Uchenna’s footsteps shadow her right into the living room. Iremide drops onto the edge of the cream couch, her fingers blindly grabbing the black remote and clicking on the television.

Holy Spirit, this marriage is supposed to be a ministry, not a prison. Her chest heaves, her breath coming in rapid, audible gaps.

Uchenna plants his frame directly in front of her, blotting out the glowing screen. “Iremide, I need you to listen to me,” he says, his voice dropping into a low, vibrating pitch.

Iremide scoffs, ignoring his face as she slides her thumb across her phone screen. A fresh layer of tears clouds her vision, turning the digital display into a watery blur.

Uchenna rubs both palms down his face, a deep line etching between his brows. Throughout their seven months of courtship, Iremide had always talked things out with him. They would sit for hours, untangling every disagreement. Now, she had walked out on him before they could even conclude the matter.

Did I overreact? The question flashes through his mind as he tracks the quick, angry movements of her thumbs against the glass.

Mba.

God entrusted her to me. If I ignore a danger I can already see, what kind of husband would that make me?

“Iremide, why does it feel like you are choosing the convenience of your clients over the peace of our home?” Uchenna asks.

Iremide keeps her eyes glued to the phone, her posture rigid.

“Iremide, I am speaking to you,” he adds, his tone dropping even lower.

“Ecclesiastes says there is a time to keep silence, and a time to speak,” Iremide replies, her head snapping up as she locks her gaze onto his. “I told you before that I am done with this conversation. And the conclusion is that I am not leaving my job.”

Uchenna’s shoulders square. “Iremide, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel respected if my deepest fear means nothing to you. This is the second time I’m saying no and you are taking your own route without considering my opinion.”

“Oh, so you have finally started showing your true colors, abi?” Iremide drops her phone onto the cushion with a sharp clatter. “We’ve consummated the marriage, and now you have decided it is time to fully control my life? You have gotten exactly what you wanted from me, nau. Now I am now valueless to you?”

The television murmurs a low, cheerful daytime broadcast in the background, contrasting sharply with the thick tension in the room.

“Kedụ ihe bụ ihe a?” Uchenna’s eyes stretch wide in pure disbelief. He rakes his fingers through his short hair, his chest expanding with a sharp breath. “What on earth is this, Iremide?”

“Speak in a language I understand, Uche! Are you insulting me in Igbo now?” Iremide stands up from the couch, rising onto her tiptoes to force her face closer to his high gaze. “You too! Ṣọ̀ èdè tí mo gbọ́!”

Uchenna’s face hardens into stone. He steps back, severing the proximity. “Okay. I am done here. You will not be going to those men’s houses anymore, and that is my conclusion on this matter, Iremide.” He turns on his heel, his long strides taking him back toward the bedroom corridor.

Iremide watches him disappear into the hallway, her hands trembling as she paces a tight circle around the living room, her voice dropping into a whisper to herself. “The Lord will fight for me, and I need only to be still.”

She sinks onto her knees near the coffee table, her shoulders shaking as the tears finally spill over. “"Holy Spirit, Uchenna wants me to give up the ministry You entrusted to me. You know how much I impact those children with Your help. He wants to take it all away from me.”

Iremide shakes her head firmly, wiping her damp cheeks with the back of her wrist.

A sharp, demanding knot in Iremide’s stomach pulls her out of sleep. Her fingers grope across the nightstand, finding the smooth glass of her phone screen to check the glowing numbers.

5:37 a.m.

She rolls over to the other side of the mattress. Uchenna is a rigid silhouette under the duvet, his broad back turned completely toward her side of the bed. Iremide reaches up, tucking a loose braid back into the elastic edge of her silk bonnet.

The quiet in the room feels thick. Neither of them had stepped foot into the kitchen last night, each waiting for the other to break first. Her own dinner had consisted entirely of a single green apple and a handful of dry coconut chips from her bag.

Did I say too much yesterday? Did I actually cross the line?

She stares at the ceiling boards. Holy Spirit, help me. I didn’t want to utter those deep words, it is Uchenna that forced them right out of my mouth.

I forgot to say Good morning, Good morning Holy Spirit.

She slides out from under the duvet, smoothing down the long-sleeve cotton top and the loose, full-length pajama trousers she had deliberately worn. He hadn’t even looked in her direction once throughout the night, let alone notice the fabric.

She stretches her arms, her stomach giving another tiny, audible growl. She needs to fix breakfast. For Uchenna to willingly skip his dinner, he must be hurting, and he will definitely need a meal.

Iremide gathers her journal, her devotional booklet, her Bible, and her phone into a pile against her chest. Dragging her feet across the floor, she yawns quietly as she opens the bedroom door and steps into the living room.

She drops the pile of books onto the marble kitchen island with a soft thud, looking around the kitchen cabinets.

She shouldn't have mentioned their intimacy. She shouldn’t have raised her voice like that. But then, everything had been bottling up inside her chest. Why should Uchenna think he has the right to cancel her life’s calling?

Should I just apologize?

Iremide shakes her head firmly, her bonnet shifting against her neck. No. Apologizing now means she is admitting he is right, and that gives him the green light to block her from her ministry.

She decides on toast and eggs. She reaches into the refrigerator, pulling out a loaf of brown wheat bread, a carton of eggs, and a ripe avocado.

She has never seen Uchenna look that cold. He had withdrawn into himself, locking himself inside his home office until well past midnight.

Can she even leave for work today?

Iremide lets out a loud, frustrated groan, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Holy Spirit, oya speak now nau. Say something about this whole matter. Go and talk to Uchenna o.”

The soft sound of cotton socks against the hallway floorboards cuts through her prayer.

Uchenna walks into the open space, wearing a pair of trousers and a plain white singlet. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead, heading straight for the double-door refrigerator without a single glance in her direction.

Iremide turns from the counter, her hands hovering over the bread wrapper. “Good morning,” she says, her voice quiet.

“Morning,” Uchenna replies. His voice is flat, clinical. He grabs a cold bottle of water and snaps two yellow bananas off the bunch.

Morning?

He doesn’t step into her space. He doesn’t lean down to press a greeting into her forehead or cheeks, and the word baby doesn’t even leave his lips.

Iremide clears her throat, her fingers tightening around the loaf of bread. “I am making toast and scrambled eggs with tea.”

“Thank you,” Uchenna says simply. He turns on his heel, his eyes never leaving the floor as he marches straight back toward the hallway corridor with his water and fruit.

Iremide watches his back disappear, her jaw dropping open. She raises her right hand in the empty air, snapping her fingers dramatically as if she wants to smack the back of his head. “Big head,” she whispers sharply, hissing through her teeth.

“Morning. Thank you,” she mimics in a high-pitched, mocking whisper, her lower lip pouting out as she mimics his rigid walk.

She turns back to her books on the island, the silence of the house returning. I guess I am doing my morning devotion alone today.

She cracks an egg against the rim of a ceramic bowl, the clock on the microwave changes to 6:00 a.m.

In less than two hours, she is supposed to be standing in Tenor’s living room. She has no idea whether she’ll make it there.

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Honest question:

Should a spouse have the right to ask their partner to leave a job because they genuinely fear for their safety?

Or does that cross the line into control?

I’m curious to hear your thoughts. 🤔

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EPISODE FOURTEEN

The strap of her oversized tote bag digs into Iremide’s shoulder as she storms out of the bedroom. She is already clad in loose boyfriend jeans and a crisp white round-neck t-shirt. Her phone is pressed flat against her ear, her thumb white from gripping the casing too hard.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Folagade,” she says into the receiver, her voice rising as she hurries down the hallway. “I am literally on my way to my estate gate now, sir. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

In the living room, Uchenna is stretched out on the cream couch. His laptop rests on his thighs, his fingers tapping out a fast, steady code. He looks up with a bright smile as she approaches.

“Baby…”

Iremide leans down, pressing a quick, hurried kiss against his stubbled cheek. She glances at her wristwatch.

7:43 AM.

“Wait, you are stepping out right now sir?” she asks the phone, her eyebrows knitting together. “Is Jason the only one at home then? Okay, Mr. Folagade, please just wait a few minutes for me. I don’t want Jason staying in that big house alone.”

Uchenna’s fingers freeze over the keyboard. His head tilts up, his eyes narrowing as he tracks her movements.

“Okay, okay sir. I’m stepping out now,” she adds, before tapping the red button to cut the call.

Uchenna shifts his weight, the leather of the couch creaking beneath him. He balances the laptop on one knee, his gaze fixed on her heavy bag. “Baby, who was that?”

“One of the parents of the kid I home-school nau,” Iremide replies, already scanning the T.V shelf for her husband’s car keys. “Uchenna, I will be using your car to get there fast.”

Uchenna sets the laptop down on the cushion beside him, his movements suddenly slow, deliberate. “Why is the father calling you at 7:00 AM? His mother is out?”

“Oh.” Iremide stops her search, turning to face him. She offers a small, casual shrug. “He’s a single dad. He has an early meeting, so he needs to hand Jason over to me before he leaves.”

“Wait.” Uchenna sits up completely now, shoving the laptop toward the far end of the couch. “Baby, let me understand you clearly. You go into the house of a single father, alone, to tutor his child?”

“Yes nau, Uchenna.” A bright playful smile touches her lips as she picks the car key from the shelf. She takes a step closer to the couch. “Why are you looking like that? You know I home-school kids. You met me at your elder sister’s house when I was tutoring your nephew, remember?”

Uchenna doesn’t smile back. “Iremi, wait... hold on. You’ve been doing this alone?”

"Yes," she says quietly.

“Baby, that doesn’t sit right with me.”

Iremide freezes. The playful atmosphere in the living room evaporates instantly. His eyes are intense, and completely devoid of the warmth from moments ago. He isn’t teasing.

What does he mean by it doesn’t sit right with him?

“Heartbeat—”

“Baby, hear me. I don’t think I’m comfortable with this.” Uchenna stays seated, but his voice drops into a deep, uncompromising sound that makes the skin on her arms prickle. “My wife should not be entering the house of an unmarried man to sit alone with him. Never. What if he decides to force himself on you? What happens then?”

Iremide stands dumbfounded in the middle of the room. Her tote bag slips slightly down her arm. "It's not a hobby, Uchenna. It's my ministry... and it's how I earn a living."

“I really don’t feel comfortable with you going.” Uchenna says, as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Uchenna” The keys rattle in her hand as her fingers begin to shake. “I have been doing this for over a year. You knew exactly what I was doing when we were dating abi?”

“I knew you taught children,” Uchenna says, finally standing up. His massive six-foot-three frame dominates the space. “I did not know you were visiting a single man in a private apartment.”

“Uchenna, these are clients—”

“Maybe another man would be okay with it. I am not.” he cuts her off, his jaw tight, his broad shoulders squared. “My wife is my treasure. My pride. How much are they even paying that’s worth risking your safety? What if something happens to you in another man’s house? I would never forgive myself. Mba!”

“Heartbeat? What do you mean ‘what if’? And what do you mean by ‘How much’? ” Iremide’s voice cracks, her confusion turning into a sharp, burning frustration. “Nothing has ever happened! I’ve been doing this safely.”

Uchenna drags a hand across his jaw. “Okay. Fine.” He begins pacing. “If this child needs tutoring so badly, let his father bring him to a lesson center. Or a library. Or somewhere public.”

“Uche...”

“I’m serious, baby”

“That isn’t how homeschooling works.”

“Then do it online.”

Iremide lets out a disbelieving laugh. What is this? Why is he acting like she is committing a crime here? “You think a five-year-old will sit through a three-hour online lesson?”

“I’m saying there must be another way.”

“There isn’t.”

“Then call the man back,” Uchenna says, his tone final, leaving no room for argument. “Tell him to hire a male tutor. Baby, I don’t know how I feel about this.”

Iremide stares at him, her chest heaving as she takes a slow, shaky breath.

He isn’t asking me to change a hobby, he’s asking me to changethe work I'm passionate about, the work that pays my bills.

“Out of the nine children I currently manage,” she says, her voice dropping into a steady, defensive whisper, “six live with their single fathers, so if I decide to drop them all, how will I pay my own bills, how many children will I be left with?”

Uchenna flinches as if she just struck him. The shock registers in the quick widening of his eyes. He takes two steps forward, closing the distance until he is looming directly over her.

“Six?”

“Yes.”

“Six?” His voice comes out lower this time.

Iremide suddenly wishes she hadn’t answered.

“Uchenna...”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“They are my clients, am I supposed to tell you about them?”

“Clients?” He lets out a short laugh. “Do you know what would happen to me if somebody hurt you?”

“Iremide,” he says, each syllable dripping with a cold tone. “I honestly don’t know what to do with this information.”

Her jaw drops as she scoffs loudly, “Uchenna? What did you mean by you don’t know what to do with the information?”

“Why didn’t I know six of your kids lived with single fathers?” he asks, his gaze unwavering.

“Because that isn't information I thought I needed to share.” Iremide replies.

“I’m done with this conversation and my decision is that you won’t be going to single men’s home to tutor their kids as my wife.”

Uchenna bends down, scoops his laptop off the couch without waiting for a reply, and turns on his heel. His lounge slippers slap against the floor wood as he marches down the hallway, gently closing his office door shut behind him.

Uchenna paces the narrow stretch of the home office, his slippers scraping an uneven sound against the floorboards.

Six.

Six unmarried men.

The number burns into his mind, making his jaw tighten until his teeth ache. He stops by the edge of his desk, his thumb aggressively tapping against the cold aluminum casing of his closed laptop. She had never spelled it out. Not once during their seven months of courting.

He knew she ran a homeschooling, yes, but in his mind, she was always dealing with mothers, family living rooms, and houses full of screaming toddlers with parents. Not quiet, private homes with solo men.

He drops his head, his gaze settles on the floor.

Uchenna knows exactly how the world works because he used to run it. Before his salvation five years ago, he wasn’t a righteous man. He knew the playbook. He remembered the exact ways he used to look at women, the calculated phrases he used to lower their defenses, and the smooth, persistent pressure he applied until they finally changed their minds and gave in to him.

Because he knows what some men are capable of, he finds it almost impossible to assume the best whenever Iremide walks into another man’s home alone.

He crosses the room to the wide window, shoving the curtains aside with two fingers. Outside, the morning Lagos sun beats down on the green fronds of the compound plants, but he doesn’t see them. His fingers curl into fists.

If another man ever laid a finger on Iremide—if any of those smooth-talking clients tried the very tactics he used to deploy in his past life—it would do more than make him angry. It would completely tear his world apart.

Holy Spirit, I’m not trying to control her. I’m trying to protect the woman I promised before God to cherish.

If anyone had told him last week that he would spend his first married month pacing the floor like a caged animal, he would have laughed them out of the room. Day Nine of marriage. They are still supposed to be floating on a cloud of wedding bliss, eating leftover cake, and whispering sweet things across the kitchen counter.

He sits on the cream couch, his fingers tapping a fast, aggressive beat against his knee. Seven months. They courted for seven whole months. He thought he knew her inside out - her favorite songs, her loud laugh, her prayer style.

But this silence is revealing a massive gap between them. Because they guarded their purity so fiercely, their entire relationship existed in a bubble of neat cafe dates and public spaces. They never had to navigate the messy reality of two different lives slamming together under one roof.

Now, the reality is biting hard. She left before 8:00 AM, and the afternoon is already slipping away.

His eyes fix on the television screen, his breathing shallow. How is he supposed to focus with this thought hammering his skull? His wife, walking into the private spaces of single men, day after day. To make the knot in his stomach even tighter, even with the consistent messaging and calls he had sent to her, he is not settled.

Clank.

The sound of the front estate gate swinging open breaks the quiet.

Uchenna stands up instantly, dropping his phone onto the cushion. He moves to the window, parting the curtain just enough to look out. His black jeep rolls into the compound, its tyres crunching over the interlocking stones. The engine cuts, dying down to a quiet hiss.

Iremide is back.

He watches through the glass as she steps out of the driver’s side. She pauses, slinging her heavy tote bag over her shoulder and adjusting the strap of her boyfriend jeans. She takes a long, slow breath, her shoulders rising and falling before she walks toward the front door.

Uchenna steps back into the center of the living room, squaring his shoulders as the sound of her key slips into the lock.

The brass knob turns and Iremide walks in.

“Good evening, Heartbeat.” Iremide’s voice is quiet. She keeps her head down, her fingers already working the strap of her shoes to step out of them. She sidesteps his line of sight, marching straight to the TV shelf to drop the car keys with a sharp clink before tossing her heavy tote bag and phone onto the cream couch.

Uchenna lets out a long, slow exhalation through his nose. His eyes trace every line of her rigid back. “Baby, we need to talk.”

Iremide freezes for half a second. Her shoulders rise as she takes a quick, shallow breath, then she turns to face him, nodding once. “Okay.”

“Come closer,” Uchenna says, his voice losing its morning authority, dropping into a low, rumbling plea.

She steps forward, her feet moving softly against the hardwood until she stops just a foot away from his frame.

Uchenna reaches out, his fingers wrapping around her hands. They are cold. He stares into her eyes, his jaw working as he searches her face. “I know I came on too strong this morning, baby. But I was terrified and I’m deeply sorry.”

Iremide swallows, her throat tightening. She gives a small, tentative nod but says nothing.

“Look, I know this is your job,” Uchenna continues, his grip tightening just a bit as he drops his voice even lower.

“I know you love teaching. I have never been against that, Iremi. Never. What if I rent a decent, serviced office space on the main road outside the estate? A proper mini-center. The parents can bring the children to you there.”

Iremide looks up at him, a faint, sad smile touching her lips. She slowly shakes her head. “It doesn’t work that way, Uchenna. If those children could thrive in a confined center with other kids, they would be in a regular private school. Most of my children are neurodivergent. They need their own space, their own comfort zone, to even look at a textbook.”

Uchenna’s brow furrows. He releases her left hand to rub his temple, his mind racing through lines of logic. There has to be an alternative. A patch for the system. “Okay. What if you hire an assistant? Someone you train yourself to handle the house visits while you manage the curriculum from here?”

“Uchenna, these kids have spent months growing attached to me,” she says, her fingers tapping her thigh. “It takes a huge amount of time for them to even warm up to a stranger. If I pull out now and send a new face, their entire progress will go down the drain.”

Uchenna’s chest heaves as he takes a deep breath. The calm facade is starting to crack around the edges. He squeezes her remaining hand. “Okay, baby. Just give me something here. Suggest a solution. Anything at all, other than you walking into those men’s houses alone. Please. I am losing my mind over this.”

“Uchenna, if there were easy alternatives, these families wouldn’t be paying me to homeschool their kids,” she replies softly, her gaze steady as she looks up to Uchenna.

Uchenna lets go of her hand entirely. His face hardens, the desperate plea evaporating from his eyes. “I don’t like this one bit. I’ve spent the whole day trying to make peace with this, and I can’t.”

“Uchenna—”

“I know this sounds irrational, but every time I picture you walking into those houses, I can’t focus.” he cuts her off, stepping closer until the shadow of his broad shoulders falls squarely over her face. “ I keep imagining something happening to you.”

Iremide closes the distance between them, tilting her chin up to look him dead in the eye. “Heartbeat, this is my career. You don’t need to be worried. Moreover, what will I be doing if I quit the one thing I know how to do the most and I’m passionate about? I've watched children who couldn't make eye contact begin reading aloud.”

“But I can’t help but be worried baby.” Uchenna replies.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but this is still the work God has called me to do.” Iremide says, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. She steps back, scooping her tote bag off the couch with a swift, definitive jerk.

“You married me as a teacher,” Iremide says quietly, lifting her tote bag onto her shoulder. “So you’ll have to love me and trust me as one.”

She walks into the bedroom. The door shuts behind her.

Uchenna stands alone in the center of the living room. He lets out a low groan, burying his face in his palms as his chest rises and falls rapidly.

For the first time since saying I do, he has no idea which of them is supposed to bend.

A sharp vibration rattles across the cream couch.

Iremide’s phone lights up. The notification flashes across the lock screen before the display begins to dim.

Mr. Folagade: Thank you for taking such good care of Jason today. We appreciate you more than you know.

Uchenna doesn’t move. He hadn’t meant to read it. But he’d already seen it.

Uchenna closes his eyes.

Somehow, the message should have reassured him.

Instead...it only tightened the knot in his chest.

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EPISODE THIRTEEN

The suitcase wheels scraped across the hardwood. Iremide looks up. Azeez emerges from the hallway, his fingers wrapped tightly around the extendable handles of two massive traveling boxes.

Iremide freezes, her gaze dropping to the luggage. She immediately untangles herself from Uchenna’s arm, which had been resting comfortably over her shoulders as they watched a movie on the couch.

“Azeez?” She stands up from the cushions, her brow knitting together. “What is happening? Where are you going with your bags?”

Uchenna slowly shifts his gaze away from the television screen. He looks from Azeez’s face down to the heavy suitcases sitting on the hardwood floor, his expression neutral as he presses his tongue against his cheek.

“Mide, Mummy just called me,” Azeez says, his voice flat as he avoids looking directly at the couch. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “She said I should come back to the house. I think Mama Shade called her to complain that she is not comfortable with me staying here for now. And I don't want it to cause a fight between them, so I'm going back home.”

Iremide takes a quick step toward him, her hands flying to her hips. “What do you mean by that? How will you be going to your workplace every morning from that distance?”

“I guess I will just have to start waking up very early to beat the Lagos traffic,” Azeez says, giving a careless shrug that doesn’t quite mask the tiredness in his eyes.

“Ahh, why nau? Is that not going to be exhausting for you?” Iremide asks, stopping right in front of him at the hallway entrance, her voice laced with worry.

Azeez shakes his head, a small, tight smile touching his lips. “It is nothing, jor. I think it is even best that I leave, jare.” He leans his head down slightly, his voice dropping into a very low whisper near her ear. “I don’t think the Big Man is comfortable with my presence in this house anyway.”

Iremide automatically glances back over her shoulder at Uchenna. He remains perfectly still on the couch, his eyes fixed on the television screen as if he is completely deaf to their conversation, though his fingers are tapping a slow, silent beat against his knee.

She lets out a soft, heavy sigh, turning back to her cousin. “Okay then. Let me order an Uber for you. And please, call me the moment you get home, biko.”

Azeez nods, his eyes softening as he takes in her sad expression. “Don’t look sad, Mide baby. I can always come over for a short weekend visit after you people return from your honeymoon,” he says, trying to brighten the mood. He reaches out, pinching her cheek gently.

Iremide forces a tiny smile onto her face, her thumb rapidly scrolling through her phone screen to lock in a driver. “I am so sorry about everything,” she whispers, her chest tightening.

Azeez shrugs again, giving her a reassuring wink. “It is fine.”

“Things will definitely work out for you, in Jesus’ name,” Iremide says softly, offering a quiet prayer.

Azeez smiles genuinely this time. “Amen o.” He pats the top of his largest suitcase. “Just expect me much later. Maybe in the next two months or so, I will come back to visit you properly, you hear?”

“I will be expecting you,” she replies, stepping into his space to wrap one arm around his shoulder in a warm side-hug. “Please take care of yourself, okay?”

“Mide! Mide! re-mi-do-do-do!” Azeez sings out her old childhood nickname, a loud laugh escaping him as he squeezes her back. “I am really going to miss your sweet meals, your care, and every single thing you did for me here, o.”

Iremide lets out a bubbly giggle, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a bit at the familiar sound.

The sharp rapping against the front door cuts through the rich aroma filling the kitchen. On the counter, a colorful spread sits in large ceramic dishes: smoky Jollof rice, fried rice, creamy coleslaw, seasoned fried chicken, and a large platter of baked salmon.

Despite Uchenna’s consistent pleading that morning, Iremide had flatly refused to take the easy way out. She had woken up at dawn to boil, pound, and strain fresh palm kernel fruits to extract the rich oil for a proper pot of Ofe Akwu. Right after the church service, she had resumed her cooking.

Uchenna had rolled up his sleeves to help, and watching her husband expertly turn the smooth poundo before wrapping individual portions into cellophane warmers had sent a quiet contentment through her chest.

“They are here,” Uchenna says, leaning down to press a swift kiss against her cheek before strolling toward the living room to pull the door open.

“Ndeewo! 1” a chorus of deep voices booms instantly.

“Mgbede ọma! 2” another adds.

Iremide wipes her palms on a kitchen towel, a welcoming smile lighting up her face as she steps forward to greet her new family. But the moment she moves closer, her smile falters. People keep pouring through the doorway, one after the other, until the spacious living room is completely packed.

Her eyes dart from face to face as she instinctively begins counting. She instantly recognizes Uchenna’s mother, his quiet father, and his two younger siblings. But trailing closely behind them are eight other adults she cannot place. They look vaguely familiar—perhaps from the chaotic blur of the wedding crowd—but seeing them all standing in her living room makes her freeze right next to her husband.

“Nwunye! Kedu?” Uchenna’s mother steps forward, wrapping her in a warm, fragrant embrace.

Iremide hugs her back tightly, even though the Igbo words fly completely over her head. “Welcome, ma.”

“Omalicha Nwaanyị,” Uchenna’s younger sister adds with a bright grin, squeezing her hand as the crowd begins to settle on the sofas, spilling over the armrests.

“How are you, my wife?” Uchenna’s mother translates her own words, her eyes kind and beaming.

Iremide drops into a respectful, fluid half-kneel. “I am fine, ma. Welcome, ma.”

“Good, good. We said we must come and greet you and your husband after service,” the older woman says, gesturing around the room. “All these people are your in-laws o. You might not know all of them yet, but they all traveled down for your wedding. Some went back to the East, but these ones are still around.”

Iremide nods quickly, her fingers subtly twitching at her side until Uchenna reaches down, locking his hand securely into hers.

“Nne, please take your seat and tell everyone to relax so we can get you some refreshments,” Uchenna says, gently guiding his mother toward the couch.

Once the room settles into a loud rumble of chatter, Uchenna keeps his hand on Iremide’s waist, introducing her formally to the extended family. “Nke a bụ nwunye m. 3”

An older woman sitting to the left waves her hand dismissively. “We know. Isn’t that the reason we are here to visit the two of you? This house is fine o.”

“Ị na-asụ Igbo?4” another aunt asks, her sharp eyes scanning Iremide with a tight smile.

Iremide’s head swivels toward Uchenna, her expression a silent, wide-eyed plea that screams: What did she just say?

“Mba, Aunty. She doesn’t,” Uchenna answers smoothly on her behalf. He lets go of her waist and takes a step toward the kitchen. “Let me quickly get some cold drinks from the fridge for everyone.”

“Bịa, Bịa ebe a!5 What is that one?” The aunt by the left snaps her fingers, her voice cutting through the room. “Gịnị ka ị na-eme?6 Is that not the primary duty of your wife? Why are you the one running to the kitchen to fetch drinks for your own family while she is standing there?”

“Nne, leave him. He's a new husband, marriage is still sweeting him that’s why he is running around like the house help." another aunt laughs. "My daughter, this is your work now. Let him sit with his family.”

Uchenna’s jaw tightens. “Aunt—”

Iremide’s eyes widen in a silent warning to her husband. She pinches the fabric of his shirt behind his back, signaling him to drop the argument. “I will go and get it immediately, ma,” she says quickly, dropping into another polite micro-kneel before turning on her heel.

In the kitchen, her hands shake slightly as she arranges two cartons of fruit juice, two bottles of yogurt, and several small pulpy drinks onto a large wooden tray. She adds a collection of glass cups and mugs, carrying the heavy load out and placing it carefully on the center table.

“Ehn-ehn. Daalụ, thank you, thank you,” the sharp aunt says, nodding as she pours herself a drink. “You are a full wife in this family now, and your husband is your head. He should not be the one serving your in-laws when you are present in the house.”

Iremide forces her lips into a compliant line, keeping her gaze low. “Yes, ma.”

“Let me go and bring the food out now,” Iremide says, her eyes darting from Uchenna’s mother to his silent father, then back toward the kitchen walkway.

“Wait, wait. Bịa, bịa,” another aunt from the far right couch calls out, raising a manicured finger.

Iremide stands completely straight, her feet frozen on the hardwood. “Yes, ma?”

“Before we even touch any food you want to offer us today, we need to be sure you are feeding your husband well,” the aunt says, a knowing grin spreading across her face. “Both in the kitchen and in the bedroom.”

A sudden blast of loud laughter echoes from the older generation in the room.

Iremide’s face burns with an instant, scorching heat. Her fingers tighten around the empty serving tray. How is this supposed to be a funny joke? She glances up at her husband. Uchenna is already taking a step forward, his chest rising as he gives her a firm, protective look that asks: Should I shut this down right now?

Iremide lets out a slow exhale through her nose, shaking her head just a bit. She cannot afford to offend her new in-laws on their very first official visit.

“Yes, ma,” she replies to the aunt, forcing her voice to remain entirely sweet and even.

“So you are satisfying your husband properly and giving him maximum respect as the head of the house?” the aunt presses, leaning forward.

Iremide nods firmly. “Yes, ma.”

Another round of laughter and teasing remarks ripples through the couches. Uchenna moves closer, his fingers reaching out to intervene, but Iremide subtly steps in front of him, her elbow gently blocking his path.

“Good! Now we can comfortably eat all the food in this house, knowing our wife satisfies her husband,” an older uncle in a traditional cap says, his deep voice taking over. He looks directly at Uchenna. “But it is your own duty to satisfy her too, hmm? We are Igbo men, and we take proper care of our wives. She is your number one priority now. If she needs you in that bedroom, just drop whatever you are doing and follow her inside. If she needs money, you must spend on her first before you touch a single Kobo for yourself.”

“Go and bring the food, Asa! Asampete, Ego Oyibo! The beautiful apple of Uchenna’s eyes. Omalicha Nwaanyị, Achalugo!” the uncle begins to sing out in a warm, melodic chant.

Iremide turns and walks quickly back to the safety of the kitchen counter to begin portioning the rice. Uchenna follows her immediately.

“Baby?” he whispers, his hand instantly wrapping around her wrist to stop her movements.

“Let me just serve your family, Uche,” she says, her voice low as she keeps her eyes fixed on the steaming pot of Jollof. She offers him a small, tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Uchenna searches her face, his thumb rubbing a circle over her skin. “Baby, are you angry with me?”

“No. I am fine,” she replies, gently pulling her hand away from his grip to reach into the upper cabinet for the serving bowls.

“Please don't read too much into what they said,” Uchenna pleads, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper near her ear. “We are the only two people inside this marriage, Iremi. Not them. Okay?”

“Okay,” Iremide murmurs, lifting the heavy glass lid off the fried rice.

But as the loud, foreign chatter continues to drift into the kitchen from the living room, she can’t shake the heavy feeling in her chest. They laughed as though it were harmless fun, but each comment left her wondering whether she would spend the rest of her marriage trying to prove she was enough.

Iremide lies on her side of the mattress, the crisp cotton of the duvet bunched tightly against her collarbone. The blue glare of her phone screen illuminates her face as she mindlessly scrolls through Instagram, but her mind is trapped in the evening event. Even when Uchenna’s mother finally stepped in, raising her hands to tell the room to calm down with her simple summary—“Marriage is two forgivers living in one house”—the aunts and uncles simply shifted gears. They just kept talking.

“Baby.”

Uchenna’s voice snaps her out of the spiral. She looks up from the screen as he steps out of the bathroom, a trace of moisture still dampening his short hair. He climbs onto his side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he slides closer to her.

“Are you still thinking about today?” Uchenna asks, his eyes searching hers. “Mama didn’t give me any warning that she was coming with the whole family. They are just being overly traditional, Iremi. Please don’t attach any weight to their words.”

Iremide drops her phone onto the sheet, turning fully to face him. “It was just so much, Uche. Even after serving them all that food, they still had piece after piece of advice for me.” She mimics a sharp, high-pitched tone. “‘Nwunye, by this time next year, you should be greeting us in Igbo o. We don’t want our grandchildren answering us only in English.’ And then, just because I asked you to help me hold a glass cup from the tray, another aunt jumped in with: ‘Always speak to your husband with respect, even when you’re angry.’”

Uchenna nods slowly, his arm reaching out to loop around her waist, pulling her chest against his. “Iremi, they are just speaking from their culture and traditions. Most of them literally just traveled down from the village.”

Iremide pouts, her fingers tracing a restless pattern over the fabric of his shirt. “And then there is the other aunt who asked if I still intend to keep my job. When I said yes, she just stared at me and said, ‘Just don’t become too busy for your home.’”

“Don’t keep replaying those words, please,” Uchenna murmurs, his thumb catching a loose strand of her braid. “The most important thing is that Mama, Vivian, Dominic, and Papa did not say any of those things, right?”

“Yes, your immediate family were quiet the whole time,” Iremide sighs, her gaze scanning the sharp lines of his face. “But even at that, they were all communicating in Igbo half the time. I was just standing there blank.”

“It does not mean they dislike you, baby. They are just offering their own version of how they think a marriage should run, okay?” Uchenna smiles, his fingers rubbing her cheek softly.

Iremide shifts, her chest tightening as a heavier question surfaces. “Is it really true? That if I get too busy with work and become too tired to cook or satisfy you, you will start looking outside for another woman to do it?”

Uchenna lets out a small groan, his eyelids dropping. “Baby, I just asked you not to dwell on their words. Biko, please nau.”

A small, reluctant smile breaks through Iremide’s frown. “Did you just use ‘nau’? Are you mimicking me now abi?” She reaches up, pinching the tip of his nose.

Uchenna catches her hand, a genuine smile softening his lips as he tucks her chin under his jaw. “I am just getting worried that these random comments are going to plant seeds of doubt in your heart. I don’t want that.”

Iremide bites her lower lip, her eyes staring at the bedroom wall. “It is a lot, Uchenna. They said so many things in Igbo and then laughed right in my presence. Everyone had a piece of advice. ‘Don’t run to your parents every time you quarrel.’ ‘Always speak to your husband with respect.’” She exhales a shaky breath. “Another uncle even pulled me aside to ask, ‘So… when are we carrying babies?’”

“Heartbeat… I was overwhelmed, I won’t lie.”

“You know we won’t see most of them again until maybe our future child’s naming ceremony, right?” Uchenna reasons, his chest rising against hers. “Am I the one complaining? We are the only two people inside this marriage, not my aunts and uncles.”

Iremide stays quiet for a long moment, the heavy silence stretching between them. She nibbles nervously on her thumb. “I am just really worried. I think I need to start taking Igbo lessons immediately so I can understand what they are saying, and so they can finally accept me.”

Uchenna’s expression shifts into something deeply serious. He reaches down, cupping her chin firmly in his palm, forcing her face up until her eyes lock with his. “Baby. You do not have to earn your place with me.”

Iremide searches his eyes, her voice dropping into a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure, baby,” Uchenna says softly. He shifts his position, sitting upright on the mattress and pulling her up by her hands. “Come. Let us talk to God.”

They hold hands in the quiet of the bedroom, offering up a short prayer for peace and protection over their new home.

But even after the final Amen, and long after Uchenna’s breathing settles into the slow rhythm of sleep beside her, Iremide remains awake.

She stares into the darkness, replaying every laugh. Every piece of advice. Every expectation.

And for the first time since becoming Uchenna’s wife, she wonders if marriage will always feel like an exam she has to keep passing.

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EPISODE TWELVE

Iremide shifts under the heavy weight of the duvet, the skin of her bare shoulder brushing against a firm, warm wall of muscle. A slow, steady stroking against her bare lower back pulls her completely out of sleep.

Her eyelids flutter open, alertness rushing through her. Uchenna is looking right down at her, his clear eyes tracing every line of her face. Her head is nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm.

The memory of last night—how boldly she had matched his energy, how completely she had let go of her usual reservations—floods her mind.

Heat floods her cheeks. She immediately squeezes her eyes shut again, clamping them tight against the morning light streaming through the curtains.

Uchenna’s chest expands with a silent laugh against her cheek. Five days into this marriage, and she still reacts as if they only met yesterday. He draws a slow, grateful breath, silently thanking God for anchoring such a precious heart in his life.

“Baby, good morning,” Uchenna murmurs, his voice a deep rumble. “Are you feeling okay this morning? Any discomfort?” He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right into the center of her forehead.

Iremide grabs the edge of the cotton duvet, pulling the fabric all the way up until it covers her nose and eyes.

“Good morning, Heartbeat… I am fine,” she says, the words muffled behind the shield.

Underneath the cover, her heart thumps a steady rhythm. For years, she has wondered what this moment would be like. Reality looks nothing like the scary stories she’d heard.

“You definitely weren’t this shy a few hours ago,” Uchenna says. His fingers anchor on the top of the sheet, gently tugging the barrier down until her flushing, glowing cheeks are exposed again.

“Can you please stop?” Iremide asks, her voice rising as a small laugh escapes her. “Are you trying to tease me this morning?”

Uchenna lets out a quiet laugh, his arm tightening around her waist to pull her flush against his chest. “Baby, it is Saturday. We don’t have to rush anywhere today. I was really hoping I could keep my wife to myself for a little while longer.”

Iremide’s eyes snap wide open. “Uchenna!” She brings her fist down in a soft, playful smack against his chest, her skin burning with an even deeper blush. “Is this the only single thing occupying your mind?”

Uchenna gives a slow, unrepentant nod, his thumb tracing the side of her hip. “With you right here in my arms, I am finding it very difficult to think about any other thing.”

A small, helpless smile breaks across Iremide’s face. She lets her head sink back into his shoulder. Thank You, Lord. Years of praying, waiting, saying a firm ‘no’ to the wrong things when it wasn’t popular or easy... and somehow, God had guided her steps right to this peaceful bedroom.

She clears her throat, trying to find her serious, mature expression. “We should pray o.”

Uchenna nods, his palm sliding up to the nape of her neck, his fingers gently threading through the base of her fresh braids. “Yes, baby. Let us pray,” he replies, pulling her even closer until her chin rests directly against his collarbone.

“Uchenna, you should respect the Holy Spirit nau,” she says, twisting her torso to create some space between them. “Why should we be having morning devotion while I am on top of your chest? Stand up from the bed, please!”

Uchenna chuckles, releasing his grip as he sits up. “Okay, baby. I will do exactly what you want today. My goal is to make you smile all through today. Maybe I will earn extra favor tonight.” He flashes her a quick wink.

Iremide smiles, quickly adjusting the drooping straps of her satin nightwear. She shifts carefully before slipping out of bed, a tiny, involuntary wince crossing her features as her feet touch the floor.

Uchenna’s eyes track her movement instantly, his brow knitting. “Are you okay?”

She smiles shyly, biting her lip, and nods as she stands firmly on the hardwood floor. “I am okay. Oya, let us kneel down properly.”

Uchenna follows her lead, shifting his large frame off the bed. They both kneel on the thick rug beside the bed, their fingers interlocking, palms pressing together in the quiet room.

Iremide closes her eyes, drawing a deep, centering breath. “Holy Spirit, we thank you for today. We bless you for this union. We thank you for the peace in our home, and for your constant presence and guidance.”

“Amen,” Uchenna says, his fingers tightening slightly around her smaller ones.

“Lord, we commit ourselves and our marriage into your capable hands. Take full charge, Father,” Iremide prays.

“Amen.”

“Abba Father, give us the wisdom and the deep understanding we need to navigate this journey together.”

“Amen.”

Iremide’s voice softens, her thumbs tracing the back of his hand. “Thank You, Lord… for helping me trust You all these years. Thank You because Your timing truly is beautiful.”

“Thank you, Father,” Uchenna echoes, his voice thick with emotion.

Iremide opens one eye, glancing sideways at Uchenna with a growing smile. “Lord, please bless my husband, and let him find divine favor in the sight of every man and God.”

Uchenna’s mouth curves upward. “Amen.” He keeps his eyes firmly shut, but his voice fills the corner of the room. “Lord, bless my beautiful and cute wife. Let her find deep favor in Your sight, in my sight, and in the sight of all women and children… I am not sure I want to add men to that list.”

Iremide lets out a sudden, bright laugh, nudging his knee with hers.

“And also, Father, I still vote for triplets when we are fully ready to shepherd the children you will be giving to us,” Uchenna adds smoothly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Heartbeat!” Iremide snaps, her eyes flying open as she hits his shoulder gently. “I do not want triplets nau! Don’t listen to him, Lord.”

“Let your deep love and perfect peace fill this home continually,” Uchenna adds, ignoring her protest with a grin.

Iremide smiles, her gaze locking onto his profile. “Amen.”

“In Jesus’ mighty name we have prayed,” Uchenna concludes.

“Amen,” Iremide replies, her hands sliding out of his grip.

Uchenna leans closer into her space, his head tilting as his gaze drops directly to her lips. “Hmm. I am getting seriously distracted here.”

Iremide looks up at the ceiling, her hands resting on her knees. “Holy Spirit, please speak to your son o. Moreover, why did you send a son of yours that is such a bad influence to my life?”

Uchenna bursts into a loud laugh. “Speaking of bad influence…” He rises from his knees in one swift movement, grabbing her wrists and pulling her effortlessly up with him. “…you are making it very difficult for me to behave.”

“We have not even done our devotion nau!” Iremide protests, her bare toes curling against the rug as he pulls her closer. “We have not even prayed in the spirit yet!”

Uchenna loops his arms securely around her waist, drawing her flush against his chest. “Come here for a minute,” he whispers, staring directly into her eyes. His breathing catches for a moment as he looks into her eyes.

“Uchenna!” Iremide giggles, her playful resistance dissolving as she reaches up to touch his neck.

She tiptoe forward, pressing her lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. Uchenna laughs softly against her lips, his fingers tangling into the hair at the back of her head as he draws her into a deeper, more intimate embrace.

Iremide twists out of Uchenna’s loose embrace, stretching her arm toward the bedside table. She grabs her phone and taps the screen to check the digital clock.

10:53 a.m.

“Uchenna!” She sits up straight, the satin of her gown rustling against the duvet. “It is almost eleven o’clock. I haven’t even seen Azeez to ask him what he wants for breakfast, or if he has even eaten anything at all.”

Uchenna stands up from the mattress, a slight frown touching his forehead. “We haven’t eaten either, Iremi. Why are you so bothered about Azeez? He is a grown man, he can easily sort himself out. He knows where the noodles and eggs are in the kitchen cabinet, or he can cook something else.”

“No nau,” Iremide says, dropping her feet back into her rubber flip-flops. “He is our guest. It is only proper that I go out there and check on him.” She makes a move toward the bedroom door.

“Baby, no. Not in that nightwear,” Uchenna says, his voice shifting into a firm, uncompromising pitch.

Iremide stops with her hand inches from the silver doorknob. She turns around, a small, amused smile playing on her lips as she gestures to the hem of her gown. “Uchenna, it is a regular nightgown.”

Uchenna shakes his head, his jaw setting hard. “Mbanu! It is far too short to wear outside this bedroom while Azeez is out there.”

Iremide lets out a soft chuckle, leaning her shoulder against the door frame. “I stayed in the same hostel with Azeez for like three months during our university days o.”

Uchenna’s hands freeze near his waist. He looks at her, his eyes narrowing in surprise. “You slept in the same room with him?”

“No nau!” Iremide says quickly, waving her hand. “He left his own room for me and went to squat with his close friend in that same hostel. I also had some girls I share space with. But the point is, it is an off-campus hostel. I used to wear short clothes all around the hostel, and he has seen me in them countless times.”

Uchenna nods slowly, his chest rising with a long, heavy breath. “That was then, Iremide. Not anymore.” He walks past her, heading straight toward the wardrobe. “Let me get you something proper to put on.”

Iremide lets out another laugh, following his footsteps. She steps in close, rising onto her tiptoes to press a quick, placating kiss against his rigid cheekbone. “Uchenna, relax nau.”

He doesn’t relax. He slides a hanger across the metal rod and pulls out a matching set of long-sleeve cotton pajamas with loose, full-length trousers. He extends the heavy fabric toward her. “Wear this, please.”

Iremide looks at the thick bundle, then up at his deadpan expression. “I just want to check on him for two minutes, Heartbeat. I will be coming back to take my bath, so there is really no need to change into another set.”

“Baby. Here,” Uchenna says, his voice dropping into that quiet tone that signals the end of the debate. He holds the clothes out further, his gaze fixed on hers.

Iremide releases a soft, deflated sigh through her nose. She takes the heavy cotton from his hands, her shoulders dropping. “Let me just go and take my bath and dress up properly for the day then,” she murmurs, turning back toward the wardrobe to select a fresh casual outfit instead.

Iremide steps into the living room, the thick fabric of her high-waisted blue jeans hugging her waist, paired with a customized baby pink crop top and her signature hair bonnet. The space is completely quiet, save for the whir of the air conditioner.

She walks over to the kitchen counter, where the fried rice, turkey, and golden plantains from last night remain untouched under their glass lids. Leaning her hip against the marble surface, her eyes sweep the empty couches. Nothing. She unlocks her phone, her thumb hovering over Azeez’s contact, when the screen suddenly morphs into an incoming call.

Mama Shade

Iremide draws a sharp, sudden breath, a wave of heat instantly rushing up her neck. Her lips curve into an affectionate, cautious smile as she slides the green icon. “Mama e!”

“Good afternoon o, Mrs. ‘We are in the middle of taking care of each other’ wife,” Mama Shade’s voice rings out, sharp and dripping with heavy sarcasm. “So, how was the caretaking?”

Iremide snaps her eyes shut, her forehead dropping onto her free hand. Uchenna has completely implicated her. She is never going to hear the end of this.

“Hope your husband took care of you very well? And you took care of him properly too?” Mama Shade presses, her voice rising in amusement.

“Mama e! Stop nau, please,” Iremide whispers, a fierce blush spreading from her collarbone straight to her ears. She twists her diamond wedding band around her finger, her thumb rubbing the metal nervously.

Mama Shade lets out a deep, booming laugh that vibrates through the small phone speaker. “With the way you are sounding so shy, like someone who has crossed into a new season, it definitely means he took proper care of you. Sha, make sure you give me a baby boy first. I want a boy as my first grandchild. I already have two girls.”

“Mama e nau!” Iremide groans, her painted nails tapping against the countertop. “I know I wouldn’t hear the last of this. Moreover, we don’t even plan on having kids yet o.”

“Ahh, God forbid! what type of talk is that one? Is it you that suggested that rubbish to your husband? You want your husband’s people to start asking why you haven’t given them a grandchild?”

Iremide exhales heavily through her nose, desperately trying to steer the conversation away. “Mama e, why did you call?”

“Ehn, ehn, remember I was telling you about Iya Dele yesterday? She is owing me money for aso-ebi and avoiding me. The money I want to use to pay back the co-operative, I used it to buy aso-ebi and Iya Dele and her club members got the clothes on credit.”

Iremide sighs, staring at the ceiling. “Mama e, what exactly do you need me to do?”

“Calm down nau, I am getting there. You know I pay the co-operative every first week of the month. Now, all my money is outside on credit,” Mama Shade narrates, her voice growing strained.

Iremide shifts her weight, her rubber flip-flop tapping against the floor.

“And there are no major sales with this my block and cement business for now, and I want to refund two hundred thousand naira to the co-operative.”

Iremide instantly knows where this is heading. “Mama e, I don’t have that much on me. I am a teacher, nau.”

“I know, I know. Wait first ahh! Why not help me talk to your husband? Thank God he is even in a good mood, since you both just finished taking care of each other.”

“No, Mama e,” Iremide says, shaking her head firmly even though her mother can’t see her. “Uchenna just finished spending a lot on the wedding. Even this aso-ebi you are talking about, Uche gave you the money for it. I cannot ask him, ma.” She pauses, swallowing down her own anxiety. “I have one hundred and ten thousand naira in my savings. I will forward it to you, ma.”

“Ah-han, he will not think like that. He is your husband, two of you are already one. If you have a problem, he should solve it. Talk to him jare. omo ola”

Before Iremide can find a polite way to refuse, the soft thud of footsteps makes her look up.

Azeez walks into the living room from the hallway, his eyes cautiously scanning the corners of the space. His shoulders are slightly slumped, his voice dropping into a low, subdued pitch. “Mide, good morning.” He glances toward the master bedroom door. “Where is Big Man?”

“He is still in the room. Good morning, Azeez,” Iremide says, a relieved laugh escaping her lips at the interruption.

On the other end of the line, the background noise of Mama Shade’s shop suddenly cuts off. “Who is that? Is that not Azeez’s voice I am hearing in the background? Abi? Is that someone else?”

Iremide straightens her spine, shifting the phone to her other ear. “Yes nau. Don’t you know Azeez is here with me?”

“What do you mean? With you bi bawo? As how? Did we use Azeez as a buy-one-get-one-free bonus for your husband when we sent you to his house as a wife?” Mama Shade snaps.

“Shebi Big Mummy told you nau,” Iremide says, shaking her head. She looks at Azeez, mouthing the words, Have you eaten?

Azeez shakes his head quickly, pointing a finger at his flat stomach. “Is that Mama Shade?” he whispers. Iremide nods. “Let me quickly greet her nau,” he adds with a small, hopeful smile.

“Mama e, Azeez wants to greet you,” Iremide says into the phone.

A brief, heavy pause stretches across the line before Mama Shade grunts a reluctant permission.

“Good morning, ma,” Azeez says, leaning close as Iremide passes the device over. He launches into the standard, respectful Yoruba pleasantries, throwing in a few “Yes ma’s” for a full minute before handing the phone back to her with a smile.

The moment the phone touches Iremide’s ear again, Mama Shade explodes. “I don’t understand o. My sister sent Azeez to live with you? And you did not think to tell me? She didn’t tell me either! Wait, so Azeez was right there in that house yesterday while you and your husband were doing...?”

Iremide lets out a sharp sigh. Didn’t her mother just use a sweet, maternal tone to greet him two seconds ago? With Azeez standing right in front of her, watching her facial expressions, she has to choose her words with extreme caution.

“Mama e, please just call Big Mummy and ask her directly,” she says, her tone tight and pleading.

“Give me some minutes. I am calling her right now! Ah-han, what type of thing is that one? Why will she do such a thing without telling me? Sending a whole grown man to your house when you and your husband should be enjoying yourselves all around the place? You should be playing hide-and-seek around the house with your husband at this stage! A marriage that is just one week o! I am coming, let me call her.” The line goes completely dead.

Iremide lowers the phone, letting out a long, exhausted breath that lifts her bangs. She turns her full attention to her cousin. “Why haven’t you eaten nau?”

“I am just coming out of the room. I didn’t want to disturb you and Big Man, so I just decided to stay inside.” Azeez rubs the back of his neck, leaning awkwardly against the edge of the kitchen island.

“Ahh, I am so sorry, Azeez,” Iremide says, her eyebrows knitting together in pure guilt. “It is almost afternoon and you haven’t tasted anything? Let me quickly prepare something for us.”

She steps on her tiptoes to reach the upper kitchen cabinets, pulling out some microwave-safe plastic containers. She swiftly transfers the food from last night into them, snapping the lids shut, and places them strategically into the already crowded freezer.

Moving to the lower cabinets, the metal handles clink loudly as she pulls out a medium-sized pot. “Azeez, I am really sorry,” she repeats, looking over her shoulder.

“It is fine nau,” Azeez says, waving his hand to dismiss her apology. “You just got married, so this type of thing is supposed to happen.”

A fresh wave of heat crawls up Iremide’s neck. She silently transfers the blame straight to Uchenna’s account. Now, literally everyone in their family knows exactly what they were doing last night. Desperate to change the subject, she taps her foot against the floor.

“What should we even have for breakfast now?” Iremide asks, looking at the clean, empty gas cooker.

Azeez takes a conscious step back from the counter. “I think you should ask the Big Man first.”

Iremide nods slowly, the pot freezing in her hand. “Give me just two minutes. Let me go inside and ask Uchenna.”

Azeez nods understandingly, slipping his hands into his pockets as she turns back toward the master bedroom.

The door gives way with a soft creak under her palm. Inside the home office, Uchenna sits with his phone pressed to his ear, his back partially turned as he speaks into the receiver.

“Don’t worry, Janet. Leave it for now. We’ll go through it together on Monday.”

Uchenna shifts in his leather seat, his eyes lifting to meet hers. A smile spreads across his face.

“Let me call you back, my wife just walked in,” he says into the phone, his thumb instantly hitting the red end-call icon before Janet can even respond.

Iremide stays frozen at the door, her fingers tightening around the edge of the wooden door. Her eyebrows knit together. We’ll go through it together on Monday?

“Baby, come here,” Uchenna says, a warm, easy smile breaking across his face as he gestures toward his lap.

Iremide remains rooted to her spot, her toes curling into her flip-flops. A sudden, cold pressure clamps down around her ribs, making her next breath hitch slightly in her throat. “That was Janet?” she asks, swallowing hard to keep her voice from cracking.

“Yes, baby,” Uchenna replies smoothly. He uses his feet to pivot his swivel chair completely toward her, his posture relaxed, but his eyes track the stiff line of her shoulders.

“Then why did you hang up the moment I stepped inside?” Her voice drops into a low, quiet tone.

Uchenna’s smile flickers, his head tilting slightly. “Baby?”

“You sounded… different,” she whispers, her gaze dropping to the dark screen of the phone resting on his desk.

“Different how?”

“You told Janet you will go through things together.”

A short, deep chuckle escapes Uchenna’s chest as he pushes himself up from the chair. He walks over to her, his frame filling the doorway. “Baby… that is strictly work-related. Janet is one of my engineers. She is struggling with a deployment issue on the server, and I would say the same thing to anyone on my team.”

Iremide takes a half-step backward, her palms growing cold. “Really?” She looks up into his calm face. A sudden wave of vulnerability washes over her. She had just given herself to this man a few hours ago. What if he is already hiding things?

Uchenna notices the distance. Without a trace of hesitation, he picks up his phone from the desk and extends it toward her palm, completely unlocked. “Here baby, read the messages if it’ll give you peace.”

Iremide looks at the glowing screen, her throat tightening. She shakes her head firmly, pushing his hand away. “No.”

“Hey.” Uchenna steps closer, closing the gap between them. He wraps his warm arms around her waist, pulling her gently against his chest until she has no choice but to lean into him. “I love you, Iremi. And I mean every single syllable of it. When I say I love you, it means I see God in you, God is love. I reverence and adore you so much, I would never do anything that would cause you pain or worry, especially not intentionally.”

Iremide rests her cheek against his cotton shirt, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Okay,” she murmurs aloud. But inside, beneath the surface of his beautiful words, a tiny, stubborn seed of doubt refuses to untangle itself from her chest.

Uchenna leans down, his lips lingering in a warm, reassuring pressure against her forehead. “Also, Mama, Papa, and my siblings said they want to come over to the house right after church service tomorrow to see us, what do you think?”

The heavy fog in Iremide’s mind clears instantly. She tucks the doubt away for later. His family's visit deserves her full attention.

She pulls back, her eyes sparkling as a bright smile takes over her face. “Really? Ah, I would absolutely love to host them!” She lets out a delighted, bubbly giggle.

Uchenna’s own smile expands, his thumb softly stroking her cheeks. “I know you will, and I trust you with that. Just promise me you won’t overstress yourself with the hosting.”

“Stress ke? My in-laws are coming to visit our matrimonial home for the first time,” she scoffs playfully, her mood lifting completely. “I cannot overstress myself at all. I want them around!”

Uchenna lets out a quiet chuckle, his fingers gently pinch her cheek. “How are you this cute, baby?”

Iremide feels the heat rising in her face, a genuine blush warming her skin. “What should we have for breakfast? Or more like lunch, because you have successfully claimed my morning for yourself.”

“Just prepare anything you like,” Uchenna says, his gaze drifting toward the kitchen lane. “What about the untouched meal from our date night yesterday? I would really love to eat that fried rice and turkey. I don’t want your sweet effort going down the drain.”

Iremide nods. “Okay. Let me go and warm it.”

Uchenna dips his head one last time, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss onto her forehead. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” she smiles, stepping out of the office and letting the door click shut behind her.

She believed him. She desperately wanted to believe him.

Yet as she walked back toward the kitchen, that small knot beneath her ribs refused to loosen.

She hates that the doubt was there at all. Trust was something she had prayed for long before she ever prayed for a husband. Yet fear had a way of knocking even on doors faith had already opened.

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EPISODE ELEVEN

Uchenna steps out of the SUV, the loud thud of the car door cutting through the humid morning air. He slings his leather workbag over his shoulder, his fingers tightening around the strap as the company security guard snaps to attention.

“Good morning, sir,” the man says, a wide, respectful grin on his face.

“Good morning,” Uchenna replies, his chin dipping as his eyes automatically flick to his wristwatch.

9:23 a.m.

The major deployment brief starts at exactly nine-thirty. He pushes through the entrance door, the blast of the central air conditioning hitting his face. At the front desk, the receptionist bows slightly.

“Mr. Okoye, good morning,” she says, her smile bright and polished.

Uchenna gives a brief, tight nod, his long strides taking him quickly past the open-plan floor.

Eight junior developers sit along the lengthy central table, their faces illuminated by the blue glow of twin monitors, low dividers separating their desks. Conversations dip almost instinctively as he passes. Someone abandons a debate over an API endpoint. Another quickly switches from a meme-filled Slack window back to the deployment dashboard.

“Morning, Mr. Okoye.”

Uchenna acknowledges them with a brief nod, already climbing the stairs.

The moment his feet hit the top landing, his eyes sweep across the row of senior engineering desks until they settled on a familiar crown of braids.

“Janet,” he says, his voice cutting through the clicking of mechanical keyboards.

The team looks up in unison, offering small nods of greeting.

Janet looks up from a deployment checklist spread across both monitors. She pushes her chair back, smooths her skirt, and steps into the corridor carrying a printed incident log.

“Good morning, Mr. Okoye.”

“Morning, Janet.”

“I’ve updated the rollback plan and flagged the unresolved API conflicts. Three teams are waiting on your final approval.”

Uchenna skims the first page. “Good catch. Let's go with your recommendation.”

“I was slightly worried you would miss the pre-meeting sync. And congratulations on your wedding, sir.” Janet says.

Uchenna gives a tight nod. His thumb unconsciously brushes the wedding band on his finger. “Thank you, Janet.”

He strides toward the private corner office at the far end of the floor, pushing the door open. Janet falls into step beside him.

“I apologize for being late,” he says as he moves behind his desk, setting his bag down.

“It is not a problem at all, sir,” Janet says gently.

"The board is already assembling," Janet adds. "We still have about five minutes. The production checklist is complete except for your approval."

“Let me just grab my laptop so we can walk into the meeting room together.” Uchenna flips the latches on his bag, pulling out his sleek work laptop. He hesitates, his hand hovering over the desk as his mind stalls for a second, trying to remember what else he needs. He snatches a printed document from the stack.

“Here,” he says, passing it over.

Janet takes it with a nod. “The Singapore team finally resolved the authentication bug, but QA still wants your approval before we push to production.”

They exit the office in lockstep, heading down the quiet corridor to the main meeting room.

Throughout the first hour of the presentation, Uchenna sits perfectly upright in his leather swivel chair, but the colorful charts on the projector screen might as well be blank.

His mind keeps drifting back to Iremide. He sees the smooth slip of satin fabric against Iremide’s bare shoulder. He sees the bright, pouting line of her mouth. He hears the quiet tapping of her flip-flops on the hardwood floor.

His thumb slides over the rim of his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes.

The CEO glances around the room. “Janet, status update.”

Janet flips to the next page. “Legal signed off five minutes ago. QA approved the release. DevOps is waiting for final authorization before production.”

The CEO nods. "Good job, Janet."

“Mr Wole? Any update?” the CEO asks after a pause.

“The beta users are demanding more customizable templates and a significantly more modern interface for the automated app generation.” Mr. Wole, the product manager, speaks up.

The CEO nods and leans forward. "Mr. Okoye, do you agree?"

Uchenna’s index finger begins a slow, silent tap against the wood of the conference table.

Hopefully, Azeez has the decency to stay in his room tonight.

God, please. I just want an evening of uninterrupted intimacy with my wife.

“Mr. Okoye?” the CEO calls again.

Will she wear something that beautiful and distracting again tonight?

Janet notices his attention drift. Without looking at him, she nudges the printed roadmap a few inches closer. Her pen rests beneath the section titled Template Customization.

He immediately understands.

“Oh, yes” Uchenna clears his throat as he shifts his gaze back to the CEO, his posture straightening as he realizes the entire room—all eleven project leads, designers and developers—are staring at him with varying expressions of expectation.

The CEO folds his hands. “We've held this decision until you arrived, Mr. Okoye.”

He slides his hands flat onto the table, trying to force his breathing into a steady, authoritative beat.

"If we ship the customization engine now, we'll introduce technical debt into the rendering pipeline," Uchenna says after a brief pause.

The room falls quiet.

Mr. Wole nods slowly. “I hadn’t considered that.”

"I'd rather delay this feature than ship something we'll spend six months rewriting. Let UX redesign the templates first. Once that's done, Engineering can build a customization system on a stable foundation." Uchenna adds as he tries to anchor himself.

For the remainder of the meeting, Uchenna forces his attention back to the projector whenever it drifts home. He answers every question with his usual precision, but each lull in the discussion pulls his thoughts back to Iremide—and to the promise of the evening waiting for him.

Iremide takes a brief, bracing breath, expecting the female housekeeper Uchenna mentioned, and swings the front door open with a ready smile.

A young man stands outside instead. He wears a crisp, navy-blue jumpsuit with a bright green cleaning company logo stitched over the pocket, a heavy canvas bag of spray bottles resting at his feet.

“Good morning, ma,” he says, offering a polite nod. “My name is John from ChoreBuddy.”

Iremide blinks, her gaze tracking the smooth, youthful line of his jaw. She widens the door by a fraction. “Good morning. You are the cleaner from the agency?”

The young man flashes a bright, professional smile and nods. “Yes, ma. To handle the deep clean.”

“All right. Come inside,” she says, stepping aside to let him pass into the living room.

John lifts his bag with a soft grunt, the plastic bottles clinking together as he makes his way toward the kitchen lane.

Iremide moves toward the floating shelves surrounding the television screen. She slides a paperback novel out from the display, needing something to read, and sinks into the middle of the sectional couch.

She cracks the book open, reading the same sentence three times without absorbing it.

The repetitive shhh-shhh of John spraying liquid cleaner onto the kitchen counter fades into background noise.

Her mind is fixed on the evening ahead. Tonight has to be different. She wants Uchenna to open that front door and meet a version of his wife so captivating that the tension from the morning dissolves instantly.

A sudden thought makes her stomach flip in a delicious way. She lets out a quiet giggle, hiding her face behind the paperback.

“Holy Spirit...” she whispers. “…I am genuinely getting naughty ideas right now, she thinks, her cheeks heating up. Uchenna has officially corrupted my spirit man.

Smiling widely, she tosses the book onto the cushion, grabs her phone, and dials Busayo’s number.

The line connects before the first full ring finishes. “Newest bride in town!” Busayo’s voice pierces the speaker, loud and energetic.

Iremide leans back into the pillows, her laughter bubbling up easily. “So if I don’t call you, you won’t even check on me, ehn? A whole chief bridesmaid that abandoned her bride the moment the wedding ended.”

Busayo lets out a loud, dramatic cackle. “Ah-ah, I only wanted to give you a one-week grace period. Everybody knows brother Uchenna is a very sharp man. He will definitely want you all to himself for the first week.”

Before Iremide can even clear her throat to interrupt, Busayo drops her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “So... how is married life treating you?”

Iremide lets out a slow, deflated sigh, her fingers twisting a loose thread on the cushion. “Fine, I need your help.”

“Okay.” Busayo replies.

"Tonight is... our first night together as husband and wife." Iremide says, her voice dropping into a quiet murmur. “Can you suggest a way to make me completely irresistible?”

“Ahh! Don’t tell me you have spent the entire week preaching the gospel to Brother Uchenna?” Busayo teases.

Iremide bursts into a genuine laugh, checking the kitchen to make sure John is still focused on the cleaning. “Uchenna knows the gospel already nau. In fact, he is the one influencing me over here. There is nothing he hasn’t said to me. ‘I want to explore you, baby.’ ‘I want to make love to you.’ ‘I’ve been trying to behave myself’”

“Oya! I trust Brother Uchenna,” Busayo says, laughing loudly.

“You are already irresistible to that man, Iremide. Did you not see the way his eyes were glued to you during the whole wedding ceremony?” Busayo pauses. “But if you want to apply extra pressure, just wear something distracting, decorate the bedroom, like put those red roses and all, and make a very delicious dinner. The way to a man’s heart is food.”

Iremide nods to herself, the pieces of a plan clicking into place in her mind. “Okay nau. Let me quickly drop this call so I can start preparing.”

“Sure thing. Talk to you later, and please enjoy your night with your husband!” Busayo says before the line goes dead.

Iremide lowers the phone, a slow smile spreading across her face as she looks toward the kitchen. Dinner was definitely the answer.

Iremide rushes to the front door, a wide, ready smile gracing her lips as she pulls the wood open.

Her smile wobbles slightly. It is not Uchenna.

Azeez stands at the door, his shoulders slouched under the weight of his leather workbag. He blinks, his gaze dropping instantly to the extreme, thigh-skimming length of her off-shoulder mustard-yellow gown. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Mide? What is going on?”

He steps past her into the living room. He stops short as he looks over the kitchen counter. The surface is entirely hidden beneath covered ceramic bowls, elegant glass dishes, and roses.

Azeez drops his bag onto a stool, squinting at the setup. “Omo, Is there a special occasion today?”

Iremide closes the front door with a firm snap, instinctively reaching down to pull the hem of her short dress. A hot flush creeps up her neck. “It is for Uche,” she says, her voice dropping into a shy murmur.

“Oh. Like a surprise date night?” Azeez asks. He moves closer to the counter, his hand already reaching out toward the glass lids.

Iremide steps into his path, blocking the view with her body. “Yes.”

Azeez nods slowly, his eyes softening as he takes in her newly braided hair and glossy lips. “You look very beautiful, Mide.” Before she can thank him, his fingers aim straight for a bowl of freshly fried, golden plantains.

Iremide taps the back of his knuckles. “Don’t touch it jor! I told you it is for my husband.”

“Ah-ah! Mide?” Azeez complains, rubbing his hand with a dramatic scowl. “Which one is ‘it is for my husband’ there nau? Can Big Man finish all this food and fruits by himself? Abeg, I dey H1.”

He folds his hands together, tilting his head to look at her with wide, pleading eyes. “Let me take two plaintain nau. I have been working since morning, o. Don’t I deserve food too?”

Iremide shakes her head firmly, though a small smile tugs at her lips. “This is for Heartbeat. Let me dish your own.”

Azeez lets out a loud groan, leaning against the counter. “This is unfair, I deserve better treatment too. And remember, you knew me first before you ever met Big Man o.”

Iremide lets out a soft laugh, picking up a bowl from the cupboard. “You are not serious. I am having this dinner with my husband, so you are taking your food to your room to eat.”

“Ahh? So you are this wicked, Mide?” Azeez scoffs, watching her heap fried rice into the bowl. “You are chasing me away now because of man abi?”

Before Iremide can defend herself, the heavy crunch of tires breaking over the gravel outside cuts through the kitchen. The distinct grunt of Uchenna’s jeep fills the driveway.

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Oya, go inside!” she whispers frantically, shoving the warm bowl and his workbag into Azeez’s chest and pushing his shoulder toward the hallway.

“Ah-ah,” Azeez mumbles, stumbling backward as she propels him forward. “Mide? Is it me you are treating like this o?”

“Go, go!” she whispers, giving him one final push down the hallway before turning around and smoothing the fabric of her dress.

The front door swings open. Uchenna steps inside. He clicks the door lock shut, his shoulders tense from the office day, but the moment his eyes lock onto Iremide standing in front of him, his posture completely melts.

His gaze travels slowly down the off-shoulder neckline of her dress, down to her bare legs, and a genuine smile breaks across his face. He drops his laptop bag carelessly onto the couch. “Baby. You look ravishing.”

“Heartbeat,” she says, her palms rubbing together as she steps into his space. She gestures toward the counter, her smile widening. “I prepared a special dinner for us.”

“Thank you, because I am starving,” Uchenna murmurs. He reaches out, locking his warm fingers securely around hers, and leads her back toward the kitchen lane.

“I made fried rice, plantains, and peppered turkey,” she says, her chest rising with a proud breath.

Uchenna nods, his gaze lingers on her face.

He reaches the counter and smiles at the dinner she'd prepared. “You planned all this?”

“Of course.”

He kisses her forehead. "Thank you, baby."

His hand slides out, pushing the covered ceramic dishes to the far corner of the marble surface, clearing a wide space right in front of her.

“However, what I want is not on this table,” he lowers his voice into a whisper meant only for her.

Iremide’s eyebrows knit together in total confusion. She blinks up at him, her hands dropping to her sides. “Really?… what do you want then?”

Before she can process the cleared marble space, Uchenna slides his hands under her and lifts her in one fluid motion. He sets her down gently onto the warm, marble counter. He closes the distance between them until they're standing so near she has to tilt her head to meet his eyes, his hands remain at her waist.

He reaches up and smooths an imaginary crease from her shoulder, his eyes warm with affection, locking his eyes in hers.

“The food smells amazing.” he says, his voice a low, raspy gravel against her skin. "But I've missed you more than I've missed any meal."

Iremide lets out a breathy giggle, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt at his waist. “Are you always this bad?”

"Do you know how distracted you've had me since this morning?" Uchenna murmurs, full of quiet affection and anticipation.

A sharp, piercing ring explodes from her phone on the counter.

Uchenna closes his eyes. “Let us ignore every single distraction tonight, biko.”

Iremide chuckles. She glances at the screen. “It is Mama Shade.”

Uchenna shakes his head, his hands sliding down to her waist. “Your mother can wait for one night, baby.”

“Let me just pick it up, please. One minute,” Iremide says, tapping the green button and switching it to speakerphone before he can protest.

Uchenna lets out a long, dramatic exhale but stays close.

“Mama e!” Iremide greets brightly.

“Oko mi, how are you and your husband?” Mama Shade’s voice booms loudly through the digital speaker, cutting through the quiet kitchen.

“We are fine, ma, how is Baba Shade and Shade?” Iremide asks, her breath hitching slightly as Uchenna’s hand finds hers beneath the edge of the counter, his fingers weaving gently through hers. The quiet squeeze says everything his words don't.

“Good. I just called to greet you. Hope you are fine? And hope your husband is doing fine too?”

“Yes, ma,” Iremide manages to reply, his fingers continuing their slow climb.

“Very good. Do you remember Iya Dele nau? The one that brought twelve yards of your wedding aso-ebi? She did not even pick the regular Ankara o, she took the expensive lace on credit. I saw her yesterday at the co-operative and she—”

“Mama Shade, good evening, ma,” Uchenna suddenly greets, leaning his face right over the phone screen.

“Ahh, oko mi! You are there too?” Mama Shade shifts her tone instantly into a warm, maternal singsong. “Good evening! How are you? How is work? Olowo ori mi”

“Everything is fine, ma,” Uchenna says smoothly.

“Hope Iremide is taking proper care of you? And you are taking care of her too?”

“That is exactly what I want to tell you, ma,” Uchenna says, his voice completely steady. “We were in the middle of taking care of each other, ma. Can you please call us back later, ma? Preferably tomorrow morning?”

Iremide’s jaw drops. She brings her hand down in a sharp, soft smack against his chest.“Uchennaaa!!”

“Ahhhh! okayyy! I see, I see!” Mama Shade bursts into a knowing, delighted laugh on the other end. “Sorry, sorry oko mi! Continue taking care of each other o. I will call tomorrow. O daaro o. Make sure you enjoy taking care of each other! Take care of her gently!” The line clicks dead.

“Heartbeat!” Iremide squeaks, her hands covering her hot face as she giggles in utter embarrassment. “Why on earth would you indirectly tell my own mother that you want to get intimate with me?”

“Because I want to get intimate with my wife, and I am making sure to dismantle every single roadblock tonight,” Uchenna says, his gaze moves to her lips. “I have officially run out of patience for interruptions.”

Iremide’s smile falters. “Heartbeat...” she whispers.

Uchenna gaze shifts from her lips to her face curiously.

She swallows. “I need to tell you something.”

Uchenna lets out a small groan, his forehead resting against hers for a brief second. “Baby... if this starts with a Bible verse, I’m going to be very worried.”

Iremide lets out a loud laugh, her shoulders shaking. “Uche, the word of the Lord says—”

Uchenna claims her mouth before she can finish the sentence. The sudden, heavy heat of the kiss steals the air right out of her lungs. Iremide freezes for a second in pure surprise, then melts completely, her arms coiling tightly around his neck as she deepens the pull, matching his urgency.

“Uchenna…” she whispers against his lips when he finally allows her a millimeter of breathing room.

Uchenna pulls back by an inch, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He glances toward the hallway. “What about Azeez?”

“I… I already told him I wanted to spend this evening with you,” Iremide breathes, her fingers stroking the back of his neck. “He is inside his room.”

Uchenna closes his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a soft sigh. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asks, her thumb tracing his jawline.

“For choosing us tonight.”

“Thank you for explaining things to me instead of just locking up on me,” Iremide replies softly, her eyes shining under the kitchen light.

Uchenna leans down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck, then moving lower to her collarbone and the curve of her shoulder. Iremide squirms slightly on the counter, a joyful giggle escaping her.

“I adore you, Iremi. Let me cherish you properly tonight.”

Iremide smiles, her fingers tangling in his short hair. “Thank God for the salvation of your soul, Uchenna! You are a very bad boy.”

“Thank God indeed,” Uchenna murmurs against her skin. “Because He found me worthy enough to give me you.”

Before Iremide can respond, a sudden shuffle echoes from the edge of the hallway.

Azeez steps out into the bright living room light.

Uchenna reacts instantly. He catches the slipping edges of Iremide’s off-shoulder gown and pulls the fabric gently back over her shoulders before turning to face Azeez.

Azeez stops dead in his tracks, his eyes expanding into huge saucers as he takes in the sight of his cousin perched on the marble counter. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I thought you were having dinner” He stands frozen like a statue at the entrance of the hallway.

Iremide, burning with fresh embarrassment, quickly hides her face in the crook of Uchenna’s neck, refusing to look up.

Uchenna keeps one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, anchoring her to his chest. He turns his head to fix Azeez with a steady, unblinking glare.

“It is fine. You can drop the plate,” Uchenna says, his voice flat and authoritative.

Azeez nods frantically, his feet scurrying across the floor. “I am so sorry, sir. Truly sorry.” He sets the bowl into the sink with a hurried clink, avoiding eye contact.

“Azeez?” Uchenna calls out just as the younger man turns to sprint back.

Azeez freezes. “Yes, sir?”

“Is it possible for you to give us some time alone tonight, please?” Uchenna’s gaze is firm, leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.

“Yes, sir! Sure! I will stay in my room until tomorrow morning, sir. Have a good night sir! Mide, good night!” Azeez darts to the double-door refrigerator, snatches a cold bottle of water, and disappears down the hallway, the door to his room shutting with a definitive click.

The house falls into a thick, heavy silence.

Iremide waits five long beats, her heart hammering against Uchenna’s chest, before she slowly peeks out from the safety of his neck. She looks up at her husband’s unbothered face, her eyebrows lifting in mild disbelief.

“Good job,” she whispers, a mix of amusement and sheer embarrassment dancing in her eyes. “You have now officially made an indirect announcement to my entire family tree that you will be making love to me tonight.”

“Not my fault,” Uchenna says simply, a grin breaking across his face.

Before she can gasp, he scoops her effortlessly off the marble counter, cradling her close as he marches down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The soft sound of Iremide’s bright, helpless giggling fills the quiet home, fading only when their bedroom door clicks shut.

The master bedroom is dim, decorated with red roses scattered across the bed and floor, the bedside lamps casting warm shadows around the room. Uchenna lowers her gently onto the rug, his arms lingering around her waist for a beat before he steps back.

“You decorated the bedroom too?” Uchenna asks with a smile.

Iremide nods, a small smile playing on her lips as her gaze drifts toward the bed.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes soft yet intent, reading every flicker of emotion across her face.

“Iremi,” he says, his voice a low, smooth melody in the quiet space. He glances down at her hands, which are fluttering slightly against his chest. “Your fingers are trembling. Are you absolutely sure?”

Iremide swallows hard, her gaze dropping to the pulse point beating rapidly at his throat. She gives a single, small nod.

Uchenna’s lips curve into a gentle smile, though he doesn’t press forward. “Words, baby.”

She forces her gaze up, locking her eyes onto his. “I want this, Uche. I am very sure.”

Uchenna’s expression dissolves into pure tenderness. He lifts both hands, his palms anchoring securely against her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tension under her eyes. “Look at me.”

She lifts her chin, her breath catching in her throat.

“I stood before God and your entire family exactly five days ago,” Uchenna says, his chest rising and falling in steady, reassuring shifts against her front. “I promised to cherish you. That means it is my job to protect you, Iremide. We are not in a hurry. If all we do tonight is hold each other until morning, I am content. I waited for you. I prayed for you. I love you.”

Her uneven breathing finally steadies. She leans the side of her face into the deep warmth of his right palm, her hands sliding up to rest on his broad shoulders. “I love you too. I don’t want to wait anymore, Uche. I desire this so much.”

Uchenna’s eyes flare with a sudden heat, but his movements remain incredibly deliberate, entirely patient. He slides his hands down to her waist, pulling her flush against his frame until the her gown offers no barrier. Beneath his ribs, she can feel the frantic, heavy thumping of his own heart. He isn’t nearly as calm as his voice sounds; he is just holding himself back for her sake.

“My wife,” he breathes against her skin.

He leans down, his mouth finally claiming hers.

The kiss begins as a quiet reassurance, his lips brushing hers as though he has imagined this exact moment a hundred different ways and still refuses to rush a single second of it. Gradually, his grip on her waist tightens. Uchenna deepens the pull, his lips turning firm and possessive. Iremide rises onto her tiptoes, her fingers tangling tightly into the short hair at the nape of his neck, completely surrendering to the liquid warmth spreading through her veins.

Uchenna breaks the contact for a second, his forehead resting heavily against hers, both of them drawing in sharp needs of air in the dim light.

“I want you to know...” His thumb strokes gently, though a little unsteadily, across her cheeks. “...that nothing is being taken from you tonight.”

“It is being given,” Uchenna adds quietly.

“And I want you to know...” She rises onto her toes just enough to press a soft kiss against the sharp corner of his jaw. “...that I am not giving myself to you simply because I am your wife.”

She looks directly into his eyes, ensuring he hears every word. “I am giving myself to you because I choose you, every single day.”

A quiet, breathless laugh leaves him. “I choose you too.”

“Can we thank God first?” Iremide asks, a small, bright smile breaking through her nerves.

Uchenna lets out a low chuckle, his shoulders relaxing completely as he nods. “Always.”

“Holy Spirit, thank You for teaching us how to understand one another,” Iremide whispers, closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against his chest. “Thank You for our marriage. Help us to always honor You in the specific way we love each other. Amen.”

Uchenna keeps his eyes closed for a long beat, absorbing the prayer before his hands move again. He kisses her forehead, then the soft skin of her temple, then simply holds her tightly against his chest for several moments, letting the silence settle around them.

“Are you sure, baby?” he whispers against her hair, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, offering her one final exit if she needs to take it.

Iremide looks into his eyes. There is no pressure behind his gaze, no trace of impatience. There is only the quiet certainty that he will wait for her if she asks him to. The fear doesn’t completely vanish, but it stops being stronger than her trust.

“I am very sure, heartbeat,” she murmurs. Her lips find his once more as his arms tighten around her, gently guiding her back onto the soft, cool sheets of their marriage bed, finally closing the distance between them.

Against all odds... the Okoyes finally got their uninterrupted evening. 😂

First milestone completed. The Okoyes have consummated their marriage. Now the real marriage journey begins. 🤭

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EPISODE TEN

Iremide steps out of the master bedroom, her gaze sweeping the dim hallway before she follows the soft light into the kitchen. Azeez stands near the island, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking slightly apologetic.

Azeez shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I am so sorry. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

Iremide quickly shakes her head, pulling the edges of her gown down. “No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t want them spoiling before morning,” Azeez says, pointing a finger toward the heavy white bags on the counter.

She hurries over to the counter, lifting the cold, heavy bags and transferring them to the kitchen sink.

"If I knew how you like to sort them, I would have handled it for you." Azeez says, tracking her steps and leaning against the adjoining counter.

Iremide nods absently, twisting the tap. Cool water gushes into a large plastic bowl, the sharp scent of raw fish hitting her nose. Her mind, however, is still stuck in the bedroom—the weight of Uchenna’s hand on her waist, the sudden heat of his mouth, and the unfinished slide of her zipper. Her chest gives a frustrated little heave.

“Thank you for all the things you brought for me today, Mide. I really appreciate it,” Azeez says softly, breaking into her thoughts.

Iremide forces her focus back to the sink, offering a small smile. “Don’t worry about it jare.”

For the next ten minutes, the kitchen fills with the sound of running water and plastic containers snapping shut. Azeez helps her portion the chicken wings and the fresh fish into separate tupperware bowls. Once everything is stacked neatly, Iremide slides them into the freezer compartment, the cold air hitting her face.

“Good night,” she says the moment the freezer door clicks shut. She doesn’t wait for a conversation, instantly dashing back down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

“Good night, Mide,” Azeez calls out after her, his voice fading behind her.

She pushes the bedroom door open. Uchenna is already tucked under the sheets, his back turned to her side of the bed. The reading lamp is off, and the room is quiet save for his slow, deep breathing.

“I am back,” she whispers into the low-light, her fingers hovering over the doorknob. “Please just give me five minutes.”

Uchenna shifts slightly under the duvet, giving a single, tight nod without turning around.

Iremide hurries into the bathroom. She scrubs her hands twice with scented soap to wash off the stubborn smell of raw fish and chicken, washing her face with cold water to chase away the lingering stress of the long day before taking a long shower.

Minutes later, she steps back into the bedroom, the air conditioning instantly chilling her bare skin. She wears a sleeveless satin top and a pair of matching satin shorts that leave most of her legs bare—one of the specific outfits Mama Shade had packed into her bridal trousseau with a wink, telling her to wear it strictly for her husband.

She looks at the bed. Uchenna’s breathing has leveled out into the heavy sound of deep sleep.

Iremide lets out a long, deflated exhale through her mouth. The anticipation that had been tightening her stomach dissolves into a dull ache.

She climbs onto her side of the mattress, the sheets feeling unusually cold against her legs. She pulls the heavy duvet up over her shoulders, sliding across the gap until her front presses against his warm back. She drapes one arm over his waist, holding him tightly in the dark, staring at the wall until her eyelids finally grow heavy and sleep cuts her off.

Iremide blinks her eyes open, her hand instinctively sweeping across the white bedsheet beside her. The linen is completely smooth, with no trace of Uchenna's warmth.

“Good morning, Holy Spirit,” she whispers into the quiet room.

She slides her feet into her indoor rubber flip-flops, the soles tapping softly against the hardwood floor. She walks down the short corridor toward his home office, pushing the door open by an inch.

The desk is clear; the monitor is dark. Her eyebrows knit together as she pivots, her steps quickening toward the living room.

The main couch is empty. The television screen reflects nothing but the morning sunlight filtering through the blinds. She is about to turn back toward the hallway when the door to the guest room clicks open.

“Mide baby! Good morning, how are you?” Azeez calls out, stepping into the passageway. He is already wearing his corporate trousers, holding his workbag in one hand and his unknotted silk tie in the other.

Iremide blinks, her gaze tracking his smart appearance. “You are leaving this early?”

“Yes o. I need to drop something off at the park before heading into the office, and I also need to pray at the mosque, and I really didn’t want to disturb your sleep, so I just thought to move out early,” Azeez says, checking his watch. He pauses, his face softening. “Thank you for yesterday again, seriously.”

Iremide forces her lips into a small smile. "Don't mention it."

“I need your help with this thing again, abeg,” Azeez says, holding the silk tie out toward her with a sheepish grin.

She smiles. "I should just teach you how to do this once and for all. I can't be helping you every morning, nau." She steps back into the center of the living room to give them more space. Azeez follows her, draping the fabric around his neck and adjusting his collar.

“Mide?” Azeez pauses, his voice dropping into a lower, more cautious tone. He glances toward the hallway before looking back at her. “Is the Big Man angry with me? He didn't even answer me when I greeted him last night, and yesterday morning was the same thing. All he gave me was one cold nod.”

“No nau,” Iremide says quickly, smoothing her expression into a reassuring line. She lifts her hands to take the ends of the tie. “He is just busy with work, you know how stressful coding can get sometimes.” She gives his shoulder a light, comforting tap. “Don’t let it bother you at all, biko.”

“Ahh, thank God,” Azeez smiles, his chest rising in a slow exhale.

“What about breakfast?” Iremide asks. She steps closer, rising onto her tiptoes so she can properly align the two ends of the silk material under his chin, as she reaches up to straighten the knot, one satin strap slips slightly off her shoulder unnoticed.

“I will just grab meat pie or something on the road,” Azeez replies, holding his breath slightly so his neck stays still.

“Take some fruits and snacks along then,” she insists, her fingers working the fabric with practiced ease. "Oya, watch closely so you'll know what to do next time."

Azeez nods, tracking how she is doing it.

Uchenna steps into the living room. He stops dead in his tracks, his entire frame locking up. His eyes drop instantly to Azeez’s smiling face, then slide down to where Iremide’s bare fingers are pressed against his cousin’s collar, and finally—with a sudden, sharp intake of breath—his gaze lands on the satin nightwear that should be meant for his eyes alone.

The entire living room feels like it drops ten degrees in an instant. Uchenna stands completely still, his chest rises and falls in slow, heavy, controlled shifts.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Iremide continues.

“Thank you, Mide, truly.”

Iremide nods rapidly, finishing the final tuck of the knot. She gives his chest a quick tap. “Here you go, I hope you learn it, you will be doing it yourself from now on.”

She steps away from Azeez, turning fully toward the hallway entrance. She smiles brightly at the sight of Uchenna. “Heartbeat.”

Azeez spins around too, his playful smile dropping into a respectful, hasty bow. “Good morning, sir.”

Uchenna gives Azeez a single, tight nod. Then, his eyes snap back to Iremide, lingering on her bare shoulders and the short hem of her nightwear.

Without a single word, he turns on his heel, retreating down the corridor toward the master bedroom.

“Have a nice day, Azeez,” Iremide says quickly, waving a hand before turning to rush down the hallway after her husband.

She slips into the master bedroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Uchenna stands by the edge of the bed.

“I was looking everywhere for you, Uchenna. I went into your office, and when I didn’t see you there, I went to the living room.” She closes the remaining distance between them, her rubber flip-flops silent on the rug.

"I'm not going to work today. I was hoping we'd spend today together," Iremide says with a smile.

Uchenna breathes out slowly through his nose, his shoulders dropping just a fraction. He looks down at her, his expression heavily weighted. “I was in the other guest room. Iremide, something has been bothering me.”

She straightens her spine, her hands dropping to her sides. “What is it?”

Uchenna locks his gaze onto hers, his eyes steady and unblinking. “I know Azeez is your cousin. I know you both practically grew up under the same roof. But some of the things that feel completely normal to you do not feel appropriate to me as your husband.”

Iremide blinks, a sudden spike of heat hitting her cheeks. “Like what?”

“Yesterday he was touching your forehead, leaning in very close to you, and making inside jokes with you. This morning you were standing close enough to straighten his tie while wearing your nightwear. I know your heart. I know there's nothing inappropriate between the two of you. But now that we're married, those moments don't sit right with me anymore.”

Iremide looks down at the floor, her flip-flop tapping a fast beat. “Heartbeat—”

Uchenna lets out a sharp, heavy breath that cuts her off. “I am being very serious, Iremide. If you find it too awkward to tell him to adjust his behavior, I will gladly step out there right now and have a firm word with him myself. He's your cousin, and I respect that, but I think he also needs to become more aware that you're married now and some distance would help. I barely have any time alone with you anymore.”

“No, no,” Iremide says quickly, her hands flying up in a frantic wave. She tries to plaster a reassuring smile back on her face. “Don’t worry. I will adjust things myself.”

“His mother has already stretched my patience by bringing him into our home less than a week after our wedding. Even then, I've chosen not to confront her because I respect you. Every single time I want to cuddle you on the couch, steal a kiss in the kitchen, enjoy private moments alone with my wife around the house, or simply show you spontaneous affection, I first have to check whether your cousin is around the corner. And now he's acting around you as though you're both still university students?”

"But... that's how we've always related," Iremide says quietly, her brows knitting together. "I honestly didn't think anything of it."

"I know. And I'm not asking you to stop loving your family. But you're my wife now, Iremide. Some things that felt normal before marriage won't feel the same anymore."

She looks up at his tight, unyielding lips, her own parting slightly. “I am sorry,” she mouths quietly.

Uchenna stares down at her nightwear for three long, silent beats. His chest heaves in a slow, rough pattern as he absorbs her words. Finally, he gives a reluctant, heavy nod.

“I am going into the office today,” Uchenna says, his tone shifting into something clinical as he steps away from her frame. “The housekeeper is coming this morning, so you will need to supervise the cleaning.”

Iremide follows his movement, her heart sinking. “What do you mean you are going into the office? Uche, you promised me you would work from home until after our honeymoon. Let’s just stay together today. Azeez will be leaving soon and we will have the entire house to ourselves.”

Uchenna stops near the dresser, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder, his eyes unflinching. “Yesterday I spent almost the whole day looking forward to you coming home.”

“Are you angry? Let me make it up to you today nau, Heartbeat,” Iremide pleads, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I'm disappointed," Uchenna says quietly, though his fingers remain rigid as he opens his wardrobe doors to pull out a crisp corporate shirt. “But I have an emergency that requires my physical presence at the office.” He slides a hanger across the metal rod with a sharp clink. “I will be back home early.”

Iremide nods quietly as the realization settles in. She watches him lay out his clothes, the heavy silence in the room growing thick again. She squeezes her own hands together, taking a slow step toward him.

“Uchenna, teach me,” she says, her voice dropping into a soft whisper.

Uchenna turns around, his brows pulling together. “What?”

"Heartbeat... don't assume I already understand. Tell me plainly how you want me to handle things to make you happy. Teach me what you're seeing that I'm not seeing."

Uchenna studies her face. The frustration that has weighed heavily on his chest since yesterday eases, if only a little. For the first time since they started arguing, he realizes she is no longer defending herself. She is inviting him in.

Uchenna stands still for a beat, his expression softening. He reaches out, taking both of her hands in his broad palms, and gently leads her over to the edge of the mattress. They sit down together, their knees nearly touching.

“Iremi… this isn’t even about Azeez anymore,” Uchenna says, his voice low and steady.

Iremide nods, keeping her eyes fixed on his.

“This is supposed to be our very first week as husband and wife. I wanted these quiet, uninterrupted moments with my wife.” He pauses, his grip tightening slightly on her fingers. “Secondly, we need to settle something before this becomes a pattern.”

Iremide nods again, her thumb tracing the edge of his wrist.

“We’re still learning each other. I’ll make mistakes, you’ll make mistakes, but let’s agree on a standard before life gets any busier,” Uchenna says, looking directly into her eyes.

“When people ask you for a favor that involves both of us—the exact way Big Mummy put you on the spot over the phone—don’t say yes. And don’t say no. Don’t even say, ‘My husband will handle it.’ Say, ‘Let me talk with my husband.’ And I promise to do the exact same thing for you.”

Iremide swallows softly, her chest relaxing a fraction.

“And let it mean what it means,” Uchenna adds, his thumb tracing a slow line over her knuckles. “’Let me ask my husband’ means you are actually asking me, not just informing me. And ‘Let me ask my wife’ means I am genuinely consulting you, not presenting a finished decision.”

Uchenna leans closer, his eyes tracing hers. "I don't want us becoming the kind of couple who keeps informing each other after the decision is already made. I'd rather be inconvenienced for five minutes than slowly stop feeling like we're building this home together."

Iremide lets out a slow exhale, the truth of his words settling deep into her chest. She nods.

He takes a short breath, his expression turning intensely serious. “And most importantly, our first loyalty is to this marriage. After God, my first loyalty is to you, and yours is to me. When our marriage and outside relationships come into conflict, we protect this marriage first.”

Iremide’s eyes widen slightly at the absolute weight of his words.

Uchenna gives a firm nod. "Yes, baby. That's the kind of marriage I want for us. I know you want to please everyone, but you cannot satisfy everyone at the expense of what God has entrusted to us."

A tight, cold knot forms in the center of her stomach. If she had paused long enough to truly hear what Uchenna had been trying to say, perhaps none of this would have spiraled this far.

Iremide releases a slow, trembling breath, the raw honesty in his face softening the defensive edge in her chest.

She had only wanted Azeez to feel welcome. Somewhere along the way, she'd stopped noticing the quiet disappointments gathering in her husband's heart.

Iremide swallows the lump in her throat, her head dropping into a nod. She shifts slightly on the mattress, her fingers tightening around his. “I am so sorry, Uchenna. I honestly thought I was just helping my family. I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process.”

Uchenna’s lips soften into a warm, familiar smile. “I know your heart, Iremi. I knew it before I married you. But you cannot please everyone.”

Iremide leans forward, closing the distance between them to wrap her arms around his waist, burying her face into the crook of his neck. "I need your patience while I unlearn some things. My family has always been this way. We were always close, and I honestly don't know what marriage is asking me to do differently yet."

Uchenna wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her close against his chest as he smiles into her hair. “Thank you. That is honestly all I needed to hear.”

The tension that has clung to the room since yesterday finally begins to lift.

Iremide pulls back just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss against the rough stubble of his cheek.

The tight line of Uchenna’s mouth finally breaks into a slow smile. He traces his thumb along her cheekbone before stepping away from the edge of the mattress. “I will be back early,” he says, his voice dropping low. “And the moment I step through that door… I want you all to myself. This is the first time I am seeing you in something this beautiful and distracting.”

Iremide’s smile flashes bright and genuine, the sudden heat in his tone lifting the heavy weight from her chest. “I wore it for you. I had it on last night, but you were already sleeping.”

Uchenna gives a slow, deliberate nod, his eyes locking onto hers with sudden, intense gravity. "I love seeing you in it, baby. You look beautiful. In fact, I want you to wear it for me as often as possible."

He pauses, his jaw tightening slightly as his eyes track the low neckline of the satin top. “I don’t want another man seeing you in something meant for me. Not even your cousin.”

Iremide stands up and moves closer to him. "I was looking for you. I only ran into Azeez in the hallway."

Uchenna’s smile returns, softer this time. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her gently to himself, and leans down to whisper against her temple. "I know. I'm not saying you did it intentionally."

His thumb lazily traces a line back down to her chin, tilting her face up. “Just don’t make any plans for tonight.”

Iremide’s lips curve into a shy, breathless smile. “Why?”

Uchenna dips his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear until his warm breath sends a sudden shiver straight down her spine.

“Because after making me wait five days...” He pauses, a slow grin spreading across his face as he pulls back just enough to look into her eyes. “I am collecting every single minute you owe me.”

He releases her waist, turning on his heel and walking straight into the bathroom before she can even find her voice. The door clicks shut behind him.

Iremide stands completely frozen in the center of the rug, her fingers hovering over her collarbone.

Her cheeks burn with a sudden heat.

Oh.

She is definitely not surviving tonight.

Share Adeola

Let's hope Azeez doesn't accidentally interrupt them again. 😂😂

Thank you to everyone engaging with this series. 🥹🥰

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EPISODE NINE

Iremide steps out of the bathroom, the cool air from the bedroom air conditioner instantly raising goosebumps on her skin. She is dressed in her most modest silk nightwear: a long-sleeved, buttoned-down top and matching full-length trousers. Her bonnet is pulled down securely, covering every inch of her hair. Skipping her usual multi-step skincare routine entirely, she walks straight to her side of the mattress.

Uchenna sits propped up against the padded headboard on his side. Freshly showered and wearing a dark grey cotton tee, he stares fixedly at his laptop screen, his fingers typing a rapid, steady sequence on the keys.

Iremide crawls onto the sheets, sliding closer to the center of the bed. “We haven’t done our night prayer,” she says softly. She watches his face intently, searching for the slightest softening around his eyes or the rigid set of his jaw.

Uchenna’s fingers freeze on the keyboard. He gives a slow, deliberate nod and snaps the laptop lid shut. Reaching out, his palms enclose her hands gently. He offers a short, whispered prayer for protection and grace. Iremide whispers a quiet “Amen” against his knuckles. The moment the final word leaves his lips, Uchenna releases her grip and reopens his laptop.

The rejection stings. Iremide edges even closer, her hand reaching out to loop around his firm forearm. “I thought we were… maybe…” She swallows hard, the lump in her throat making her voice waver.

Uchenna doesn’t blink, his eyes remaining glued to the blue light of the screen.

“Uchenna,” she whispers, her gaze desperately searching his profile. “Are we not going to… make love?”

Uchenna slowly turns his head to face her. The silence in the room drops like a lead weight, so total that the faint, mechanical spinning of the laptop fan sounds incredibly loud between them. He studies her anxious features for several, long beats. Then, he reaches over, presses the power button, and shuts the computer down completely, setting it on the bedside table.

He reaches for the bedside lamp and switches it off, leaving only the faint glow from Iremide's lamp between them. “You should sleep, Iremide. You have an early morning at work tomorrow.”

Iremide sits frozen in the half-light, her breath catching sharply. “I thought we agreed on tonight to… to consummate the marriage.”

“I am tired,” Uchenna’s voice cuts through the dim space, flat and uncompromising. “Good night, Iremide.”

“Uchenna…”

He shifts his weight, turning his back entirely toward her and pulling the heavy duvet up over his shoulder.

Iremide stares at the broad expanse of his back. Her hand hovers in the empty air between them, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch his shoulder, to pull him back to her. But she stops mid-way, dropping her arm back to the sheet.

Slowly, she slides down beneath the covers, pulling the duvet tightly up to her chest. She lies perfectly still, her eyes wide open in the dark, glancing toward him every few minutes. She waits, praying silently that he will turn back around, laugh his deep rumble of a laugh, and tell her he is only joking.

But the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders tells her otherwise. She stares into the shadows until her eyelids grow heavy and sleep finally claims her.

The muffled drone of the morning news broadcast from the TV pulls Iremide down the hallway. She pads softly across the cold hardwood floor, her nightwear shifting against her skin. Her gaze immediately sweeps the living room furniture, searching for Uchenna. The cushions are completely empty.

A sharp click echoes from the corner.

She tracks the sound to the open door of the double-door refrigerator. Azeez stands there, the cool white light from the appliance casting a white glow over his brown sweatpants.

“Mide baby! Good morning,” Azeez says, his voice bouncing off the granite surfaces.

Iremide forces her lips into a quick, welcoming line. “Good morning, Azeez.”

Azeez pulls a sweating bottle of water from the glass shelf, his gaze settling on her face. “How are you nau? Why are you looking so bothered this early?”

Iremide shifts her weight, her fingers nervously twisting the satin tie of her robe. She offers a small, dismissive shrug. “Bothered ke? No, jare. I just woke up, that is why my face looks a bit swollen.”

Azeez nods slowly, accepting the excuse as he turns his attention back to the crowded shelves. “Can I take some of this cake and these apples to my office? To hold my stomach till I’m back?”

“Ah, sure! That is the remaining cake from the wedding, Shade brought it on Monday,” Iremide says, a tight knot forming in her chest at the word wedding. “Take whatever you want.”

Azeez’s face lights up. He locks his fingers around the edge of the fridge door, staring at the rows of milk, juice, and bowls of food and fruits stacked neatly from top to bottom. “This fridge is loaded to the brim o. As big as it is, your husband still managed to stock every single corner.”

Iremide manages a quiet smile, her eyes moving toward the hallway leading to the home office. “Just feel free to take whatever you need.”

“Thank you. Let me quickly get ready for work,” Azeez says, letting the fridge door swing shut with a soft thud.

Iremide pauses. Since she and Azeez are heading in the same direction, she should give him a ride. But first, she should probably ask Uchenna.

“I am heading out for work too,” Iremide offers, her voice lifting slightly. “I am driving Uchenna’s Jeep, but let me ask him for permission first, maybe we can go together.”

“Ah! Thank you!” Azeez lets out a joyful shout, stepping into her space and pulling her into a quick, tight squeeze. “Re…re…mi..do! Fine girl!” He pulls back just enough to look down at her, a massive grin on his face. “Maybe you can even pick me up in the evening too? It will save me serious transport fare, you know how expensive things are.”

Iremide smiles. “I have heard you. Let me go and check on Uchenna. I need to find out what he wants to eat for breakfast.”

Azeez steps back with a smile, twisting the cap of his water bottle. “Thank you so much, Mide. This means a lot to me. Free accommodation, free meal, plus a free ride? You are officially the best cousin in the world.”

“I am coming,” Iremide says, her voice dropping into a quiet murmur as she turns her back.

She walks away from the bright kitchen light, her feet moving faster as she enters the dim hallway, her heart ticking like a clock as she approaches the closed door of Uchenna’s home office.

Iremide pushes the office door open by a hair’s breadth, peering through the gap. Uchenna sits in his chair, the cool blue glare of his monitor reflecting in his eyes as his fingers tap a fast pattern against the edge of his desk. He leans in closer to a dense wall of code, his jaw set.

“Uchenna?” she calls out softly, testing the weight of the silence.

Uchenna pulls his gaze from the screen, his expression smoothing into a polite smile. “Iremide. Good morning.”

Iremide steps into the room, the full weight of his tone pressing down on her chest. She crosses the room and reaches for his hand, her thumb rubbing against his knuckles. “Heartbeat, you have completely stopped calling me baby since Azeez arrived yesterday. Now it is ‘Iremide.’ You don't even call me "Iremi" anymore.” She exaggerates her bottom lip into a deep pout.

When he doesn’t immediately pull her closer, she clears her throat and drops her voice. “We should make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.”

Uchenna lets out a slow breath, pivoting his chair around to face her fully. He doesn’t let go of her hand, but his grip remains loose. “I know how to forgive, Iremide. But you cannot simply bypass my voice, make a decision, and expect a quick quote to erase it every single time. We discussed this during courtship. My father never consulted my mother on any matter regarding their home. I told you I never want that for us.”

“I am sorry nau,” she whispers. She wraps her arms around his neck, leaning down to press a quick kiss against his left cheek. Then right between his eyebrows. Then the tip of his nose. Then his beard. Then his forehead. She peppers his face with tiny kisses, trying to force a break in his composure. “See, I won’t ever do it again. This is the last time, I promise.”

A small, genuine smile finally cracks across Uchenna’s face. He catches her by the waist, his shoulders dropping. “I have forgiven you. But the situation hasn't changed. Every time I see him, I remember how he got here.”

Taking the smile as a green light, Iremide slides onto his lap. “Let’s look at the bright side nau. The moment we travel for our honeymoon, we will have all the—”

A sharp, piercing ring cuts her off.

Uchenna’s phone vibrates violently against the wooden desk surface.

Janet.

Iremide’s head snaps toward the screen, her eyes narrowing as she reads the glowing contact name. Her breath hitches. “Janet calls you by six o’clock in the morning too?”

“She's calling because of work,” Uchenna answers easily, his voice untroubled as he glances at the device. “We have a deployment schedule for eight-thirty today. She is probably calling to confirm the repository updates before the team logs in.”

Iremide’s eyebrows knit together. She watches him reach for his phone. Instead of sliding the green icon to answer, Uchenna flips the phone face down onto the wood, silencing the ringer.

The room goes quiet again, save for the rapid tapping of Iremide’s foot against the floor rug. She looks from the blank back of the phone straight into his eyes. “Pick the call nau. Why are you suddenly avoiding Janet’s call just because I am sitting with you?”

“I don’t want her interrupting my time with you,” Uchenna replies smoothly, his thumb beginning a slow, distracting trace along her knee.

Iremide swallows a sudden lump in her throat. Her mind travels back through the stories he told her when they were dating—the candid admissions about his wild past, the long list of girls, the fast lifestyle he lived before he completely turned his life around for Christ. A cold trickle of unease settles in her stomach. She hates it instantly.

“Heartbeat?” she murmurs, her voice losing its playful edge.

“Yes, Iremide,” he answers, his thumb still tracing her skin.

“Why are you still calling me that?” Her fingers tighten on his shoulder. “’Iremide’ sounds so distant coming from your mouth. I miss hearing you call me baby.”

Uchenna lets out a low chuckle, leaning his face into the crook of her neck. “Baby,” he whispers against her skin, his breath warm.

A genuine giggle slips from her lips, the tight knot in her chest loosening slightly. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

“Can we do bread and fried eggs?”

“Yes,” Iremide says, nodding as she prepares to stand up. She hesitates for a second before dropping the next line casually. "Heartbeat... can I drop Azeez at work?"

Uchenna’s thumb stops moving against her leg. His eyes hold hers for several seconds. The silence stretches until his shoulders drop, and he gives a single, slow nod. “All right.”

“Let me go and get ready for the day,” Iremide says, sliding off his lap. She flashes him one last bright, lingering smile before turning around and stepping out into the hallway.

Azeez climbs into the front passenger seat, his leather workbag and a lunch bag clutched tightly against his chest. He leans back into the leather cushion, letting out a low whistle as he slides the seat back and pulls the seatbelt across his shoulder, clicking it into place.

Iremide adjusts the car seat closer and shifts the SUV into drive, her fingers gripping the smooth steering wheel as she guides the vehicle past their front gate.

“Oya, type your office address into the navigation map,” Iremide says, smoothing her dress as she gestures toward the wide dashboard screen.

Azeez nods, his fingers tapping rapidly against the glass as he inputs the location. He pauses, his gaze wandering over the stitched leather dashboard and the pristine, scratch-free console.

“Mide, this car is fine o and your husband is incredibly nice. He just hands over his car keys for you to drive to work while he stays back at home?”

“Yes, but it is not an everyday thing,” Iremide says, her eyes fixed on the estate exit as she hits the brake pedal for a passing pedestrian. “I take an Uber most days. But I am visiting the salon today after work, and besides, he is working from home for now.”

Azeez turns his head to study her profile, a warm smile spreading across his face. He lifts his black tie, draping it over the collar of his white shirt. “You are looking beautiful o, honestly. Marriage fits you.”

Iremide lets out a bright giggle, checking her side mirror before making a sharp turn onto the bustling main road. “Uchenna is taking proper care of me even before marriage.”

“It is showing completely, see your big diamond wedding ring!” Azeez says, his fingers fumbling blindly under his chin as he attempts to loop the wide end of the tie over the narrow one. He grunts in frustration. “Take me out after work nau. Let me enjoy Big Man's money too.”

Iremide hits the indicator, blending smoothly into the morning traffic. “I usually finish my classes early, but I’m going to the salon sha, by the time I’m done braiding my hair, you should be done at your workplace too. We can drive down to the mall to pick up a few things.”

“Mama! Mide money! Re…re….mi…do..do! Odogwu wife!” Azeez cheers, playfully nudging her shoulder with his elbow while laughing loudly. “Shey I will not kuku stay two months like this with the way you are spoiling me? Look at the big lunch bag, fruits, and cold drinks you packed for me this morning. God bless you Mide.”

Iremide keeps her eyes on the road, though the corner of her mouth twitches upward. “God bless you too. The Bible tells us not to withhold good from those who deserve it, especially when it is well within our power to render assistance, so it’s fine, but please don’t extend your stay.”

Anything that would make Uchenna angry, she wanted to avoid completely. His face from the previous night flashed through her mind, squeezing at her chest.

“Okay mama!” Azeez teases gently.

The navigation voice chimes, announcing their arrival. Iremide steers the SUV toward the curb, slowing down in front of a tall, corporate building with reflective blue windows. “We are at your location.”

Azeez nods, but his chin remains tucked down as his fingers continue to twist the fabric into an awkward, bulky lump. He lets out a defeated sigh.

Iremide shifts the car into park and turns her body toward him, her eyebrows rising in mild disbelief. “Azeez, don’t tell me you cannot knot a tie?”

Azeez looks up, his expression completely helpless. “Can you do it?”

“Yes nau,” she says, leaning across the center console. Her fingers gently brush his hands away, taking control of the material. Her fingers move through the familiar sequence, looping and tightening the fabric until the knot sits neatly beneath his collar.

She pulls the collar down, smoothing the edges with a final, firm tap on his shoulder. “There you go.”

Azeez lets out a dramatic breath of relief. “You are an absolute life-saver, Mide!”

"Somebody has to save you from embarrassment," she says with a smile.

Azeez smiles brightly, unfastening his seatbelt as he gathers his workbag and lunch package. “See you later then. You will come and pick me up, abi?”

“Yes. Take care of yourself, Azeez. God be with you today, and may you find favor in the sight of everyone at your new workplace.”

“Amen o!” Azeez steps out of the air-conditioned vehicle, slamming the door shut.

Iremide rests her hands on the steering wheel, watching his tall frame hurry toward the security post. He presents his plastic ID pass to the guard, then stops just before going in to turn around, giving her a quick, enthusiastic wave before disappearing into the building.

Uchenna taps his thumb against the edge of his wristwatch for the eleventh time. He sits forward on the couch, the fabric groaning under his weight.

7:43 p.m.

Iremide usually returns from work by two o’clock in the afternoon. When he called her at four, the background chatter of hair dryers and clinking rollers confirmed she was at the salon. That was nearly four hours ago. When he tried her line again at five-thirty, her voice was hurried, promising she was on the final braid.

He lifts his phone, his thumb hovering over the dial icon. He clamps his jaw shut and sets the device on the center table. He refuses to become the kind of husband who calls every few minutes, but the sky outside the window is pitch black, and he knows how much she hates driving at night.

Ten seconds pass. He snatches the phone back, dialing her number. Switched off.

Uchenna stands up, his socks dragging against the floor wood as he paces a tight circle near the couch. Is something wrong? Should he message Shade to get Azeez’s phone number?

Why isn't Azeez back either? Had they somehow linked up? No, Azeez should have still been at work during her hair appointment.

He is already typing a brief message to Shade when a pair of headlights sweeps across the living room curtains. The heavy grunt of a familiar engine sounds in the driveway.

Uchenna parts the curtain with two fingers. Outside, the SUV sits idling. Iremide and Azeez step out into the driveway light. Azeez circles around the hood, meeting her at the trunk. Iremide flings the back door open, and Azeez reaches in to gather five large, white grocery bags, still shaking his head with a wide grin.

Uchenna releases a slow, sharp breath through his nose. He looks at his watch.

7:56 p.m.

He drops the curtain, walks back to the couch, and sits down heavily, forcing his shoulders to drop and steadying his chest.

A moment later, the front door clicks. The two of them walk in. Iremide turns the door lock with a quick snap.

“Heartbeat,” she calls out, her eyes finding him instantly as she steps toward the couch.

Azeez follows a step behind, lowering his head into a swift, respectful bow. “Good evening, sir.”

Iremide nods toward the kitchen, gesturing with her chin for Azeez to drop the load. Azeez responds with a quick nod, carrying the rustling bags toward the counter. He leaves the two out of the five grocery bags on the kitchen counter and slips down the hallway toward his room, his leather workbag slung over his shoulder with the rest of the grocery bags.

Uchenna sits perfectly still, his full attention shifting to her as she approaches. “Why are you this late, Iremide? And why didn’t you tell me that you were going somewhere else other than the salon, instead of making me worry?”

“It was the traffic, Uche,” Iremide says, dropping her tote bag on the floor as she sinks onto the cushion right beside him. “We just quickly grabbed a few things at the mall. I didn’t plan for us to come back this late.”

Uchenna lets out a long exhale, his voice dropping into a flat, quiet note. “I called you minutes ago and it was switched off.”

“Ah, my phone is inside my purse, and the purse is inside my bag,” Iremide says, unzipping her tote bag to fish out the small leather pouch. She clicks the screen, her eyes widening as she notices the missed calls. “Ah, heartbeat, I am so sorry. My phone battery is dead.” She leans into him, hugging him tightly.

“Have you eaten dinner?” she asks against his shoulder.

Uchenna gives a single nod, his body remaining slightly rigid before he stands up, pulling away from the embrace.

Iremide rises instantly with him, looping her hand firmly around his bicep to stop him in his tracks. “Let’s go inside nau. You haven’t even commented on my hair. I made it for you o.” She tilts her chin up, flashing him a bright, hopeful smile.

Uchenna’s gaze softens as he looks at her fresh, intricate braids. “Beautiful. Just like you.”

Iremide’s smile widens, and she pulls him along as they walk down the quiet hallway into the master bedroom.

The door clicks shut behind them. Iremide drops her bag inside the wardrobe, her shoulders slumping. “Let me quickly go and take a shower. It has been a long day.”

Before she can take a step toward the bathroom, Uchenna catches her wrist. His fingers are warm against her skin, stopping her in place. His eyes search hers for a long second, asking a question neither of them needs to say aloud.

“Come here,” he whispers.

Iremide closes the distance between them, her footwear silent on the rug. His arm slides around her, drawing her against his chest until every inch of space disappears.

“Uchenna…”

His other hand slides up to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling into the fresh base of her braids to tilt her head back. He leans down, his mouth claiming hers in a slow, deliberate kiss, as though trying to physically erase every cold word that has stood between them since yesterday morning. The distance they have carried all day begins to melt, one heartbeat at a time.

Iremide tiptoes, her balance shifting as she coils both arms tightly around his neck, deepening the kiss as her pulse begins to race against her ribs.

Uchenna pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against hers as their breaths mingle in the quiet room. “Baby...”

A small smile hitches the corner of her lips. “Hmm?”

His thumb brushes her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Heartbeat,” Iremide replies, a breathless little giggle escaping her throat.

His mouth finds hers again, deeper now, as though he is afraid the moment will disappear. Uchenna’s thumb finds the small metal tab at the top of her gown, his hand steady at the small of her back as he slowly lowers the zipper.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sharp sound shatters the heavy quiet of the room like breaking glass.

They both freeze, neither of them daring to move.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Iremide slowly pulls her lips away, her chest heaving as she stares into Uchenna’s darkened eyes. He doesn’t let go of her waist; his grip actually tightens.

“Who is that?” she calls out toward the wood, trying to keep her voice level.

“Mide, it is me, Azeez,” the voice carries clearly through the panel.

Uchenna lets out a low, frustrated groan. “Can I at least catch a break?”

Iremide’s eyes widen. She snaps her hand up, pressing her palm firmly over his mouth. “Shh! Uchenna, keep your voice down. Don’t let him hear that and feel unwelcome.”

“I am coming, Azeez!” she calls out loudly toward the door.

Uchenna gently but firmly pulls her hand away from his lips, his brow furrowing deeply as his eyes lock onto hers. “Why are you going?” His hand remains around her waist, as though letting go is the last thing he wants to do. "I've been waiting for you all day."

“Uchenna, I—”

“I just wanted a few minutes with my wife.” His gaze searches her face—quiet, tired, aching. “Please stay,” he whispers.

Her eyes lock on Uchenna. Every part of her wants to stay exactly where she is; she had missed him all day. She wants nothing more than to close the distance between them completely.

Iremide nods, keeping her body pressed against his as she turns her head toward the door. “Azeez, is everything okay?”

“The fish and chicken we brought are already thawing,” Azeez replies from outside the door. “I don’t want them spoiling, and I don’t know how you sort them into the freezer.”

“Azeez, please put them in the fridge first. I’ll come out in a few minutes,” Iremide replies, looking back up to Uchenna.

“They won't fit,” Azeez replies through the wood. “I don't know how you arranged everything, and there seems to be no space left in the fridge.”

Iremide closes her eyes for a second, guilt pressing hard against her ribs. If she ignores Azeez, would he think he has already become a burden?

Just two minutes, she promises herself. I’ll come right back.

Iremide twists gently against Uchenna’s grip, her eyes pleading as she looks at his tight jaw. “Uchenna, please give me just two minutes, please,” she whispers. She tiptoes quickly, pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek.

"Don't go anywhere," she whispers. "I'll be right back."

Uchenna releases a sharp breath through his nose, his fingers slowly loosening. He runs a frustrated palm over his forehead, turning his back as he walks toward the wardrobe.

Iremide quickly reaches behind her back, her fingers trembling slightly as she tugs the metal zipper back up. She takes one deep breath to smooth her expression, opens the door, and steps out into the dim hallway.

It gets better in the next episode, I promise 😅

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EPISODE EIGHT

Uchenna walks into the living room, his broad shoulders clearing the hallway frame as he tracks a step behind Iremide. They move toward the center of the room, stopping just before the L-shaped couch where Azeez sits.

Azeez springs to his feet instantly. “Big man! Good evening, sir. How are you, sir?” Azeez’s face lights up with a brilliant, wide smile.

Uchenna manages a polite, measured curve of his lips. His eyes slowly slide downward, tracking the two massive, dusty traveling boxes and the bulging black polythene bag taking over the floor space.

He lets out a slow, quiet breath through his nose. “How are you, Azeez?”

“I am very good, sir,” Azeez replies immediately, lowering his upper body into a respectful, deep bow. “Thank you so much for letting me stay, sir. I know this is a huge inconvenience, but I really appreciate it. I was already thinking about how to beat the traffic without losing my job, until my mom told me you now live close to my new workplace. Thank you, sir.”

Uchenna gives a single, firm nod.

“I will just head back inside,” Uchenna says, his voice restrained but polite. “I have some pending office work to conclude.”

Azeez nods rapidly, gesturing with an open palm toward the hallway to show he is entirely free to go.

Uchenna turns on his heel. Before he steps away, his eyes linger on Iremide for two long beats before he disappears back into his office.

The moment the office door clicks shut, Iremide rushes into the gap toward her cousin. “Let me show you to the guest room,” she says, her voice a hushed, relieved whisper as she smiles.

Azeez steps closer, his fingers reaching out to pinch her cheek with a playful wiggle. “Mideeeee! You caught a very big fish o,” he mutters under his breath.

Iremide swats his hand away, a hot blush creeping up her neck. “What is wrong with you? Behave yourself properly in front of my husband o.”

Azeez bursts into a sudden, clear laugh. “Omo, you too are someone’s wife now o. Look at you! Mide, Mide! Re…mi…do..do!” He winks, bending down to hoist the heaviest traveling box by its handle. Iremide reaches for the polythene bag, her fingers gripping the cold plastic.

“Leave the polythene bag,” Azeez says, nudging it with his sneaker. “It’s for you. Mummy insisted I bring those things as a proper thank-you.”

“Ah, Big Mummy shouldn’t have stressed herself like this now,” Iremide says, as she drags the second box towards the quiet hallway. Azeez tracks right behind her, his sneakers squeaking against the flooring as he wheels the second box.

They move into the guest room. The moment the door swings open, Azeez stops dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping slightly.

“Mide, is this the room I will be staying?” he asks, scanning the neatly tucked sheets, and the large glass window.

“Yes,” Iremide says, placing her hands on her hips. “I just need you to behave yourself completely while you are here, biko.”

“Ah, this space is incredibly nice!” Azeez says, stepping inside to test the mattress with a light push of his palm. He pauses, a teasing smirk spreading across his face. “Wait, you are already speaking Igbo? Big man has fully influenced you with biko.”

Iremide lets out a bright laugh, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “How is everyone? Big Mummy and brother Abdullahi?”

“They are all fine jare,” Azeez says, dropping himself onto the edge of the mattress. Iremide takes her seat on the single sofa in front of the bed.

“Thank God I got this job o,” Azeez groans, rubbing his palms over his face. “Mummy was on the verge of finishing me in that house. ‘Your mate is doing this, your mate is doing that, at twenty-six you are unemployed.’ She even suggested I should start a TikTok account to make funny videos so I can become famous like Peller. Imagine her comparing me to Peller!”

Iremide covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Omo, I completely understand the pressure. Thank God for your life.”

"Mide, is there any mosque around this estate?" Azeez asks, standing up to pull one of his traveling boxes closer to himself.

“I really don’t know o,” Iremide replies, her eyebrows lifting. “Me and my husband are Christians, so we didn’t check for that when we moved in.”

Azeez nods, sitting back on the edge of the bed, unzipping the front compartment of his bag. “I bought you chicken shawarma on my way here. I know how much you love it.” He pulls out a neatly wrapped, grease-stained foil packet.

Iremide’s face lights up instantly, her fingers snatching the warm foil wrapper. “I’ve been craving this, you know me too well!”

“Ah, since when? We literally grew up together nau, went to the same university, why wouldn’t I know you?” Azeez scoffs playfully.

“I even ran into your former crush on our street last week driving a Benz. Thank God for your life o, Mide. You were crushing on a cultist.”

Iremide’s heart skips a wild beat. She leaps out of the sofa, her palm flying out to completely cover Azeez’s mouth.

“My God! That was over three years ago! Heartbeat is a very, very jealous someone o!” she whispers, leaning inches from his face, her eyes wide with genuine panic. “Abeg, no talk of any old crush or any man from my past in this house, please! Unless we will both not hear the last of it.”

She taps his chin for emphasis, her voice dropping lower. “Shade came around on Monday and casually mentioned Tobi's name to Uchenna. You should have seen his face. Omo, I had to immediately redirect the conversation.”

Azeez pulls her wrist away from his mouth, his lips twitching with amusement as he catches her drift. He lowers his head slightly, matching her conspiratorial volume. “I can’t say such things in your man’s presence now. I am a man too.”

Iremide lets out a loud, scoffing laugh, stepping back. “Ahh, you are calling yourself a man like this. Oga o, the young shall grow.”

Azeez reaches out, tapping her forehead with his index finger. “Shut up or you want me to cast you abi?”

“Your secrets are with me too,” Iremide fires back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So if you think you can cast me, I will feature you.”

Azeez lets out a booming laugh that rings out into the hallway.

Iremide moves toward the exit, her hand gripping the doorknob. “Freshen up quickly. I want to head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. You still like Semovita, right?”

Azeez nods with a grin.

“Come out the moment you are done,” Iremide says, stepping out.

Azeez gives her a mock, dramatic bow from the bedside. “One and only Mrs. Mide Okoye.”

Iremide scrubs the wooden turning stick under the running tap, the cool water splashing against her wrists. The sharp scent of menthol soap suddenly cuts through the rich aroma of the reheating vegetable soup. Azeez saunters into the kitchen, his hair still damp at the edges. He wears a pair of casual cotton shorts and a mustard-yellow round-neck t-shirt.

He moves closer to Iremide, his shoulder nearly brushing hers. “What should I help with like this?”

Iremide turns off the tap, shaking the excess water off the wood. “It is even good that you are here. Oya, take this and help me turn the Semovita.” She thrusts the handle into his palm.

Azeez collects the stick, his lips twisting into a dramatic scowl. “Ah, Mide. You really don’t want to have any respect for me. I am a man o.”

“Pele o, Mr. Man,” Iremide laughs, nudging his hip with her elbow as she moves toward the large pot on the gas cooker. Azeez tracks right behind her, his slippers scraping the floor tiles.

She unscrews the plastic container housing the raw Semo flour. “Oya, I will pour the powder in small portions, then you will stir with all your strength so it doesn’t form lumps.”

Azeez nods, bracing his feet against the floor and gripping the pot handle with his left hand.

Uchenna steps into the space, his face entirely blank. Azeez reacts instantly, straightening his spine and offering a quick, respectful bow of his head. Iremide tracks her cousin’s gaze, her heart giving a little flutter as she meets her husband’s eyes.

“Uchenna, you are done with work?” she asks, her voice dropping into a softer, careful tone.

Uchenna gives a single, slow nod. He doesn’t say a word. He crosses the kitchen floor and pulls out one of the high island stools, sitting down heavily. He folds his arms over his chest, his eyes locking onto the two of them by the cooker.

The steam from the pot rises into the air. Iremide shifts her weight, clearing her throat as she nudges Azeez’s arm. “Oya oh, start turning.”

Azeez dives into action, his wrist working the stick in fast, circular motions as Iremide lets a steady stream of white powder fall into the bubbling water.

“It is okay now! It will be too much o!” Azeez pants, trying to look up from the steam hitting his face.

Iremide laughs, lifting her index finger and tapping him firmly on the forehead. “Are you now trying to teach me how to cook in my own kitchen?”

Azeez chuckles, his hand shaking as he continues to fight the thickening dough.

Iremide's eyes land on the spot she just touched, and a loud laugh bursts from her throat.

“Why are you making jest of me now?” Azeez asks, his brow furrowing as he works the stick.

“I mistakenly stained your forehead with the Semo powder,” she giggles, pointing at the white smudge right between his eyes.

“Ah! Oya, clean it immediately!” Azeez stops turning for a split second. He leans his head forward from where he stands, waiting for her to wipe it.

Across the kitchen island, Uchenna’s fingers grip the fabric of his sleeves.

Iremide ducks away from Azeez with a laugh. “If I hear that I help you clean it! Use your own hand.”

Azeez scoffs, wiping his brow with his palm. He catches the white dust on his skin and immediately reaches out, rubbing his hand straight across Iremide’s forehead. “Fifty-fifty. No cheating.”

Iremide lets out a loud, breathless laugh and flicks water at him in retaliation. “You are a very somehow person, Azeez!”

A sharp, loud, incredibly dry cough cuts through the kitchen air.

The laughter dies instantly. Iremide and Azeez spin around toward the island stool. Uchenna sits perfectly still, his jaw locked so tight the muscle beneath his ear twitches.

“I am coming,” Iremide whispers to Azeez.

Azeez nods rapidly, his playful demeanor vanishing as he turns his back completely and focuses all his attention on the Semo.

Iremide walks over to the island, bringing a bright, reassuring smile onto her face. “Heartbeat,” she says softly, looping her arms around his rigid left shoulder. She leans in, tiptoeing to press a soft, lingering kiss against the cool skin of his cheek.

Uchenna lets out a slow, trembling breath through his lips. He doesn’t pull away from her touch, but his arms remain tightly locked across his chest, his gaze fixed on the countertop. He doesn’t speak.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she coaxes, her fingers gently stroking his forearm through his sleeve. “I already finished preparing the vegetable soup. Azeez is just helping me with the turning of the Semo.”

Uchenna gives another slow nod.

“I am coming, let me just serve the food,” she says, her voice low.

He nods again, his eyes finally shifting to track her face for one heavy second before dropping back to the marble surface.

Iremide steps back into the kitchen lane, tiptoeing as she opens the upper cabinet to pull out the ceramic serving dishes. She moves back to the cooker, her movements more subdued now.

For the next few minutes, conversation comes in scattered bursts. Iremide tries to respond to Azeez's jokes, but her attention keeps drifting back to Uchenna at the island.

Once the meals are portioned out, Iremide sets them on the kitchen island. She takes her seat on the stool beside Uchenna, her knee lightly brushing his leg under the counter, while Azeez quietly pulls out the chair directly opposite them.

“Heartbeat,” Iremide says softly, her fingers lightly tapping against the surface of the island. “Do you want to lead the prayer?”

Uchenna gives a quiet, almost imperceptible nod. He closes his eyes and whispers a brief, three-sentence blessing over the food. The moment his lips stop moving, a chorus of voices fills the kitchen. “Amen.”

Iremide opens her eyes, her gaze immediately landing on Azeez across the counter. “You are actually saying "Amen" to "in Jesus' name"?”

“Yes nau,” Azeez replies easily, shoveling a small mound of the swallow into his mouth with a satisfied look.

Iremide smiles, taking her own first bite of the meal. “You never know. Before these two weeks are over, you might end up giving your life to Christ.”

Azeez swallows, shaking his head with a grin. “Two weeks will soon pass by o. Except I end up staying much longer. I really don’t think fourteen days is enough time for your evangelism to work.”

Uchenna freezes completely halfway to his plate. He stops moving, his body going rigid as his eyes lift from his food, snapping directly from Iremide to Azeez.

Iremide shifts uncomfortably on her high stool, her posture tightening. “Abeg, you are not staying a single day over two weeks.”

Azeez lets out a bright laugh, raising his free hand in mock surrender. “I am just joking nau, Mide.”

Iremide quickly reaches across the marble, sliding her palm securely over Uchenna’s left hand. She squeezes his fingers firmly, trying to melt the stiffness out of his arm. “Heartbeat, do you like the food?” Her eyes stay fixed on his face, waiting for a change in his expression.

Uchenna’s throat moves as he swallows. He gives a slow nod. “It’s good,” he replies, his voice flat.

Iremide lets out a quiet breath, interlocking her fingers tightly with his.

“Ehn-ehn, Mide,” Azeez pipes up again, dipping his hand back into the vegetable soup. “Do you remember Precious from back in my school hostel? The lady you squatted with for a bit?”

Iremide nods, a genuine memory softening her facial features. “That beautiful girl that looks like a half-caste?”

“Yes, her! Guess what? She linked up with one wealthy Italian man on Tinder. Very rich man o, but the guy is easily twice our age. They already completed their wedding ceremony, and she is living in Italy as we speak. If you see her WhatsApp status every single day, ehn, it is pure pepper. Today she is on vacation, tomorrow a new iPhone, next day expensive designer gifts from her husband. The girl is steadily balling.”

Iremide shakes her head lightly, her fingers tightening around Uchenna’s still-rigid hand. “Good for her. She is a very beautiful girl, but then the best thing is to find contentment in Christ.”

“Mide, you still save the protein in your soup until you've finished eating.” Azeez says looking at her soup while taking another massive bite of the swallow. He chews thoughtfully, nodding his approval.

Iremide lets out a soft giggle. “I have tried to adjust oh, but that's how Mama Shade and Big Mummy trained us.”

“Omo, I have adjusted, I eat my protein alongside my food now,” Azeez teases, shaking his head. “That pattern is for poor people jare.”

Uchenna’s head moves slowly. His gaze travels from Azeez’s face, to Iremide’s smiling profile, and finally down to Iremide’s plate.

He sits up completely straight. Without saying a word, Uchenna gently but firmly pulls his fingers out of Iremide’s tight grip.

The sudden loss of warmth makes her turn around instantly.

Uchenna pushes his high stool back, the metal legs scraping against the floor wood as he stands up. “I am done here. Good night, Azeez.”

“Good night, sir.” Azeez replies with a slight bow.

Iremide stares at his half-eaten plate of Semo. She looks up at his broad back as he walks toward the sink. “Uchenna? You did not finish your food?”

“No,” he replies. His voice is clipped.

He pumps a dollop of liquid handwash into his palms, rubbing them together under the cold stream of running water. He rinses off, grabs the kitchen towel to dry his skin, and without another look or word, he walks straight down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

Iremide’s appetite vanishes into thin air. She pushes her own plate away, standing up so fast her stool wobbles against the counter. She stacks his dish over hers, carrying them quickly to the sink as she washes her hands under the tap.

“Good night, Azeez,” she says, her voice strained and frantic as she dries her palms on a napkin. “If you are done with your food, just drop the plate by the sink. I will sort it out tomorrow morning.”

Azeez looks up from his plate. “Good night, Mide.”

Iremide doesn’t waste another second. She turns on her heel and hurries down the hallway, heading straight for the master bedroom to face Uchenna.

Iremide pushes the bedroom door open with a quiet, hesitant click. The room is mostly dark, save for the warm glow of the bedside lamp illuminating both sides of the mattress. Uchenna sits on the edge of his side of the bed, his broad back hunched forward. His elbows rest squarely on his knees, his fingers laced tightly together as he stares at the hardwood floor.

The sight makes her stomach perform a cold, heavy drop. She slips inside, closing the door behind her back, and moves quickly across the rug to sit beside him.

“My heartbeat,” she says softly, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room.

Uchenna doesn’t answer immediately. Three long, agonizing seconds stretch between them before he slowly lifts his chin to look at her. The expression in his eyes is so empty it nearly steals the breath from her throat.

“You barely touched your food,” she coaxes, shifting an inch closer to his frame. “And I know how much you like eating.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” he replies, his tone level.

“Uchenna.”

Uchenna gives a single, rigid nod, his jaw tightening as he looks back down at his clasped hands.

“Are you still angry?” she asks, reaching out to lightly brush her lips against his cheek, hoping for the usual softening of his posture. “I thought you were no longer angry nau.”

Uchenna lets out a sharp, humorless scoff. “Iremi, do you think this is about anger?”

“Heartbeat, you already—”

“Can I ask you something?” Uchenna interrupts, leaning back slightly against the mattress to study her face.

Iremide’s fingers freeze against the fabric of her shorts. She nods instantly.

Uchenna keeps his eyes locked onto hers. “When your aunt called this morning…” He draws in a short breath before continuing. “…did you already know you were going to say yes?”

Iremide’s throat goes completely dry. She rubs her palms together nervously, unable to hold his gaze. “Uche, please try to understand the situation—”

“No. Just answer me.” His voice is firm, striking the quiet room like a gavel.

Iremide freezes. Her gaze drops straight to her lap, her fingers twisting a loose thread on her shorts. The silence confirms everything.

Uchenna closes his eyes briefly, a bitter line pulling at the corners of his mouth. “So this is it?”

“Heartbeat, please.” She reaches out, her hand wrapping tightly around his forearm to hold him in place.

Uchenna peels her fingers off his skin with a gentle but absolute finality, shifting his weight a few inches away from her on the mattress. “If your answer was already yes… why did you even bother to ask for my opinion?”

Iremide opens her mouth, but the words dissolve before they can form. She looks back down at her lap, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid shifts.

“Look at me, Iremide.”

She lifts her head slowly.

“I stood right there in the kitchen with you and told you I wasn’t comfortable,” Uchenna says, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his words. “I told you no. You watched me say it. And then what? You bypassed me and agreed anyway.”

Tears sting the corners of her eyes, blurring the image of his face. “Uchenna, she put me on the spot. And the Bible tells us to do good whenever we have the opportunity to do so.”

Uchenna lets out another dry scoff, shaking his head. “And the exact same Scripture says the two shall become one flesh, Iremide. I am a firm believer in Christ too, so please don’t do this right now. Don’t try to justify your actions with the word of God. Marriage means we navigate decisions together.”

“I know I should have listened to you first. I know that,” Iremide counters, a lone tear escaping and tracing a hot line down her cheek. She sniffs, trying to steady her voice. "But all I could think about was how many times Big Mummy showed up for me. Saying no felt like betraying her."

Uchenna takes a slow, deliberate breath through his nose, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I am not angry because you helped your cousin, Iremide. I am hurt because you chose for both of us.”

“Uchenna, that wasn’t my intention at all.”

“But that is exactly what happened.” He looks away toward the closed door, his knuckles cracking in the quiet.

He falls silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice dropping into a tone so low it frightens her. “Do you know what I kept thinking while you and Azeez were laughing in the kitchen and I sat there feeling completely ignored?”

Iremide shakes her head, her throat tight.

Uchenna gives a tiny humourless smile. “I kept thinking...”

His voice drops.

“...if this is how our marriage works after four days, what happens four years from now?”

Iremide’s stomach drops.

The words land harder than any raised voice could have.

Iremide’s face crumples instantly. “Uchenna, don’t say that, please. Don’t say that.”

“But that is the exact thought that scared me,” he whispers, his eyes locking back onto hers with a vulnerability that breaks her heart. He shakes his head. “I don’t need to win every single disagreement we have. I don’t even need you to always see things my way. But I need to know that my voice actually matters to you, that you respect me as much as I respect you.”

Iremide lunges forward, throwing her arms around him and burying her face against his chest. “My heartbeat, please. I respect you. I do. I am so sorry. Forgive me. I wasn't thinking straight, and I handled it badly. You were standing right there, telling me how you felt, and I still went ahead anyway. Please forgive me.”

Uchenna stays still for a beat, then gently grips her wrists and untangles her arms from his body. He stands up from the edge of the mattress, his face unreadable in the dim light.

“I need to shower for bed,” he says quietly.

Iremide sits frozen on the mattress, watching him disappear into the bathroom as the door clicks shut behind him. And for the first time, she realizes she wounded her husband far more deeply than she thought.

What do we think? 🤔

Shey Big Mummy will not come and carry Azeez back like this? 😩😫

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EPISODE SEVEN

Iremide glides around the kitchen, her movements keeping pace with the heavy bass playing through her earphones. She wears a pair of plain black shorts and a white, oversized t-shirt with bold black lettering across the chest: I’m spirit-filled, not spirit-fueled for arguments.

Her signature bonnet sits securely on her head. On the marble kitchen island, her leather-bound Bible, her phone, and her prayer journal sit in a neat row.

She holds a wooden turning stick, stirring a smooth paste of cold water and raw yellow pap in a large ceramic bowl. Her hips sway to the rhythm as she chants the lyrics under her breath, her eyes closed in deep concentration:

“We’re armies of the Lord

Marching up to Mount Carmel

We come in the name of the Lord

His name is YAH…”

She dips her shoulder, doing a small prophetic dance step by the gas cooker.

“We’re armies of the Lord

Marching up to Mount Carmel

We will not bow down to any other god…”

She swings around, chanting in tongues.

“We’re armies of the Lord

Marching up to Mount Carmel

As kings and priests we take our place in Christ”

Suddenly, two large, warm arms slide around her waist from behind, pulling her back tight against a solid chest. Iremide flinches violently, the wooden turning stick slipping from her fingers and clattering against the edge of the bowl. A few drops of the yellow pap splatter onto the counter.

She yanks the earphones out of her ears, her heart hammering against her ribs as she twists in his grip. “Heartbeat! Do you want to actually stop my heart from beating?”

Uchenna lets out a low, deep chuckle that sends a warm burst of air across the nape of her neck. His hands remain locked securely around her waist, refusing to grant her an inch of distance. “Good morning, Mummy G.O.”

Iremide rolls her eyes, though her lips twitch with a smile.

“I am highly jealous of you, you know,” Uchenna murmurs, his chin resting lightly on her head. “You seem to have so many ministries beyond teaching. You could easily become a pastor or a professional gospel artist.”

Iremide tilts her head back, her eyes narrowing playfully as she studies his fresh morning face. “While you, on the other hand, seem to have exactly one ministry: Touching your wife at every single opportunity you get.”

Uchenna’s chest rumbles with laughter against her back. “It is a highly fulfilling ministry.”

“Can you please release me so I can focus?” she asks, nodding toward the stainless-steel kettle on the blue flame. “The water is already boiling. I need to pour it into the pap.”

Uchenna does not move. He stays still behind her, his chest rising and falling against her shoulder blades in a slow, deliberate beat. The silence stretches between them for three long beats, the only sound being the rising hiss of the kettle. Iremide waits, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter, her body warming where his palms press into her waist. He doesn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightens just a bit, his thumbs tracing tiny, heavy circles against her skin through the cotton of her shirt.

Then, without a word, he spins her around in one smooth, sweeping motion. Iremide’s breath catches sharply as her front crashes softly against his chest.

Her heart instantly drops to her toes, her pulse goes into overdrive. “Uchenna! Why did you do that?” She looks up at him, balling her right hand into a fist to strike his chest, but the blow feels like hitting a concrete wall.

Uchenna doesn’t blink. He just stares down at her, letting the silence anchor them to the spot. The kitchen island feels miles away. For five seconds, neither of them moves. He simply looks at her, letting her get used to the weight of his gaze, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that feels holy and safe all at once.

Only when her breathing shudders does he act. He slides his hands down and guides her straight up onto his hip. Iremide gasps, her arms flying out instinctively to wrap around his neck for support while her legs lock tightly around his waist.

“Uchenna... the boiling water...” she whispers, her voice trailing off as her eyes automatically drop to his lips. She stays completely still, her chest heaving as she waits for him to close the distance.

Uchenna doesn't lean in. He keeps his head tilted back just enough to keep her waiting. Iremide stays suspended against him, her fingers curling tighter into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her chest rises and falls sharply against his, the rapid beat of her heart pressing directly into his ribs. The air between them feels suddenly too small for words, her lips parting slightly.

The space between their faces grows thick, hot, and heavy. One second passes. Two. Three. He watches her eyelids flutter, tracks the way her gaze stays glued to his mouth, but he refuses to close the half-inch, building a sweet, reverent tension between them.

A knowing, slow smile finally spreads across Uchenna’s face, his lips twitching at her corners. “Mrs. Okoye, are you actually waiting for me to kiss you right now?”

Embarrassment floods her cheeks, and she immediately buries her face into the crook of his neck, hiding her burning eyes against his collarbone.

“As much as I want you right this second, I am going to wait until you are back from work,” Uchenna whispers into the edge of her silk bonnet, his grip tightening around her waist to keep her flush against him. “I want you thinking about it every hour today while knowing you're safe with me.”

He shifts his weight, his grip tightening. “Look at me, baby.”

Iremide moves slowly, her eyes meeting his with an uncharacteristic quietness.

“Tonight, we’ll take things gently, okay? No pressure. Just us.” His voice drops lower.

Iremide lets out a slow, trembling breath and gives a tiny, definitive nod. Just then, the metal kettle on the stove lets out a sharp, high-pitched whistle.

Uchenna’s expression turns incredibly soft. He leans in, pressing a firm, lingering kiss right between her eyebrows. “I adore you, Iremi. And you are not going to be scared. You don't have to be afraid, baby. We'll take our time, and I'll take care of you.”

“I’m not going to be scared,” Iremide repeats softly under her breath, the words feeling like a final decree settling deep into her spirit.

“Good,” Uchenna says, his eyes tracing the contours of her face for one more long, heavy beat before his feet move, and he gently lowers her back down to the kitchen floor. “Let’s have our morning prayer and devotional.”

Iremide nods, the sudden shift in atmosphere pulling her back to the physical reality of the kitchen. She lifts the whistling metal kettle, slowly pouring the steaming water into the ceramic bowl. The yellow paste reacts instantly, thickening into a smooth, glossy yellow stretch. Uchenna steps up beside her, his hands reaching into the upper cabinet to pull down two ceramic bowls.

“What are we pairing with the pap?” he asks, his shoulder brushing hers as he sets the bowls on the counter.

“I fried akara,” Iremide replies, a small smile gracing her lips as she points to the insulated food warmer sitting near the sink.

“Wow. Well done, baby. Thank you.” Uchenna’s eyes wrinkle at the corners. He grabs the sugar bowl and a tin of milk from the shelf while she sets the wooden turning stick aside.

Suddenly, her phone erupts on the marble counter.

BZZZZ.

The sharp vibration rattles against the stone. Iremide quickly wipes her palms on a kitchen napkin and glances at the screen.

“Mummy Azeez,” she says to Uchenna, her eyebrows lifting. “My aunt.”

Uchenna nods, smiling as he shifts the food warmer and the bowls to the center of the kitchen island, giving her space as she slides the green button across the screen.

"Say hi to her for me," Uchenna whispers.

“Hello, Big Mummy!” Iremide greets, forcing her voice into its brightest, most respectful family tone.

“Bawo ni, Iremiwolede? Omo ola!” Mummy Azeez’s loud, melodic voice booms through the speaker, packed with the usual heavy family blessings.

Iremide’s cheeks flush slightly. “I am fine, ma.”

“Congratulations on the wedding, my daughter. I received your thank-you text yesterday. How is your husband? Very correct bobo! That man and his friends sprayed me so much money during the reception o.”

“He is fine, ma. Thank you so much, ma,” Iremide says, her gaze flickering to Uchenna.

He slides his arms around her waist again, leaning his weight against the edge of the kitchen island to pull her against him. A soft, relaxed smile touches her lips at his warmth.

“Mama Shade told me you people haven’t gone for your honeymoon yet… that it's not until two weeks from now, abi?”

“Yes, ma. I have some private students I can’t leave yet,” Iremide explains. Uchenna’s palm begins to stroke a slow, soothing line up and down her spine.

“That is very good,” Mummy Azeez says, her tone dropping into a confidential, fast-paced tone. “Anyway, my sweet darling, I actually need a small favor from you.”

Iremide’s finger pauses mid-air, her hand resting on the sleeve of Uchenna’s round neck. “Okay, ma. What is it, Big Mummy?”

"Azeez just got a job after all these months of job searching," Mummy Azeez says with a joyful tone.

“Ahh, Praise God, Thank you Lord!” Iremide replies happily, her smile bright.

“We thank God o, I heard that your husband just got a house for you both around Yaba. A four-bedroom bungalow!”

Iremide nods happily. “Yes, ma.”

“Azeez just got a new job around that same Yaba axis. He is resuming tomorrow. The traffic from our house to his workplace is terrible, and his new office is just a stone’s throw from your estate. I am just thinking... is it possible for him to stay with you people temporarily until he finds a place of his own? He wants to rent a self-contained apartment, but you know how Lagos agents behave and how stressful it is to get a place faster in Lagos. Can he stay at your place pending the time he gets his own place?”

Iremide’s heart hitches, her body goes slightly stiff against Uchenna’s chest. She quickly taps the screen, switching the call to speakerphone so Uchenna can hear every word.

“Big Mummy... you want Azeez to come and stay here? With us?” Iremide’s voice sounds tight, highly skeptical.

“Yes, my dear, please! I know you just got married and you need private time with your husband, but he is stranded. I told him his favorite cousin now lives close to his new workplace. He wanted to call you himself, but I said I should call first. In fact, he has already packed his bags. He is coming over this evening. He won’t be a bother at all, I promise you.”

Uchenna’s hand stops moving on her back. His face hardens instantly. He shakes his head from side to side, his lips forming a silent, rigid: No.

“Big Mummy, you know it’s not just me living here,” Iremide says, her voice strained as she stares at her husband’s stern expression. “This is my husband’s house, and I’m really not sure if he will be comfortable with the arrangement.”

“Ah-ah! Is it not Uchenna?” Mummy Azeez scoffs over the line. “Your husband is a nice man jare. If you ask sweet-talk him and rub his hand gently, he will do it. Just tell him your favourite cousin is coming.”

Iremide looks up at Uchenna, her eyes widening into a silent, pleading gaze.

Uchenna’s jaw tightens. He glares directly at the phone, his mouth forming a fierce whisper: Absolutely not.

“Big Mummy...” Iremide squeezes her eyes shut.

“Iremide, it is Azeez o! Your favourite cousin, that both of you used to play together every single time you come for holiday. You people would talk on the phone for hours, laughing. Don’t you remember how you stayed at his off-campus hostel when you first got admission into the university, before you got your own accommodation?”

Iremide winces. She places her palm firmly over the phone’s microphone, pressing it against her t-shirt to muffle the sound. “Uche, please nau,” she whispers urgently.

Uchenna pulls back slightly, his eyes cold and unwavering. “No. Tell her no. Iremi, we already agreed to no sleepover visitors in this house for our first month. None.”

“Uchenna... please, it’s family, and it’s wrong to say no to Big Mummy.”

“No, baby.”

“Are you still there, Iremide?” Mummy Azeez’s voice cracks through the speaker.

Iremide yanks her palm off the microphone. “Yes, ma. I am here.”

“If we could afford a short-let or a serviced apartment, I wouldn’t even ask,” the older woman pleads, her voice dropping into a desperate, heavy Yoruba appeal. “But those places are sixty thousand naira per night. He cannot commute from this distance, he will lose this job to Lagos traffic and you know how long he has been job hunting before he got this one. Please, Iremide, jo oko mi. O lo wo ori mi.”

Iremide swallows hard, the crushing weight of family obligation slamming into her chest. She looks at the steaming hot pap, then back at Uchenna’s firm face. “Okay, ma. Let him come over this evening.”

Uchenna’s arms drop from her waist instantly. He steps back, his eyes widening in complete shock and disbelief. Her heart gives a loud thud as his grip disappears.

“Ah! Ose! Ose gan ni! Thank you, my beautiful and lovely daughter!” Mummy Azeez shouts happily. “God will bless your home. Next time I come over to your place like this, it will be for your baby naming ceremony! Your husband is a wonderful man. I always tell people, Igbo men know how to cater for their wives, unlike our Yoruba men. He spent so much money at the wedding...”

Iremide can barely process the praise. Her eyes stay glued to Uchenna, whose expression has turned stone-cold. “Big Mummy, let me call you back, please.”

“All right, dear. Azeez is already on his way. Just forward the estate address to his WhatsApp. Thank you again!” The line goes dead with a sharp click.

The kitchen goes totally silent, save for the faint sound of the double-door refrigerator. Iremide slowly lowers the phone from her ear.

“What was that, Iremi?” Uchenna’s voice is flat. Level. Dangerous.

“I was in a tight spot, Uche. Doesn't the Lord ask us to help people when we can?” she says defensively, her fingers nervously tapping against the hard plastic of her phone case. “Azeez is a very close cousin and has really helped me in the past. Big Mummy offered to let me stay in his school hostel when I had nowhere else to go. How am I supposed to tell her no?”

“Iremi, I really need you to call her back because I'm not comfortable with this,” Uchenna says, his tone leaving zero room for negotiation. He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders tense. “We have been married for less than a week, Iremi. Why are we already introducing extended family into our space? I haven’t even had time to enjoy my wife.”

“Uchenna, please,” Iremide pouts, taking a step toward him, her hands reaching out to touch his chest.

“No. And that is final.” Uchenna sidesteps her touch, circling the kitchen island and pulling a stool out with a sharp rattle. He sits down, his movements stiff. “Until we return from our honeymoon, no sleepovers. Before we know it, three or four relatives will be crowding our place.”

“Just this once, Heartbeat,” she pleads, stepping into his space again, her palms flattening against his chest to smooth down the cotton fabric.

“I just said no, Iremide, and I need you to actually respect that decision.” He looks up at her, his eyes visibly hurt and annoyed. “We haven’t even consummated this marriage yet, and now your adult male cousin is moving into the next room tonight? How does that make any sense?”

“Heartbeat—”

"Iremi, what hurts the most is that I was standing right here telling you I wasn't comfortable, and you made the decision anyway."

“Uchenna, I’m sorry, I—”

“I am completely done with this conversation.” Uchenna abruptly pulls her leather-bound Bible toward himself, flipping the pages open with a heavy snap. “Let’s have our morning devotion.”

Iremide stays rooted to the spot. On the counter, the glossy yellow pap has already gone lukewarm, a thin skin forming over its surface.

The insulated warmer of akara sits untouched between them.

Just minutes ago, he had been holding her against his chest, his deep chuckle vibrating against her spine as he teased her about their first night together. He had made her feel so safe, so protected.

Now, a heavy stretch of silence sits between them like a concrete wall.

Uchenna keeps his eyes locked onto the open pages, his thumb pressing down hard against the margin of the leaf. He doesn’t look up at her. He doesn’t even blink. His chest rises and falls in a rigid, controlled square-breathing pattern that tells her everything she needs to know.

For the first time since their wedding, she realizes that her husband can be angry with her.

Iremide opens the front door, forcing her lips into a bright, welcoming curve. She hopes her face doesn’t betray the heavy lump sitting in her throat. The entire day has been an absolute desert.

Since that tense kitchen conversation, Uchenna has spoken exactly two sentences to her that didn’t involve a prayer point. When she returned from work, he didn’t bounce out to meet her with his usual heavy embrace. He simply looked up from his desk, muttered a flat, “Welcome back, baby,” and returned his gaze to his laptop screen.

“Mide! Ire…re..mi..do..do..do!”

Azeez yells her childhood nickname, dropping his heavy luggage onto the porch and pulling her into a rib-crushing hug.

Iremide laughs into his shoulder, but her eyes instantly lock onto the entryway. Two massive, dusty traveling boxes and one giant, bulging black polythene bag block the doorway. “How are you, Azeez?”

“We are just pushing it o, Iyawo! The newest bride in Lagos!” Azeez releases her, stepping back to scan her face with a wide grin.

Iremide reaches up, pinching his dark cheek playfully. “Congratulations on the job, seriously. I am so proud of you.”

Azeez drags the first heavy box across the threshold, his sneakers scuffing the floor as he shuts the front door behind him. Iremide turns the key, her fingers trembling slightly against the deadbolt.

“Oya, move inside and sit down,” Iremide says, gesturing toward the living room. “Let me go and call my husband.”

“Ah, the big man himself!” Azeez beams, dropping his heavy polythene bag onto the hardwood. “Please, let me see our handsome in-law o. That man looked like a proper millionaire in his suit on Saturday.”

Iremide forces a small giggle, nodding as she slips out of the living room and slips down the quiet hallway toward Uchenna’s home office.

The door is slightly ajar. She steps inside quietly, her palms flattening against the back pockets of her jeans. “Heartbeat,” she calls out softly.

Uchenna doesn’t look up immediately. His fingers tap a slow, deliberate beat against his keyboard before his eyes finally lift to meet hers. The usual warmth in his gaze is completely replaced by a cool distance.

“Azeez is here,” she adds into the quiet room. “He is asking after you.”

Uchenna lets out a long, heavy exhale through his nose. He pushes his chair back, pivoting slowly to face her completely. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Iremi, I guess my opinion doesn’t really carry any weight in this house, right?”

Iremide shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her throat tightening. “Uchenna, please nau. Azeez is family.”

“Imagine the reverse, Iremide,” Uchenna says, his voice dangerously level. “Imagine if I asked my cousin to move in here tonight after you explicitly said no because you needed time to adjust. How exactly would that make you feel?”

“I know I am completely wrong,” she says quietly, taking two small steps closer to his desk. She looks down at her slippers. “But please, just try to see it from my side. How could I look Big Mummy in the eye and say no when she already knows we have two empty guest rooms? The family drama would be endless.”

“I am not comfortable with this arrangement at all, Iremi. I don’t like it.”

Iremide closes the remaining distance between them. She hesitates briefly before sinking gently onto his lap.

Uchenna’s body goes rigid for a beat, but his natural instincts win. His large palm comes up to rest against her thigh, though his face remains unsmiling.

“Uchenna, pleaseeee,” she whispers, her bottom lip expanding into her most effective pout. “It’s just for two weeks. I promise.”

Uchenna lets out a low groan, his fingers lightly gripping her knee. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“Pleaseeeee,” she coaxes, lifting her hands to trace the neat collar of his cotton round-neck, her fingers brushing the warm skin of his collarbone. “Your baby is begging you o, look at me.”

Uchenna locks eyes with her, his brow furrowing. “How are we supposed to have any real alone time now, Iremi? Tell me.”

“Please... he is already sitting in the living room. He is probably wondering why we are not out yet. Just come out and greet him properly, Uche.”

Uchenna drops his forehead against her shoulder, his chest heaving with a deep, frustrated sigh. “Your big mummy is not considerate at all. I am convinced she is the weapon fashioned against me. Because why today? Why now? She couldn’t even let me enjoy my wife for a single week after the wedding.”

Iremide smiles, the tension in her chest finally starting to crack. “No weapon fashioned against my husband shall prosper in Jesus’ name. She is sorry, I am sorry, Azeez is sorry... everyone is sorry.”

“She is not sorry,” Uchenna mutters, lifting his head to look at her, though a small, reluctant softness finally touches his eyes. “If we didn’t have an extra room, or if we lived far away from Yaba, wouldn’t she find another solution for her son?”

“Oya, let’s stand up and go and say hello, please,” Iremide says, attempting to slide off his lap.

Uchenna’s arm tightens around her waist, pulling her right back down onto his thighs.

“What do I get for all this suffering?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low, demanding rasp.

Iremide smiles brightly. She leans forward, pressing a quick, sweet kiss onto his right cheek. Then one right between his eyebrows. Then a tiny one on the tip of his nose.

“And you think that little routine is enough compensation?” Uchenna asks, his gaze instantly dropping to her lips, lingering there for three heavy beats.

“What do you want, then?”

“A proper kiss, baby. I want a real one.” He tilts his chin up, his breathing shifting as he waits.

Iremide quickly shakes her head, her hand coming up to gently block his chest. “Azeez is literally sitting in the living room, Uche. We cannot keep him waiting.”

Uchenna lets out another dramatic groan, his head falling back against his chair. “I can already see how much I am going to suffer for the next two weeks. I can’t even kiss my own wife in my own house. I am starting to think this is a divine punishment for cutting your seven-day fast down to a one-day fast. Now my starvation has been officially extended by two weeks.”

Iremide springs off his lap, bursting into a genuine laugh. She grabs his large hands, pulling with all her strength to hoist him out of the office chair. “Let’s go, pleaseeeee!”

Uchenna allows her to pull him up, but he shakes his head with a tragic expression as he straightens his round-neck. “I am going through a whole lot in this marriage. I need to blink twice because I am under duress.”

What do we think? Uchenna Okoye please blink twice 😂🤣

Thank you for your engagement, it’s the one motivating me 💃 🥹

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EPISODE SIX

Iremide slips the duvet down to her chin, her eyes darting across the sunlit bedroom. No sign of Uchenna. No sound from the master bathroom. The space is empty. She lets out a long, shaky breath and reaches for her phone on the nightstand to check the screen.

6:15 AM.

A small groan escapes her throat. She has been wide awake for a full hour, trapped beneath the sheets by nothing but sheer, paralyzing shyness. How is she supposed to get up, pick an outfit, and get ready for work?

Her lips still feel tingly and warm. Last night plays in her head on a loop. The initial awkwardness had melted away, and she had actually leaned into him, matching his pace, kissing him back with a sudden warmth that surprised them both. But when his touch grew more familiar and the moment began moving in a direction she wasn’t ready for, panic had flared inside her chest.

She had snapped back instantly, her eyes squeezing shut in absolute terror.

Uchenna had only let out an unhurried, low chuckle, his hands retreating immediately to release her. She had coiled straight into a tight ball, dragging the duvet over her face.

“Good night, baby,” he had whispered into the low-lit room. She had stayed dead silent, pretending to be a statue.

How is she supposed to look him in the eye this morning?

“Holy Spirit,” she mouths to the ceiling, her hands squeezing the edge of the blanket. “How am I supposed to leave this bed right now?” She pauses, her eyes widening as she realizes her manners. “Sorry I didn’t say good morning first. Good morning, Holy Spirit.”

The heavy thud of Uchenna’s bare footsteps echoes from the hallway.

Iremide yanks the duvet straight back over her head, curling her knees to her chest under the heavy fabric.

The bedroom door clicks open. “Baby, are you awake?”

Iremide squeezes her eyes tight in the darkness of her blanket fortress, holding her breath until her lungs ache.

The footsteps grow louder, tracking across the rug until they stop right beside her side of the bed as he leans down over her.

“Baby?” his voice rasps, warm and laced with early morning calm.

She stays frozen, wishing she could temporarily dissolve into the sheets.

Uchenna’s fingers find the top edge of the duvet, tugging it down with a slow, deliberate gentleness until the bright morning light hits her face. She can feel the intense weight of his stare. He kneels beside the bed, his face hovering just inches from hers. His lips press a warm, brief kiss against her left cheek. Then her closed eyelids. Then her forehead. Then the tip of her nose. Finally, he brushes a quick, sweet kiss against her mouth.

“Baby, I know you are awake,” Uchenna says, his thumb lightly stroking her jawline. “You shouldn’t squeeze your eyes and freeze up like that. Just stand up and start preparing for work. Breakfast is already waiting on the table.”

Iremide keeps her lips tightly pressed together, though a massive, betraying smile threatens to break through the corners of her mouth.

“Of course, you could also just stay in bed and miss the class with your student,” Uchenna adds, a clear, teasing edge in his voice. “That way, we have all the time in the world to make love to you.”

Iremide’s eyes snap open immediately. Her heart gives a sharp wild kick against her ribs at the sight of him. He is smiling down at her, fresh-faced, the shadow of his jaw tracing a sharp line just inches from her face.

“Heartbeat?”

“Hmm?”

She forces herself to sit upright, pushing the duvet away, but her gaze immediately darts toward the wardrobe to avoid his eyes. “I am shy… and fasting.”

“Oh, that’s true. For our triplets, right?” Uchenna teases softly. He shifts, rising from his knees to sit comfortably on the edge of the bed right beside her. He hooks an arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against him.

Before she can mount a defense, his mouth claims hers again. This time, it is a slow, deeply patient kiss that coaxes her lips open, moving with a gentle certainty that makes her head spin. Iremide’s eyes flutter shut automatically, her hands clutching at his wrists as her heart pounds against her chest.

He pulls back just an inch, his eyes dark and glittering as he studies her face. "Still shy?"

“I am completely blank,” Iremide whispers, her eyes still locked tight against the morning light.

A joyful chuckle vibrates through Uchenna’s chest. “That is definite progress.” He taps her chin gently before standing up from the bed. “I will leave the bedroom to you now. Take your time, get ready for your class.”

Iremide gives a tight, quick nod, her eyes firmly closed until the bedroom door clicks shut behind him.

Hours later

“Teacher Ire!”

Five-year-old Jason skids across the polished marble floor, his small arms locking tightly around her waist.

She sinks to her knees to bury her face in his freshly combed, coconut-scented hair. “Jason, my favorite astronaut.”

A sharp, unsteady clicking sound echoes from the staircase. Mr. Folagade hurries down the steps, a leather laptop bag bouncing against his hip and a silk tie dangling half-knotted around his neck. He looks flustered, his eyes darting frantically to his gold watch.

“Miss Iremide, thank God,” he says, his words tripping over each other as his shiny black shoes hit the bottom step. “I am horribly late for this board meeting. The traffic at the Lekki Tollgate is already backed up to the bridge. Thank you, thank you so much. See you at four. Bye, Jason!”

Before Iremide can even open her mouth to mouth a proper morning greeting, the front door flies open and slams shut with a heavy rattle. The sharp roar of an engine ignites in the driveway, fading into the distance seconds later.

The large house falls into a quiet, structured stillness.

Iremide adjusts the strap of her tote bag over her shoulder, turning her full attention down to the little boy who is still clutching her thumb. She squeezes his tiny fingers, a genuine, warm smile spreading across her face.

“So, Jason. Time for our morning check-in. On a scale of one to ten… ten means you are super happy, one means you are exhausted, and two means you are sad. Where is your thermometer today?”

Jason swings her hand back and forth as they walk toward the wide wooden staircase that leads to his study room. “Two.”

Iremide pauses on the very first step, tilting her head down to look at him. “Two? Why two, big guy?”

“Because Daddy said he had to leave early-early,” Jason murmurs, his small brow furrowing into a deep line as he looks up at her. “I was scared to stay in this big house alone with the gateman. But now that you are here, I am an eight. Let’s go and do some singing!”

Watching him race up the stairs ahead of her, his tiny light-up sneakers squeaking loudly, Iremide takes a deep, grounding breath. Her thumb unconsciously traces the new diamond band on her left finger. She follows him up the stairs, her heart feeling lighter with every step.

They settle down in the brightly colored study room. Iremide sets her tote bag on the floor, her smile widening as Jason eagerly opens his large textbook.

"Lead us in a short prayer, Captain." Iremide says and Jason nods happily.

“Father, Lord, help me with my book today, bless Teacher Ire, bless me and my daddy, In Jesus' name.” Jason says loudly.

"Amen," Iremide replies loudly and happily.

“Today, we are starting with some character building before we touch any mathematics. Are you ready for it?”

Jason nods with immense energy. “Yes! I am ready, Teacher Ire.”

Iremide claps her hands together once, a lively spark in her eyes. “Excellent. Today, we are learning how to be leaders!” She throws her arms wide, striking a dramatic superhero pose.

“But not the bossy kind o—oh no,” she adds, wagging her index finger back and forth with a playful frown. Jason mimics her expression, his little finger wagging right back at her. “We want the kind of leaders that make people smile, help others, and do the right thing even when nobody is watching them.”

Jason lets out a bright chuckle.

“So, Captain. Should we start with a story, a game, or a song?” Iremide asks. She knows the absolute rule of handling five-year-olds: always activate the brain cells before introducing the scary numbers.

“Song! Song, Teacher Ire!” Jason chants, tapping his feet against the legs of his chair.

“Hmm, let’s do it then. We will use the tune of ‘If you are happy and you know it, clap your hands.’ Are you matching my energy?”

Jason nods rapidly, his eyes glued to her face.

Iremide starts the rhythm, clapping her hands in a steady beat as Jason joins in with a joyful shout:

“I’m a leader today, yes I am!” Iremide points a thumb proudly to her chest, and Jason immediately copies the movement, puffing out his little ribs.

“I’m a leader today, yes I am!” She nods her head with an exaggerated, confident expression, watching him imitate her every move.

“I can help, I can share, I can show that I care!” Iremide opens her arms wide into a welcoming hug, then places both palms flat over her heart. Jason smiles from ear to ear, mirroring her hands over his own printed t-shirt.

“I’m a leader today, yes I am!”

“Now, verse two!” Iremide announces, keeping the clapping rhythm perfectly alive.

“I will lead the right way, yes I will!” She flashes a huge thumbs-up toward him. Jason bursts into a giggle, flashing his own tiny thumb back.

“I will lead the right way, yes I will!”

“I’ll be kind, I’ll be fair...” Iremide brings her hands together, forming a neat heart shape with her fingers. Jason twists his small fingers, trying desperately to copy the shape, but his knuckles lock up in a clumsy knot. Iremide leans forward with a soft laugh, gently adjusting his fingers until they form a perfect little heart. His face lights up.

“I will choose what is right, I will lead the right way, yes I will!”

“Now for the final verse, I need the Captain to stand up on his feet for some light exercise,” Iremide says, winking at him.

Jason practically jumps out of his chair, his feet bouncing on the colorful floor mat.

“When I lead, you can follow me!” Iremide starts doing a hilarious, stiff robotic dance move with her arms. Jason lets out a loud, belly laugh, throwing his arms out in a chaotic robot imitation.

“When I lead, you can follow me!”

“Clap your hands, stomp your feet!” Jason slaps his palms together excitedly and stomps his light-up sneakers against the floor with a rhythmic, happy thud.

“Shake your body to the beat!” He wiggles his shoulders and hips, giggling so hard he almost loses his balance.

“When I lead, you can follow me!”

They hit the final clap together, both of them breathless and smiling as the quiet of the big house dissolves into the background.

Iremide drags her feet across the threshold, her shoulders slumping the moment the front door clicks shut. She wanders into the living room, unhooks her heavy tote bag from her shoulder, and lets it drop onto the floor with a dull thud. Without even removing her flats, she collapses onto the long side of the L-shaped couch, burying her face against the soft fabric.

The click of a door handle echoes from the back hallway. At the sound of her arrival, Uchenna steps out of his home office. He slides his work glasses off his face, tossing them onto the kitchen island as he walks over to the couch.

“Baby, good afternoon,” he says, his voice deep and smooth as he sinks into the cushions right beside her.

He leans back against the plush backrest, hooking his arm beneath her arms and pulling her upward until her head rests directly against his chest. The familiar scent of his laundry detergent and clean skin fills her nose. Her torso rests against him while the rest of her legs dangle over the cushions.

Iremide tilts her chin up, her eyes tracing his sharp jawline. A small, helpless smile breaks across her face. “You are far too handsome, Uche. It is unfair.”

Uchenna’s chest rises with a silent chuckle. “Is that a proper compliment?”

Iremide nods her head against his shirt.

“So, how was work today?” he asks, his hand moving to rest securely on her hip.

“Interesting,” she says, her eyes brightening as she remembers Jason’s robot dance. “My kids are the absolute best. I love them so much!”

Uchenna’s thumb stalls against her hip. He tilts his head down, his eyes fixed on her face. “And me?”

“I love you too, nau,” she replies instantly, her voice softening as she stares back up at him.

Uchenna lets out a loud, genuine laugh that vibrates through his chest into her cheek. “I love you more, Iremi. I love you to the stars and far beyond.” He leans down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss against her forehead. Iremide lets out a soft, contented sigh, her eyelids fluttering shut.

They stay like that for a quiet minute, the cool air from the split-unit AC washing over them.

“How was work? Have you sent out the thank-you messages to everyone on the guest list?” Iremide asks, her fingers mindlessly twisting a loose thread on his shirt.

Uchenna nods. “Hectic. And yes, everything is sent. But I noticed something. I haven’t heard a single word from your best friend, Busayo. Is something wrong? Usually, you two are inseparable. I sent a custom message to her personal line too.”

Iremide bursts into a bright smile. “Oh, Busayo promised to give me a strict one-week break because of my new marital status. Honestly, I need the breathing room. The moment her self-imposed break is over like this, she will resume and won’t let me rest with endless gist.”

Uchenna laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Smart girl.”

He shifts slightly, his hand sliding up to trace the curve of her shoulder. “Baby, I already contacted a professional cleaning agency and negotiated a monthly rate. Someone will be coming in four times a week to handle the house cleaning.”

Iremide nods in immediate relief, her bottom lip expanding into a cute, exaggerated pout as she looks up at him. “Thank you, Heartbeat.”

Uchenna’s gaze darkens, dropping from her eyes straight down to her pouting lower lip. His thumb stops its movement on her shoulder. His breathing shifts, becoming slower, heavier.

“Baby, I am trying very hard to be patient with you right now.” he says, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper that sends a shockwave down her spine.

Iremide’s heart instantly starts a wild sprint against her ribs. Her bare toes twitch against the edge of the couch. “You said I have a full grace period until tomorrow, Uche.”

“I know,” Uchenna says, a wicked, teasing wink gracing his features. “But a married man can always try his luck.”

She gives him a flat, deadpan stare, though her cheeks are burning with a fierce heat. She raises her hands, pressing her palms against his solid chest, and pushes against him with absolutely zero strength.

“Uchenna. Please behave yourself. The fruit of the Spirit includes patience, self-control—”

“Hey, baby, don’t do that. Don’t bring theology into this,” Uchenna chuckles, his large hands easily wrapping around her wrist and pulling her right back against his chest. He leans down, pressing another sweet kiss against her forehead, but the humor quickly fades from his expression. He studies her face, his gaze incredibly tender. “Are you still terrified, Iremide?”

Iremide hesitates, her gaze dropping to his collarbone. She slowly lifts her hand, her index finger slipping into her mouth as she bites down nervously on her nail. The living room goes still for a long, heavy moment.

“Will it be painful?” she asks, the words slipping out so quietly they are almost lost in the room.

Uchenna’s expression softens. He releases her wrists, his hand moving to gently cup the back of her head, his fingers soothing through her hair. “A little bit, I guess. I think it varies from woman to woman. But I promise you, I will be incredibly careful, baby. No rush.”

Iremide lets out a slow breath, her foot tapping a light, nervous tempo against the leather cushion. She swallows hard. “Okay,” she whispers, her teeth transferring from her nail to bite down gently on her own bottom lip.

Uchenna nods, his thumb brushing a comforting line across her cheekbone. “I want our first child to be a girl, you know. A cute and chaotic baby just like you. I adore you, Iremi.”

A small, genuine smile breaks through her anxiety.

Uchenna leans down, his face closing the final distance. His lips touch hers, and this time, Iremide doesn’t pull away or freeze. She arches her back slightly, moving closer to him, her eyelids dropping shut as she opens her mouth to savour the warmth of his lips. A quiet, breathless groan escapes her throat, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

Uchenna lets out a low sound, his arms tightening like iron bands around her waist as he draws her flush against his body, deepening the kiss until her toes curl against the cushions.

Love is in the air 🤩

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EPISODE FIVE

“Iremi,” Uchenna says quietly, his voice cutting through the heavy air. “Who exactly was Tobi to you?”

For the first time since she met him at his sister’s house, she sees something brand new flicker across his features. It isn’t the sharp flash of jealousy or the hard lines of anger. It is something much quieter.

Uchenna looks away, his gaze dropping to the hardwood floor. He gives a small shake of his head. A laugh slips out, quiet and empty. Without a single drop of humor.

“Was this recent?” he asks, looking back up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies her face. “Because I haven’t heard you mention any Tobi to me. I haven’t even heard Shade talk about any other man.”

Iremide blinks, her fingers instantly curling into the seam of her high-waisted jeans. “Tobi was... complicated, Uche. Nothing happened between us.”

Uchenna waits.

Iremide presses her lips together. “People just assumed we would eventually end up together.”

“Did you?”

Her gaze drops. “That’s not important.”

Uchenna’s thumb rubs slowly against the side of his phone. It is a restless, nervous habit she has rarely ever seen him display.

“Iremi, you looked terrified,” he says, his voice flat and even. “You looked like there was a whole part of your life you wanted hidden from me.”

Her mouth opens, then closes again.

Silence stretches between them.

His dark eyes find hers again. They aren’t cold. They are warm, hurt, and honest. Heat crawls up her neck. She drops her gaze. She can’t bear to look at him. Because he is right. The living room suddenly feels much smaller, the air thick and warm.

She looks down at her slippers. The grain of the hardwood floor blurs slightly.

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, Uchenna.”

“You were.”

The correction comes gently. He isn’t accusing her. He is simply stating a fact.

She swallows the dry lump in her throat. “Because it is nothing. It’s not a big deal.”

“Iremi.” His voice softens even further, dropping into that deep tone that usually grounds her. “I married you.”

Something tight in her chest cracks wide open.

"Iremi, I married all of you. Not just the parts you think are easy to show me. But right now, "I'm scared you don't trust me enough to let me in," he says, taking half a step forward.

The words settle heavily in the space between them. Tender. Dangerous.

“Uchenna, why would you think I don’t trust you? Let’s not make a whole mountain out of a mole—” She forces a loud, airy laugh, her typical defense mechanism kicking into overdrive as she tries to turn it into a joke. But the words die in her throat.

Uchenna isn’t smiling. He looks completely serious, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes waiting for real honesty, not another comedic deflection.

She walks slowly toward the kitchen island, her shoulders drooping as she sinks onto one of the barstools. Her prayer journal still lies exactly where she left it. Open. The pages are half-filled with her chaotic, scribbled prayer points against the multiplication of triplets. Somehow, the sight of her own handwriting makes her throat tighten until she wants to cry.

Uchenna remains standing by the couch, turning his body to face her. He doesn’t press into her space. He gives her room to breathe. He just waits.

The silence stretches until her ears ring.

Finally, she whispers into the quiet room, “Everybody keeps telling me how lucky I am. I know I am.”

Uchenna’s brows pull together, a small crease appearing between his eyes.

She stares fixedly at the marble countertop, her index finger tracing invisible, tight circles over the polished stone. “I know you are a good man to me. Unlike my past relationships that barely lasted because I said I was keeping myself for marriage. The moment I said no, they packed their bags and left. I have never had a single relationship that lasted up to six months before I met you.”

Uchenna doesn’t interrupt. His breathing shifts, becoming slower, more deliberate.

A shaky, breathless laugh escapes her lips. “You are almost annoyingly good to me, Uche.”

A tiny, involuntary smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it disappears just as quickly.

She keeps talking, her words coming faster now. She knows if she stops to take a breath, she will lock down and never finish. “You make this whole marriage look so easy.”

Uchenna’s forehead creases. He slides his phone into his shorts pocket and takes three long, measured strides toward the island, stopping just short of her stool. “What does that mean?”

Her fingers curl tightly into the edge of the marble counter. “It means I keep waiting for the difficult part to start.”

The entire room goes still. Outside, far beyond the estate walls, a neighborhood dog barks faintly. Inside, the quiet is absolute. Iremide keeps her eyes glued to the counter, unable to lift her gaze to meet his.

“For years, all I ever heard were stories,” she says, her voice growing smaller, dropping into a whisper. “Everyone says marriage changes men the moment the ring slips on.”

She lets out a weak, bitter laugh. “They say marriage is endurance.”

She pauses, her chest heaving.

“They say marriage is sacrifice.”

Another sharp pause.

“They say marriage is suffering for the woman.”

The words feel like sandpaper scraping against her throat. She shrugs her shoulders—a small, helpless movement. “Everybody said it, Uche. Everybody.”

Her eyes burn unexpectedly, a sudden film of tears blurring the counter.

Uchenna’s expression softens, his shoulders dropping. “Iremi—”

“So when you are kind to me...” she continues quickly, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, her voice cracking as she forces the truth out. “When you actually listen to my rants. When you are patient with my chaos. When you actually care about what I think and what I want...”

She immediately looks away toward the refrigerator, her face flushing with deep embarrassment and shame.

“A huge part of me just keeps waiting for it to stop.”

Uchenna goes completely rigid.

The jokes. The excuses. The endless detours.

Beneath all of them was the same fear: that one day this gentle version of him would disappear, and her marriage would become the exact story everyone had warned her about.

Slowly, Uchenna closes the remaining inches between them.

He reaches out for her hand. His movement carries no force, no sudden urgency—just a quiet, grounding weight. His broad fingers wrap around her smaller ones, his palms radiating a steady, comforting warmth that immediately cuts through her panic.

“Iremide.”

She forces her gaze up from the marble counter.

His dark eyes are shiny. He doesn’t look angry anymore. He just looks at her quietly.

“You know the funny thing?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I’ve been completely terrified too.”

Iremide blinks, the air catching in her throat. “What?”

A small, genuine smile breaks across his lips. “I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours wondering when you would finally realize that I snore occasionally when I’m exhausted, or that I leave my things scattered everywhere. I was genuinely worried you would dislike living with the real me. Or worse, that you weren’t even truly attracted to me.”

A sudden, sharp laugh bursts out of her before she can choke it back.

Uchenna’s grin widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “There she is. My baby.”

She quickly swipes the pad of her thumb beneath her eyes, clearing the moisture before it can drop. “You are not serious, Uche.”

“I am very serious.”

“You don’t even snore nau.”

“I do when my body is totally crashed.”

“You don’t,” she insists, her chest finally loosening.

“I do. I was just praying you wouldn’t find out on night one.”

The absurd image of the perfectly organized Uchenna Okoye worrying about snoring breaks the final layer of her defense. A proper, bright laugh escapes her lips, filling the kitchen space with its usual familiar sound.

Uchenna watches her face lift, his expression softening as he lifts her hand to his mouth. He presses a slow, intentional kiss against her knuckles, his breath warm against her skin.

“Iremi.”

Her smile turns tender, her shoulders dropping. “Hmm?”

“Is that the real reason you are running away from consummating this marriage?” He doesn’t let go of her hand; instead, his thumb begins to brush light, soothing circles across her knuckles. “I’ve been sitting here thinking I did something wrong, or that you were repulsed by me. Because I know you well enough to know you aren’t on your monthly cycle.”

Iremide’s fingers stiffen slightly in his grip.

“Baby, I've known you long enough to know something isn't adding up,” Uchenna continues gently, his eyes locking onto hers. “You are never this hyperactive. You’ve been spinning around this house with so much drama and chaos since Saturday morning. I know you are playful, baby, but this performance is on a whole different level. It means you are hiding behind a shield because you are scared.”

Iremide sighs heavily, her gaze slipping past his shoulder toward the kitchen window to avoid his eyes. “Uche, look at yourself. You are incredibly handsome. I am highly, physically attracted to you… and I am not scared.”

“You are,” he counters softly, his voice leaving no room for her usual deflections. “We courted for months, Iremi. I know your facial expressions. Isn’t this why you tried to trap me with a seven-day fast against intimacy? Isn’t that why you were shouting those wild, endless prayers over my hands earlier?”

Iremide shifts uncomfortably on the high barstool, her lips tight as she keeps her eyes fixed on his chest, refusing to look up. She remains silent.

“Why are you scared, baby?” Uchenna’s voice drops into a quiet, tender rasp. “Do you think it will hurt too much? Or are you just feeling shy?”

“Both,” she says, the word slipping out so quietly it is almost swallowed by the kitchen air. She looks down at where his large hand blankets hers. “I know you are probably tired of me dodging you. But I am just terrified you won’t like what you see when I am undressed. And... I’m scared of the pain too.”

Before Uchenna can offer a single word of reassurance, the heavy vibration of his phone explodes in his shorts pocket.

BZZZZ.

He frowns, pulling the device out. The screen flashes brightly with a single name: Janet.

Uchenna lets out a long, slow exhale through his nose. Without a word, he taps the side button to silence the call, hiding the glowing screen, and slides the phone back into his pocket.

“You don’t want to pick that up?” Iremide asks, finally lifting her eyes to meet his.

“No, baby. It’s just Janet,” Uchenna says, a small, reassuring smile returning to his face. “I don’t know why she is calling my personal line at this time of the evening. I explicitly told everyone at the office to respect my hours this month. I just got married, for God’s sake.”

Iremide nods slowly, a familiar tight feeling settling in her chest. She knows Janet. The woman has always been notorious for calling Uchenna at the most random hours for urgent work issues, even interrupting a few of their dates during courtship.

Uchenna pulls up the second barstool, sitting directly opposite her so their knees brush. He takes her face gently between his wide palms, forcing her to look straight into his eyes.

“Let’s go to a private resort for a quick staycation,” he suggests, his thumbs lightly tracing her cheekbones. “Our official honeymoon isn’t for another two weeks, but I think getting out of this house and doing something exciting together will help ease all this tension in your shoulders.”

Iremide immediately shakes her head, her hands coming up to gently grasp his wrists. “No, Uche, I can’t leave right now. My students need me. Most of those kids are homeschooled and don’t go to traditional schools. I have to be there for them. I already gave their parents a definitive date for when I’ll be traveling in two weeks. Leaving for a resort now would mean abandoning those children for more than a month.”

She pauses, her cheeks flushing a deep, furious pink as she looks down at his chest. “And besides... I want our first time to be right here. In our own home. Isn’t that why you spent all that money building this home and furnishing it to my taste?”

Uchenna stares at her, his expression visibly softening at her words. He lets out a quiet breath, his hands sliding down from her cheeks to anchor securely on her waist.

“Okay,” he murmurs, his dark eyes fixed on her lips. “We won’t be having sex for the next forty-eight hours, just like we agreed, even though we both know your period is a myth. But hear the new plan: we are going to try every other form of intimacy. We have only really kissed once since Saturday, Iremi, and that starvation is officially ending today.”

Iremide’s heart skips a frantic beat against her ribs.

“Physical touch is my absolute favorite love language,” Uchenna warns, his lips twitching with a wicked, teasing grin as his hands tighten slightly around her waist. “So you are going to be receiving a whole lot of it. Okay?”

Iremide can only manage a small, breathless nod.

Uchenna leans forward, his broad chest colliding gently with hers as he pulls her into a deep, consuming hug. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, right beside her bonnet. “I love you so much, Iremide. Please, stop using other people’s failed marriages as a yardstick to judge what we are building here. We are going to grow old together.”

Iremide closes her eyes, her arms wrapping around his neck as she inhales his clean, soapy scent. “I am going to hold you tightly to those words, Uche.”

“Please do, Mrs. Okoye,” he whispers against her skin. “Please do.”

“Baby, come over,” Uchenna calls out, his deep voice bouncing off the bedroom walls. “Sister Ada is calling me on video.”

Iremide abandons the pile of nightwear she is trying to smooth out inside the brown wood wardrobe. A bright smile automatically takes over her face as she crosses the thick brown rug toward the bed. Uchenna is propped upright against the headboard, his laptop balancing securely on his thighs.

She slides onto the mattress, digging her bare toes into the duvet as she angles her shoulders into the camera frame next to him. The screen connection clicks through, displaying a brightly lit children’s nursery.

“Good evening, Mummy Eric!” Iremide greets instantly, leaning forward so her bonnet fills the right corner of the screen.

“How are you, smally?” Ada’s sharp, clear voice echoes from the speaker. She looks up from a stack of children’s picture books, her expression immediately softening.

“Fine, ma,” Iremide says, her smile stretching even wider.

“Uchenna, kedu?” Ada asks, her eyes shifting to her brother.

“Adị m mma, Sister,” Uchenna replies, his thumb tapping steady against the side of his laptop trackpad.

“Good, good. I hope you are taking proper care of Iremide? She is an absolute gem to my kids, a truly wonderful woman.”

“Yes, Sister, I know all about that,” Uchenna says, a teasing glint in his eye as he looks from the screen to his wife. “You have told me a million times already.”

“Daalụ. Let me leave you two alone, okay? I will visit properly after you get back from the honeymoon.”

Iremide nods rapidly. “Okay, ma. Thank you so much, ma.”

“Take care of yourselves, biko,” Ada adds, waving just before the screen goes black.

Iremide breathes a small sigh of relief and makes a move to slide off the edge of the mattress. Before her feet can even touch the cold floor, Uchenna’s large hand wraps around her forearm, pulling her right back into the center of the bed.

Her pulse gives a sudden, heavy thud against her ribs. “Uchenna.”

“Why are you trying to run away?” he asks, his grip firm but gentle.

“I am not running away,” she says immediately, the words tumbling out in a fast rush. “I just want to go back and arrange my clothes properly inside the wardrobe. I disorganized the whole thing while trying to pick what to wear tonight. And besides, you're drafting the official thank-you messages for our wedding guests to send out tomorrow. You're very busy too.”

“I am not busy at all.” Uchenna snaps his laptop shut with a sharp click and slides it onto the bedside table.

With one smooth, deliberate motion, he hooks his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. Iremide loses her balance, her hands flying out instinctively as she falls forward, her chest colliding softly with his.

His free hand moves up to the edge of her satin bonnet, his fingers brushing the nape of her neck as he gently lifts her chin, forcing her head up to meet his gaze. His other arm tightens around her waist, grounding her lower body against his, erasing the last bit of distance between them.

“Uchenna,” she whispers, her voice barely carrying across the sheets.

A sudden wave of goosebumps breaks across her skin. The bedroom air conditioner feels ten times colder all of a sudden, but where their bodies touch, a fierce, terrifying heat is blooming. Her fingers curl into tight fists, pressing hard against his cotton nightwear, trying to find her bearings.

Uchenna doesn't break eye contact. His thumb reaches up, tracing the trembling line of her jawline, stabilizing her. “You don’t have to be afraid with me, Iremi. Never with me.”

The words don’t just hit her ears; they settle somewhere deep inside her spirit, silencing the loud, mocking echoes of every failed story she has ever heard. Before she can even whisper a response, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. It isn’t rushed or demanding. It is heavy, steady, and sealed like an absolute promise.

For the first time since she walked down the aisle, something tight and defensive inside her chest finally snaps open.

Maybe she didn’t have to spend this marriage waiting for disaster. Maybe she could simply allow herself to be loved.

Iremide nods slowly, her forehead scraping against his jaw.

The playful, teasing guy from the kitchen is gone, replaced by a man looking at his wife with a gravity that makes her throat dry. His gaze slowly drops from her wide eyes down to her lower lip. He lingers there for three incredibly long beats, his own chest rising and falling with a deep, heavy breath that shudders against her collarbone, before he leans down to claim her mouth.

Iremide’s entire body goes rigid, a gasp trapped in her throat. She squeezes her eyelids shut, her legs trembling under the weight of an emotion too large for her chest. She lifts her hands, flattening her palms against his chest as if to hold him at bay, but the sheer, breathtaking depth of the kiss melts her resistance down to the bone.

This feels completely different. The careful, holy restraint Uchenna has carried since their wedding day doesn’t just crack—it shatters entirely. He kisses her like a man relieved to finally arrive at his destination, like someone who has starved for her even while sharing the same house. It is a protective, consuming weight, a silent declaration that she belongs to him, and he to her.

“Uchenna...” she gasps out against his lips the very second he pauses for air, her mind reeling from the intensity.

Uchenna pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting lightly against hers, his nose brushing hers in the dark. His breath is hot and rough against her skin, his heart hammering a rushed, echoing tempo straight into her own chest.

“Do you want me to stop, baby?” he rasps, his fingers tightening on her waist.

Iremide’s chest heaves. She keeps her eyes locked shut, her cheeks burning with an extreme shyness, but the old, lingering fear is gone, swallowed up by the absolute safety of his arms. She swallows hard, her tight fists finally opening, her fingers flattening over his rapid heartbeat in a gesture of total, silent surrender.

“I... I...” She exhales softly, the words slipping past her lips in a tender confession. “I like the kiss, Uche.”

A low, deep chuckle rumbles from Uchenna’s throat, vibrating straight into her chest—a sound of pure, masculine victory and deep relief. “I love the sound of that.”

He doesn’t give her another second to overthink. He leans right back down, his lips sealing over hers once more, drawing her into a deeper, more sacred quiet until the rest of the cold room, the fears of the present, and the entire world vanish around them.

Hello Family, I haven’t decided our official posting days, until we have an official days, this will be coming into your inbox at least twice a week

We can see Iremide is improving gradually 🙈

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EPISODE FOUR

Iremide marches into the living room, a fortress of spiritual warfare tucked under her arm: her leather-bound Bible, her thick prayer journal, and a black gel pen. Her full hair is securely tucked inside her silk bonnet, and she is wearing a customized white crop-top that boldly reads Soft babe with war inside, paired with high-waisted jeans that meet the hem of her top.

The double-door refrigerator gives a steady, low rumble in the open kitchen behind her as she slams her books down onto the marble island counter. Thud.

Uchenna is perched on one of the barstools, his eyes fixed on his glowing laptop screen. He is right in the middle of a video call with his development team.

“I need to speak to you,” Iremide whispers loudly, her fingers tightly gripping the edge of the counter as she begins to pace the hardwood floor.

Uchenna looks up sharply. Seeing her expression, he quickly hovers his mouse over the screen and taps the mute button. “What’s up, baby?” he asks, a warm, easy smile breaking across his face.

“Heaven just spoke to me right now during my short afternoon nap,” Iremide announces, waving a hand in the air, breathing unevenly, her long, freshly manicured nails catching the kitchen light.

“Okay?” Uchenna glances down at the digital clock in the corner of his monitor. 5:16 PM.

“I really need to speak to you, Uche.”

Baby, I am currently in a critical deployment meeting,” Uchenna says. He keeps his facial muscles perfectly still, acutely aware that his camera is wide open and his international colleagues are watching him on screen. “Can you give me just ten minutes, please?”

"This is highly urgent, Uche."

Uchenna lets out a quiet exhale, his chest rising and falling as he offers her a pleading, apologetic smile. “Ten minutes, baby. Give me ten minutes, please.” He taps the screen to unmute his microphone and returns to his presentation.

Ten minutes feels like ten long years in the wilderness. Iremide continues her relentless pacing across the kitchen floor, her slippers squeaking against the polished wood.

Every sixty seconds, she stops right in his line of sight, twisting her mouth to silently form the words: Heartbeat nau. Uchenna cracks a brief look up from his meeting, his eyes begging her for patience.

The moment the Zoom call disconnects, Uchenna snaps his laptop shut with a satisfying click.

Iremide doesn’t waste a single millisecond. She slides onto the barstool right beside him, adjusting her posture and tugging at the edge of her bonnet.

“What is it, baby?” Uchenna asks, turning his entire body toward her, his full attention finally on his wife.

Iremide takes a deep, theatrical breath. “I just had a massive prophetic dream, Uchenna. I saw children. I saw myself carrying triplets.” She lowers her voice, her eyes wide with dramatic self-pity. “Not one baby. Not even twins. Triplets, Uche!” She lets out a small, dramatic sniffle.

Uchenna’s face lights up. A wide smile breaks across his lips. “Baby, praise God! Three girls or three boys? This is amazing.”

"Why are you praising God?" Iremide stares at him in disbelief, her hands flying to her chest. “In the dream, the babies were crying! They were pulling my hair, pouring juice all over our new couch, disorganizing the entire house! It is a terrible afternoonmare, Uche.”

Uchenna chuckles, leaning his elbow on the counter. “How is that bad, baby? Aren’t those our future children?”

“Three, Uchenna!” She points to her own slender waist, shifting on her stool. “Look at me. I cannot carry three children at once with this my small body. I think we need to fast and pray immediately.”

Uchenna blinks, the warm smile on his lips faltering slightly. He leans in closer, his thumb rising to gently brush away a stray crumb from the corner of her lower lip. His touch is slow, heavy, and deliberate.

“Against our children?” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto hers.

Iremide’s heart does a wild, chaotic sprint against her ribs at the sudden warmth of his skin. Her breath hitches, but instead of backing down, she holds her ground, leaning into his space until she can smell the faint mint on his breath.

“Against the multiplication,” she corrects firmly, though her voice carries a slight tremor. She forces her index finger to tap a sharp beat against the marble counter to steady herself. “We are starting a solid, seven-day fasting and prayer program, Uche. No arguments.”

Uchenna shakes his head, a slow, stubborn expression locking into his jaw. “Baby, I am not fasting against any multiplication. I want the triplets.”

“Why on earth would you want that?”

“Triplets means three beautiful children running around this house calling me Daddy at the same time.”

“And it also means paying three sets of private school fees at the exact same time!” Iremide counterattacks, her voice rising as she details the horrors. “Three children asking me for snacks every five minutes. Breastfeeding three human beings simultaneously!” She wrinkles her nose, her eyes welling up with completely dry, tearless grief.

“I haven’t even met my children yet and you are already trying to fast them away from existence,” Uchenna says, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Seeing her defensive wall crumbling, Iremide deploys her ultimate weapon. She slides her stool closer, leaning deep into his personal space. She reaches up, planting a quick, sweet peck right on his cheek. “Uchenna, please nau.”

Uchenna looks at her, his expression a mix of adoration and sheer amusement. “Baby, this has to be the first time in human history where someone is actively organizing a fasting and prayer to cancel a prophetic blessing. You saw babies. I saw divine provision.”

Iremide sinks back onto her stool, pouting heavily as she drags her Bible and prayer journal a few inches closer.

“Iremide, God finally reveals our future family and your first instinct is immediate cancellation?”

“Uche, pleaseeee,” she whines, sliding right back against his side. She tilts her head, resting her bonnet heavily against his broad shoulder, making her lips stick out in a flawless pout.

Uchenna lets out a long, defeated sigh, his chest deflating under her weight. He rubs a hand over his face. “Okay, fine. Let’s do the fasting.”

Iremide’s head pops up instantly.

“But for the record,” Uchenna adds, pointing a warning finger at her, “I am not fasting against triplets. I am only fasting because my wife is distressed.”

Iremide nods rapidly, quickly wiping away her entirely invisible tears. She leans in and kisses his cheek again, her smile bright and triumphant. “Heartbeat, thank you so much! God will bless you. So, we are doing a strict seven days of fasting and prayer. Therefore, no intimacy whatsoever.”

Uchenna’s entire body freezes. He stares at her, his jaw dropping in absolute shock as the full weight of the scam hits him. “What? Baby, wait. When did I agree to that particular part?”

Iremide blinks innocently, snuggling even closer into his chest. “Didn’t you just say you agreed to the fast?”

“Iremi, I agreed to the fasting.”

“Exactly.”

“I did not agree to these hidden extra terms and conditions!” Uchenna protests, his eyes widening as he pulls back slightly. “We haven’t even consummated this marriage yet. On a second thought, give me the triplets! Infact quadraplets!”

“Uche, why are you behaving like this?” Iremide demands, exaggerating her pout until her bottom lip practically touches her nose.

“No, baby.” Uchenna shakes his head, his hands lifting in a firm gesture of refusal. “I am already counting down the hours to the next two days, and now you want to push our timeline back by a whole week? Another option is that we do the fast, but it doesn’t have to include abstaining from marital duties.”

“No, o!” Iremide snaps her fingers in the air for emphasis. “If we are fasting in this home, we must fast from everything and focus entirely on God. Total consecration, Uchenna.”

“No, baby, I am not signing up for this,” Uchenna says, leaning back on his stool. “Why are we organizing a fasting program against a blessing you haven't even received yet?”

Iremide stands up from the barstool, letting out a loud, dramatic sigh. She squeezes her eyes shut, tilting her face toward the kitchen ceiling. “Holy Spirit, please just talk to your son Uchenna right now because I am about to speak from the flesh.”

Uchenna folds his arms, his dark eyes sparkling with unyielding amusement. “Let the Holy Spirit CC me in that email first, then we can talk. If not, we are not fasting anything—or let’s just do a one-day fast.”

Iremide stops her pacing instantly, her eyes widening. “One day ke? No, o. What can one day of fasting possibly do against triplets?”

“Then forget the whole thing,” Uchenna says simply. He leans in, pressing a swift kiss against her forehead, his thighs shifting as he prepares to stand up from the stool.

“Oya, oya, one day is fine!” Iremide reaches out, grabbing his forearms and pulling him firmly back onto the seat. “One day is okay. Let’s just pray, Uche. Let’s tell God we are not ready for triplets.”

She takes both of his large, warm hands, flattening them onto the marble kitchen counter and covering them securely with her own manicured fingers. “Shut your eyes, Uche. Let us pray.”

"If triplets eventually come, I will frame today's prayer and show it to all three children," Uchenna says, sighing, his eyelids closing as he submits to the protocol.

“Father, we thank you for this union,” Iremide begins, her voice shifting into her serious prayer tone. “We thank you for this marriage. Thank you for Uchenna, who loves his wife enough to listen to her, even though he stubbornly negotiated a seven-day fast down to a one-day program.”

“Amen,” Uchenna whispers quietly, his knuckles twitching under her palms.

“Father, we know your blessings are abundant and overflowing,” Iremide continues, her sways becoming more rhythmic. "Instead of three babies at once, Lord, please give us three houses and three fat bank accounts. Just one baby at a time, Lord."

Uchenna’s chest heaves with a silent, resigned chuckle. “Amen.”

“Father, hold us through tomorrow’s fast. Don’t let the flesh take over our spirit man. Strengthen us,” Iremide says, shaking his hands slightly to drive home the point.

“Amen,” Uchenna says.

“And Holy Spirit, please give my husband the deep spiritual understanding that intimacy with You is far more important than physical and sexual intimacy.”

Silence follows. The kitchen refrigerator rumbles in the background.

Iremide cracks her left eye open, glaring across the counter at him. “Uchenna? Say Amen nau.”

Uchenna opens both eyes, his gaze perfectly calm and steady as he stares back at her. “No. Because marital intimacy matters too. I am not saying amen to that, mba!”

Iremide scoffs loudly, shutting her eye back down with a sharp click of her tongue. “Lord, I commit every single lustful desire of Uchenna—”

“Amen! Amen and Amen! In Jesus’ name we have prayed, Amen!” Uchenna cuts her off loudly, clapping his hands together to forcefully end the session.

“Uchenna?”

“Amen, baby, bikonu,” Uchenna says, raising his hands in sweet surrender.

Iremide pouts, pulling her journal closer to her chest. She flips it open to a fresh page, uncapping her black gel pen with a small, satisfying click.

The kitchen falls into a comfortable quiet.

For a few golden moments, the only sounds filling the room are the low hum of the double-door refrigerator and the soft, steady scratch of her pen against the paper.

Uchenna doesn’t move. He rests his forearms against the cool marble counter, simply watching her. He tracks the slight crease that appears between her brows whenever she is deeply concentrating, the way her lips move faintly to form the words before she commits them to ink, and the absent-minded habit she has of tapping the end of her pen against her chin whenever she is thinking through a point.

His chest tightens unexpectedly with a strange, sweet pressure.

Marriage is an entirely different world. Just three days ago, he had been wondering what life would actually look like sharing a daily routine with her.

Now she is here. Sitting in his kitchen. Wearing a crop-top and a bonnet, aggressively writing out prayer points against triplets she hasn’t even conceived yet.

A slow, genuine smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You are really writing prayer requests against innocent children.”

Iremide doesn’t even look up from the grid lines of her journal. “I am documenting evidence.”

Uchenna lets out a quiet, rumbling laugh.

His gaze lingers on her for another long moment. The warm evening light spills through the wide kitchen windows, setting a glow across her satin bonnet and the soft curve of her cheek. A deep, heavy peace settles low in his chest. It isn’t the loud kind of emotion. It isn’t the butterflies of a first date or the excitement of the wedding day. It is something much steadier. Something that feels suspiciously like home.

Across the counter, Iremide pauses halfway through a sentence. The silence makes her glance up.

Uchenna is still looking at her. His eyes are warm, soft, and filled with an intensity that says he still can’t quite believe she belongs to him now.

Her heart gives a small, unexpected squeeze against her ribs. For so many years, listening to the stories of older women in church, she had imagined marriage as a battlefield—something she would just have to survive. A system that would demand pieces of her independence until there was nothing left.

But sitting here now, beneath the weight of his steady gaze, she feels none of that heaviness. Just safety. Just absolute peace. Just the strange, beautiful comfort of knowing this Bible-believing Christian tech bro is entirely in her corner.

A slow, matching smile touches her lips. Maybe marriage isn’t an assignment to endure after all. Maybe, with the right person, it really just feels like coming home.

BZZZZ.

She glances down.

Federal Ministry of Billing (Shade)

Iremide yanks the front door open, a bright smile already plastered onto her face.

Shade steps over the threshold with an identical grin. She is the spitting image of Iremide, sharing the same facial features and build. Though she is the younger sister, she towers over Iremide by a good two inches.

“Iyawo!” Shade teases, her eyes immediately scanning the wide layout of the living room. “Where is Brother Uche?”

Iremide’s smile eases into something more genuine. “He is in the bedroom. The estate security allowed you in?” She pushes the door shut, clicking the lock into place before wandering over to the leather couch.

Shade follows closely, lugging two massive, overstuffed checkered Bagco sacks that scrape against the wooden floor. She drops them with a heavy thud right by the leg of the couch and sinks into the cushions beside her sister. “Yes, I told them I was coming to the newly built bungalow at number 12. So, how is married life, Sister Ire?”

“It is fine,” Iremide says softly. She reaches down, pulling the top of one Bagco sack open to peek at the wrapped bundles of food items inside. “Uche has been behaving himself.”

Shade leans back, her playful expression shifting into something a bit more serious. She lowers her voice. “Sister Ire, Mama Shade told me to warn you o. She said you must be very careful with that your sharp mouth around Brother Uche. You are fully married to him now, not boyfriend and girlfriend things.”

Iremide rolls her eyes, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Uchenna is not complaining, please. He has known me for almost a year now.”

Shade nods, though her eyes still carry a glimmer of amusement. She adjusts her handbag on her lap. “Anyway, I will be heading back soon. Mama strictly ordered me to come home immediately. She said I must not disturb you and your husband.”

Iremide looks at her, her eyebrows furrowing in surprise. She stops inspecting the bag. “No, nau. Stay back for a bit. Nobody is complaining. Let me call Uche out, and get you something cold to drink and eat.” She makes a move to stand up.

Shade quickly catches her wrist, shaking her head. “Mama Shade will skin me alive if I stay longer. She told me plainly that this is your honeymoon phase with Brother Uchenna, and she insisted I must drop the food and vanish immediately, plus my Uber is outside.”

Iremide bursts into a clear, echoing laugh. “Let me at least pack some snacks for you to take back. And let me call Uche so you can greet him properly before you leave.”

Shade releases her wrist, nodding in agreement.

Iremide walks down the short corridor, stopping at the master bedroom door. She knocks twice, her knuckles rapping sharply against the dark wood. “Heartbeat, please come outside. My younger sister is here.”

In less than a minute, the door swings open. Uchenna steps into the hallway, his face instantly lighting up with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Brother Uchenna! Odogwu!” Shade greets loudly from the couch, standing up to show her respect.

“How are you, Shade?” Uchenna’s voice is deep and pleasant as he approaches. He steps into the living room, opening his arms to give her a warm, brief side hug.

“Fine, fine. I just came to drop a few items from Mama Shade for Sister Ire.” Shade smiles up at him, her eyes darting between the two newlyweds. “Hope she is not giving you too much trouble sha?”

“I am already getting used to it,” Uchenna jokes, his eyes shifting to Iremide with a playful, affectionate glint.

Iremide gives him a pointed look before turning toward the kitchen area to gather some snacks and drinks. The moment her back is turned, Shade leans in close to Uchenna, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “I have a very hot gist for you, Brother Uche. Highly confidential. But it will cost you a small tip.”

Uchenna’s lips twitch. He leans his ear closer to her, matching her quiet tone. “Let’s hear it.”

“Just…” Shade whispers, pauses, and then suddenly shakes her head, a teasing, dangerous smirk playing on her lips.. “hmmm, don’t worry.”

Uchenna’s eyebrows shoot up instantly. “Shade, don't do that. Tell me exactly what it is.”

Shade chuckles quietly, leaning in even closer until her shoulder almost touches his chest. She opens her mouth to whisper the secret, but before the first syllable can leave her lips, the rustle of plastic cuts through the air.

Iremide steps back into the living room.

“What are you two whispering to my husband?” Iremide asks suspiciously. She carries a white polythene bag packed to the brim with canned malt drinks and packets of crunchy coconut chips and plantain chips, her eyes narrowing as she takes in their close proximity.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Shade says quickly, taking a giant step backward with an innocent look on her face.

“Good. Take this one and start heading home,” Iremide says, shoving the plastic handles into Shade’s hand.

Shade accepts the bag, throwing a wink in Uchenna’s direction. “Don’t forget to send something to my OPay account, Brother Uchenna. I trust an Odogwu like you to deliver, unlike some people.”

“Look at you. Please don’t bill my husband during this period,” Iremide grumbles, though a small smile still plays at the corners of her lips as she places a hand on Shade’s shoulder, gently steering her toward the exit. “The man just finished spending a whole fortune on the wedding. Let his account breathe. Come, let me see you off.”

“Uncle Uchenna is a tech bro and a correct guy,” Shade continues loudly as she is ushered toward the door, raised voices filling the small space. “Even without asking, he always delivers. Not like you, Sister Ire.”

Uchenna chuckles, his thumbs already flying across his phone screen as he pulls it from his shorts pocket. He locks eyes with Shade over Iremide’s shoulder, his expression deadly serious beneath the smile.

“I will transfer something to your account right away, Shade,” Uchenna says, his voice carrying a firm undertone. He taps his phone screen significantly. “But I need that information. Send everything to me on WhatsApp.”

Shade beams. “Sure! Thank you Chairman! You both will grow old together in peace. Nothing evil will touch this marriage in Jesus’ name. Uncle Uchenna is a correct man. I have always been rooting for you, you know? Thank God you married her before brother Tobi—”

“Shade!” Iremide’s voice cracks through the room so fast it startles everyone.

She is already moving. “Oya, oya, come and be going abeg. Your Uber is waiting.”

Before Shade can finish her sentence, Iremide has both hands on her shoulders, steering her firmly toward the front door.

Shade blinks. “But Sister Ire, I was just—”

“Exactly. You have talked enough.”

Uchenna’s smile lingers for a second, then slowly fades.

His eyes drift from Shade to his wife, the way her laugh comes a little too quickly, the way she avoids his eyes, the way she's practically escorting her sister out of the house.

Something in his chest tightens.

“Bye, Brother Uche!” Shade calls cheerfully over her shoulder.

“Bye, Shade,” Uchenna replies automatically, though his attention never leaves his wife.

The front door swings shut.

The refrigerator hums quietly from the kitchen, a car horn sounds faintly somewhere outside the estate.

Iremide keeps her hand on the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary.

Then she slowly turns around.

Uchenna is exactly where she left him, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other loosely holding his phone, watching her.

His head tilts slightly. “You looked nervous.”

Iremide lets out a laugh that sounds far too quick. “What? No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Heartbeat—”

“Who is Tobi?”

Iremide’s smile falters. “He's someone I knew before I met you. Don't mind Shade.”

“Someone before me?”

She nods too quickly. “Yes, nau.”

Uchenna studies her face. “Then why were you trying to push your sister out of the house at the mention of his name?”

“Uche.”

“Iremi.” His voice remains calm, but there is a weight behind it now. The kind that makes her stomach twist.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

He takes a slow step forward. “Explain.”

Iremide swallows. “It’s not a big deal Uche, why are you trying to escalate this?”

“Then it should be easy to explain.”

“Uche, please.”

His jaw tightens, for a brief second, disappointment flickers across his face.

“Iremi,” he says quietly. "Who exactly was Tobi to you?"

Eh eh eh, who is brother Tobi, we are still in the honeymoon phase o, we don’t want any brother Tobi

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EPISODE THREE

The sharp, savory scent of fried onions and scotch bonnet peppers drifts into the bedroom, waking Iremide before her alarm can even trigger. Her stomach lets out an immediate, loud rumble. She adjusts the hair bonnet slipping off her forehead.

She reaches for her phone.

5:16 AM.

She rolls her eyes, swinging her legs out from under the duvet. Why on earth does this man have a lifestyle of cooking at ungodly hours?

Iremide slides her feet into her fluffy lounge slippers, letting out a massive yawn. “Holy Spirit, good morning,” she murmurs, tapping her chest before shuffling into the bathroom.

She splashes cold water on her face, brushing her teeth with quick, aggressive strokes. She has a home-tutoring job by 8:00 AM, so time is already ticking. Back in the bedroom, she drops to her knees beside the half-packed travel box she hasn’t found the strength to fully unpack. After a chaotic scramble through the lace and satin, her fingers wrap around a simple white cotton t-shirt. She pulls it over her head, smoothing down the bold, customized lettering across the chest:

Prayerful. Petty. Pretty.

She grabs her daily devotional booklet, slips into a pair of comfortable shorts, and marches out into the open-plan living area.

“Baby, good morning.” Uchenna’s voice is low, gravelly with sleep, but his smile is blindingly bright. He is standing by the gas cooker, a wooden spatula in his hand, looking up as her slippers slap against the floor wood.

His eyes track the text on her shirt, a warm, amused crinkle forming at the corners of his eyelids. “You seem to have an endless supply of these customized tops with funny phrases.”

“Good morning, Heartbeat.” Iremide strolls over to the kitchen island, pulling the stool out. “If I like a phrase, I wear it. It’s called branding. But why are you the one cooking right nau? I am supposed to be making breakfast for us.”

Uchenna turns off the back burner, leaning his hip against the counter with a soft chuckle. “Mrs. Prayerful, Petty, and Pretty, please don’t stress your head. I woke up early today and thought it would be nice to surprise you with breakfast in bed. But look at you, already awake and active.”

Iremide smiles, the warmth of the gesture softening her defense just a bit. She climbs onto the barstool, dropping the devotional booklet onto the smooth surface of the kitchen island. “Since the food isn't ready, let’s do our morning devotions while we wait.”

Uchenna pauses, his eyebrows lifting above his dark frames. “We are studying a devotional booklet today?”

“Ehen, nau,” Iremide says, tapping the cover. “Yesterday was Sunday, so we did the standard bible study during Sunday school. But from Monday to Saturday in this house, we are studying devotionals.”

Uchenna nods slowly, his jaw shifting as he tries to suppress another smile. He knows her too well by now. Handing Iremide a devotional booklet at dawn is an open invitation for chaos, but looking at her determined face, he can’t bring himself to refuse. He crosses the kitchen, pulling out the stool directly opposite her.

Iremide adjusts her bonnet, flattening the pages of the booklet with the palm of her hand. “Today’s topic is Living a Spirit-Filled Life.” She shoots a pointed glance at her husband across the island.

She clears her throat, her voice ringing out loud and theatrical in the quiet morning kitchen.

“Many Christians desire a deeper relationship with God but often wonder what that looks like in everyday life. We may imagine a Spirit-filled life as dramatic encounters, powerful miracles, or extraordinary experiences. While God certainly works in miraculous ways, living a Spirit-filled life is often found in the ordinary moments of daily obedience.”

Uchenna nods along, he is barely looking at the book, his eyes locked on her face.

He leans his chin on his palm, a soft smile plays on his lips as he watch her hands wave about in wild, dramatic demonstration as she reads. The absolute affection in his gaze is heavy enough to fill the room.

“A Spirit-filled life is not about striving harder to be a better Christian,” Iremide continues, raising her pitch and tilting her head for maximum emphasis. “It is about surrendering ourselves to God and allowing the Holy Spirit to guide our thoughts, words, decisions, and actions.”

She slams her palm lightly onto the page. “Glory!”

Uchenna blinks, his shoulders jerking back slightly, startled by the sudden shout.

She looks up, her eyes narrowing playfully as she locks eyes with him. “What does this passage teach you, Uche?”

Uchenna clears his throat, instantly straightening his spine and slipping into his best, well-behaved Sunday-school student posture. “To allow the Holy Spirit to guide our thoughts, actions, and decisions?”

“Correct!” Iremide points a finger at him, her smile turning entirely mischievous. “So, all those naughty, unchristian phrases you have been throwing around this house since Saturday? Words like ‘I’ve been trying to behave myself’ or ‘I want to explore you’—are you Dora the Explorer? And what is ‘I want to make love’? Excuse me, please? You cannot make love, my brother. God is the only maker and creator of love, only Him understands the depth of love. Then yesterday you said, ‘I am losing my mind.’ Haba! You are a Bible-believing Christian brother, God forbid you lose your mind. Oh, and ‘You’re starving me’? God forbid you starve! Inside Christ Jesus, you are full and overflowing! Such words are not edifying to the spirit. Stop it!”

She drops the booklet onto the counter with a soft slap and reaches across, tapping the back of his hand lightly.

“Let the Holy Spirit guide every single word that comes out of your mouth, and every single action you direct toward your wife,” she raises her chin, her expression a perfect picture of righteous victory.

Uchenna stays completely still for a second, before a wicked smile slowly tugs at his lips. She is pure, unadulterated chaos in a hair bonnet.

“Baby,” Uchenna begins, his voice dropping into that smooth, low sound that usually strips away her defenses. A small, wicked smile tugs at his lips. “First of all, I am not your brother. I am your husband.”

Iremide’s finger-tapping stops instantly. Her hand freezes on the counter.

“And secondly, I was just sitting here on my own quietly and jejely o,” Uchenna adds.

He leans his upper body across the kitchen island, closing the distance until his face is inches from hers. The playful student vanishes; his eyes are suddenly dark, intense, and heavily focused. “You are the one who brought up the topic of intimacy yourself this morning. And who told you I have any plans of saying words that edify you behind closed doors?”

“Ahh.” The word catches in Iremide’s throat. Her breath hitches, her chest freezing mid-rise as she stares at him.

He leans in another agonizing inch, his warmth radiating against her skin. “Those phrases are nothing compared to the things I plan to be saying to you,” Uchenna whispers, his gaze dropping to her lips for a heavy, deliberate second before snapping back to her eyes. “And trust me, Iremide, they are not edifying at all.”

“Oya, it’s okay! It’s okay like that! He don do! Someone cannot play with you?” Iremide snaps the booklet shut halfway, her cheeks burning hot as she pushes herself back against the barstool. She deploys her loud energy like a shield, waving her hands frantically to scatter the thick heat in the air.

“It is that one that we will see you! So you are bad like this Uchenna? Oga o. Let us sha continue the reading.”

She re-opens the page, her eyes scanning the text rapidly to hide her racing pulse.

“The Holy Spirit is not merely a force or influence; He is God’s presence dwelling within every believer. He teaches, comforts, convicts, empowers, and transforms us into the likeness of Christ.”

She clears her throat loudly, deliberately slowing her pace as she hits the next line. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Galatians chapter five, verse twenty-two to twenty-three.” She puts a massive, pointed emphasis on self-control and patience, glaring at him over the top of the booklet.

Uchenna lets out a long, slow exhale, a helpless smile breaking across his face. “Let me check on the food,” he says, standing up to escape the lecture.

Iremide watches him walk over to the cooker. He lifts the lid of the boiling yam, checks the center with a fork, and clicks off the gas under the rich, steaming fish sauce. The aromatic heat fills the kitchen island area, making her mouth water again.

Uchenna strolls back, sliding smoothly onto his stool.

“So, as I was saying—” Iremide starts, lifting her booklet.

“Baby, can we please just pray?” Uchenna cuts in, his hands spreading open on the counter, his eyes fixed on hers with a pleading but firm expression. “I completely understand the core message of the Bible study now. Trust me.”

Iremide glances at the remaining paragraphs, ready to argue, but the intense smell of the sauce sways her judgment. “Okay then. Let me lead the prayer.”

“Ah, no, no,” Uchenna says quickly, his hands moving to clasp hers across the island before she can close her eyes. His fingers wrap tightly around her knuckles, warm and solid. “Let me be the one to lead the morning prayer today. Please. Biko.”

The wall clock in the living room reads exactly quarter past two.

Iremide drags her feet across the threshold, her shoulders aching under the weight of her materials. The heat from the Lagos afternoon sun is still baking her skin, making her white tee stick slightly to her back. She stops by the couch, unburdening herself by dropping her heavy tote bag onto the cushions with a weary sigh.

Uchenna is stretched out on the leather, his laptop resting on his thighs. The steady tapping of his fingers slows down, then stops completely.

“Heartbeat, good afternoon,” she says, her voice soft.

“Baby, welcome back.” Uchenna pushes the laptop away, setting it flat on the couch as he sits upright. His eyes follow her, tracking the tired line of her shoulders.

“You didn’t go into the office today?” Iremide walks past him, heading straight for the kitchen area. She opens the refrigerator, the sudden burst of cool air hitting her face like a relief. She grabs a cold plastic bottle of water and twists the cap open.

“No,” Uchenna says, his voice deep and even. He watches her over the kitchen counter. “I told you I will work from home for the rest of the week. All because of you.”

Iremide takes a long, slow gulp of the water, letting the coldness settle the flutter in her chest, before nodding.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, setting the bottle down on the counter. She clears her throat, “Shouldn’t we unpack those wedding gifts today?”

“Sure.” Uchenna stands up, stretching his long frame. “Let’s head over to the guest room and see what people gave us.”

He takes two slow strides toward the kitchen island, his hands sliding casually into his shorts pockets. “My family called on video right after you left for work. They asked me to call back so they could see your face.”

A genuine smile breaks through Iremide’s fatigue. “Oya, call them back now. Let me properly greet my sweet in-laws.”

Uchenna stops right in front of her, closing the distance. He doesn’t pull out his phone. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, pointing a finger to his right cheek.

“Greet me first, baby,” he murmurs, a small, teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Just a peck?”

Iremide lets out a soft laugh, she steps closer, the tips of her slippers rising off the floor as she tiptoes. She presses her lips against his cheek - brief, warm, and lingering just a second longer than a simple greeting.

Uchenna smiles, the tension in his jaw completely melting. He leans down, his forehead resting against hers for a brief breath before he presses a soft kiss right between her eyebrows. His large, warm hand slides down her arm, his fingers threading firmly through hers.

“Let’s go and tackle the gifts,” he says, pulling her gently toward the hallway.

Iremide follows him smiling, her thumb lightly rubbing the back of his hand, letting the quiet truce follow them into the guest room.

Iremide weaves through the small mountain of colorful gift boxes filling the guest room floor. She drops down onto the rug, folding her legs underneath her and resting her back against the wooden bed frame. Across from her, Uchenna claims the lone single-seater armchair, leaning back and tracking her movements.

“So,” Uchenna says, his voice soft as he watches her adjust her positioning. “How was work today?”

Iremide tucks her ankles closer, a proud spark instantly lighting up her eyes. “My kids are amazing, Uche. Most of them are neurodivergent, but honestly, that is exactly what makes them so incredibly brilliant.”

Uchenna rests his chin in his palm, his gaze completely melting at the sight of his wife.

“This week’s theme is God Made Me Special,” Iremide continues, her hands gesturing excitedly as she reaches for a medium-sized box wrapped in shiny silver paper. “I actually composed a short song for Sultan - he’s the little guy I homeschooled today. I was rushing through the verses and made a mistake, and guess what?”

Uchenna smiles, his fingers tapping a slow, lazy rhythm against his knee. “What, baby?”

“Sultan actually slowed down and read the words properly to correct me! A whole four-year-old shy baby.” Iremide beams, her chest rising as she points a thumb at herself, mimicking the boy’s soft voice and swaying her shoulders. “He looked up and said quietly, ‘I am special, yes it’s true. There is no one just like me. God made me so wonderfully. And I’m proud to just be me.’”

Uchenna lets out a quiet breath, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks at her as if he still can’t believe his luck. “I’m really proud of you, baby.”

Iremide’s cheeks warm up, a genuine smile breaking through. “I’m proud of them too. The first day I met Sultan, he wouldn’t even look at me. He just hid behind the curtains. But with a little help from the Holy Spirit, he finally opened up when we did a lesson on bravery.”

“I love you, baby,” Uchenna murmurs, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.

“I love you too, Heartbeat.” Iremide rips off the tape on the silver box, pulling out a sleek, modern blender. “Oh, look. This is actually very thoughtful.” She extends it across the space, and Uchenna reaches down to collect it, checking the brand. “I think that one is from Busayo.”

She reaches for a larger, square box, tearing away the yellow wrapping paper. “How was your own work today, Uche?”

“Not nearly as fun as yours,” Uchenna says, setting the blender on the floor beside his chair. “I spent the whole day battling the backend code. Too many API requests are hitting the server at the same time, which is slowing down the app. I’m still trying to untangle the mess.”

Iremide nods sympathetically. The technical terms fly straight over her head, but she knows her husband. Uchenna is a man who will stare at a glowing monitor for three days straight without blinking until every single bug submits to his will.

She pulls the lid off the yellow box and freezes.

Inside sits a thick hardcover book titled How to Raise Godly Children, nestled neatly beside a pair of tiny knitted baby shoes, miniature white onesies, and two plastic feeding bottles.

Iremide bursts into a loud, frantic laugh, lifting the tiny shoes by their strings. “Is this a threat? These people need to calm down, please! We just got married seventy-two hours ago. No babies for now, right?”

Uchenna nods instantly, his hands coming up in mock defense. “No babies at all. You are my only baby for now, under further notice. At least until after our first anniversary.”

“Perfect agreement,” Iremide says, laughing as she passes the baby box over to him.

She dives back into the pile, selecting a long, flat parcel. She tears it open to reveal two sets of matching satin pajamas. Across the back of the shirts, the words Boo Boo and Boo Boo Bear are printed in giant, glittering silver letters.

Iremide stretches the fabric wide, holding it up to her chest so Uchenna can see.

Uchenna bites his inner cheek, his shoulders shaking as he tries to suppress a laugh.

“We are donating this immediately,” Iremide states solemnly, already folding the glittery fabric back into the box.

“Definitely,” Uchenna agrees, his voice cracking with amusement.

Next, Iremide pulls out a heavy glass jar with a cork lid, stuffed to the brim with colorful, folded slips of paper. A wooden label tied around the neck reads: The Marriage Advice Jar.

She lifts it up, her brow furrowing as she glances at her husband. “Heartbeat, our friends are getting way too creative with these gifts. I was honestly expecting things we actually need, like a microwave, washing machines, or at least a bank cheque.”

“It’s the current Nigerian economy, baby,” Uchenna points out, chuckling. “Besides, we already bought all those appliances for the house, so it’s fine.”

Iremide shifts her weight, uncorking the jar. She dips two fingers inside and pulls out a bright pink slip of paper. She unfolds it, her eyes widening as she reads the handwriting aloud.

“‘If Iremide says ‘I am not angry’, brother Uchenna please start a three-day fasting and prayer immediately.’”

Iremide throws her head back, her loud laugh echoing against the guest room walls.

Uchenna chuckles, leaning forward in his chair. “Who wrote that one?”

“I don’t even know o. There’s no name. It’s an anonymous delivery.” Iremide giggles, her fingers diving back into the jar to fish out a blue slip. “Listen to this one: ‘If brother Uchenna says he is not hungry, Iremide should ignore him and buy the food anyway.’”

Uchenna slowly raises one eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Okay, this particular person knows my life history.”

Iremide wipes a tear of laughter from her eye, quickly unfolding a third green slip. She gasps, pointing a finger directly at the paper as she reads it with dramatic flair. “‘For urgent marital peace, brother Uchenna must keep one emergency shawarma in the freezer at all times for Iremide.’”

She drops the note, looking up at her husband with wide, serious eyes. “Uche, find this person right now. I want to initiate a lifelong friendship.”

Uchenna lets out a loud, booming laugh that fills the quiet space between them. For the next thirty minutes, the guest room is filled with the crinkle of paper and the sweet, easy sound of their shared laughter.

Just a surprise bonus thank-you chapter featuring Iremide doing what she knows how to do best 😂

I'm thinking of posting once a week, every Sunday evening. That should give me enough time to deliver quality episodes consistently. How does that sound to everyone?

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EPISODE TWO

A dull throbbing beats against the back of Iremide’s skull before she even opens her eyes. She groans, shifting her weight, but a sharp ache in her lower back makes her freeze. Every muscle remembers the hours of dancing in heels, the endless greeting, the bending for family blessings.

Her hand sweeps across the nightstand, blind and searching, until her fingers hit the cold metal of her phone. She blinks against the sudden glare of the screen.

4:59 AM.

Iremide sits up, her brain fogged and heavy. She swings her legs off the mattress, her feet searching for the rubber slippers, but her toes hit bare, unfamiliar wood. She freezes, looking around the room. The white curtains, the massive wardrobe, the smell of fresh paint - the realization hits her like a splash of cold water.

This isn’t her room in her mother’s house. This is her matrimonial bedroom.

She raises her left hand. The big diamond ring catches the weak, gray dawn filtering through the window, throwing tiny shards of light across her knuckles. She is married to Uchenna Okoye.

She glances at the empty, smooth expanse of the mattress beside her. Where is he?

A sudden memory from last night flashes through her mind: Uche's hand at her zipper, his voice low and careful as he spoke about becoming husband and wife.

Iremide’s breath hitches. She instantly drops her gaze to her chest, her fingers flying down to check her satin top and shorts. The drawstring of her shorts is still exactly how she left it - double-knotted, tight, and untouched.

She exhales, a soft puff of air leaving her lips. She smiles to herself, her shoulders dropping. Of course. Uche wouldn’t force a thing. He is strict with rules, even his own desires. She trusts him with her life.

She steps into the hallway, heading toward the living area to look for him.

A sharp, acrid scent hits her nostrils halfway down the corridor. It isn’t vanilla oil anymore. It’s thick, heavy, and unmistakably charred. Smoke drifts in thin gray ribbons near the ceiling.

Panic snaps her awake. Iremide bolts down the hall, bursting into the kitchen. A pot sits over a bright blue gas flame, hissing violently. She lunges forward and twists the knob, cutting the fire. Without thinking, she grabs the metal lid.

“Ouch!”

She drops it instantly, the hot aluminum scorching her thumb. Sucking on her injured skin, she grabs a dry napkin from the counter, wraps it around the handle, and yanks the lid off.

A cloud of white steam hits her face, carrying the bitter smell of ruined food. Inside is a mound of half-cooked, completely blackened rice, stuck to the bottom of the pot like tar.

She stares at the mess, her jaw dropping. Who puts rice on the fire and walks away? Better yet, who attempts to cook a full meal at five o’clock on a Sunday morning before church?

Iremide storms back into the bedroom, her slippers slapping loudly against the floor wood. She grabs her phone, her thumb stabbing the screen as she dials the contact.

🌻 Uchenna

The line rings once. Twice. He picks up.

“Heartbeat, where are you?” Her voice is tighter than she means it to be, the frustration bubbling up.

This wasn’t the first morning she pictured. Where was the breakfast in bed? The warm arms wrapping around her waist to pull her back into the sheets? The lingering wakeup kiss after all his big talk last night?

“Baby, I’m in the room we converted into the home office,” Uchenna’s voice replies, completely calm, completely oblivious to the state of their kitchen.

Iremide doesn’t hang up. She drops the phone to her side, marches back down the hallway, and follows the sound of faint typing to the far end of the house. She stops at the final door on the right, takes a deep breath, and knocks twice before pushing it open.

Iremide stops in the doorway, her tongue drying up instantly.

Her husband sits at a sleek desk, bathed in the blue glow of a monitor and a laptop. This is entirely new. Because of their strict courtship rules, she has only ever seen Uchenna in stiff, well-ironed shirts or formal native wear for church and family introductions. Seeing him in casual clothes feels like looking at a stranger.

A very attractive stranger.

He wears a pair of black cotton shorts that contrast sharply with his dark skin, and a simple white t-shirt that seems to cling tightly to his broad shoulders. Thick black socks are stuffed into indoor lounge slippers.

His dark eyes lock onto hers. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

“Missing me already?” He pushes his chair back and stands up.

Iremide instinctively takes half a step back, her heel hitting the door frame. Why is he looking at her like that? The intense, focused expression on his face makes her stomach do a nervous flip. For a wild second, she wonders if this whole marriage thing was a hasty mistake. He looks like a man who has finally reached the finish line after months of forcing himself to walk instead of run.

She clears her throat, coughing lightly to break the silence. “The rice you were boiling is burnt, Uche. It is now completely black. Why would you just leave it on the fire?”

Uchenna’s eyes widen, his hand flying to his forehead as if the memory just dropped back into his brain. “Oh, baby. The rice. I completely forgot. My team had a critical bug to fix before the morning deployment, and I had to push the code quickly.” He takes two long strides toward her.

Iremide’s back hits the door firmly this time. There is nowhere else to retreat.

“Code? On a Sunday morning before service?”

“Yes, baby.” He stops right in front of her, the clean scent of his soap mixing with the faint odor of smoke from the hallway. “I’m almost done here anyway.”

Iremide nods rapidly, her fingers twisting the edge of her satin top. “I switched off the gas. I’ll just go and boil another rice.”

“Don’t worry about cooking. We’ll just order some food on our way back from church.” His hands leave his sides, sliding smoothly around her waist. He smiles brightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let’s pray, baby. Lead us in morning prayer.”

A bright, challenge-ready smile flashes across Iremide’s face, as if he just handed her a weapon she knows exactly how to wield. She reaches down, lifting his large hands off her waist as if handling contraband, and grips his fingers firmly. She locks her gaze onto his, her expression dropping into a stern, maternal warning.

“Respect the Holy Spirit, Uche.”

Uchenna merely nods, the mischievous tug at his lips staying firmly in place, his thumbs drawing lazy, deliberate circles over her knuckles.

Iremide squeezes his hands warningly, anchoring her feet to the tile floor, and shuts her eyes so tight her eyelashes quiver. “Father, good morning. Holy Spirit, good morning. Jesus, good morning.”

Uchenna cracks one eye open, staring down at the top of her head. Is this supposed to be a standard protocol for prayer? he wonders, his tech-brain instantly analyzing her lack of order.

“We lift ourselves to you, Lord,” Iremide continues, her voice rising in passion as she sways her head slightly. “Help us, Holy Spirit. Guide our marriage. Guide our hearts. Father, any spirit of naughty desires trying to rise up today, we bind it! We cast it out! Die by fire!”

Uchenna’s shoulders shake with a silent chuckle. He mouths a small, dry, “Amen.”

“Father, we know the spirit is willing…” Iremide’s grip suddenly turns into a vice grip, her voice dropping into a deep, desperate tone. “…but this marriage is already stretching the flesh to breaking point, Lord! So we need your emergency intervention!”

Uchenna’s smile widens. He mouths another reluctant, thoroughly amused, “Amen.”

“Abba, we thank you,” Iremide adds cheerfully, her voice switching back to normal.

Isn’t thanksgiving supposed to come at the very beginning? Uchenna thinks, his analytical mind tracking the chaotic theological sequence.

“Our loving Father, we ask for wisdom. Holy Spirit, teach us.”

“Amen,” Uchenna responds aloud this time, thinking they are finally approaching the finish line.

He is wrong.

Without a single breath of warning, Iremide accelerates. Her tongue moves into a rapid, supersonic stream of prayers. One minute passes. Two minutes. Five minutes.

The syllables fly out of her like a rapid-fire machine gun, bouncing off the walls of the small office. She isn’t just swaying anymore; she begins stamping her rubber slippers against the floor tiles, a sharp thwack-thwack-thwack that echoes through the room. She is fully lost in the spirit, her chin tilted toward the ceiling, pulling Uchenna’s hands up and down in sync with her intercession.

Ten minutes in, Uchenna opens both eyes completely. The office is getting warm, and the blue light from his coding monitors illuminates the fierce determination on his wife’s face. He clears his throat, his thumbs gently rubbing the back of her sweating palms, trying to anchor her back to the physical world.

“Baby?” he whispers.

Iremide cracks one eye half-open, glaring at him through her lashes without breaking her tempo.

“I think God already heard us,” Uchenna whispers, gently tugging his hands back. “The network to heaven is clear, let’s just go and prepare for church.”

Iremide snaps both eyes open, her hands dropping to her sides. “Ah-ah! I didn’t know you are the Secretary-General of heaven, Uche. Since when did you become the one to decide when God is satisfied?”

Uchenna nods slowly, his smile shifting from amused to something distinctly dangerous, something that makes her breath catch mid-sentence.

He knows exactly how to shut her pretty, dramatic mouth when she starts her rants.

He steps deep into her personal space. His head tilts, his gaze dropping instantly to hold onto her bottom lip.

Iremide’s breath catches sharply in her throat. Her ribs expand against his palms as his hands find her waist again.

The playful defense she just built up dissolves into thin air. What is happening? Where is the quiet, reserved man who used to check his watch and count down the minutes to her curfew on their dates?

“Uchenna? We just finish speaking to the Holy Spirit o” Her voice is suddenly small.

“Hmmm” His gaze stays fixed on her lips, his thumb tracing a slow, warm circle against her skin through the satin top.

Her heart hammers against her chest like a trapped bird. “I… Now that I think about it, God is definitely satisfied now. We should not be like the Pharisees, let me go and freshen up. Church is by eight, and I haven’t even bathed.”

Uchenna smiles mischievously. This always works.

The affection in his eyes is still there, but now it is joined by something warmer, something that makes her suddenly aware that they are no longer courting. They are husband and wife. He pulls her body against his, closing the final inch between them. Iremide’s chest collides with his solid frame, her breath leaving her in a small gasp.

She is in deep, deep trouble.

Her hands tremble as she places them flat against his chest, the heavy, even thumping of his heart vibrating right through her palms. “Uche, let’s…” Her voice drops to a breathless whisper. She isn't ready for this level of intensity yet. A tiny, fluttering panic mixes with the sudden heat pooling in her belly.

His expression softens at her tone. “I’ve been trying to behave myself for seven months, Iremi.” A quiet, rumbling laugh escapes his chest, his forehead resting against hers. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was dropping you off at your parent’s house after every single date?” His thumb gently presses into her waist, grounding her. “Now I wake up, and you’re actually here. In my house.”

He leans lower, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her cheek as he whispers, “I want to make love to you, baby.”

The sheer intensity of his words sends a jolt through her spine. Iremide forces a loud, sudden laugh, deploying her ultimate defense mechanism to shatter the heavy tension before it consumes her.

“Heartbeat, look at you! What did I carry, what did you throw? Weren’t you working just now? You’re the one who always complains about how stressful debugging is. Go and finish your work so we don’t look like latecomers in church.” She uses the moment to slide out from his grip, twisting away from his hands.

Uchenna stands there, a slow, amused smile breaking across his lips as his hands drop. “Are you nervous, Mrs. Okoye?”

“Me? No! Not at all,” she says quickly, backing out into the hallway. “It’s just about the timing. You have code to push, and I need a shower.”

Uchenna nods, raising his hands in retreat. “Fine. Give me thirty minutes to wrap this up.”

Iremide doesn’t wait for him to change his mind. She turns and practically sprints down the corridor.

Once she crosses the threshold of the master bedroom, she leans against the wall, her chest heaving as a genuine shiver runs down her arms.

What was that? The sudden pull, the firmness of his grip - her heart feels like it is about to jump out of her mouth.

The man had spent seven months quoting scripture, checking curfew times, and dropping her off at her parents' gate like a saint. Now she was beginning to realize just how much self-control that had actually taken.

Smiling despite the frantic racing of her pulse, Iremide grabs her towel and rushes into the bathroom to prepare for service.

The heels of her shoes click sharply against the neat interlocking stones of the driveway. Uchenna catches the car door before it can swing back, his other hand balanced under a heavy stack of foil takeaway containers.

They are both still clad in their heavy church threads - her aso-oke headtie is starting to pinch the sides of her temples, and Uchenna’s matching lace rustles with every step he takes behind her.

Church was loud. A blur of clapping hands, and intense congratulations. But it was the aftermath in the parking lot that left Iremide’s neck feeling warm. The women from the Kingdom Wives circle had practically dragged her into their group, clapping her on the shoulder.

“Ah, Sister Ire, A.k.a Mrs. Okoye! See how you are glowing. Brother Uchenna is doing a great job already!”

Great job. At what exactly? They had only been in the same house for twenty-four hours.

Uchenna bumps the front door open with his hip, letting her pass.

“I am absolutely starving,” Iremide announces, immediately pulling the plastic bags from his grip. She kicks off her heels and heads straight for the minimalist kitchen.

“Me too. That thanksgiving segment took two hours,” Uchenna says, following her into the space.

She dishes the fried rice and roasted chicken onto two ceramic plates, setting them down on the polished surface of the kitchen island. Uchenna slides onto the barstool, his eyes tracking her movements. Once she sits beside him, they lock fingers for a swift, murmured grace, and the silence is replaced by the quiet scrape of spoons against ceramic.

Iremide swallows a piece of chicken, her eyes drifting around the clean space. “Heartbeat, where did you put the wedding gifts?”

“Moved them all into the guest room after you slept,” Uchenna replies between mouthfuls.

She nods, her gaze falling to her left hand. The big gold band sits snugly below her diamond. She looks at his hand - broad, dark, and holding a matching gold ring. The finality of it hits her in a soft, surprising wave.

“I guess we are actually married now,” she says softly. She leans over, letting her forehead rest against the stiff fabric of his shoulder. “I love you, Uchenna.”

Uchenna tilts his head, his cheek resting against the top of her hair. “I love you more, Iremi.”

“I hope we stay exactly like this,” she murmurs, her eyes fixing on her plate. A tiny knot of anxiety tightens in her throat. “I’ve heard so many horror stories about people changing after the wedding. Couples falling apart. I don’t want that for us, Uche.”

Uchenna stops chewing. He turns slightly, his hand coming up to cup her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His dark eyes are deadly serious, but a small, playful twitch sits at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t worry your head, Mrs. Okoye. Ours is for life. For who shall separate me from the love of Iremide?” He drops his voice into a dramatic cadence. “Shall trouble or hardship or Lagos hustle? Shall inflation or family billing or danger? For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither tech bugs nor extended family, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate me from the love of Iremide.”

Iremide bursts into a genuine laugh, the knot in her chest loosening. She swats his chest. “O se, agba Bible study coordinator! Which one is ‘neither death’? The vow says death do us part o.”

“Mba nu,” Uchenna says, his eyes wrinkling as he smiles. “Let’s finish this food before it gets cold.”

Iremide’s smile lingers as she reaches for her spoon, but a loud, pulsating vibration rattles the smooth marble of the kitchen island. She glances down at the screen.

Mummy Calling...

Her smile widens instantly. She swipes the screen and glues the phone to her ear. “Mama e!” she greets, her voice bouncing off the kitchen tiles at double the normal volume.

Uchenna flinches beside her, his spoon pausing halfway to his mouth. He shifts slightly on his barstool, a small, amused twitch forming at the corner of his lips. When Iremide decides to be loud, she goes all out. There is no middle ground.

“Happy Sunday to you too, Ma!” Iremide continues, projecting her voice as if her mother were standing across a noisy Lagos market instead of holding a phone in a quiet house.

Mama Shade’s voice filters through the earpiece, loud and cracking with energy. “You people did thanksgiving at your church, abi?”

“Yes now! We just got back.”

“Good, good. So, when are you both traveling for your honeymoon? Tomorrow morning?” Her mother’s tone drops into a knowing, mischievous voice. “And I hope my son has not exhausted you too much? Tell him he should be careful with my baby o.”

A sudden, fierce heat rushes up Iremide’s neck, turning her ears hot. She glances sideways at Uchenna, her fingers tightening around her napkin. Why does every older woman in her circle seem completely obsessed with what goes on behind her bedroom door?

“We are traveling next month, ma,” Iremide says quickly, steering the conversation away from the trap. She clears her throat, shifting her weight on the stool. “We both have a few things to wrap up first.”

“Okay, okay. No problem,” Mama Shade says. “Listen, I will be sending Shade over tomorrow to bring you some things. Foodstuffs, the remaining wedding cake, the remaining meat and drinks, and some of your boxes left in your room here.”

Before Iremide can reply, Uchenna leans his broad shoulders into her space, his face close to the phone. “Good afternoon, ma,” he calls out, his deep voice smooth and respectful.

“Ah, oko mi!” Mama Shade’s voice erupts from the speaker, so vibrant that Uchenna pulls his head back slightly with a grin. “My fine and responsible bobo! A ku inawo ana o! Congratulations on the wedding!”

Uchenna instinctively bows his head, his shoulders dropping into a submissive posture even though his mother-in-law is miles away. “Thank you very much, ma. Yes, ma.”

“Take care of your wife o,” Mama Shade adds, her tone turning warm and fiercely maternal. “She is the apple of my eye. Eyin oju mi niyen o! Continue being the good man I know you to be. Oko mi, olowo ori mi, dakun oko mi!”

Uchenna nods, his smile breaking out full and bright as he catches Iremide’s eye. He gives her a playful nudge with his elbow. It is completely obvious where Iremide gets her dramatic, unfiltered energy from. They are cut from the exact same cloth.

“What of Baba Shade?” Iremide chimes in, trying to reclaim her phone.

“He is fine, he is fine. He is resting,” her mother replies quickly, already moving to the next agenda. “Oya, go and take care of your husband. Let me not disturb you two. And make sure to wear all those fine, short nightgowns I bought for you o! Let your husband look at you tonight and say, Omo tan!”

Before Iremide can even sputter out a protest, the line goes dead with a sharp beep.

Iremide drops the phone onto the counter, her cheeks burning a deep crimson as she stares at her rice. She lets out a helpless laugh, burying her face in her hands. Uchenna’s chest shakes with a silent, deep rumble of laughter beside her as he picks up his glass of water.

The bedroom is suffocatingly quiet.

Iremide sits at the vanity table, her fingers mechanically rubbing a cotton pad over her face. Her evening skincare routine ended ten minutes ago, but she is still staring at her reflection, gripping the edge of the wooden table.

Behind her, reflected in the mirror, Uchenna is already settled. He is propped up against the headboard, wearing a pair of long-sleeved pajamas. His reading glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as his fingers tap a rhythmic beat on his laptop keyboard.

Her stomach twists. Will it be painful?

During the frantic weeks of wedding planning, she had read every blog and marriage manual she could find online. But none of those neatly typed articles prepared her for the sheer physical reality of the situation.

She is twenty-six - an adult, a sensible woman - but looking at the sheer scale of her husband makes her mouth dry. She is five-foot-three, while Uchenna is a solid six-foot-three, broad-shouldered and heavy-set.

She closes her eyes, whispering a quick prayer under her breath, before realizing how ridiculous she is being. What is prayer going to do about intimacy?

“Baby.” Uchenna’s voice breaks the silence.

Iremide’s shoulders go rigid. “Yes?”

“Are you coming to bed anytime soon?” He doesn’t look up from the screen, his fingers still flying across the keys. “You have a home tutoring for eight tomorrow morning. You need sleep.”

Her heart does a violent, unstable tap-dance against her ribs. Why was he still typing like there wasn't an enormous elephant in the room?

“I’m coming,” she says, her voice a little higher than usual.

Uchenna finally pauses. “Do you always take this long with your face? I guess I’m learning new things about you tonight.”

“I’m almost done, jor.” She stands up, her mind spinning at high speed. There has to be a way to buy time. Just a few days to get used to sharing a room, a bed, a life.

My monthly cycle.

The thought drops into her head like a lifeline. Perfect. Plausible. Difficult to challenge.

A bright, slightly forced smile glues itself to her face as she crosses the room. She climbs onto her side of the mattress, instantly pulling the thick duvet up to her chin. She turns her back to him, curling into a tight ball. “Good night, Uche.”

The bed shifts behind her. The soft thud of his laptop closing echoes in the quiet room, followed by the click of his glasses hitting the nightstand. Then, a warm, heavy palm settles gently on her bare arm.

“Baby,” Uchenna’s voice is low, vibrating against the mattress. “Are you trying to starve me?”

Iremide swallows hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. She slowly rolls over to face him, keeping the duvet tucked tightly under her arms. “What do you mean starve you?”

Uchenna searches her face, his expression softening as he notices the slight tremor in her chin. He pulls her a fraction closer, his chest warm against her shoulder. “Are you scared? I told you last night, Iremi. I will be gentle. We go at your pace.”

“I… it’s not that,” she stammers, the lie rolling off her tongue before she can stop it. “I’m actually having my monthly cycle. It started this evening.”

Uchenna blinks. His hand freezes on her arm. His eyebrows knit together as his internal tech-brain instantly tries to run the data. “Your cycle? But three weeks ago when we went to choose the cake, you said—”

“It fast-tracked!” Iremide interrupts quickly, her eyes widening. “The wedding stress, Uche. It alters hormones. Ask any doctor.”

Uchenna’s eyes narrow briefly. “Really?”

“Yes now.”

“Hmm.” Uchenna stares at her for a long second, looking like a man who has just encountered a bug he doesn't know how to fix.

A small, defeated but relieved smile breaks across his face.

He slides his arm under her neck, pulling her completely into his chest. “Oh. Is that why you were hiding at the vanity for thirty minutes? Planning how to deliver the news?”

“Yes.” She exhales, letting her forehead rest against his collarbone, her fingers loosening their grip on the blanket. “Don’t worry. In the next four days, it will be over.”

“I was worried for a minute,” he murmurs into her hair. He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her forehead, his grip tight and protective.

"You'll survive four days," she whispers, fighting back a guilty smile.

Uchenna’s arm tightens around her. “Four days then,” he murmurs.

“Four days,” she agrees.

Uchenna pulls the duvet over both of them, his steady, deep breathing slowly filling the space. Iremide closes her eyes, her heart finally slowing down as she lets the warmth of his arms carry her toward sleep.

Thank you to everyone that engage with my last post 🙏

What do we think about Iremide and Uchenna?

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EPISODE ONE

IREMIDE FAMAKINWA

By the time the jeep turns into the compound, Iremide can no longer feel her feet.

She exhales a long, shaky breath, her fingers trembling against the stubborn strap of her silver heel. With a final, desperate tug, the heel comes off. She drops the pair onto the passenger seat. They land with a heavy thud right next to Uchenna, but he doesn’t even blink, his knuckles white against the leather wheel, a quiet, triumphant smile tugging at his lips.

Iremide slides her feet into the rubber slippers she sneaked into his car weeks ago. The relief is instant, cooling the burning soles of her feet.

Golden evening sunlight cuts across the dashboard, catching the faint dust on the windscreen.

Mrs Okoye.

The words taste sweet and new in her mind. Last week, he was a fiancé. Two months ago, just the boyfriend she met during a home tutoring. He is a man who calculates every kobo. Yet, this past month, he spent money like water.

She glances out the window as the jeep rolls to a stop in front of the four-bedroom bungalow. The paint is fresh, smelling of wet plaster and modern estate promises.

“I can’t wait anymore, baby,” Uchenna had whispered a month ago, sliding a diamond onto her finger in a high-end hotel suite while an acoustic singer he hired performed in the background.

A month to plan a Lagos wedding.

Mama Shade had nearly fainted, screaming that thirty days wasn’t enough to print cards or order the premium aso-ebi for her endless list of friends. But Uchenna simply made the huge transfers. He paid the traditional handlers, satisfied the alaga demands with crisp five-hundred-naira notes, and bought out a venue large enough to hold the three hundred people who eventually showed up from her mother’s side. Half of them didn’t even know her name; they just came for the party rice and the gossip.

“Baby, we are home.”

Uchenna’s voice breaks the silence, deep and grounding. He cuts the engine.

Iremide shifts in her seat, her short white reception dress tightening around her hips. “Thank you for everything,” she says softly. Her gaze lingers on his profile - the sharp line of his jaw, the faint dark circles under his eyes from a week of running between the registry, the traditional ceremony, and the church.

“Thank you for agreeing to forever with me, Mrs. Okoye.” He turns to her, his eyes warm, searching her face.

“Let’s go inside.” She reaches for the door handle.

“Baby, wait—” Uchenna is already stepping out of his side. “Let me get that for you.”

“We are both exhausted, Uche.” Iremide steps out anyway, the warm evening air catching her bare shoulders.

She catches his hand halfway across the hood, her smaller fingers wrapping around his palm. “My brain is fried.”

Uchenna looks toward the back of the jeep, his shoulders dropping slightly. “What about the gifts in the boot?”

“Tomorrow.” She pulls him gently toward the front door. “The world won’t end if they stay in the car.”

The living room smells of vanilla oil and new fabric. The interior decorator actually delivered. Iremide stops on the marble wood, taking in the cream L-shaped couch and the clean, open line leading into the kitchen. It is exactly what she wanted. Simple. Calming.

Before she can take another step, Uchenna’s hands find her waist. He pulls her backward against his chest. His chest rises and falls against her shoulder blades, a steady sound.

“Lord, we thank you for a new beginning,” he murmurs into her hair, his breath warm against her scalp. His grip tightens just a fraction. “We commit this home into your hands. Be the head of this union. Help us navigate this just as you commanded.”

Iremide lets out a soft giggle, her shoulders relaxing against him. “Amen. After all the prayers today?”

“A man can never pray too much for his sanity.” Uchenna turns her around in his arms. His gaze drops, anchoring instantly onto her lips. The playful tone in his voice disappears, replaced by a sudden, focused quiet.

Iremide’s throat goes dry.

“Baby, I want to kiss you properly,” he whispers, his thumbs tracing the side of her waist. “We didn’t get to do it right in church. Pastor Mike was watching too closely.”

She forces a small, bright smile and tiptoes, aiming a quick, chaste kiss at his cheek. “There.”

Uchenna lets out a low chuckle, his grip locking her in place so she can’t step back. “We are married now, baby. No more cheek greetings. I want us to explore more than that tonight.”

Her heart does a sudden, inconsistent flip. She loops her arms around his neck, trying to hide the tremor in her fingers. “You waited seven whole months. Why the sudden rush?”

“Rush?” He stares lovingly at her. “I’m not rushing. You are my wife.”

“Alright, alright.” Iremide shuts her eyes tight, compressing her lips into a straight, defensive line, waiting.

A beat passes. Then, Uchenna laughs - a genuine, rumbling sound against her chest. “Is my baby nervous?”

She opens one eye, glaring at him without any real heat. “I’m not.”

“You are.” He leans down, his forehead resting against hers. “I know you.”

“Just do the kiss, please,” she mutters, closing her eye again. “I need to sleep.”

“No,” Uchenna says softly, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw. “I don’t want half-attention. I need you to want it, too.”

Iremide opens both eyes, the intensity in his gaze making her stomach flutter. “I do want it. I am just genuinely exhausted, Heartbeat.”

He nods, but he doesn’t back away. Slowly, his head tilts. When his lips finally touch hers, the soft, hesitant friction sends a shock straight down her spine. It’s different from the quick, stolen cheek kisses on her mother’s veranda. There is weight behind this one, one she had never experienced. The months of boundaries and strict rules melt into the pressure of his mouth.

“Uche…” The name escapes her lips as a faint breath.

Uchenna takes the invitation, deepening the kiss, his hand sliding down her spine. His fingers find the small metal tab at the top of her dress. The sharp click of the zipper moving down an inch echoes in the quiet room.

Iremide pulls back, her hands flat against his chest, her cheeks burning hot. “Uche, wait. Are you undressing me already?”

Uchenna pauses, his eyes dark, glittering with something she has never seen in him before. “Can’t I?”

She tries to keep her voice light, playful, though her pulse is racing. “Did you marry me for this?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate. A small, honest smile touches his lips, but his eyes remain fixed on hers. “Because I was losing my mind, baby. Every time you wore those casual short at your parents’ place or showed up for dinner in a nice gown, the boundaries were barely holding. I’ve shown my love in every single way possible this year - except intimacy. Now I want to love you fully… not just a husband in name.”

“Uchenna!” She hides her face in his chest, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I’ve never heard you talk like this since the day I met you. It’s scandalous.”

“It’s true,” he corrects, his chest shaking with laughter.

Iremide looks up, swallowing hard. She takes a slow breath, trying to read the fierce expression in his eyes. “Okay, husband. Can your grand plans wait until tomorrow? I am actually falling asleep on my feet.”

Uchenna tilts his head, his fingers still resting on the half-lowered zipper, seemingly weighing his options.

“Uche, look at me,” she whispers, her voice dropping its playful edge. “I’ve never done this before. And right now, your eyes are making me think you want to eat me alive. Don’t make me pack my bags and run back to Mama Shade’s house.”

He stares at her for a long second, then his face softens. He lets out a defeated, gentle laugh and releases his grip on her waist, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. “I will be gentle, baby. I promise.”

“You better be,” she says, taking a step back toward the hallway, her slippers clicking quietly against the floor. “Because you’re acting like a stranger tonight.”

Uchenna raises his hands in mock surrender, shooing her away. “Go and sleep before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, Heartbeat.” Iremide drops into a quick, dramatic curtsy, her smile breaking out full and bright as she turns and disappears into the bedroom.

UCHENNA OKOYE

The master bedroom clicks shut after Iremide leaves, leaving the living room suddenly quiet. Uchenna stands by the cream couch, watching the empty hallway. The slow, heavy drag of her footsteps tells him everything. He rubs the back of his neck, where a knot of tension has been tightening since the beginning of the week.

She is spent. Entirely spent.

He counts the madness of the last seven days on his fingers. The bridal showers with faces he barely recognized, the endless dress fittings, the dry air of the registry court, the layers of makeup, the spa appointments - it was a whirlwind that almost pulled them under.

A small, dry chuckle escapes him. Maybe Mama Shade was right. Maybe one month was too tight. If not for her, Shade, and the event planner working like a small army, the whole thing would have collapsed.

Uchenna rolls his shoulders, pulling his car keys from his pocket. He steps back out into the cool night air. The compound is still, a sharp contrast to the bass from the reception loudspeakers that is still ringing in his ears.

He approaches the jeep. He is tired, yes, but as he unlocks the doors, a quiet wave of relief washes over him. He is married. Iremide is inside, wearing his name.

When he first brought a Yoruba girl home, his people had looked at him with raised eyebrows and cautious questions. But Iremide’s fierce, loud energy is impossible to resist. She doesn’t know how to keep quiet, and she doesn’t know how to hide her flaws. He loves her exactly for that.

He opens the back door, grabs three large, wrapped wedding boxes, and loops two gift bags over his pinky finger.

God did it. The phrase repeats in his chest.

Five years ago, a night like this would have looked very different. Before Christ broke into his life, Uchenna knew the other side of intimacy. He knew the messy, hollow rhythm of relationships that started in clubs and ended in regrets.

He had an ugly past, one he spent years praying through, anchoring himself to a new foundation. Then he walked into his elder sister’s parlor to watch his nephew, and there she was. A home tutor with a laugh that filled the entire house. It took two weeks of talking, praying, and testing her spirit before he even asked her to be his girlfriend.

He carries the first load inside, drops the boxes carefully by the kitchen island, and heads back out for the boot.

The boundaries they set were strict. Iron-clad. No visits to his bachelor apartment. Every date happened in public or under the watchful eyes of her family on her mother’s veranda. They didn’t even allow themselves a proper kiss.

Until the wall started to crack.

Uchenna lifts the heaviest box from the boot and slams the door shut with his elbow. A memory flashes so vividly he can almost smell her perfume. It was that Friday night dinner at the Eko hotels and suites. Iremide had worn a purple flared gown, her braids woven into a tight, neat bun that exposed the long line of her neck. He remembered staring at her across the table, his chest aching with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

Later, in the front seat of this jeep, the silence between them had grown heavy, thick with a sudden heat. He had leaned in, his eyes locked on her lips, his breathing shifting into short, shallow rasps. He was going to break the rule. He was going to kiss her.

But Iremide, with that loud, disruptive grace of hers, had snapped the tension. She cracked a joke, laughed over the steering wheel, and brought him back to reality.

That was the exact moment he knew he had to buy the ring. He was sure about her. They shared the same values, the same vision, the same counseling classes. But he also knew his own flesh. If he didn’t make her his wife quickly, he would tear down every boundary he had spent five years building with God. He wasn’t going back to the old Uchenna. Not after coming this far.

He steps back into the living room, letting the heavy front door click into place. He sets the final load of gifts down on the floor, the glossy wrapping paper catching the soft overhead light.

The house is quiet now, save for the faint sound of the refrigerator.

This is day one of forever. Uchenna looks toward the dark hallway leading to their bedroom. He takes a deep, grounding breath, his chest expanding as he makes a silent vow to the empty room.

He will make this worth it for her. Through the sickness, the health, the lean accounts, or the overflowing wealth - they are locked in.

He smiles, rubbing his palms together, and walks toward the bedroom to check on his wife.

Welcome to the first episode of The marriage diaries, what do we think about Uchenna and Iremide?

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