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“I love you, babym.” Ugo yelled, for no reason, at the top of his voice.

Shocked; Olanma, with a usual thin of her lips and tilt of her head, paused her sweeping at the strangeness of his words. The first time he would say them in 5 odd years.

Did Ugo break a 5-year jinx for no reason? I think not.

Seeing Olanma sweep, this time, was very different. She let out her evenly smooth voice in ear-pleasing and melodious tunes of their native land, as she always did. Swaying her hips, gently, as she tried to dance – occasionally, stopping to dance briefly. Stood behind her, he was immersed in blissful awe. Reminded of how he had scored the praise of his friends when he finally married the ‘prettiest girl on campus’. The girl who despite the rich gold of her eyes, the small and softness of her lips, the peanut glow of her firm smooth skin, the speari-sh point of a nose that graced her face – a seat between eyes that rested peacefully beneath neatly carved brows, a forehead that shone as purified gold under a collision with the atoms of white light and fades at the edges into the black curls of her hair, a body so slender yet full enough to provide sufficient padding for her bones, deemed it fit to clean his house, make his meals and take care of the kids, happily and cheerfully.

He tried to remember the last time he made a meal. He could only smile and shake his head at memory of the stress he endured each time he went to the market to buy food stuff – moving about in search of the needed and getting caught in negotiations under the scorch of the sun. Returning home, burned and worn-out, to a struggle to make his meals. The thoughts of how he would run out of the kitchen as soon as he dropped a piece of fish in the heated oil. The memory of how he cleaned his apartment every morning before setting out to work – oftentimes, getting into trouble for being late – and returning to the coldness of his apartment after the day’s work. But ever since Olanma moved into his life, all he needed to worry about was going to work and providing enough money for the keep of the home. “I am the minister of home affairs. Don’t touch anything.” she would say, with a smile that exposed a beautiful set of meticulously aligned solid whiteness she called her teeth, each time he tried to help out. The most he was allowed to do was sit and converse with her as she worked. She loved a good conversation, as did he.

“I love you, babym.” He repeated, with a full smile that exposed his contrasting 32. “You have truly made my burden easy, Olanm. Thank you so much.” He added, as she sank into a girlish blush.



O. O. Nathan Written by:

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