Fikayo smiled at her phone screen. Her sister had sent a picture of herself in a pink dress that stopped below her knees, her black braids pulled into a high bun. Her makeup was light, her neck and ears without jewellery but she still looked beautiful. She held her blue spiral bound project in her left hand with her signature grin on her face.

Fikayo replied with many heart eyes emojis and went off WhatsApp. Instagram was more fun. The first post on her feed was a picture of her friend, Sharon, bending low, her legs spread apart in a strapless play suit. Her head was tilted to the side and her mouth, slightly parted in a way she knew her friend thought was sexy. She shook her head as thoughts began flooding in.

They were not as close as they used to be. Sharon was now too busy visiting expensive hotels, restaurants and yachts Fikayo could only be on in her dreams. She knew what her friend was up to but couldn’t confront her. She was in no position to advise someone to stop having sugar daddies when she was a cigarette addict. She was as filthy as Sharon was; just that she hated men and would rather sweat for her money than sleep with them for it.

She double tapped the picture and even commented love and fire emojis before continuing scrolling. A video call from her sister came in and she answered it excitedly, sitting up from her lying position.

“Ayyyyyyyyyy! Latest graduate in the building!” She hailed, moving her head from side to side.

“Yes, put some respect on the name, baby girl!” Fire raised her other hand in the air, doing a little dance. She was still in the pink dress, her ID card hung around her neck.

“I can’t wait to come back home. April 15th, please do and come,” Fire added.

“It’s around the corner,” Fikayo replied. “Where are you?” she asked Fire, curious.

“Still in my faculty, taking pictures and savouring this moment with my classmates. We’re having a lot of fun.”

Someone called Fire’s name making her turn to the direction of the voice. She flashed a shy smile at whoever it was and Fikayo wondered who it was that made her sister jittery. She exchanged pleasantries with the guy- his deep voice revealed that and that heightened her curiosity. His face appeared beside her sister’s. He waved at her with a grin plastered on his face. Fikayo’s brows furrowed as she tried to think if she knew the face. His face finally registered and she waved back with an amused smile. She wanted to laugh but held it in, clearing her throat.

“Hi,” she greeted and he replied, asking how she was.

“Fikayo, this is...” Fire began but Fikayo cut in. “Tolu! Your bobo.”

She laughed and her sister shook her head at her. Tolu chuckled and she noticed his handsomeness. Maybe the long boring sermons he put up as his Instagram captions had distracted her from catching sight of it before now.

“You’re cute,” she blurted out and his lips spread into a smile.

His teeth are so white! Kilode!

“Thank you, dear. Firefunmi never tells me I’m cute even though I know she thinks I’m cute.”

He turned to look at Fire and she hit his shoulder lightly, feigning a frown.

“Fiks is lying to you. You’re not cute.”

He feigned hurt, a hand on his chest.

“I am and you know it, baby,” he cooed.

Fikayo noticed her sister suppressing a smile and shook her head utterly amused. Fire really liked this Tolu guy.

“Whatever,” Fire dismissed with a wave of her hand.

Before she could drop the hand, Tolu caught it and held it in his, pulling their hands back down.

“You guys’ cuteness is disgusting me abeg,” Fikayo snickered.

The couple laughed.

“I actually thought y’all would be boring but you’re not that bad. At least you’re not standing six feet away from each other. I thought since you are a pastor, you have to keep everything holy.” Fikayo was mocking them but she didn’t care. She was simply saying her mind.

“I’m not a pastor. I don’t know where you got that idea from. And we are indeed keeping it holy. We don’t do anything we shouldn’t be doing,” Tolu replied coolly.

She shrugged in response, bending her lips downward in a cynical way.

They continued conversing and she got to know he was a final year accounting student, lived in Lagos - which she had already guessed and other things she considered irrelevant. Her sister was so happy. Even though she didn’t wish sadness upon her, she felt angry at the joy she had and exuded. Why did she have to be the object of their father’s destruction? Why did she have to suffer so much, and not her sister? She envied her! The tiny happiness she had at the beginning of the chat vanished into thin air. Her body begged for a smoke. Her mind needed it. The flashes of those events were coming to her and her hands were trembling. She needed a smoke right away.

***
She was back at the Nnadi’s residence for an appointment but this time, she was to make Kaima’s mother’s hair. Kaima had messaged her saying her mum had loved her hair and wanted her services. She came with nothing but her phone and transport fare as Kaima had earlier informed her that they already had the hair extensions needed for the Ghana Weaving. It was a Friday evening but she couldn’t refuse to take the job. It was a mouth watering offer. She never worked in the evenings but Mrs Nnadi was a busy woman and had an event to attend the next day so this was the only available time.

“Hello, dear,” She heard before Mrs Nnadi’s form appeared before her. She scurried to her feet and bent her knees slightly.

“Good evening, ma.”

“Good evening, dear. What’s your name?”

“Fikayo, ma”

The woman had smooth dark brown skin like her first daughter. She was dressed in a black bubu which contrasted with her red manicured nails.

“Sweetheart, I hope you don’t mind loosening my hair.” She rubbed her hair and played with the ends of the cornrows. “The braids are big anyways. Thank you for coming with such short notice and inconvenient timing.”

The woman smiled and Fikayo wondered if she could be any more beautiful. Was everyone in this family beautiful?

“No problem ma. Let’s get started with it.”

They got out to the front porch and Kosi brought two chairs and a stool, alongside the tools she needed after Mrs Nnadi screamed for her to do so. Kaima appeared for the first time since she arrived and gave her a side hug before grabbing the extensions lying on the arm of the other chair. She began helping her pick the extension in the proportions she needed. Ghana weaving was stressful if you didn’t have someone helping with the extensions.

Mrs Nnadi spent most of the time on her phone. It seemed like she was still working even while at home.

“Kaima, please, go and get started with dinner. It’s almost seven.” She touched her hair and sighed loudly. “I don’t think we’re half way through yet. Or are we, Fikayo?”

“We are, ma,” Fikayo said, straightening her form as she braided the ends of the weave she just completed.

“Call Koko or Ike to come and help with the extensions. And get me my laptop, please dear.”

Fikayo didn’t know there was an Ike in this house. Was he their brother? She wondered as she parted a section of the hair effortlessly. Her hair was relaxed, so it was easy to handle.

Kaima left the porch and Kosi returned with a black Hp laptop which she handed immediately to her mother.

“Thanks baby,” Mrs Nnadi smiled.

Mrs Nnadi was sweet even when she was evidently stressed from whatever work she was trying to get done while getting her hair braided. She admired the woman and hoped she would like her work and keep calling her back. Hopefully, she could even get referrals from her.

Kosi soon got tired of picking the extensions. Mrs Nnadi instructed her to call her brother to help in her stead. Fikayo found it quite strange that she was asking a boy to come give out hair extensions. Would he even be interested?

Mrs Nnadi’s phone rang and she picked it up, dishing instructions to the receiver. Something about a cake delivery and decorations.

Just then, Fikayo heard the entrance door open and close. She raised her head and saw a teenage boy walking to where they were. He had the same skin tone as his mother and sisters. The white T-shirt he wore hugged his chest and his shorts stopped right before his knees. She drew her gaze away from him and concentrated on the weave she was making. It seemed her eyes had a mind of their own as they returned to the handsome boy. This time she stared at his hair; the sides were cut low leaving full black coils in the middle.

“Hi,” he smiled, revealing two dimples as he reached her side.

Okay, the boy was cute! There was no point denying.

“Hi,” she retorted, turning her head away from him.

Mrs Nnadi was done with her call now.

“Lolu, please help her with the attachments,” she pleaded, placing her laptop on the low stool. Fikayo was confused. If he was Lolu then who and where was Ike?

“Alright,” he nodded. His voice was deep but soft, a sweet, melodious combination.

Okay, Fiks, get a grip. You can’t be scoping a boy.

It seemed it wasn’t his first time picking out attachments because she only needed to show him the quantity she wanted once. It was quiet for minutes, except for the calls Mrs Nnadi kept making.

Mrs Nnadi sighed loudly and a grunt escaped afterwards.

“Mummy, please take a break. They can do without you for a few hours. You can’t do everything now,” he said softly. “Rest a bit, please.”

His mother sighed.

“Mo ti gbó,” she said but began tapping on her phone again.
So she could speak Yoruba? She thought they were Igbo.

“I just need to make this finaaallll calllll,” she drawled at the end. “I promise.”

She laughed but her son didn’t seem to find it funny.

“Workaholic!”

She laughed again, her shoulders shaking. Fikayo paused on the weaving as her head had shaken.

“Sorry dear,” she directed at Fikayo, and to her son who looked annoyed, “Ike, this is important. I just remembered we’ve not confirmed with the bride’s make-up artist.”

Apparently, Ike and Lolu were one and the same. How come he had both Yoruba and Igbo names? It occurred to her that Mrs Nnadi might be Yoruba. She had after all spoken the language some minutes ago.

“But you called the makeup artist this morning to re-confirm because you had long confirmed her!” Ike sounded fed up with his mother. Fikayo was about starting the second to the last weave but Ike had not picked out the extension she needed. She tapped his arm and he turned to her, kissing his teeth.

“Sorry. Mummy is just something else.”

Fikayo looked at him like he had two heads. What Nigerian child called their mother “something else”? She could never ever. Many things were unusual about this family. They were all too kind and now the son was calling his mother “something else”...to her face! Wow!

“Nawa o,” she said under her breath as he stretched some strands to her.
She soon finished up the braids and used the fire from a lit candle to brush the cornrows and their ends. Kosi brought hot water in a bowl with a towel hung across her shoulder. Fikayo placed the towel on Mrs Nnadi’s shoulders and bent her head, dipping the ends of the hair in the bowl. She requested for a hand towel and Kosi ran to get it. She dipped the hand towel into the hot water, retrieved and squeezed it before pressing it on the weaves, section by section.

When she was finally done, she brought her phone out and saw that it was past eight pm. “Wow,” she said internally as she noticed the phone notifications.

Five missed calls from Mummy

She had put her phone on silent before starting out. She began panicking but kept it cool on the outside. She saw her sister’s incoming call just as Kaima called for her to come into the house. She ignored the call and went in, leaving Ike behind. Kaima ushered her into the kitchen so she could wash her hands.

“Dear, do you mind waiting for dinner? Kaima made yam porridge,” Mrs Nnadi said behind her. She turned form the sink, rubbing her hands against her jeans in a bid to dry it.

“It’s quite late, ma. I’d have loved to but my mum and sister have been calling,” she explained, displeased that she had to reject free food.

“We’ll just have it packed for you, then.”

She did a happy dance in her mind but smiled in appreciation at the kind, beautiful woman.

“That would be nice. Thank you, ma.”

“Daddy is back!” Kosi shouted from where she stood at the kitchen entrance.

“Koko, will you stop shouting?” Kaima who was dishing Fikayo’s food into a plastic food container chided.

Their father walked in at that moment. He was in a crisp white shirt and navy blue trousers, a red tie and black shoes completing the look. Kosi was by his side, holding his navy blue suit jacket.

“Leave my baby alone,” the man scolded jokingly.

Kosi stuck her tongue out at her elder sister but the later only shook her head. He reached Kaima’s side and pecked her temple. She smiled, turning to give him a hug. He then walked to his wife whose brows were furrowed in concentration as she stared at her phone screen.

“Baby,” he cooed, taking the phone from her hand. Her frown deepened as she made an attempt to grab it from his hand.

“I need that phone. I’m doing something important, please,” she whined and pouted when she couldn’t get a hold of it.

“Hug me, joor,” he said in a child like manner. Kosi giggled while Kaima covered the plastic container and put it in a plastic bag. Fikayo’s eyes darted back to the couple.

“This your hair is fine o.” He ran his other hand over her head. “You’ve finally gotten rid of those old cornrows.”

His wife gave him the stink eye, then held on to his wrist with one hand and struggled to pull her phone with the other.

“You people should tell your daddy to give me my phone.”

“Daddy, don’t give her,” Kosi giggled.

“Thank you, Koko Pops. She’s about to break my hand o,” he dramatically exclaimed.

“Oya, hug me now,” he said again but she didn’t respond as she continued trying to pull her phone out of his tight grip. He loosened his grip and she smiled victoriously as she retrieved her phone. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him, pecking her left cheek. Fikayo drew her eyes away from them, feeling somewhat awkward.

“How was your ministration?” Mrs Nnadi asked, stepping back from her husband’s embrace. She began loosening his tie.

“Mehn, mind blowing. Powerful! Don’t worry, I’ll share testimonies with you later.”

Ministration? He must be a pastor.

He finally noticed her and greeted her, asking how she was doing. Mrs Nnadi informed him she was the one who had made her hair.

“Wow. You did a great job, dear. Maybe you’ll make my own hair, too,” he goofed, rubbing his low cut.

“You this bald man,” his wife laughed, poking his chest with her finger.

“How old are you?” he asked Fikayo.

“Seventeen, sir.”

“Wow, you’re so young and talented. I’m very impressed. Keep it up.”

She smiled.

Kaima handed her the bag of food and she thanked her. Mrs Nnadi beckoned to her and they both walked to the living room. She transferred her money to her account and offered to drop her home when she said she lived in Ago.

“It’s too late for you to enter public transport alone. Besides, I have to take responsibility since I made you stay out this late. I’ll order a taxi for you.”

She had never received so much kindness from one family in her life. It might have seemed small but it meant a lot to her. She paid her way above the normal fee, gave her food and paid for a taxi to take her home.

As she enjoyed the cool air blasting from the Uber’s air conditioning, she texted her sister that she was on her way home. She knew she would be in hot pepper soup the minute she stepped her foot in the house but that didn’t steal the happiness she felt. The Nnadi’s joy had rubbed off on her and she wouldn’t have it any other way. She could go back to being sad tomorrow but today, she was holding onto the joy she had found.

...
Listen to that jam in the media🥰...amazing song.

Anyway, what did you think of this chapter? Fire's boyfriend, Fikayo's crush on Kaima's brother, those were the highlights for me.

Did you enjoy reading this chapter? If yes, vote, leave a comment and share with a friend🙏🏾❤.