CHAPTER SEVEN

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Joyce had barely walked in when Kanmi attacked her with a hug. They were each other's favorites.

"My mummy." He embraced her.

"Daddy, how far?" She had a huge grin plastered across her face.

"I'm fine. Where did you go to since morning without telling me?" He said with a pout.

"I was busy with things related to Agu." She summarized it.

"Ok. What did you buy on your way back?"

"I bought you snacks. Wait, let me sit down first."

"Okay!" He was excited.

"Eku ile o." He acknowledged Adesoye as he came into view.

"Ekaabo." The cheery man sported a warm smile. "How did it go?"

"I'm coming." She handed my brother the plastic bag and the unbothered fellow scurried off with glee.

I took a seat, perched ok the arm of the couch as I paid rapt attention as Joyce recounted the events of the day.

"This man definitely has something wrong with him."

"You've not even heard the end."

"What happened?"

"Immediately I parked, the DPO called me. He said we'd have to come back again tomorrow."

"His head isn't functioning properly." Adesoye spat, ticked off.

"What choice do I have?"

"No problem." He nodded, a smile crawling up his face. "Pele. Omo oloku." (Condolences, child of the deceased) He teased.

"Iya e.(Your mum)" She chuckled.

"Baba e. (Your dad)" A bout of laughter threatening to escape his pursed lips.

"What did you people cook?" Joyce asked.

"Spaghetti."

"Serve a little, warm it up in the microwave. I want two meats please, my father died and it's also been a long day." Joyce sassed.

"You don't want malt too?" I joked.

"You're not serious." She chuckled.

"What about your exams?"

"It's fine. Almost done."

"Ok. Has Desmond's wife gone back to Oma's place?"

"Yes. Kiel's wife left. You know how she is. Now there's space for them."

"Ok. Now you have your own room back."

"Yeah." I paused, shutting the microwave.

"Did I tell you Desmond and his family applied my leave-in conditioner as lotion?"

"It's a lie!" She exclaimed in true Nigerian-mother fashion before a hearty guffaw escaped her mouth.

"I'm not even joking." I chuckled.

"That guy..." Adesoye shook his head.

"How? Did he not notice or read the label?" Joyce asked before forking spaghetti into her mouth.

"Who has time to read labels when they're stealing?"

"Steal?"

"Obviously. He went through my stuff because the bottle was tucked under my pile on unfolded clothes in the laundry basket. If he wasn't snooping though my stuff, he'd have never seen, or used it." I tried so hard to not be passive aggressive.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: May 06 ⏰

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