“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s not from our circle.”
Ma leaned closer. “Sir, they are talking about me like I stole something.”
Anthony’s voice was calm. “Let them talk.”
She nodded. “Okay. But if they insult me, I will respond.”
He almost smiled. “I know.”
And then she appeared.
Anthony’s ex.
Elegant, tall, dressed like money itself—but her smile sharp, dangerous.
She walked toward them slowly.
“Olamide.”
Anthony’s expression changed slightly. Controlled. Careful.
“Good evening.”
The ex’s eyes shifted to Ma—scanning, judging, dismissing.
“And who is this?”
Before Anthony could speak, Ma stepped forward, smiling brightly.
“Good evening, ma. I am…”
She paused, looked at Anthony, then back at the woman.
“Important.”
Anthony choked on a laugh.
The ex raised an eyebrow. “Important?”
Ma nodded confidently. “Yes. Very important. Even I don’t understand how.”
Anthony turned slightly, hiding his smile.
The ex’s eyes hardened. “I see.”
Throughout the night, it was obvious.
Painfully obvious.
Anthony did not leave Ma’s side.
Not once.
He introduced her to people.
Protected her.
Watched her like she mattered.
Like she belonged.
And that burned.
The ex watched from a distance, glass in hand, eyes cold.
“She will not last,” she muttered.
Ma tried her best, but she was still Ma.
A waiter passed.
She whispered loudly, “Sir, this small food—is it for decoration or for eating?”
Anthony leaned closer. “Eat small.”
She picked one, tasted it, paused.
“Is this food confused?”
He laughed quietly. “Behave.”
“I am behaving. It is the food that is misbehaving.”
Later, drinks were served.
Anthony leaned close. “Don’t drink too much.”
Ma nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Five minutes later, she was holding another glass.
Then another.
Then confidence entered her body.
“Sir, this place is shining too much. My eyes are doing overtime.”
Anthony sighed. “I warned you.”
“I am fine,” she declared.
She stood up dramatically. “I want to greet everybody.”
He grabbed her hand quickly. “Sit down.”
She blinked at him. “You are controlling me.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said immediately.
By the time they left, Ma was fully drunk, happy, and talking nonsense.
“Sir, you are a good man. I approve you.”
Anthony shook his head, smiling helplessly. “You’re unbelievable.”
He carried her into the car gently, carefully, like she was something precious.
He carried her upstairs into his room and laid her gently on the bed.
She mumbled softly, “Sir, don’t sack me.”
His heart tightened. “I won’t.”
She smiled in her sleep. “Good.”
Anthony sat beside her for a moment, watching her.
Quiet. Soft. Real.
Then slowly he lay down beside her—exhausted, peaceful.
And once again, sleep came.
Deep. Easy. Natural.
That night, they slept close, calm, unaware that everything had changed.
Because by morning, nothing would be the same again.
Morning did not come quietly.
It came with drama.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang.
Mama Grace opened it and nearly jumped.
“Doctor?”
The elderly man smiled warmly. “Good morning. I came to check on Anthony.”
Mama Grace nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, come in.”
But as they walked inside, something felt off.
Too quiet, even for this house.
Mama Grace frowned slightly. “He is still in his room.”
The doctor adjusted his glasses. “At this time? That’s unusual.”
Mama Grace nodded slowly. “Very unusual.”
They climbed the stairs step by step.
Mama Grace knocked.
“Anthony?”
No answer.
She knocked again.
“Anthony?”
Still nothing.
The doctor frowned. “This is not normal.”
Mama Grace’s heart began to beat faster. “Something is wrong.”
She tried the handle.
Locked.
She turned to the doctor. “I’m opening it.”
The door creaked open slowly.
Mama Grace stepped in, then froze.
The doctor stepped in and froze too.
On the bed—Anthony, sleeping peacefully.
And beside him—Ma, also sleeping peacefully, close, calm, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
