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Tera Mayo Funny Storyteller, Moncton, NB (2025)

06/27/2025

Part 3: Danfo Driver's Girlfriend 🥰💕
Even though she never said yes to being my girlfriend fully, I still loved her. She kept saying, “I’m still thinking about it.”

And I waited.

I thought one day she would realize how deeply I loved her. I thought maybe, when she’s done with school, she would accept me completely.

But something happened.

One afternoon, I drove my white 18-seater bus from Lagos to Ibadan. I wanted to visit her like I always did. I parked near her off-campus hostel. I carried a small bag of foodstuff and walked to the gate.

Just as I opened the gate, I saw Gloria outside.

She was hugging a guy.

But not a normal hug. It was an *intimate* hug—very close, very slow, like two people in love. My heart broke instantly.

She saw me.

She froze.

The guy walked away. She didn’t say anything.

I didn’t say anything too.

I dropped the bag on the ground and left.

I didn’t even have the strength to cry. I drove back to Iwo Road Terminal, loaded passengers, and started the trip back to Lagos.

Government always tells drivers, “Don’t drink and drive.” But I think they should also say, “Don’t drive when your heart is broken.”

I thank God I didn’t have an accident that day. I was not okay.

The next morning, I went straight to Gloria’s house in Lagos. Her parents were surprised to see me, especially so early. They welcomed me inside.

I sat with them and explained everything.

I told them what I saw.

How I felt.

How Gloria had kept me waiting all these years—only to see her hugging another man.

Her mum sighed. Her face looked like she already knew something.

She said, “Natha, my son… I understand. You’ve tried. You’ve been good to our daughter.”

Then she told me something that shocked me.

“One day, I called Gloria to check on her. A man picked her phone. When I asked who he was, he questioned me like I was disturbing him. Later Gloria came on the line and said the guy was just a friend. But since that day, I’ve felt she’s hiding something.”

I was sad. I felt like leaving and never coming back.

But her mum held my hand and said, “Don’t give up yet. We will talk to her. We will make things right.”

Her dad nodded in agreement. “You deserve better, Natha. We know you. We trust you. We’ll bring her home and talk to her.”

I felt confused. “What’s the use of bringing her home?” I asked. “She doesn’t love me. Let her be free.”

But her parents were serious. They believed if they could get her to focus, she would return to me.

I went home, thinking about everything. My heart was heavy. My eyes were wet.

A few days later, they called me.

“Gloria is home,” they said. “Come now.”

When I got to their house, they told me she was asleep. They had welcomed her nicely, cooked her favorite soup, and gave her a smoothie. She had fallen into a deep sleep.

I didn’t know what they put in the food. But they asked me to go in with my wife to be.

I went inside.

She was there, sleeping in her nightgown. I slept beside her and looked at her. She looked like an angel. Beautiful, peaceful, quiet.

💞💓Hmm! Mo Je Dudu Alata ninu yara re💞

I just slept there for extra more minutes, heartbroken. I whispered, “I wish you loved me.”

Then I walked out of the room.

Her parents looked at me.

I wanted to say thank you, but they said it first.

“Thank you for not giving up on our daughter.”

I left their house quietly that day.

Days passed.

I kept running my transport business. I focused more on my second bus and inter-city routes. I was still in pain, but I buried my pain in work.

Then one day, Gloria called.

She said she had returned to school.

We talked—long, peaceful talk. We laughed. We shared memories. I didn’t tell her about the visit to her home. I didn’t tell her anything.

Weeks later, she called her mum and said she was sick. She thought it was malaria. Her mum rushed to Ibadan to see her and took her to the hospital.

The doctor said Gloria was pregnant.

Gloria was shocked.

She didn’t understand.

She hadn’t been with anyone.

She started asking herself questions. Her mum tried to calm her down.

“My daughter, don’t do anything bad. This baby will not stop your future. You’re almost done with school. Let me take care of you and the child.”

And me?

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know how to tell Gloria the truth—that the pain in my heart is still there, that I still love her, and that the child she’s carrying…

Might be mine.

Because I know I crossed the line💞.

But one thing is true.

Her parents believe I am the only one who ever loved her sincerely.

Now I sit here, driving passengers again.

And I ask myself:

Should I tell her everything? Or let her parents explain?

Will she ever love me back? Or will she hate me forever?

This heart of mine is still full of love, but also full of pain.

See you in Episode 4.
Stay tuned to know the full gist🙏

© TeramayoTV
Copyright Reserved, Do Not Copy this Content 💫. I will report your page/profile If You copy my Contents, beware🤫
+2348100048649

You can click on the Share button to share it with your friends to read it🤷

=====≠==============≠==
About Teramayo:
Teramayo is a writer and a freelancer, A guy who grew up to loosing his Mum at 13 years, continue to hustle up with the strength of God. Teramayo later also lost his own wife after 5 years in Marriage. He named himself TERAMAYO as the "Bible says We Should Count It All JOY" that's why He decides to Cling To Being Joyous Always, And Give No Room for Depression.
You can keep Supporting Teramayo by Following This Page, like my page, and share all my stories.
Love You❤️🥰😘

06/27/2025

There are two types of wife🥰:
1. Nagging/extrovert wife
2. Gentle/sit-down-there wife.
Check comment for explanation

06/26/2025

PART 2: DANFO DRIVER'S GIRLFRIEND 🥰😘
Months passed after Natha first told me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I still didn’t give him a final answer. I kept saying, “Please, I’m still thinking about it.” He didn’t stop loving me. He didn’t stop caring. He never forced me. He waited and waited.
My name is Gloria. If you read my first story, you already know about Natha — short for Nathaniel — the danfo driver who loves me deeply.

I knew I liked Natha. He was kind, hardworking, and respectful. But I still didn’t have real love feelings for him. And I was also scared — scared that if I said yes too quickly, I might miss out on something bigger. Maybe a better man, maybe a better life.

But Natha never gave up on me. He continued to visit my family, bring food for my parents, and care about us even though I hadn’t said yes. He treated me like a queen even when I treated him like a friend.

One evening, I sat with Natha on the wooden bench in front of our house. I told him something from my heart.

“Natha, I want to go to the university. I want to further my education.”

He looked surprised. “University?”

“Yes,” I said. “I want to write JAMB and try for University of Ibadan. I don’t want to live my life like this forever. I want to do more with my life.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled and said, “That’s good, Gloria. That’s really good.”

But deep inside, I knew he wasn’t happy. He never said it with his mouth, but I could feel it. Still, he supported me. He gave me money to register for JAMB. He even followed me to the cyber café to fill the form.

“I will never forget you in my life, Natha,” I told him one evening.

He nodded slowly. “Just don’t forget your dreams too. I’m proud of you.”

Weeks passed. I wrote JAMB. I waited. And then one hot afternoon, I checked the JAMB website at a café and saw my name.

I had been admitted to University of Ibadan!

I screamed.

People in the café turned to look at me, but I didn’t care. I rushed out and jumped on a bike straight to the garage. I needed to tell Natha first. He was the reason I had even tried.

When I reached the garage, he was shouting, “Oshodi straight! Enter with your change!” from his bus. Sweat covered his face. His shirt was soaked. But when he saw me running toward him with joy on my face, he smiled.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I got in! I got admission!”

His eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

“Yes!”

He shouted with joy. He carried me up and turned me around like his kid, I too was laughing like a child.

“God bless you, Gloria,” he said. “Now go to that school and make all of us proud. Your parents, me, everyone.”

“I will,” I promised. “I’ll come out with flying colors.”

That was how I started my university journey.

A few days later, I moved to campus. I stayed in the hostel. Life was new, fresh, and exciting. New friends. New lectures. Big dreams.

And Natha?

He didn’t stop supporting me.

Even though we were not officially dating, he still sent money for food, clothes, textbooks, and other things. He would drive his big white 18-seater bus from Lagos to Ibadan and stop by to visit me in my hostel. Sometimes he brought rice, beans, and oil. Sometimes, he brought fruit and noodles.

My roommates used to ask, “Is that your boyfriend?”

And I would say, “No… not really. Just someone helping me.”

But deep inside, I knew he was more than that.

Natha was always there — even more than my parents. My mum and dad never came to visit. They were too busy trying to survive. But Natha? He came every week.

I knew he wasn’t rich. In fact, sometimes he would tell me, “This week no balance well o, but take this small thing for now.” And yet, he never allowed me to lack anything.

Still, my feelings didn’t change. I didn’t feel that deep love for him, even though my heart respected and appreciated him.

By the time I got to 400 level, second semester, things had changed a bit.

I had grown. I had seen life. I had met new people. There were boys in school — smart boys, fine boys. Some even came from rich families. Some had cars. One of them was Kunle.

Kunle was in 500 level. He was studying engineering. He was handsome and neat. We became close. He helped me with some courses and walked me back to my hostel many times. He made me laugh. He didn’t talk about love yet, but I knew he liked me.

One Saturday evening, Kunle escorted me back to my hostel after our group discussion. We talked and laughed. When we reached the gate, he gave me an intimate hug💞. I hugged him back. I felt warm🥰.

At that moment, the hostel gate opened.

And standing there…

Was Natha.

He was holding a bag — probably full of groceries as usual. His white bus was parked outside the gate. He had just arrived from Lagos.

Our eyes met.

He stood still.

I stepped away from Kunle quickly. My heart started beating fast.

Kunle, not knowing who Natha was, said goodbye and walked away.

But Natha just stood there, staring at me. He didn’t say a word. His eyes were full of shock and pain. It was like I had poured hot water on his heart.

I didn’t know what to say.

He turned slowly, opened the gate wider, and dropped the bag on the floor.

“Take,” he said quietly. Then he walked back to his bus.

I stood there, frozen.

My roommates came and helped me carry the bag inside. Inside were rice, spaghetti, tomatoes, and even sanitary pads.

I went to my bed and sat down. My heart was confused.

Why did I feel guilty? I never told him we were dating. I never promised to marry him. I was honest from the start.

But still… something inside me felt heavy.

Later that night, Natha sent a message.

“I saw you. You’ve made your choice. I hope he treats you better than I did.”

I didn’t reply.

I didn’t know what to say.

But I had so many thoughts in my head.

Why is he angry? Is it because he’s been spending money on me? Is that why he thinks he owns me? Is love about giving and expecting something in return?

But another voice in my heart whispered something else.

Gloria, you may have been unfair to him. He loved you. He stood by you. And you never told him to stop.

I thought and thought.

Maybe I was the problem.

Maybe I allowed him to give too much, hoping one day I would feel something back.

Maybe I should have stopped him early.

Or maybe… I just wasn’t ready to love someone like Natha.

Was it his job? His background? Or was I just chasing shadows?

I’m almost done with school now. One year left. I’ve grown. I’ve seen the good and the fake.

And today, I miss Natha.

I don’t know if he will ever come back to visit.

I don’t know if he will ever forgive me.

But this I know — I can never forget him.

He was more than just a danfo driver.

He was my helper.

He was my friend.

He was my biggest supporter when I had no one.

And I hope wherever he is now, he’s happy.

Because I may not have loved him like he wanted…

But I truly, truly appreciated everything he did for me.

Teramayo, what do you think? Should I fight to win Natha back? Or should I let him go and live with the choices I’ve made?

To be continued in Episode 3🙏
Stay tuned to know the full gist🙏

© TeramayoTV
Copyright Reserved, Do Not Copy this Content 💫. I will report your page/profile If You copy my Contents, beware🤫
+2348100048649

You can click on the Share button to share it with your friends to read it🤷

=====≠==============≠==
About Teramayo:
Teramayo is a writer and a freelancer, A guy who grew up to loosing his Mum at 13 years, continue to hustle up with the strength of God. Teramayo later also lost his own wife after 5 years in Marriage. He named himself TERAMAYO as the "Bible says We Should Count It All JOY" that's why He decides to Cling To Being Joyous Always, And Give No Room for Depression.
You can keep Supporting Teramayo by Following This Page, like my page, and share all my stories.
Love You❤️🥰😘

06/24/2025

Part 1: Danfo Driver's Girlfriend 🥰💕
My boyfriend’s name is Nathaniel, but people often call him “Natha” in the garage. My name is Gloria. I am 21 years old. I live with my parents in a small face-me-I-face-you house in Mushin, Lagos. Life has not been easy for us. We struggle to eat two times a day, but we still thank God.

Natha is a danfo driver. Danfo is a yellow bus that people in Lagos use for transport. You see them shouting “Oshodi! Oshodi!” or “CMS straight! CMS!” in the traffic. That is what Natha does for a living. He owns his own danfo and drives it by himself. He is very hardworking. He wakes up before 5 a.m. every day, prays, and rushes to the garage to hustle. Sometimes, he drives from morning till night before coming back home to rest.

Natha doesn’t play too much. He doesn’t party or hang out with people who don’t have plans for their life. He doesn’t even talk much. People in the garage respect him because he minds his business and doesn’t fight like many of the other drivers. Natha went to university. He studied Logistics. He wanted to work in an office and wear nice shirts with a tie. But after many years of looking for a good job and getting nothing, he decided to use the money he saved from his NYSC allowance to buy a second-hand danfo. And that was how his journey started.

He told me six months ago that he loved me and wanted me to be his girlfriend. I didn’t say yes, but I also didn’t say no. I told him, “I’ve heard you. But give me some time to think about it.” And since then, he has been showing me love in different ways.

He buys food for my family when things are tight. He helps my dad when his own work is not moving well. He comes to our house to gist with my mum and sometimes helps her carry her amala cooler to the bus stop. My dad likes him too. He always says, “That Natha boy is a good boy. He will go far.”

But me, I don’t know how I feel.

I like him. Yes, he is kind. He respects me. He never touches me anyhow or talks to me rudely. But I don’t know if I love him. And the biggest problem is this — I don’t like his job.

I know it may sound bad, but I am just being honest. I want to be proud of my husband. I want to tell people that my husband works in a big company or wears suits to work. I don’t want to say, “He’s a danfo driver.” It feels somehow in my chest.

Sometimes, I see other girls whose boyfriends or fiancés are bankers, engineers, or even working with oil companies. I know those jobs are not easy to find, but I always hope someone like that will come my way too.

I don’t even know what direction my life is going. I only have SSCE. I passed my exams, but there’s no money to go to university. My mum and I work for a local food vendor. We hawk food on the street. My mum sells amala, and I sell rice and beans. We don’t even have our own shop.

My dad also doesn’t have his own bus. Every day, he goes to the garage to look for any bus owner who wants to lease out their danfo for the day. He drives it, pays park fee, buys fuel, and after giving the bus owner his own share, the money left is usually very small. That’s our life.

So, when Natha said he loved me, my parents were happy. They said he has his own bus, he works hard, and he respects people. But me, my heart is not yet sure.

I remember one evening. I was coming back from hawking when I saw him waiting for me at our street. He had parked his bus, bought small ice cream, and was holding it like a child waiting to share. When he saw me, his face lit up.

“Glory, how market today?” he asked.

I smiled. “We thank God.”

Then he stretched his hand and gave me the ice cream. “I know you like this flavor.”

I took it from him. “Thank you.”

We sat on the bench in front of my house.

“You don’t like my job, abi?” he asked gently, looking at the ground.

I was shocked. “Who told you that?”

He smiled small. “Nobody. But I can feel it. And I’m not angry. I just want to know.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I know I drive danfo,” he continued. “It’s not a shiny job. But I do it with pride. I didn’t choose it because I’m lazy. I chose it because life forced me to find a way to survive. I have plans, Gloria. One day, I won’t be driving danfo forever. I’ll have my own transport company. I’ll hire drivers. I’ll open a small logistics office. But I need someone who will walk that journey with me, not someone who is waiting for me to change before they accept me.”

I looked at him. His face was calm, but I could see pain in his eyes. I wanted to cry. But I just nodded.

“I understand,” I said.

But the truth is, I didn’t fully understand.

Every night before I sleep, I think. What if I say yes to Natha, and he never becomes rich? What if he remains a danfo driver forever? Can I live with that?

And what if I say no, and I never find someone who loves me like he does?

It’s not easy. I’m not trying to be greedy. I just want more for my life. I want to be better than this poverty we are living in. But maybe I’m also afraid. Afraid of making a mistake.

There’s this other boy, Kayode. He works in an office in Ikeja. He wears nice shirts and smells of perfume. He has a car. He has been looking at me lately. He even stopped me once and said I’m beautiful. But he hasn’t said more than that. He doesn’t know my family. He doesn’t know how we struggle. What if he finds out and runs?

But Natha knows everything. He sees the suffering and still stands beside me.

One day, I fell sick. It was malaria. I was so weak I couldn’t get out of bed. My mum was at the shop, and my dad had gone out to look for bus work. Natha came to visit and saw me lying down, shivering.

He didn’t ask questions. He just told me to wait. He rushed out and came back with a nylon full of drugs, oranges, and malt drink.

He cleaned my face with warm water, gave me the medicine, and sat beside me, fanning me gently. For almost two hours, he stayed there, just caring for me.

I wanted to cry. Not because of pain. But because someone who I haven’t even agreed to be with loves me like that.

My mum came back and saw him. She smiled and said, “This boy is a gift.”

That night, I cried in my pillow. I cried because I felt guilty. Guilty for not loving him the way he loved me.

But can love be forced?

I’m still thinking.

Natha still comes around. He still brings fruits for my mum. He still plays draft with my dad. He still prays for me. But he doesn’t pressure me. He’s waiting for my heart.

Maybe one day, I’ll wake up and realize that love is not in perfume or car keys. Maybe love is in the one who shows up when the world walks away. Maybe love is in the one who doesn’t have much, but gives you everything.

I don’t know what I’ll do yet.

But I’m learning something.

Sometimes, a danfo driver has more dignity than a man in suit.

Sometimes, the man that everyone ignores is the one who will carry your future with respect.

And maybe…

Just maybe…
I’ll become the danfo driver’s wife. I am feeling like I should drop this guy called Natha🤷

To be continued in Episode 2🙏
Stay tuned to know the full gist🙏

© TeramayoTV
Copyright Reserved, Do Not Copy this Content 💫. I will report your page/profile If You copy my Contents, beware🤫
+2348100048649

You can click on the Share button to share it with your friends to read it🤷

=====≠==============≠==
About Teramayo:
Teramayo is a writer and a freelancer, A guy who grew up to loosing his Mum at 13 years, continue to hustle up with the strength of God. Teramayo later also lost his own wife after 5 years in Marriage. He named himself TERAMAYO as the "Bible says We Should Count It All JOY" that's why He decides to Cling To Being Joyous Always, And Give No Room for Depression.
You can keep Supporting Teramayo by Following This Page, like my page, and share all my stories.
Love You❤️🥰😘

06/20/2025

Is this true? What we have left arr Tax collectors?

06/20/2025

Storytelling Paused🙏
Continue Later My Fans🥰

06/17/2025

May God Help You and Me💕.
I remain your humble Teramayo.
Good morning 💞.

Some things in my private life made me pause posting your lovely stories you always anticipate to read. I hope soon to start again when these storm is over🙏

06/15/2025

Happy Father's Day 💞.

06/09/2025

What is University Certificate When it can't yet put food on your table? School is good. I am also a graduate, but what pays the bills for me to live above this hàrd status of this economy is Ride Hailing & Okada Work🤷,and I am not ashamed saying this at all.
Pics snapped from Kelvin Onovo page

06/08/2025

THE MAN WHO STOOD BY ME🥰, the Gateman.
Let me tell you a story—not just about a crown or a palace, but about a man. A man who stood by me when I had nothing. A man who helped me become the woman I am today. His name is Mordecai.

I was very young when I lost my parents. I don’t remember much about them, only bits and pieces. I remember my mother’s gentle voice and my father’s smile. But one day, they were both gone. I became an orphan. Alone. Scared. Confused.

But I was not without hope.

Mordecai, my cousin, took me in. He was older and had his own life to live, but he brought me into his home and treated me like his own daughter. I wasn’t just a guest in his house—I became family. He gave me food, clothes, and love. Most of all, he gave me shelter and ended my loneliness.

Mordecai was not a rich man. He didn’t live in a palace or wear fine robes. He worked at the king’s gate, a place where the king’s servants and messengers passed by. It wasn’t the most important job, but it was a faithful one. He was always there, watching, listening, helping where he could.

Even when he was busy, he made time for me.

He didn’t only raise me—he guided me. He taught me how to walk with grace, how to speak with wisdom, and how to respect others. He used to say, “Your beauty is not just in your face, Esther. It’s in your heart, your kindness, and how you treat people.”

I didn’t know then what my future would be. But he did.

One day, a big change came to our land. The queen was removed from the palace. The king wanted a new queen, and he sent people all over to find the most beautiful young women. When Mordecai heard this, he quickly came to me.

“Esther,” he said, “this might be your moment. You must go.”

I was scared. I had never been to the palace. I had never spoken to a king. But Mordecai believed in me. And because he believed in me, I believed in myself.

He helped me prepare. He gave me advice. And every single day while I was in the palace, he stayed close by the gate just to hear how I was doing. Even though we couldn’t speak face to face, he found a way to send messages, just to make sure I was fine.

Then came the day when the king looked at me and smiled.

Out of all the women in the land, the king chose me.

Me, Esther—the orphan girl, the outsider—was now the queen.

But I didn’t forget Mordecai. I never would. Because even as queen, I knew I was standing on the shoulders of the man who raised me.

Mordecai didn’t stop helping me after I became queen. In fact, that’s when he became even more important.

While working at the gate one day, he overheard two men—two of the king’s trusted workers—talking about a secret plan. They wanted to harm the king. Mordecai quickly sent a message to me, and I told the king. The plan was stopped, and the king’s life was saved.

Yet Mordecai wasn’t rewarded right away. His name was just written down in a book, and life moved on. But Mordecai didn’t complain. He just kept doing good, quietly, faithfully.

Later on, something terrible happened. A powerful man in the kingdom became angry at Mordecai. Why? Because Mordecai refused to bow to him. Mordecai would only bow to what was right and true.

That angry man didn’t just want to hurt Mordecai—he wanted to destroy all the people who were like Mordecai. People like me.

When Mordecai heard about the evil plan, he didn’t hide or run. He tore his clothes and cried in the streets. He carried the burden of an entire nation on his shoulders. He was not a king, not a soldier, but he fought like a hero.

He sent a message to me in the palace. “Esther,” he wrote, “you must speak up. Maybe this is the reason you became queen—to save your people.”

I was scared again. Speaking up could cost me my life.

But Mordecai had always believed in me. He had always guided me right. So I listened. I prayed. I prepared. Then I walked into the king’s court, risking everything.

And because of the courage Mordecai planted in me, the king listened.

The plan to destroy my people was stopped. The one who made the plan was removed. And Mordecai—the man at the gate—was lifted up and honored. He was given new robes, a royal position, and the respect he always deserved.

But do you know the most special part?

He didn’t change. He still cared for the people. He still helped the poor. He still fought for what was right. Even as a man of power, he remained humble. He became a leader, a protector, and a light to many.

And to me, he remained my guide, my father, my destiny helper.

Now, let me tell you something from my heart:

Some people like Mordecai are placed in your life by a greater hand. They may not look rich, wear fine clothes, or live in palaces—but they are gifts. They are helpers of your journey. They are there to walk with you, cry with you, and push you into your purpose.

Mordecai was my shelter when I had no home. He ended my loneliness when I felt forgotten. He saw greatness in me before I ever saw it in myself.

He watched my steps when I couldn’t see the path. He opened the door to my destiny and stood outside, cheering me on.

He carried the burdens of others and never asked for praise. He fought for justice when others stayed quiet. He stayed faithful in small places and trusted that good would come.

And you know what?

Good did come.

He was not just a man by the gate. He was a gate himself—a gate to hope, to change, to freedom.

So here’s what I’ve learned and what I want to share with you:

1. Take care of the Mordecais in your life.
They may not be loud or famous, but they carry gold in their hearts.

2. Never look down on your little job or assignment.
Mordecai was just a gatekeeper, but from that place, he changed lives.

3. Stay faithful where you are.
Your reward may not come today or tomorrow, but it will come. There is always a divine response to every committed heart.

4. Some victories don’t come from the front lines.
Aaron and Hur didn’t fight with swords, but by lifting up arms in quiet support, they helped bring victory.

Today, I wear a crown.
But the crown is not just mine—it belongs to the man who stood beside me when I was nothing.

To all the young ones listening to my story, remember: it’s not always about being first, or loud, or powerful. Sometimes, the true strength lies in staying, guiding, and loving others through their journey.

May you be blessed with a Mordecai in your life.
And even better—may you become a Mordecai to someone else

Tera Mayo Funny Storyteller

06/27/2025

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