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Hilda's Forum, The Academia, Seri Kembangan (2025)

24/09/2025

TEARS OF A WIDOW

EPISODE 3

One incident occurred when she met with Emeka's best friend, Obi. She had always considered Obi like a brother and even his ex-wife was Amara’s very close friend before they parted ways. She went to him in desperation, hoping he would be different.

"Obi, please, I need help financially. Anything you can support me with will be just fine. I also need a job badly; I will do any kind of job. I know you can link me up," she begged, crying.

Obi listened quietly, nodding sympathetically. For a moment, Amara felt a glimmer of hope. But then Obi reached across the table, placing his hand on hers.

"Of course I'll help you, Amara," he said, his voice low. "But you know, nothing goes for nothing these days. Just scratch my back and I will respond accordingly, he said as he began to rub her hand.

Amara gently withdrew her hand, looking at him with disgust.

"How dare you! I thought you were Emeka's friend!" she hissed, fighting back tears

"I am his friend. But he's gone, and life goes on. You're a beautiful woman, Amara. You can't blame a man for trying." Obi replied unapologetically.

Amara left his office feeling dirty and betrayed. She realized then that she truly had no one to rely on but herself.

She was her parent’s only child and an orphan. Her father’s only brother who had given her out in marriage, was too old and weak to render her any assistance.

She decided not to ask anyone for help anymore.

As the years passed, Amara faced challenge after challenge.

Linda and Sonia became quiet and withdrawn. They missed being in school. The once bright and carefree children, became withdrawn and Amara's heart broke every time she saw her children looking gloomy.

She enrolled them in a small school close by, but the fees were too much for her. She would go without meals herself to ensure the girls had enough to eat and that their school fees were paid. The children became happy again.

There were nights when Amara would lie awake, listening to the sounds of the rough neighborhood around them, and wonder if she was failing her children. On such nights, Amara would cry herself to sleep

Despite all the setbacks, Amara refused to give up. She began to look for opportunities that didn't rely on the goodwill of others. She started small, using her teaching skills to offer after-school tutoring sessions in their tiny apartment.

The students she taught began to do very well in their studies. Words of her effectiveness spread, and more parents began to send their children to her for tutorials.

With the extra income from tutoring, Amara was able to stabilize their living situation. They moved to a slightly better apartment in the same neighborhood. It was still small, but better than the previous

She continued with the home tutorial and everything was going smoothly.

Then one day, Linda became seriously sick. She had just turned 13. She suddenly began to scream in the night, holding her stomach tight. “Mummy, my tummy hurts,” she cried in pain

Amara started treating her with herbs, hoping she could handle it. But when Linda didn’t get any better, she took her to a nearby clinic.

Linda was diagnosed of appendicitis and needed one hundred and fifty thousand naira, for an urgent surgery. Amara didn’t have the money. She began to seek for help from people; to raise money for the surgery but nobody was willing to help.

She was left with only Obi, after exhausting other options

She reluctantly went to his house and explained her situation, on her knees and in tears. “Please, this has to do with the life of my precious daughter. kindly help me, Amara pleaded”

“I am willing to help you, but you know exactly what to do. Let me taste your sweet honeypot and I will give you the money”, Obi answered her, looking away.

Amara thought for a while. “Maybe I should just do it. I can’t afford to lose my child. I need this money badly”, she thought.

“Okay Obi, I… I I will do it”, she struggled to say amid tears.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Written by Hilda's Forum

Do not copy repost or reproduce. Just share

24/09/2025

Happy 💕 Ladies, drop a beautiful picture of yourself let’s crush on you today! 🔥👑

23/09/2025

TEARS OF A WIDOW

EPISODE 2

Everyone went to the village for the funeral. Amara felt like she was living in a bad dream that wouldn't end. Her husband Emeka was dead, and nothing made sense anymore.

The old women in the family came to her. They said they had to cut off all her hair and make her wear white clothes. "This is what widows do," they told her. "You have to show everyone that you're sad about your husband."

They made Amara sit on a mat under a small roof every single day. People came to see her and say sorry about Emeka's demise. All she could do was cry and cry. She couldn't believe her husband was really gone forever.

After they buried Emeka, Amara wanted to go back home to Lagos with her two daughters, Linda and Sonia. Linda was 8 years old and Sonia was 5. The family said okay, so they packed up and left.

But one month later, something terrible happened. Emeka's brother Ikenna and some other family members came to her house without prior notice. They sat down and told her something that made her feel sick.

"We think you k!lled Emeka," Ikenna said. His voice was mean and cold. "The doctor said he d!ed from bad food. Emeka never ate anywhere else except at home. So you must have put po!son in his food."

Amara couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That's crazy!" she said. "I loved my husband! How can you say that?"

"We asked some traditional doctors about it," another man said. "They all said the same thing. You did it."

Amara started shaking. "But I already did everything you asked me to do after the funeral. I followed all your traditions. What more do you want?"

Ikenna stood up. "That's not enough. We don't want you in this family anymore. Pack your things and get out. Take those two daughters of yours too. We think they're bad luck just like you."

Amara felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. "You can't do this! This is my house too! Emeka and I built this together. I put my own money into this house!"

But Ikenna had papers ready. He put them on the table. "Look at these," he said with a nasty smile. "The house is only in Emeka's name. You don't own anything here."

It was true. When they bought the land, they put it in Emeka's name. Amara never worried about it because they were married. She thought they were a team.

"You have one day to leave," Ikenna said. "And don't take anything expensive. Everything here belongs to us now."

Amara ran to her daughters' room. She hugged Linda and Sonia tight. They were playing with their dolls and didn't understand what was happening.

The next day, Amara started packing with tears rolling down her face. She could only take some clothes, her school certificates, and a few pictures. Every time she tried to pack something nice, the family members said, "That's not yours! Leave it here!"

When they were about to leave, little Linda asked, "Mommy, where are we going?"

Amara's heart broke. She didn't know what to say. She had no idea where they would go.

As they walked away from the house, Amara looked back one last time. She had lived there for seven years. She had painted the walls and planted flowers in the garden. She had put more than half her savings into building that house. Now it was all gone.

Amara thought about going to the police, but she knew it wouldn't help. Her name wasn't on any papers, and Emeka didn't write a will before he died. The whole family was against her.

With the little money she had, Amara found a cheap hotel room for her and the girls. That night, after she put Linda and Sonia to bed, she cried harder than she ever had in her life. She cried for Emeka, for their lost home, and because she didn't know what would happen to them.

But when the sun came up the next day, Amara dried her tears. She had to be strong for her daughters. She had to find a way to take care of them.

First, she tried to get a job as a teacher. She had been teaching for years and was really good at it. But every school said no. When they heard about her husband dying and the family problems, they said, "We don't want someone with so many troubles working here."

Finding a new place to live was just as hard. Most landlords didn't want to rent to a woman with no job and two kids. Finally, she found a tiny one-room apartment in a poor area far from the city. It wasn't nice, but it was all she could afford.

Amara had to take any job she could find. She cleaned houses for rich people who treated her like dirt. She washed clothes by hand until her fingers were sore and bleeding. On weekends, she taught kids who were having trouble in school. The work was hard and didn't pay much, but it was enough to buy food and keep their little room.

The worst part was that Linda and Sonia couldn't go to school anymore. Amara didn't have money for school fees. Instead, she taught them at home when she came back from work, even though she was always tired.

She used bottle caps to teach them math and told them stories to help with their reading. The girls tried to be brave, but Amara could see they missed their old life. They missed their nice house, their school, and their friends.

Amara tried calling Emeka's friends for help. These were men who used to come to their house for dinner all the time. They called Emeka their brother and treated Amara like family. She thought surely they would help his wife and children.

But she was wrong. Some of his friends ran away when they saw her coming. Others wouldn't answer their phones. The few who agreed to meet her said they would only help if she could scratch their backs. These men who used to respect her now saw her as someone they could use.

One of them told her, "Life is hard, Amara. But maybe I can help you if you're nice to me." The way he said it made her feel sick.

It hurt so much because these were people she thought were friends. They had eaten at her table and played with her daughters when they were babies. Now they were treating her like garbage.

Even though everything seemed hopeless, Amara didn't give up. Every morning, she got up early, kissed her sleeping girls, and went out to face another difficult day.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Written by Hilda's Forum

Do not copy repost or reproduce. Just share

23/09/2025

Your spouse has the opposite s*x as their 'bestie', even before you both got married. They visit, call and keep in touch and are very close.
How far? Would you have a problem with that? 🤔

22/09/2025

TEARS OF A WIDOW

EPISODE 1

Amara’s world had come crashing down on a rainy Tuesday evening. She received a shocking phone call while preparing food in the kitchen. She was told that her husband of ten years, Emeka had collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. She turned down the stove immediately and dashed out of the house.

By the time she got to the hospital, she was told her husband had died.

It was confirmed that he had passed as a result of food P0isoning, coupled with the fact that he was hypertensive. Nobody knew who put something in his food as Emeka hardly ate out. Amara usually packed lunch for him from the house.

She threw herself to the floor and began to wail, while her husband’s colleagues tried to console her.

“Where do I start from? I am just 31, without a job, and I have two very young daughters,” Amara said as she continued to scream. She had lost her teaching job about three months back, when the owner of the school died and his children who lived abroad, sold the school to another man.

The new buyer retrenched some of the teachers and Amara was unfortunately, one of them. She was yet to secure another job before her husband’s unfortunate demise.

Some moments later after she was calm, she managed to call her husband’s family members and told them what had happened.

The week after, two of Emeka’s uncles visited Lagos to see things for themselves.

The days following Emeka's demise were full of tears and condolences. Amara could barely process her grief. She cried uncontrollably and refused to eat or drink.

Her daughters though still young, understood that they would never see their father again. Their mother held them tight and cried even more.

Emeka’s body was still in the morgue when his two uncles had a meeting with Amara and began to accuse her of having a hand in his demise.

“What did our brother do to you that you had to take his life?” Nnayi, the family head asked Amara one evening about a week after Emeka passed

Amara was confused.

“What are you talking about? Are you trying to accuse me of taking my husband’s life”, She asked in shock

“We are not trying to accuse you”, another elder answered her. “We are putting it to you that you poisoned our son”

The words hit Amara like a physical blow. She was almost thrown off balance. "What? How can you say such a thing? I loved Emeka!"

"We know you two were having problems. Emeka told us everything. He told us how you threatened to deal with him simply because he hit you”. You even went as far as threatening to get him arrested and beaten up by your soldier friend”, the elder fired back at her

Amara shook her head vehemently as tears streamed down her face. "No, that's not true! We had normal marital issues, which we resolved before the unfortunate incident. I made that statement in anger. I didn’t mean it. Emeka and I loved each other. I would never harm him"

“Then, you have to prove your innocence”, Nnayi fired back at her, not minding her tears.

“You will have to Prove your innocence by staying in the same room with his body for three days, without stepping out. If you are innocent, we will know,” Nnayi said on a final note.

Amara thought for a while and then agreed. “A clear conscience fears no accusation”, she said simply. She couldn’t wait to clear her name.

Emeka’s uncles went to the morgue and took his body to his house. They laid him on his bed, in his bedroom. Amara was made to sleep in the room with the body for three days.

Throughout these days, all Amara did was cry. Their maid brought her food two times a day for the three days, but she hardly touched the food. All she did was cry.

Finally, the three days were over and Amara was fine. She thought she was free. Little did she know that it was just the beginning of her trouble.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Written by Hilda's Forum

Do not copy repost or reproduce. Just share

22/09/2025

HER AUNTY TOOK HER TO THE CITY FOR A BETTER LIFE, BUT TURNED HER INTO A CALL GIRL, PARENTS , BEWARE

It was on a Sunday, the sun burning hot, in Umume village in Imo State, when Aunty Ngozi arrived in the village. She was Papa’s younger sister, the one who had left for Lagos many years. Papa always said, “Ngozi is a blessing. She never forgets her people.” And it was true. Whenever she visited, she brought provisions, bags of rice, tins of milk, bars of soap. Even with her sharp tongue, she was generous, and Mama often said, “God will bless that woman.”

So when she came that afternoon with her gele tied high and her handbag swinging, Mary’s parents welcomed her with open arms. After eating Mama’s hot soup, Aunty Ngozi leaned close to Papa and whispered, “Brother, I have good news. There is a woman in Lagos named Madam Stella. She helps young girls travel abroad for work. Mary is smart and beautiful; she will do well. Abroad life is better than farm life. She can send money home every month and give you a better life.”

Papa’s eyes softened. Mama looked worried, but Papa said, “Ngozi has never deceived us before. If she says this is good, then maybe it is truly Mary’s chance.” Mary’s heart leapt. If Papa trusted her, how could she doubt her? That night, even when Mama warned, “Mary, not every road leads to heaven,” Mary brushed the warning aside. Aunty Ngozi had spoken, and Papa believed her.

The next morning Mary followed Aunty Ngozi to Lagos. Her parents waved with hope in their eyes, not knowing they were sending her into a storm. The journey from Imo to Lagos was long and tiring. Mary’s head pounded from the endless sound of horns, the thick dust, and the cramped bus. Yet through it all, her heart raced with excitement. She kept whispering to herself: “This is it, Mary. This is your chance. This is the road to your dream.”

When they finally arrived, Lagos spread out before Mary like another world. The noise, the tall buildings, the endless stream of cars, it was nothing like her quiet village. Aunty Ngozi’s house stood tall in a gated compound. The walls were freshly painted, the flowers trimmed. A shiny Toyota car was parked neatly by the side. Mary’s mouth fell open. Inside, the house was even more beautiful: soft chairs, a big flat-screen TV, a glass table, even air-conditioning that blew cool air on her sweaty skin. Her heart danced. “So this is Lagos life,” she thought, eyes wide.

Aunty Ngozi smiled warmly. “My dear, you will enjoy life here. First, eat and rest.” She served Mary rice with chicken , food richer than what Mary had eaten at home. After Mary ate, Aunty Ngozi showed her the bathroom to shower and then led her into the guest room. The bed was soft, the curtains bright, the wardrobe filled with clothes. Mary sat there, staring, her heart swelling with hope. “At last,” she whispered to herself. “This is the beginning. Soon, I will become the nurse I always wanted. Mama and Papa will be proud of me.” That night Mary lay on the soft bed, smiling in the dark until sleep carried her away.

The next morning, Aunty Ngozi woke Mary. “Mary, get up. Take your bath and pack your bag. Today, I will take you to Madam Stella.” Her tone was casual, as if taking Mary to visit a family friend. Mary’s stomach fluttered with nerves, but she trusted Aunty Ngozi. She was Papa’s sister. She was family. Why should she fear? After dressing, Mary followed Aunty Ngozi into the car. As they drove through Lagos, Mary kept pressing her face to the window, staring at the tall buildings and bright shops. Her heart was full of dreams.

Then they arrived Madam Stella’s house. The house was not as grand as Aunty Ngozi’s. It looked older, with peeling paint and iron bars on the windows. But Mary brushed it aside. Maybe Madam Stella was not rich, but she was the doorway to Mary’s future. A chubby, light-skinned woman in her late forties opened the door. She had heavy makeup and gold earrings that swung as she moved.

Her eyes scanned Mary slowly, from head to feet. Aunty Ngozi smiled and said, “Madam, this is the girl.” Madam Stella chuckled, her voice deep and sharp. “Hmm. Pretty. She will do well.” Then, without even looking at Mary again, she said, “Take her inside.” Aunty Ngozi patted Mary’s shoulder. “Be a good girl, Mary. Do whatever Madam tells you. This is for your future.”

Mary smiled, nervous but hopeful. “Thank you, Aunty. I will make you and Papa proud.” Aunty Ngozi did not answer. She turned quickly, her heels clicking, and left. Mary did not know that this was the last time she would see Aunty Ngozi walk away as family.

Madam Stella led Mary down a narrow corridor and opened a door. “This will be your room,” she said flatly. Mary stepped in and froze. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy and stale. On the beds sat four girls, all around Mary’s age. Their faces were tired, their eyes hollow. One girl with long braids looked up first. “I’m Zara,” she whispered. Another, lighter-skinned with a Hausa accent, said, “Aisha.”

The third girl adjusted her wrapper. “I’m Nkechi.” The last one, eyes red from crying, added, “Rose.” Mary was the fifth. She looked at them, confused. Their voices carried pain, their faces sadness. Why did they look like prisoners, not workers?

FULL STORY HERE: https://youtu.be/CasItiZ8IF0

22/09/2025

Wow… we did it!

Today, our community has grown to 100,000 amazing people. Each of you has been part of this journey — liking, sharing, commenting, and most importantly, believing in what we do.

This milestone isn’t just about numbers, it’s about the love, support, and connection we’ve built together. You’ve made this space a home where stories are shared, lives are touched, and inspiration flows daily.

From the very first follower to the 100,000th — THANK YOU!

Here’s to growing, learning, and shining together as one big family. ❤️

🚀 The journey doesn’t stop here… the best is yet to come!

21/09/2025

New Story Alert!!!

“TEARS OF A WIDOW”

Episode 1 drops tomorrow 😘

21/09/2025

THEIR GRANDMOTHER DEDICATED THEM TO THE RIVER GODDESS. YEARS LATER, STRANGE THINGS BEGAN TO HAPPEN…

Youtube Video Link:

👇👇👇👇
https://youtu.be/7bknlbF6hwY

21/09/2025

THEIR GRANDMOTHER DEDICATED THEM TO THE RIVER GODDESS. YEARS LATER, STRANGE THINGS BEGAN TO HAPPEN…

“Kneel down, my children,” Mama Nneka’s shaky voice commanded, slicing through the eerie silence of the night.

The three sisters obeyed, their thin knees sinking into the damp sand at the Nwagu Village riverbank. The moonlight spilled over them like liquid silver, reflecting off the still water. Their hearts pounded wildly, and the cool night air carried the mingled scent of wet earth and strange herbs burning from the clay pot their grandmother had placed near the water’s edge.

The three sisters were, Seven-year-old Amara, Ten-year-old Chiamaka and Twelve-year-old Olanna, the eldest.

Mama Nneka stood before them, her stooped frame silhouetted against the moonlight. Her white wrapper fluttered around her ankles as she lifted her wrinkled hands toward the sky. Her voice cracked as she prayed, her words laced with grief.

“Oh great spirit of the waters,” she cried, her voice carrying across the night, “hear me, a poor old woman who has lost everything! I bring you my grandchildren, Olanna, Chiamaka, and Amara. Their parents are gone, leaving them defenseless. Their mother was an only child, orphaned before she died. I am their father’s mother, their only surviving family.”

Her voice cracked as sobs overtook her. “I dedicate them to you tonight. Protect them! Hide them under your wings. Let no harm come near them. Bless them with long life, with favor, with greatness beyond their wildest dreams!”

She flung a handful of cowrie shells into the water. The ripples glimmered faintly in the moonlight, then vanished into unnatural stillness.

The forest fell silent. Even the night insects ceased their singing.

“Grandma…” Chiamaka whispered, clutching Amara tighter. “What’s happening?”

Before Mama Nneka could respond, the river began to swirl. A strange humming rose from its depths, like many voices singing in a language too ancient to understand. The girls screamed and huddled together as a column of water erupted upward, glittering under the moonlight.

And then, from the heart of the river rose a magnificent figure, a being both breathtaking and terrifying. Her upper body was that of a beautiful woman, but from the waist down, she bore a powerful, glistening tail that thrashed gently beneath. It was a beautiful mermaid.

“Be calm, my darlings!” Mama Nneka cried, rushing to them and wrapping her arms around their trembling bodies. “Do not fear her. She is here to bless us.”

The mermaid’s voice was soft, yet commanding, like a melody carried on the wind.

“Who calls me forth on this sacred night?”

Mama Nneka fell to her knees, bowing low until her forehead touched the ground. “It is I, Nneka,” she said humbly. “These children are my late son’s daughters. Their mother, too, is gone. She was an only child. They left these three orphans behind. I am their last family, but I am old and weak. I will not live forever.”

Her voice wavered as she lifted her tear-streaked face.

“Please, great servant of the mighty river goddess, I beg you: protect them when I am gone. Make them strong, make them prosperous, make them untouchable by evil men. Let their names be remembered, let their lives be filled with joy and abundance!”

The mermaid studied the girls, her glowing blue eyes sweeping over their tiny, trembling forms. Finally, she smiled softly.

“Your plea has been heard, old one,” she said. “The river god you serve is merciful. Your grandchildren shall be shielded from harm. No weapon shall touch them. No darkness shall overpower them. They will rise like stars, admired and celebrated.”

Mama Nneka gasped, falling prostrate on the ground. “Thank you! Thank you, great one! You have saved them!”

The mermaid extended a glowing hand. A mist of silver light swirled around the three girls, lifting their hair and caressing their faces. After she was done, she slowly descended back into the water.

“When they are grown, they will see the greatness that awaits them,” she said, her voice echoing across the night. “The river does not forget.”

The waters stilled, the humming faded, and the forest came alive again.

Olanna turned to her grandmother, trembling.

“Grandma… what just happened? Who was she?”

Mama Nneka hugged them tightly, rocking them like babies.

“You will understand one day,” she whispered. “One day you will see that everything I did tonight was to keep you safe. Get up. It’s time to go home”

The girls got up and quietly followed their grandmother home. Behind them, the river rippled softly, as though laughing in the darkness.

They returned home and life continued. But something strange began to happen to the girls from that night…
FULL STORY AVAILABLE HERE
👇👇👇👇
https://youtu.be/7bknlbF6hwY

20/09/2025

Before we unveil our next story, what lessons did you learn from OBIAGERI 'S Story?

20/09/2025

Happy OWANBE SATURDAY ooo. Please invite me. I am available

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