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The Soft Story Room, Ajegunle, Alagbado Lagos (2026)

11/09/2026

CHAPTER THREE

THE QUESTION

The first time I realized I wanted more was on his couch.

We were lying together.

My head was resting against his chest.

Music was playing quietly in the background.

His fingers were moving absentmindedly across my wrist.

For a moment, everything felt perfect.

It felt like we belonged there.

Like this was a relationship.

Like I finally had something real.

Then I remembered something.

We had never actually said that.

So I asked.

"Debo?"

"Mmm?"

"What are we?"

His fingers stopped.

The room suddenly felt quieter.

I waited.

I thought maybe he would smile.

Maybe he'd finally tell me that he felt the same way.

Maybe he'd say the words I had secretly been waiting to hear.

Instead, he laughed.

Not loudly.

Just a small, uncomfortable laugh.

"Why do we have to be anything?"

I felt something sink inside me.

I wanted to ask him what that meant.

I wanted to ask where I stood.

I wanted to know if he saw a future with me.

But I was scared of the answer.

So I laughed too.

I pretended it didn't hurt.

I changed the subject.

And that night, I went home knowing something I didn't want to admit.

I wanted a relationship.

He wanted whatever this was.

And I was already too emotionally attached to walk away.

11/09/2026

CHAPTER TWO

ALMOST SOMETHING

Debo texted me the next morning.

"Had fun last night. Let's do it again sometime."

I smiled when I saw the message.

I didn't know then that "sometime" would become the next weekend.

Then the weekend after that.

Then almost every week.

Before long, Debo wasn't just someone I had met at a bar.

He had become part of my routine.

He called me at strange hours.

He sent me random messages during the day.

Sometimes, we'd talk until one of us fell asleep.

I started looking forward to his name appearing on my phone.

I started telling my friends about him.

Not that he was my boyfriend.

He wasn't.

Not that we were dating.

We never called it that.

I simply said,
"I'm seeing someone."

And somehow, that felt safer.

Because saying anything more would mean admitting that I was beginning to care.

We never discussed labels.

We never discussed the future.

We just kept spending time together.

And I convinced myself that was enough.

I told myself I didn't need a title.

I told myself I wasn't expecting anything.

I told myself I was enjoying the moment.

But feelings have a way of growing quietly.

You don't always notice them happening.

Until one day, you realize you're already attached.

And that's exactly what happened to me.

I was falling for Debo.

I just hadn't admitted it yet.

11/09/2026

CHAPTER ONE

THE BEGINNING OF NOTHING

I met Debo on a Thursday night.

It was raining.

The kind of rain that makes you want to stay indoors and forget the outside world exists.

That was exactly what I had planned to do.
Stay home.

Watch a show I'd already watched twice.

Eat something.

Go to bed.

But somehow, I ended up at a small bar with a friend.

And that's where I saw him.

Debo.

He wasn't the kind of man I usually noticed.

Actually, he was almost the opposite.

He was too confident.

Too relaxed.

Too comfortable in his own skin.

He walked into a room like he already knew everyone would notice him.

And somehow...

I noticed him too.

We started talking.

One conversation became another.

Then another.

Hours passed without either of us noticing.

We laughed about stupid things.

We talked about our lives.

We even started making jokes that weren't funny enough to deserve the laughter we gave them.

But we laughed anyway.

When I finally got home that night, I found myself thinking about him.

I smiled.

Then I caught myself smiling.

I remember thinking,

"He's nice."

Nothing more.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I had no idea that one night would become the beginning of something I would spend months trying to understand.

10/09/2026

I never thought I would become the woman who desperately wanted to escape her own marriage.

But here I am.

I am a woman in my late twenties, currently living abroad.

And sometimes I still cannot believe how my life turned out.

I grew up in a very complicated family.

From the outside, we looked fine.

My parents worked hard.

We had food.

We had a roof over our heads.

They made sure my brother and I had what we needed.

But inside our home, things were very different.

There were constant arguments.

Shouting.

Insults.

Sometimes things became physical.

My brother and I were often caught in the middle.

I also grew up struggling with my confidence.

I was always the bigger child.

My mother made comments about my body from a very young age.

She compared me to things that made me feel ashamed of myself.

I learned very early that sometimes the people who are supposed to make you feel safe can also be the people who hurt you the most.

Eventually, my parents separated.

And our family slowly fell apart.

My relationship with my mother became strained.

My relationship with my brother disappeared completely.

Then I made what I now consider one of the biggest decisions of my life.

I got married.

I met my husband through someone close to me.

At the time, I believed I had found someone I could build a life with.

He told me so many things about himself.

His plans.

His finances.

His family.

His past.

His future.

I believed him.

There were things I was unsure about before the wedding.

I even considered walking away.

But people around me kept telling me I was overthinking.

I was told that marriage required patience.

I was told that I would regret giving up.

So I went ahead.

After the wedding, I started discovering things.

One lie became another.

Then another.

The person I thought I had married was slowly becoming someone I barely recognized.

At one point, I gave him an opportunity to tell me everything.

I asked him directly if there was anything else I needed to know.

He told me no.

He said he had already been completely honest with me.

He hadn't.

That was when something inside me changed.

I stopped trying to convince myself that everything would eventually be fine.

I stopped making excuses for him.

And I started thinking about leaving.

We eventually became separated.

He is currently living in another country, while I am living abroad.

I have already stopped the process that would have allowed him to join me.

I also made the decision to end the marriage.

But getting divorced has not been simple.

I don't trust him.

And I don't feel comfortable travelling back to my home country just to deal with the situation.

There is also the financial side.

I support myself.

I have school.

Bills.

Everyday expenses.

And right now, travelling simply isn't something I can afford.

The person who originally encouraged the marriage keeps telling me to reconsider.

I hear things like:

"What will people say?"

"Marriage is for better or worse."

"Don't throw your marriage away."

But I keep asking myself one question.

What about my life?

How long am I supposed to stay trapped in something that has already taken so much from me?

I am not trying to punish anyone.

I just want closure.

I want to legally end this marriage.

I want to heal.

And I want to build a life that actually feels like mine.

So if anyone has been through something similar, especially someone who got married in one country while living in another, I would really appreciate advice.

How did you handle the divorce?

Did you manage to do everything without travelling back?

And how did you find a trustworthy lawyer?

I don't want revenge.

I don't want drama.

I just want to close this chapter of my life and finally move forward.

10/09/2026

I love my parents.

I really do.

They mean a lot to me.

They have been there for me.
They have supported me.

But I also have to be honest with myself.

My parents abused me.

Especially my dad.

They are not physically abusive anymore.

They have calmed down with age.

But the verbal abuse is still there.

And honestly?

The things that happened to me as a child still haunt me.

My dad used to beat me badly.

And I don't mean the occasional spanking.

I mean serious beatings.

I remember having bruises.

I remember having a blood vessel burst in my eye after one of the beatings.

And the reason?

Sometimes it was over things that were so small.

Things that didn't deserve that kind of reaction.

I remember one time I was beaten because I didn't finish my yogurt.

My yogurt.

There were so many other incidents like that.

Things that made absolutely no sense to me.

My mum also did something I still remember.

She spat in my face once.

Even now, I think about some of these memories and wonder how I was supposed to just forget them.

I am 21 now.

And because I can't stay in my college dorm anymore, I'm living with my parents again.

Being back home has brought a lot of those memories back.

And I don't know what to do with all of it.

People sometimes say:

"But they're your parents."

"You should be grateful."

"They have done so much for you."

And I understand that.

I know they have done good things for me.

I know they love me.

I know I love them.

But does that mean I have to pretend the bad things never happened?

I don't think so.

Part of me wants to sit down with my dad and finally talk about everything.

I want him to know what those experiences did to me.

But I'm scared.

What if he doesn't take me seriously?

What if he gets angry?

What if he denies everything?

What if he turns it around and makes me feel like I'm the problem?

I honestly don't know.

I also don't know if I can forgive them.

Maybe forgiveness will come one day.

Maybe it won't.

Right now, I'm just trying to understand what happened to me and how it still affects me.

When I eventually move out, I think I want to keep my distance.

Maybe even go low contact.

Not because I hate my parents.

I don't.

I just think I may need to love them from a distance.

And there is one thing I know for sure.

If I ever have children, I don't want to repeat what was done to me.

I don't want to believe that hurting a child is how you teach them right from wrong.

I want my children to feel safe with me.

I want them to be able to make mistakes without being terrified of me.

I want to break that cycle.

So, I'm asking people who have been through something similar:

How did you deal with the trauma?

Did you ever heal?

Did you forgive your parents?

Did you confront them?

Or did you simply create distance and move on?

Because I still love my parents.

But I'm learning that loving someone doesn't mean I have to forget what they did to me.

10/09/2026

I WAS CALLED AN AGGRESSIVE WOMAN FOR FIGHTING FOR MY MOTHER.

I have always known my family had problems.

But what happened recently made me realise just how much my mother has suffered.

My father assaulted her.

This wasn't the first time.

It had happened before.

There had been years of emotional, verbal and financial abuse.

But this time was different.

My mother was badly hurt.

My younger siblings were terrified.

And I kept thinking...

He could have killed her.

We went to the hospital.

My mother needed a medical report.

She needed documentation of what had happened.

One doctor listened to her.

She encouraged my mother to leave for her safety.

But then we met another doctor.

And I honestly couldn't believe what I heard.

Instead of focusing on my mother's safety, he called it a “domestic matter.”

He suggested that my parents should simply go home and make peace.

He questioned why I wanted the report.

He even suggested that my father may have had reasons for what he did.

He talked about my mother's behaviour.

He talked about her “provoking” him.

But nobody seemed interested in asking the woman sitting right there:

“Are you okay?”

I couldn't stay quiet.

I argued for my mother.

I insisted that she deserved the medical report.

Eventually, he agreed to write it.

But then he called me an “aggressive woman.”

He even asked how anyone would marry me.

And I thought...

If standing up for my mother makes me aggressive,

then so be it.

I have heard people tell women to stay in abusive marriages.

“Stay for the children.”

“Think about your family.”

“Forgive him.”

“Who will marry your children if you leave?”

But what happens when staying puts the woman in danger?

What happens when forgiveness becomes another excuse for the abuse to continue?

I have watched my mother worry about what people will say.

While other people worry about saving her marriage.

That broke something inside me.

I also remember a man I once spoke to telling me I wasn't “wife material.”

Why?

Because I disagreed with him about something.

He was wrong.

But he insisted he was right.

When he eventually realised his mistake, he told me that a good woman should keep quiet when her man is wrong.

I actually laughed.

Because if being “wife material” means keeping quiet while suffering...

Then I don't want that title.

I would rather remain single than spend my life pretending everything is fine just to protect someone's ego.

Nigerian women have carried too much for too long.

And one thing I know for sure is this:

Never tell an abused woman to stay just to protect a marriage.

A marriage can be rebuilt.

A family can heal.

But a life cannot be replaced.

What do you think?

09/09/2026

I NEVER THOUGHT MY HUSBAND WOULD SAY THIS ABOUT OUR DAUGHTER.

I've been with my husband for many years.

We have one daughter.

She is a teenager now.

And for most of her life, her dad was her best friend.

They were incredibly close.

He was always there for her.

Until she told us she was dating a girl.

At first, we both supported her.

We told her we loved her.

Nothing had changed.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

Then she went to stay with her grandmother for a few days.

That evening, I received a furious phone call.

My mother-in-law was angry.

She told me to come and get my daughter immediately.

She said my daughter was a bad influence on her cousin.

She even called her “contagious.”

My daughter came home crying.

She told me her grandmother had yelled at her.

She couldn't understand why someone who was supposed to love her suddenly treated her like she was something to be ashamed of.

I was furious.

When my husband came home, he comforted her.

He apologised for his mother's behaviour.

We talked about it.

And together, we decided to cut contact with his mother.

He told me he would do anything to protect our daughter.

I believed him.

Then everything changed.

Over the next few days, my husband became distant with our daughter.

But strangely, he became much more persistent about having another baby.

At first, I didn't understand why.

Then I asked him.

And he finally told me the truth.

He had been talking to his mother.

A lot.

She had convinced him that our daughter was somehow not his daughter “spiritually.”

He told me he believed God wouldn't give him a child who would upset his mother.

Then he said he wanted another child.

I was stunned.

But what he said next completely broke me.

He admitted he had considered secretly interfering with contraception to make me pregnant without my consent.

I couldn't believe the man standing in front of me.

This was my husband.

The father of my child.

The man I had trusted for years.

I asked him one question.

“What is our daughter to you?”

His answer destroyed something inside me.

He said she was his biological daughter.

But not his “spiritual daughter.”

He said that meant something to him.

But apparently, not enough.

I couldn't look at him the same way after that.

I took my daughter to stay with my parents.

Right now, I'm trying to decide what happens next.

Part of me thinks I should try to save our marriage.

We have spent so many years together.

But another part of me keeps thinking about my daughter.

How can I trust a man who suddenly sees his own child differently because of who she loves?

How can I leave my daughter alone with him and pretend everything is fine?

And how can I bring his family back into her life after what happened?

I'm heartbroken.

I'm angry.

And I'm scared of making the wrong decision.

But one thing keeps coming back to me.

My daughter didn't change.

The way her father sees her did.

If you were in my position, would you try to save the marriage, or would you choose to walk away?

09/09/2026

APPARENTLY, OWNING A BUSINESS MAKES ME RICH.

At least that's what my family seems to think.

My cousin is getting married next month

And somehow, without anyone actually asking me, my family has already decided that I should pay for part of the wedding.

I own a small cafe.

That's all they know.

They see customers coming in.

They see the busy days.

They see the money going through the till.

And apparently, they think that means I have money sitting around waiting to pay for everyone's celebrations.

My aunt has already hinted about the catering twice.

The second time, she said:

“You can just take it from the business.”

I smiled.

But inside, I was furious.

Because she made it sound like taking money from my business was the same as taking money from my pocket.

What she doesn't see is everything happening behind the scenes.

Payroll.

Suppliers.

Equipment repairs.

Bills.

Taxes.

Unexpected expenses.

And the constant pressure of keeping a business alive.

I want to help my cousin.

I really do.

But there's a difference between choosing to be generous and being treated like you're obligated to pay because you own a business.

And now I'm wondering what will happen when I finally say no.

Because I already know how family gatherings work.

Someone will talk.

Someone will say I'm selfish.

Someone will say, “But she can afford it.”

And suddenly, I'll be the villain for refusing to spend money that isn't actually theirs to claim.

Would you pay for part of the wedding just to keep peace in the family?

Or would you make it clear that your business is not the family's bank account?

Please kindly follow, like and share for more interesting stories.

09/09/2026

My aunt showed up at my house with her newborn baby. I refused to congratulate her. Am I the bad lady?

My mother’s youngest sister came to my house yesterday.

She was holding her newborn baby.

I looked her dead in the eye, and I didn't say a word.

I didn’t say “congratulations.”

I didn’t gush over the baby.

I gave her absolutely nothing.

And honestly? I do not feel bad about it at all.

People in my family are furious with me right now.

They keep saying "family comes first" and that I should forget the past.

But they don't know the hell this woman put me through.

For years, my own mother sponsored this woman.

My mom financially supported her and carried her on her back.

But instead of being grateful, my aunt became entitled and toxic.

This woman has never once wished me a happy birthday in my entire life.

She doesn’t even know what day I was born.

She has never made a single effort to have a relationship with me.

But suddenly, because she pushed out a baby, I’m expected to be a loving niece?

A few years ago, we used to live in the same neighborhood.

She would literally walk into my house whenever she felt like it.

She treated my home like it belonged to her.

She was extremely nosy and had absolutely zero boundaries.

She made my life a living hell for SIX straight years.

I am not going to fake affection for someone just because we share the same DNA.

I have absolutely nothing against the baby.

The baby is completely innocent.

But having a newborn does not magically erase years of awful behavior.

It doesn't erase the entitlement.

It doesn't erase how she used my mother for money.

If you treat me like I don’t matter for years, do not expect me to celebrate you now.

Was I being a little petty? Probably.

Do I regret it? Not even a little bit.

My family says I am cold-hearted for ignoring a newborn mother.

I say I am just matching her energy.

Am I the bad person for refusing to fake being happy for someone who never cared about me?

Or was I right to stand my ground?

Please give me your honest thoughts in the comments, I need to know if I'm crazy.

08/09/2026

THE STRANGE BLUE DIARY IN MY NEW APARTMENT
I moved into my new apartment exactly two weeks ago.
The rent was incredibly cheap.

Almost too cheap for this part of town.But I needed a place fast, so I didn't ask questions.

While cleaning the back of the master closet, I found a loose floorboard.Underneath it was a small, dusty blue notebook.

It looked like a diary.Out of curiosity, I opened it.

The first page had a date written at the top.It was yesterday's date.Underneath, in messy black ink, it read:"He will buy the apartment today. He wears a red jacket.

He thinks he got a good deal. He has no idea."My stomach dropped.I was wearing a red jacket the day I signed the lease.I shook it off, thinking the landlord was playing a sick prank on me.

I flipped to the next page. It had today's date."He spent the afternoon cleaning the kitchen. At 4:15 PM, he will find this diary.

He will think it’s a prank. But then, he will hear the three knocks on the bathroom mirror."I stared at the page.

My hands began to shake.I slowly looked down at my phone screen to check the time.It was exactly 4:14 PM.

As the clock clicked over to 4:15 PM, a heavy, deliberate sound echoed from down the hallway.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

It came directly from inside the bathroom. I am sitting on my living room couch right now writing this.

The bathroom door is wide open, but the lights are off. I am too terrified to move, but I can see the next page of the diary from here.

Tomorrow’s date is written on it.And the first sentence says: "He shouldn't have looked behind him.

What do I do? Do I pack my bags and run, or do I turn around? Please advise me, I am losing my mind.

The Soft Story Room

11/09/2026

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