TellsbyArtss

12/08/2026

At 11:47 p.m., Amara received a voice note from her mother.

“Baby, I know you’re busy. I just wanted to hear your voice. Call me when you can.”

Amara listened to it, smiled, and said, “Tomorrow, Mama.”

But tomorrow never came.

The next morning, her phone rang.

Her mother was gone.

For three days, Amara couldn’t bring herself to play that voice note again.

Then, on the fourth night, she finally pressed play.

Her mother’s tired voice filled the room.

“Baby… don’t forget to eat. And please, don’t work too hard. I’m proud of you.”

Amara broke down.

She realized something painful:

She had spent years chasing money, success, and a better life…

while the woman who gave her everything was only asking for five minutes of her time.

She would have given every naira she had just to hear that voice say, “Baby” one more time.

Sometimes, the people we keep postponing are the people we won’t have forever.

Call them.

Visit them.

Tell them you love them.

Tomorrow is not promised. ❤️

30/07/2026

The Rich Man Who Was Buried With Empty Hands

Elias Thorne built an empire from nothing. Steel mills, shipping lines, a bank with his name carved above the door. He worked through birthdays, through his wife’s illness, through his son’s wedding — always one more deal, one more million. People stopped inviting him to things. Eventually they stopped noticing when he didn’t come.

He died alone in his big house, found by the only person who still came around: Marta, the cleaner who’d dusted his shelves for thirty years while he barked into phones and waved her off.

At the funeral, the pews were full of business partners in good suits, checking their watches. A little girl — a groundskeeper’s daughter, there because her father couldn’t find a sitter — tugged her mother’s sleeve and asked, loud enough for the front row to hear:

“If he was so rich, why didn’t he take anything with him?”

Nobody answered. Nobody could.

The will was read a week later. The company, the house, the accounts — all of it went not to a nephew or a rival or a charity gala’s favorite cause, but to Marta. A note was attached, in his handwriting, dated years back:

“You’re the only one who ever put things back where they belonged. I never learned how. Consider this me, finally trying.”

Marta didn’t buy a mansion. She fixed the roof on the house she’d rented for twenty years, put her grandson through school, and kept cleaning other people’s homes on Tuesdays — because, she said, sitting still all day felt like a kind of dying she wasn’t ready for.

The little girl’s question outlived him. People still ask it, at other funerals, about other men. It’s usually the only honest thing said all day.

30/07/2026

14/07/2026

At what level should someone finally believe that they have really made it in life. 👇

There isn’t a universal point where someone can objectively say, “I’ve made it.” It depends on what they value. That said, many people feel they’ve truly “made it” when they’ve achieved several of these at the same time:

* They can consistently pay their bills and live comfortably without constant financial stress.
* They have savings and investments that provide security for unexpected events.
* They have the freedom to choose how they spend their time, rather than being forced into every decision by money.
* They have meaningful relationships with family and friends.
* They’re healthy or able to care for their health.
* They feel fulfilled by their work, business, or purpose.
* They have peace of mind and aren’t constantly chasing validation from others.
Tell me your opinion.

14/07/2026

After the burial, Emeka quietly stays in the village.

13/07/2026

Hours later, a doctor walked into the waiting room.

“Family of Mr. Joseph?”

Amara jumped to her feet.

“He’s awake.”

Her knees nearly gave way with relief.

She rushed into the room.

There he was.

Weak.

Tired.

But smiling.

“My sunshine…”

He opened his arms.

Amara hugged him carefully, crying harder than she ever had before.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I listened to every single one.”

Pa Joseph gently wiped the tears from her face.

“I knew you would.”

“You were just taking the long road.”

11/07/2026

10/07/2026

“I thought happiness was somewhere else.”

10/07/2026

Story Summary

Maya, a fun-loving 21-year-old Gen Z woman, is tired of caring for her elderly father, David, who is recovering from a stroke. One evening, despite his pleas for her to stay because he feels unwell, she chooses to attend a party with her friends instead. Left alone, David collapses while trying to get his medicine during a heavy rainstorm, unable to reach his phone for help. In the middle of the party, Maya receives an urgent call from a neighbor and rushes home, only to find her father being taken away in an ambulance. Overcome with guilt, she stays by his side throughout his recovery. Weeks later, she helps him learn to walk again, realizing that true happiness isn’t found in parties or popularity, but in loving and caring for the people who have always loved her. The story ends with a powerful reminder: don’t wait until regret teaches the lesson that love was trying to teach all along.