Ela's Magnet

15/09/2025

Vows Across Oceans

Part 5 – The Decision And The Return

The snow outside Chidi’s window had begun to melt. Spring was coming, but inside him it still felt like winter. He had finished his exams, submitted his final project, and received his results — top grades. Yet instead of joy, a dull ache filled him.

Marie had been talking more and more about permanent residence. She had even shown him forms and offered to “make things official” between them.

That night Chidi couldn’t sleep. He scrolled through photos of Ngozi and the children, their last birthday, the note his son had written: “Daddy please come home.” He realised he was at a crossroads. Stay and lose his family forever, or go home and face his shame.
By morning he had made his decision. He told Marie softly, “I’m going back to my wife and children.” Her face fell; she said nothing more.

Chidi booked his flight with his last savings. Before leaving Canada he sent out job applications using his new qualification and excellent grades. He knew his company in Nigeria had already cancelled his contract because he had overstayed his study leave. He would be returning jobless, but at least he would be honest.

When he walked out of the arrival hall at Lagos airport, the hot air hit his face like a slap. He looked around. His younger brother was waiting; Ngozi was not. “She’s angry,” his brother said quietly. “She’s at Mama’s.” Chidi nodded. He had expected this.

At home the children ran into his arms. They were taller now, their voices deeper. But Ngozi stayed away. She sent only a short message: ‘I need time.’ Chidi sat alone that night, the degree certificate on the table, feeling as if he had nothing.

Two days later he drove to her mother’s house. Ngozi refused to come out. Her mother said gently, “She feels betrayed. Give her space.” Chidi sat in his car and cried. He had chosen his family, but they were not yet his.

He did not give up. He paid the children’s school fees, fixed the leaking roof, and stayed away from old friends. He called their pastor, uncles, and a few mutual friends. Together they went to Ngozi’s parents’ house one Saturday morning. Chidi knelt on the tiled veranda, eyes wet. “I failed you,” he said. “I failed the children. Please forgive me.” He told everything — the loneliness, the affair, the promises of permanent residence, his weakness. Each word felt like a wound, but he spoke them all.

For a long time Ngozi stood at the doorway, her face blank. Then she turned and went inside. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Not now.”

Chidi went home alone again. But he did not stop showing up. He took the children to school, prayed aloud at night, and tried to rebuild trust with small actions. He knew it would take time.

Three weeks later Ngozi’s mother called him. “Come this evening,” she said. “She wants to talk.”

In the living room Ngozi sat with folded arms. Her eyes were red. “If I come back, will you leave us again?” she asked. Chidi shook his head. “Never,” he said. “If I must go abroad again, we will all go together.” He promised in front of both families. It was a small opening, but it was enough. Slowly, Ngozi moved back home. She still cried at night, but a new tenderness began to grow.

Then, one morning less than a month after his return, an email arrived. It was from a Canadian company he had applied to before leaving. They wanted him for a senior position — with a salary he had never dreamed of. The offer included relocation support, but only for him. He would have to raise extra money to take his family along.

Chidi stared at the screen. The old temptation stirred — he could go first, settle, then send for them later. But he looked at Ngozi and the children eating breakfast. He remembered his promise. “This time,” he told himself, “we go together or not at all.”

He sold his car and a small plot of land. Friends helped. Ngozi’s brother lent him some savings. Together they raised enough to cover visas and tickets for the whole family.

On the day they went to submit their papers, Ngozi held his hand. “I’m scared,” she said. Chidi squeezed it gently. “I am too. But we will be together.”

A Note to Couples Living Apart

Living apart can stretch a marriage to breaking point. Success abroad is not worth losing the people you love. If distance is unavoidable, talk often and honestly, set clear plans for visits, and keep your boundaries strong. Protect your family as fiercely as you chase opportunities — so that when the doors finally open, you can walk through them together.

14/09/2025

💫 Heyyy fam! Welcome to Ela’s Magnet 💫

You made it to my little corner of the internet 🎉💃🏾
Here, we vibe over juicy stories, real-life gist, love talk and everything in-between.

Think of it as a cosy hangout where you’ll laugh, feel, learn and maybe even shout “wow!” a few times 😅💌

In less than a month we’ve completed a 3-part story, we’re already heading into the last part of a 5-part series, dropped an ebook on Selar 💥 and watched our community grow from under 400 organic followers to what it is today.

🌟 Thank you! 🌟
Every comment, share, and like from you has powered this growth.

I’m truly grateful for your support and can’t wait to keep creating stories and moments you’ll love. 🫶🏾

Grab a seat, get comfy and let’s enjoy this ride together — we’re just getting started! 🚀

12/09/2025

Vows Across Oceans

Part 4: The Betrayal

The message from Marie — “Are you okay?” — still glowed on Chidi’s phone long after he had put it down. That night he did not call Ngozi or the children. Instead he stared at the ceiling until dawn, torn between guilt and a strange excitement he could not name.

Days became weeks. Chidi’s routine changed quietly. He started spending more time with Marie outside class — study sessions at the library turned into late dinners, walks along the frozen river, weekend trips to the big market. She helped him buy a proper winter coat. He helped her cook jollof rice for the first time. Small jokes became private ones.

One evening, after they finished a presentation and celebrated with drinks, the line between them disappeared. He kissed her. She kissed him back. In that moment the distance from home felt like another life.

At first he told himself it was an accident. But the next time came easier, then again. The affair moved from shy touches to nights in her apartment. Marie talked more openly about her cousin in immigration, about jobs he could apply for, about how she could “help him stay.” Her words were a net around his future. Chidi found himself dreaming of a life in Canada without the fear of his visa ending.

Back in Nigeria, the signs of abandonment began to show. The monthly transfers that had been steady at first started to shrink. Ngozi called, confused. “Is everything okay? School fees are due.”
Chidi gave excuses — delayed allowance, unexpected bills, new course fees. Each call left her feeling more alone. She started picking up extra shifts at school, sewing clothes at night to make ends meet. The children began asking why Daddy didn’t video call anymore. She told them he was “busy with exams.”

The silence became heavier. Friends at church whispered. “Are you sure everything is alright?” one asked. Another showed Ngozi a photo from social media: Chidi at a school event, Marie beside him, their faces close, laughing. It was a harmless picture on the surface, but the warmth between them was unmistakable. Ngozi’s heart dropped. She saved the photo but said nothing.

Chidi noticed the change in her voice during their few calls. She spoke less, answered slowly. When she asked direct questions — “Are you seeing someone?” — he laughed it off. “You know how people talk.” But his voice no longer had the same warmth. After hanging up, guilt clawed at him, but he buried it under Marie’s soft words and the promises of a future he thought he deserved.

He began sending fewer messages. He stopped checking the family WhatsApp group as often. Photos of his children’s school awards went unread.

Marie filled the empty spaces of his days. She invited him to meet her friends, took him ice skating, showed him parts of the city he had never seen. With her, Canada no longer felt like exile. It felt like a beginning.

But the cracks widened. One evening Chidi came home to a voice note from his younger brother: “Brother, is everything alright? People are saying things… please call me.” He deleted it without listening to the end.

Another day he opened Facebook to see a comment under a picture of him and Marie: “You both look great together!” He quickly changed his privacy settings, but the damage had been done. Word had reached home.

Ngozi’s calls became sharper. “You’re changing, Chidi. Even your children can feel it. What’s happening?” “I told you, I’m under pressure,” he said, his voice flat. “Stop making me feel worse.”
But inside he felt himself drifting further away, carried by a current he no longer tried to fight.

He stopped sending money for the children’s extracurricular lessons. He sent smaller amounts for food and bills, blaming exchange rates. Ngozi began borrowing from friends. In the evenings she lay awake, staring at the photo of Chidi and Marie on her phone. The betrayal was not yet proven, but her heart already knew.

Meanwhile, Marie’s talk of permanent residence grew more detailed. She explained the paperwork, the timelines, the advantages of having a Canadian partner. “With me, you’d have a stable future here,” she said one night as they lay in her apartment. “No more uncertainty.” Chidi listened, torn between relief and dread. Each promise from her was a step further from the family he had once sworn to protect.

By the tenth month the distance between Chidi and home had become a canyon. He no longer felt sure how to cross it. He told himself he would explain everything later, after exams, after his visa, after… something. But he never set a date.

One Sunday afternoon, as he and Marie walked hand in hand through a crowded winter festival, a Nigerian student from his university stopped him. “Bro, how far? Your wife will soon come now?” The student’s eyes flicked to Marie and back. Chidi forced a laugh. “She’s busy with the kids,” he said, then walked away quickly. His hands were sweating inside his gloves.

That night, as he lay in Marie’s bed, his phone buzzed again and again. Messages from Ngozi, his brother, his mother. He turned it face down. Marie reached for him, whispering about the future. But in his chest something heavy was building — a storm he knew was about to break.

Part 5, the last loading...

09/09/2025

Vows Across Oceans

Part 3: The Temptation

Eight months had passed since Chidi left Nigeria. The excitement of travelling abroad had faded. The clean streets and punctual buses no longer amazed him. His small allowance from the company was just enough for rent and food in a tiny basement flat he shared with another student. Most evenings he returned to an empty room, eating noodles and scrolling through photos of Ngozi and the children until sleep came.

His days were long and cold. He went to lectures in the morning, then to a part-time job in the evening to earn extra money. By the time he got back home, Nigeria was already asleep. Missed calls and unanswered messages blinked on his phone. At first he promised himself he would call later; soon he stopped promising.

During a group project he met Marie, a French-Canadian classmate. She was calm under pressure and quick with ideas. She often stayed behind to explain things he didn’t understand and showed him how to use the school library better. At first Chidi tried to keep his distance, but her kindness was like a warm light in the cold winter.

One night after class she handed him a paper cup of hot coffee. “You look frozen,” she said with a smile. He breathed in the sweet smell.
“You must miss home.” He nodded, throat tight. They walked to the bus stop together, steam rising from their drinks. For the first time in months he felt a little less lonely.

Their friendship grew. Marie showed him a cheap store for winter boots, an African shop far across town, and a 24-hour library. She never laughed at his accent or mistakes. She asked about his culture and listened to his stories. Chidi began to look forward to seeing her after lectures.

Back home, Ngozi was stretched thin. She taught part-time and sold fabrics at the market to keep up with rent and school fees. She tried not to complain, but Chidi could hear the tiredness in her voice. It made him feel helpless. He started avoiding her calls when he had no good news to share.

One afternoon in a café Marie spoke more directly. “My cousin works with immigration,” she said, stirring her tea. “For students like you, there are ways to stay after your programme — especially if someone here supports you.”
She said it lightly, but her eyes stayed on him. Chidi’s heart beat fast. He thought of the bond with his company back home, the unpaid leave, the uncertain job waiting. The idea of a stable life here, a real salary, a chance to bring his family later, glowed like an open door.

Their messages became more personal. They shared jokes, small fears, bits of their daily lives. He began staying later with her after class. One night outside the library, snow falling gently around them, she reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away. Warmth flowed through his gloves and into his chest, mixed with guilt.

At night Chidi lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Ngozi’s messages blinked on his phone: “We miss you.” “Please call.” He typed replies, erased them. The more he thought of home, the more distant it felt. He told himself it was only friendship, only help, only survival. But he knew the line between comfort and betrayal was already fading.

One Sunday he missed a video call with the children. When he opened WhatsApp later he saw a photo Ngozi had sent: the kids holding a “Happy Birthday Daddy” sign they had drawn with crayons. His chest ached. He dropped the phone on the bed and sat for a long time in the dark. At that same moment Marie’s message popped up: “Are you okay?”

Chidi stared at the two messages — one from home, one from here. His heart pounded. Two worlds were calling him, but he could not answer both.

What he chose next could change all their lives forever…

Part 4 loading...

06/09/2025

Part 2: The Distance

For the first two months in Canada, everything went according to plan.
Chidi’s WhatsApp calls came almost every evening, no matter how late. The children would crowd around Ngozi’s phone in the sitting room, shouting, “Daddy! Daddy!” He would show them the snow through the video camera, hold up his lecture notes, and promise to send pictures of his first presentation.

The small allowance from the company arrived on schedule. He even managed to send a little extra home in December for Christmas clothes.

Ngozi held the home together as best she could. She rose at 5 a.m. to prepare the children for school, left for her accounting job at 7:30, and returned in the evening to supervise homework, cook, and handle the endless bills.

Her younger sister helped with after-school pickup, but the weight of single parenting still pressed on her shoulders. In quiet moments she missed Chidi so much it hurts. She prayed constantly for his protection and for the months to pass quickly.

Then, little shifts began.

By the third month, Chidi’s calls grew shorter. Sometimes he would text instead, claiming assignments or group meetings. “You know the time difference,” he’d say.

The small allowance began arriving a few days late, then a week. Ngozi brushed it off at first — maybe the bank, maybe the company’s payroll. But when Chioma’s school fees came due in April, she had to dip into her own small savings to pay.

When they did talk, Chidi sounded distracted. He spoke more about how expensive everything was, how classmates were getting part-time jobs, how he felt isolated. “This place is different,” he said. “You have to hustle to survive.”

He posted photos on social media with classmates at cultural events. Ngozi commented with heart emojis, but sometimes the replies took days.

At home, life began to feel like a balancing act. The generator broke down one rainy night. The rent reminder came earlier than expected. Ngozi’s colleagues at the school whispered about her “enjoying” because her husband was abroad.

She started coming home later, too tired to cook; the children ate bread and tea. In the evenings, she would sit on the balcony staring at her phone, waiting for Chidi’s call, sometimes falling asleep with the phone in her hand.

By the sixth month, the calls had dwindled to once or twice a week. “Sorry, babe, I’m swamped,” Chidi would say. “You know this course is intense.” He sounded tired but also strangely upbeat, dropping new names she didn’t recognise — “Marie from my project team,” “Liam from the lab.”

His allowance stopped arriving entirely in July. “I’m sorting some issues with the bank,” he claimed. Ngozi borrowed from a cooperative at work to cover the children’s next term fees.

In church, she kept up appearances, smiling when people asked about “our Canada man.” But at night she knelt by her bed, tears falling onto the bedsheet, whispering prayers that the husband who had left her with promises would not forget his home.

And far away, Chidi stood at the edge of something he had not planned — a life that was beginning to pull him away from everything he had left behind.

One cold evening, a chance encounter after class sets off a chain of events he never planned for...

Watch out for Part 3!!!

04/09/2025

Before You Say ‘Yes’… Read This! 👇🏻

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03/09/2025

Vows Across Oceans

Part 1: The Departure

The email arrived on a humid Tuesday afternoon. Chidi sat at his desk in Victoria Island, staring at the subject line: “Approval of Overseas Study Sponsorship.” His heart pounded as he opened it. It was real.
After years of trying, the company had finally chosen him for a one-year master’s programme in Canada. Tuition, visa fees and airfare would be paid by the company. But there was a catch: he would be on unpaid study leave, with only a modest monthly allowance abroad to cover his living expenses.

He leaned back and whispered a prayer. This was the door he had prayed for since his NYSC days — a chance to gain an international degree, move up the ladder, and give his family a better future. But it also meant leaving them behind and living on a tighter budget.

That evening at their Surulere flat, the aroma of fried plantain and stew filled the kitchen as Ngozi stood by the stove. Their two children, Chioma (8) and Ebuka (5), were bent over their homework at the dining table. Chidi came in waving his phone. “Ngozi! They approved it!” She turned, spatula still in hand. “You’re serious?” He showed her the email. She screamed, hugged him, pepper oil staining his shirt. The children ran over, laughing because Mummy was crying and laughing at the same time.

Later, after the children slept, they sat on the balcony with the hum of generators in the background, doing sums in a notebook. Ngozi worked as an assistant accountant at a private school nearby — just enough to help with household bills. She worried aloud about managing school fees, rent, and feeding alone. Chidi squeezed her hands. “It’s only one year,” he said. “We’ll budget carefully. The company will send me a small allowance monthly. You’ll manage here, I’ll manage there. When I return, we’ll be better off.”

The next weeks were a blur of preparations. Chidi applied for the formal unpaid study leave so his job would still be there on his return. He queued at immigration for passport renewal, visited the embassy for visa interviews, opened a domiciliary account for the company’s allowances. He also travelled home to Anambra to inform his parents.

Under the mango tree in the compound, his father, a retired teacher, and his mother, a market trader, listened with pride and worry. “Remember your home, Chidi,” his mother said. “Don’t forget your wife and children.” His siblings gathered round, joking about bringing them ‘Canadian snow’ when he returned. Chidi promised Sunday phone calls after church.

Back in Lagos, colleagues held a small send-off lunch. At church, the pastor prayed over him and spoke of open doors. Family friends pressed envelopes into his hand for “journey mercy.” Ngozi arranged for her younger sister to help with the children after school.

On the morning of his flight, the family rose before dawn. Ngozi dressed the children in neat clothes; Chioma carried a hand-drawn “Bye Daddy” card. At the airport, amid the chaos of trolleys and announcements, Chidi hugged his children tight. “Be good for Mummy,” he said, kissing their heads. Ngozi stood a little apart, eyes glistening. She had taken casual leave from work to see him off.

Chidi squeezed her hands. “It’s just one year, my love. When I come back, we’ll finish the house in Mowe and change the car. Everything will be better.” She tried to smile but her voice caught. “Call us when you land,” she whispered. They prayed quickly, then the boarding call came.

As Chidi walked toward the departure gate, the weight of two worlds pressed on his chest — excitement for the future, and the ache of leaving everything familiar. He glanced back one last time at Ngozi and the children waving, Chioma’s card held high. He raised his hand, a promise shining in his eyes. For him, it was the beginning of a dream. For Ngozi, it was the start of a long wait.

But...
They said distance makes the heart grow fonder… but what if it only makes the heart wander?

Watch out for Part 2!!!

01/09/2025

You guys are the real MVPs! 🥳

Thanks for rocking with me through all 3 parts of Sandra's Journey.

The love has been mad! 💕

Guess what? Another hot story is loading… 🔥 Stay close, it’s dropping soon!

26/11/2024

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18/11/2024

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18/11/2024

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31/10/2024

buddies

It's always been said that on social media, content is king and engagement is queen, right? But lemme ask, if you do not have followers or people who see and engage on your contents, what next?

Reminiscing on this fact inspired this thank you post this afternoon.

To all my followers, friends and cheerleaders, thank you for connecting with me on this blue app.

I have got lots of customers here too who patronize my business(es), I value you all so much.

Everyday as the tides change, we change or improve on the things we do here, yet you still stick with us, thank you so much.

Have you been having low engagement on your own contents? Engage more on other people's contents and watch the algorithm do its job.

This way, we will all achieve every of our sincerest desires in the hustle ministry🙏

I am Ela Chinwe, your colleague in the game of life.