(PART 1) Millionaire Marries an Obese Woman as a Bet—But Is Surprised When...

In the bustling city of Lagos there lived four wealthy naughty friends who often gathered to have a drink and share stories. These friends—Leo, James, Lucas, and Tobi—were known for their wild games and silly dares. They were young, rich, and always in search of fun, which often involved outrageous bets they dared each other to complete.

On one warm evening, they were lounging at their favorite bar, a lively place right across the street from a busy bakery. People walked in and out of the bakery, buying freshly baked bread, while the friends laughed and talked about their recent bets. Tobi, the silliest of them all, was still proud of how he had won the last challenge Leo had dared him to flirt and sleep with a serious, no-nonsense secretary from Tobi’s church. Tobi eventually won the secretary over and slept with her. The boys laughed over this memory, with Tobi shaking his head, already plotting his revenge.

As they sipped their drinks, Tobi’s eyes wandered across the street and landed on a woman who looked nothing like the girls they usually noticed. She was standing behind a counter, wearing a simple, worn apron, carefully handing a loaf of bread to a customer. She looked round and plump, her face soft with a kind smile, but her clothes were plain, and she didn’t have the polished look of someone who moved in their circles. This was Sarah, a modest baker, who had no idea that she was being watched by four mischievous eyes across the street.

Tobi smirked and nudged Leo, pointing in Sarah’s direction. “See that woman over there? I bet you won’t be able to win her over. Marry her for six months, and I’ll pay for your entire wedding, honeymoon, and all your travel expenses for two years. What do you say?”

James and Lucas burst out laughing. James leaned in and said, “This is too far, Tobi. Leo can’t do this one! She’s nothing like the women he’s used to.”

But Leo was the kind of person who never backed down from a challenge. Mischief sparked in his eyes as he studied Sarah from afar. She was definitely different from anyone he’d dated—simple, plumped, grounded, and perhaps even shy. Something about the challenge stirred his curiosity. Without another word, he got up from his seat, left his drink behind, and walked across the street towards the bakery.

Inside the bakery, the warm smell of fresh bread filled the air. Sarah was busy serving customers when Leo walked in. His expensive clothes and confident air caught her attention, but she quickly looked away, not thinking too much of it. Leo cleared his throat as he approached the counter, giving her his best charming smile.

“Hello there,” he greeted smoothly. “Can I have a loaf of bread, please?”

Sarah looked at him, her eyes narrowing in slight suspicion, though she was polite. “Sure,” she said, handing him the loaf. Leo tried to make small talk, asking her name and telling her how he’d never tasted bread as fresh as hers. But Sarah kept her responses short and focused on her work. Unlike other women who would have been drawn to his charm and flashy clothes, she was unimpressed. This only made Leo more intrigued.

Leo left the bakery that evening with her contact number, but he knew he had his work cut out for him. Sarah was unlike any woman he’d met. She wasn’t swayed by his wealth or his confident smile, and that made the challenge even more exciting.

Over the next few days, Leo kept calling Sarah, arranging for dates and taking her out to fancy places. He showered her with gifts, bought her new clothes, and even took her to high-end restaurants. But Sarah was cautious. She had always worked hard for everything she had and was skeptical of people who tried to woo her with wealth. In her experience, people like Leo came and went quickly, never serious and never interested in the simple things that she held dear.

When Leo took her to a fancy dinner, she looked around at the crystal glasses and golden decorations with a small, nervous smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate nice things, but she felt like she didn’t quite belong. She noticed Leo’s wandering eyes every time a woman passed their table and even began to wonder if he was serious about her. Her cautious heart warned her to pull back before she got too attached to him.

One evening, after a luxurious dinner, Leo noticed that Sarah was growing quieter. She seemed uneasy, her thoughts distant, and her responses short. As they parted ways, she gently told him that she needed some time to think. Leo, who was always used to women fawning over him, was taken aback. For the first time, he felt a pang of fear that Sarah might slip away before he’d even had a chance to know her better.

James, Lucas, and Tobi laughed when they heard that Sarah had not fallen for Leo’s charm as easily as they’d expected.

In this Lagos ehn, anything can happen on a bus. Sometimes, God’s blessings come dressed as strangers sitting next to you, and that's why I say,

"Try dey gist with your fellow passenger once in a while. You never can tell when your miracle will come from."

Last week, after a long day at work, I joined the crowd of struggling Nigerians under the Ikeja bridge, waiting for a bus. The sky was already grumbling with thunder like it was about to vex and pour down rain. I knew I had to get home fast. My best shirt was drying outside, and my yeye brother wouldn’t even think of bringing it in for me.

"Ojuelegba, Stadium, Barracks, Costain!"

One conductor shouted as a danfo bus rattled to a stop. The bus looked like it had seen better days, but in that moment, who had time to inspect? The struggle to get in was like a war zone—office women, suited-up men, everyone shoving and pushing like it was a free-for-all. As expected, I got pushed aside, but a man in a clean white shirt and black trousers pulled me back and helped me secure the last seat in the front row.

"Thank you, sir," I said.

He looked at me and shook his head. "This is Lagos, my guy. You must be sharp. How you go just let women push you like that? No be man you be?"

I chuckled at his banter. "Oga, I strong o. I just dey respect..."

"Respect women, abi?" He interrupted, laughing. "You dey respect so tey dem don tear your shirt."

I looked down in shock. My shirt—the one my girlfriend bought for me—was ripped at the shoulder, my singlet peeking through. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, my phone buzzed with a text from my girlfriend.

"Baby, I’m sorry," the message read. "I’ve tried, but I don’t think there’s a future for us. Please take care of yourself. I’m done."

Imagine receiving that kind of message while you’re on a bus with a torn shirt. I couldn’t believe it. But before I could even process it, the bus made a sudden stop near Fadeyi. The conductor and driver got out, scratching their heads. It was obvious—the fuel had finished. Lagos struggle no dey tire person?

The man beside me turned and pulled out his phone, showing me pictures of sleek shirts on his Samsung Galaxy Fold. I blinked. This guy clearly wasn’t an average danfo passenger. Maybe he was working for a big man or something.

"These are some shirts my daughter is selling. You fit buy from her," he said.

I checked the prices. "59k for one shirt?" I laughed nervously. "Sir, that fit buy me wardrobe for Oshodi market now."

"Oh, I thought you said you strong man," he teased. "But, anyway, how much be your salary?"

"65k, sir," I replied, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Ha! Na wa o. And from that you still pay for transport?"

"Yes, sir. They give me 5k allowance."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "You be computer literate?"

"Yes, sir."

"BSc or HND?"

"HND."

"Good. There’s a spot open in my office, and I think you could fit in. Drop your Instagram handle; I’ll send you a message with my WhatsApp link. And, pick any five shirts you like. They’ll deliver them to your house tomorrow."

My eyes widened. Sharp guy that I am, I immediately opened Instagram and shared my handle. Seconds later, I saw his message. I checked his profile, and let’s just say, this man was not a small somebody. He had G-Wagon pictures, company events—you name it. Why was someone like this on a danfo?

As if reading my thoughts, he smiled.

"I know say you wan ask plenty questions. Just hold them. I have heard them before. I also sent my daughter’s contact too; she’s single, and well-behaved. By the way, what's your name?"

"My....my....my na...name is Akintomiwa Aromire, sir."

"I am Dr. Akeju. And I love to help young and vibrant youth like you."

"Are you single?"

There was no time to process my response.

"No sir, I am very single."

I was speechless. The driver couldn’t fix the bus, so I was standing there, just waiting, not even bothering to argue with the conductor. I saw the man talking on the phone. I decided to wait a little more.

"My driver is nearby. If you’re patient, he can give you a lift,"

he offered. I don’t know what came over me—I just went over and hugged him. Minutes later, his G-Wagon pulled up, and we cruised off.

Long story short, I now work as one of his assistants, 180k pay plus some unannounced training and transport allowance.

And just last night, I had dinner date with his daughter, Adesewa. Beautiful as the name sounds.

When your helper arrives, e go be like dream. Only you go just dey shout,

"Na wa o! My helper too do o!"

Good afternoon
My name is Aline and I am 28 years old. Today, I turn to you with a story that has broken my heart

It all began six months ago, on a night that seemed full of promises. I met Patrick at a party hosted by mutual friends. He was charismatic, with a smile that could melt anyone’s defenses. We started seeing each other secretly because he was a married man, and he didn’t want anyone to know. Despite this, I foolishly believed our love was special.

One evening, we were sitting in my living room, talking about dreams and life. Suddenly, my sister, Claire, came over unannounced. I was a bit nervous, but nothing prepared me for what would happen next.

"Patrick !" Claire gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

Patrick froze. The air around us thickened with tension.

"Claire?" he replied, clearly embarrassed.

"Do you two know each other?" I asked, feeling a knot of fear and sadness forming in my chest.

Claire lowered her eyes, unable to meet my gaze. Then she confessed, almost whispering, “Aline, I have to tell you something. Patrick and I... we’ve been seeing each other for two years.”

My world fell apart. I looked at Patrick, trying to process the crushing betrayal. How could he do this? Betray not only his wife, but also my sister and me?

I was in disbelief. Patrick tried to explain himself, stammering out excuses, but I could no longer hear him. My sister crumbled into tears, realizing the depth of her betrayal.

As I watched them leave, my heart shattered into pieces. How could my own sister do this to me? And Patrick, the man who promised to love me, how could he play with our lives?

Now, dear Auntie, I am left to pick up the fragments of my broken heart and my strained relationship with Claire. Trust is shattered, and every day feels like a battle against despair.

Thank you, Auntie Afriqmax, for hearing my story and sharing it so others might learn from my pain. Perhaps some will think twice before playing with the hearts and souls of their loved ones.

I don't think I will ever forgive my sister for betraying me this way!!! How could she be dating my man in secret?

I really do love Patrick and I hope he comes around

Good evening
Kindly permit me share my story with you, a story where destiny, morality, and love twist together in a stormy dance.

I was a l0st girl wandering through life, fatherless and raised by a brave mother who sold spices to fuel our dreams. With perseverance, I completed high school and was set for university. But money was scarce. I had to drop out to find a job and prepare for an entrance exam.

Alone in the city, my mother back in the village, I started selling grilled chicken with a sister. For a year, my days were filled with sweat and smoke, but every evening, a young man from my neighborhood, who managed an Orange Money stand and went to my school, comforted me. He would buy me lunch, and sometimes I'd send him chicken, building our budding love.

Then, fate played its cruelest card: my mother fell seriously ill, and my meager savings of 45,000 francs were not enough for the urgent surgery she needed. My boyfriend, caught up in preparing for his own exam, could only offer me 15,000 francs more like a drop in the ocean of despair.

Desperate, I agreed to meet a wealthy married man who had been pursuing me for a long time. My mother's advice could not stop me from telling him about my problem. He generously gave me 150,000 francs that night, but the price was spending the night with him in a hotel.

Thanks to him, my mother received the care she needed, and I continued this relationship, lulled by his constant attention. He funded my exam, and today, I am a teacher. Yet, my heart beats for my neighborhood guy, the one I dream of building a family with.

But the benefactor, the married man, wants me to become his second wife. He threatens to ru|n my life if I refuse. I am a Christian and I know he visits witch doctors who could destroy my life.

Please don't judge me. I was trapped. Every time I have to be with him, I drink beer to forget. I fear karma, but what should I do in the face of such threats?🥹

Will God forgive me?

Kindly advise me everyone

Just because you fit in doesn’t mean you’re meant to be there. I know that doesn’t ring a bell, but that’s it. Most life changing ideas aren’t going to meet you meet in every turn of the road. I am not saying this is going to be a life changing idea for you, but it could be depending on the level of meaning you choose to derive from it.

Let’s get into the meat of things straight away—many of us spend years doing work/things we’re comfortable at or even good at.

We show up, get the job done, maybe even earn some praise. We fit the role perfectly, or at least we think so. But there’s a difference between doing what fits and doing what fulfills.

Let’s be real, we’re often too quick to settle for comfort zones, those places where our skills are enough to get by. But ask yourself: is this where I truly come alive? Is this the work that taps into my potential or just a convenient landing spot?

Unfortunately, this is where the majority find themselves. I know that’s not you, but you at least know a couple of persons who are in that position right now.

It’s easy to confuse “fitting in” with finding purpose. But purpose calls for more. Sometimes it demands that we walk away from comfort into uncharted territory.

So, before you tell yourself, “I’m doing alright here,” consider if alright is what you were made for—or if there’s something greater calling you forward.

Until next time, keep striving to living your best life until you can perfectly connect the dots!

"I was taught that the way of progress was neither swift nor easy." – Marie Curie