theheartsdiary

Ada met Femi at a youth camp in Ibadan. It was a rainy August evening. The campfire was crackling, praise songs were rising, and everyone was in a spiritual high. Femi stood out not because he was loud or showy, but because he was calm. Grounded. Mysterious. He played the drums with such focus and intensity, it was like he worshipped with every beat. Ada noticed him from across the fire. Later that night, while the campers shared testimonies and roasted corn, Femi approached her. “You sing beautifully,” he said, his voice soft and sure. Ada blushed. “Thank you.” That was the beginning. They exchanged numbers, and from that point on, they were inseparable. He would call her every night for prayers. Send her daily devotionals. Even when she was tired, he’d remind her, “Let’s not sleep without talking to God.” In less than a year, he became her spiritual partner, her emotional rock, her everything. So when Femi asked her to be his girlfriend during a youth vigil in front of the wh...

Amaka had just returned from choir rehearsal. It was 7:45 PM, and the streetlights flickered on and off like lazy eyes refusing to stay awake. She unlocked her gate and noticed a small sack beside the flower pot. She almost ignored it — Lagos is full of strange things. But something about the way it twitched made her stop. She bent down and slowly untied it. Her heart stopped. A baby. A tiny baby wrapped in a faded Ankara cloth, eyes barely open, mouth moving silently. Amaka screamed. Her neighbor, Mama Blessing, rushed out. Together they took the baby inside. It was only then Amaka saw the note: "He is your husband’s son. You don’t know me, but he does. Please take care of him." Her hands trembled. Chike, her husband, was in Port Harcourt for a work trip. She called him. No answer. She sent a photo of the note. Still nothing. The baby cried. Amaka cried too. By morning, Chike returned. He stood at the door, eyes red, face blank. "Who is she?" Amaka asked. "I d...

Tola and Bisola were inseparable. From their very first day in nursery school, they clung to each other like they were born sisters. They walked to school together, shared lunch, copied homework, and even wore matching ribbons. Everyone called them the "twins who shared no blood." They were more than best friends — they were a lifetime bond. But the one thing they never thought they’d have to share… was a man. It all started in SS2. Bisola developed a quiet crush on Jide — the soft-spoken boy who played keyboard in church. He wasn't the loud, popular type. He didn’t play football like the others. But when he touched the keys, his fingers whispered melodies that made hearts dance. Bisola never told him. She’d just sit on the front row in church, smiling shyly, clutching her hymnbook like a secret. She would pray about him, daydream during prep, and write his name in the margins of her notebooks. Tola knew. She could see it in the way Bisola’s eyes lit up when Jide walked i...