𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟭
I swear I didn’t blink. She dropped the towel and said,
“I forgot my panties here.”
But let’s rewind, before you judge me.
My name is Chuka. I'm 34, single, and surviving Lagos one annoying family member at a time.
Last month, my younger brother Dayo called me with that voice he only uses when he's about to ruin my life.
“Bro, abeg… can I stay with you for a while? Just a few weeks. Me and Sandra need a break from our current place.”
I hesitated. Dayo is a good guy, but Sandra? That woman is a walking disruption.
Sharp tongue. Hot body. And this attitude that screams, “Try me and lose your life.”
But hey, family is family.
They moved in the next day.
Biggest mistake of my adult life.
From the moment Sandra entered my flat, my peace started malfunctioning.
She wore only bum shorts to cook.
Sang loudly in the shower.
And somehow, all her bras stopped working, because her nipples had now become a daily broadcast.
I tried to behave.
But the devil didn’t give me room.
Two days in, Dayo resumed working night shifts. Sandra? She stayed home.
With me.
Every. Single. Day.
One Thursday morning, I came out to grab cereal and found her doing yoga in the living room.
Tight leggings. No bra. Downward dog.
I dropped the cornflakes.
She looked back, smirked, and said,
“Good morning, Chuka. Didn’t hear you come in.”
I didn’t reply.
I just turned and walked back into my room, convinced that Jesus must be testing me for promotion.
That same evening, she knocked on my door.
“Can I charge my phone in your room? Ours isn’t working.”
She walked in before I could answer, phone in one hand, a suspiciously short towel in the other.
I turned away.
She sat on my bed like she owned it.
“Are you scared of me, Chuka?”
I laughed nervously.
“No. Just trying to respect boundaries.”
She stood up and walked over.
Then she said the line that completely scrambled my sanity.
“Boundaries are meant to be tested. Don’t you agree?”
I didn’t say a word.
I just got up and left the room like I was fleeing from Sodom and Gomorrah.
For the next four days, I avoided her.
I stayed at the office longer than I should.
Ate outside.
Slept with my door locked, and my sanity barely hanging by a thread.
But Sandra wasn’t done.
She doubled her efforts.
Wore see-through nightgowns to the kitchen.
“Forgot” her towel after bathing, three times.
Once, I returned from work and found her on my bed watching a movie.
Dayo was at work.
She looked at me like she’d been expecting me.
“Yours is the only room with working AC,” she said.
I didn’t argue.
I went straight to the guest room, slept with one eye open, and woke up with ten mosquito bites and a stomach full of regret.
But last Friday was the day everything exploded.
I had just finished a Zoom meeting.
My door opened, without knocking.
Sandra walked in, wearing nothing but a white towel and her usual smirk.
I froze.
She didn’t say anything.
She walked over to my closet, opened it, and pulled out a tiny black thong.
“I forgot my panties here,” she said casually.
Then she dropped the towel.
I saw things I’m not supposed to see.
Then she turned slowly, walked to the door, and whispered,
“Don’t worry… your secret is safe with me.”
She left me standing there, heart pounding, mouth open, and temptation screaming at full volume.
I didn’t know what to do.
Confess to Dayo?
Kick them out?
Or pack my own things and disappear?
I chose none.
I just sat in the corner and cried small tears of frustration.
The next morning, Dayo called.
“Bro, I’m working overtime this weekend. Sandra will be home alone, just so you know.”
I nearly screamed.
I decided I would not stay a second longer in that house.
I began packing my bags.
But Sandra? She noticed.
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
I nodded, hoping she’d back off.
Instead, she walked close and said,
“I was starting to like the attention.”
I felt the blood leave my legs.
“Sandra, please,” I said.
She leaned in.
“You know what I think? I think you’re scared of me.”
I stepped back. My wall blocked the rest.
She placed her hand on my chest.
My heart was thumping like a generator on fuel scarcity.
“Have you never thought about it?” she asked.
“Thought about what?” I whispered.
She smiled.
“About how it would feel…”
Then the front door slammed.
My brother was back.
An hour early.
I swear my soul jumped.
Sandra turned to me and said calmly,
“Better fix your face. You look guilty.”
She walked out like nothing happened.
I stood frozen for ten minutes.
Later that night, I overheard them arguing.
Something about trust.
I heard her scream,
“Your brother has been acting weird since I moved in!”
Then I heard Dayo say,
“I hope he’s not attracted to you or something.”
Silence.
Then Sandra replied,
“I wouldn’t blame him if he was.”
I nearly fainted.
Now Dayo is watching me like a hawk.
Sandra? She keeps pushing.
And me?
I just found a used condom under the couch.
It’s not mine.
Dayo uses a different brand.
And we haven’t had visitors in three weeks.
So the question is...
𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺… 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘄𝗵𝗼?
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