Had Lagos been a fashion style, it would be chic, always looking smart and striking. The city is up-to-date and voguish with close-fitting polished design that are pretty tasteful. Lagos is always on the go. There's something about the city that is thrilling. Had her freedom not been stolen from her, she would have sightsaw every corner of the city and find its secrets. Lagosians have an ecstasy in their blood that puts a spring in their steps and keeps them going no matter what. There's no room for sluggishness in Lagos. Perhaps, there's something in the atmosphere or land or in the water that makes it adventurous and perilous. Yet, no matter what happens, it won't collapse.

Abuja would be the sophisticated fashion style. Everything is at best quality. It shrouds a garment that presents a statement on the class and cultured approach. Most of its inhabitants are people of higher status. The affluent standard of living of Nigerian politicians and their families are displayed. On the exterior, she is perfection. Everyone's awed by her breath taking appearance unaware of the imperfection she hides beneath. But if you should look well, through the carefully masked fissure, you will find out she is not as polished as she appears to be. The city is like an ajebo, spoilt rich kid, who does not know the real deal about life. It's the kind of place for relaxation, away from one's busy life style.

Lagos is for everyone, the poor, the middle class and the rich. It accommodates them because it can cater for them. There is a rush in the air, an invisible force that keeps it moving. Beneath everything is an underlining fear for nothing is impossible on Lagos' streets. The traffic jam in Lagos is an everyday thing a Lagosians must get used to. Its roads are narrow, congested, scattered with hawkers and mendicants of different kinds. Abuja is easy going. You can take your time in carrying out your business and still get a good result at the end of the day. The roads in Abuja are wide, much less crowded, cleaner and free. She realised in Abuja, she can visits ten places in one day without fear of getting stuck in traffic jam. But, Abuja is not for everyone. You can only enjoy the city if you are loaded in the pocket. Despite the differences, she still loves Lagos. Had she not been looking for a quiet life, she would have stayed in Lagos.

Haseenah's had finally gotten used to her new life as a widow and an orphan. It's amusing and relaxing. A life she knew she has control of. There's no one telling her what to do and what not to do. Besides, she's meeting new people. Her so called family had not tried to reach out to her. They actually do not care about where she has ran to in the world. They do not mind if she's dead. She is sure of it; that no one cares enough to look for her. There was a time the realisation would have hurt her, twisted her gut like she has a knife in it but now, she does not feel the unbearable pain in her chest any more. The world made her this way. The life she lived moulded her into something she never thought she would be, heartless and cold. But she had been a victim. A victim of every form of abuse, of someone's slander, people's spiteful gaze, their disdain and of cold nights she wept alone nearly ending her own life for it had no meaning. She found out she could give meaning to her life by erasing the life they had chosen for her and create a new one for herself. A life where she's loved and accepted, where she will find inner peace. There's no need to wake up in the morning, dreading the day that was yet to begin. There had been days she tried to close her eyes so hard, just hoping that when she wakes, it will all be a dream, a nightmare.

Ahmad's mother is sticking her nose where she shouldn't. She should be mourning her son's death but she's so keen on knowing why Ahmad transferred all his properties to his wife. That wife had not even bore him a child. Four years of marriage and there was nothing to show from it. The woman smells foul play. But then everyone had tried to make her understand that Ahmad and his wife were so much in love. It was what they should all have expected. Haseenah scoffed. Love? She never knew what that word meant when she was with Ahmad. It does exists. She's sure it was what she felt for him. Her feelings were true, unrestricted but what had she gotten from it? Pain! Haseenah yawned, slouching in the couch. Why can't they just let her be? They share no relationship any longer. She has severed all her old relationships except the one she shares with Lola, the one she trusts and knows will keep her secret. A man in his right senses will not transfer all his property into his wife's name, the woman had claimed. He can give her something but not all of it. Ahmad's mother was right. Ahmad was not in his right senses. He had not been in the right state of mind. In fact, he was under the influence of a drug she had put in his drink. He had been drowsy, uttering incoherent words when she handed the pen to him and told him to sign. And it was that wealth she enjoys very well. After years of pain, anger and suffering, it was the best thing she could have. His wealth was the consolation she needed, a compensation he gave without knowing. The woman had not ended there. She said Haseenah had to complete her Iddah to confirm she is not carrying her son's child. Haseenah laughed. A child? That's so impossible. She had ensured that did not happen. The woman just have to dream on and keep waiting.

Soon, she will leave Nigeria to study in England. She got admission into a university of her choice, a selection she made with no objection from anyone. She had no idea freedom could be as sweet as honey. She feels like a child tasting ice-cream for the first time. That sweet tang, the way it melts against one's tongue tickling one's senses just want the child to keep licking. Decisions were made for her. She had no say in her life. In England, she would make a good life for herself. Her inheritance from her husband will be of great help and she has plans to make use of it wisely. She will flee and ensure she's never found. She will explore her freedom, fly as wide as the sky above her would take her. The places she had only dreamt to be would be discovered. Most importantly, she will find love and accept it when it is offered to her. Just because Ahmad had not given her love does not mean she has lost hope in finding love. She knows she will. She can feel it. That man who is meant for her is somewhere waiting for her and she will walk into his open arms when he offers them to her.

Her eyes flew to the wall clock. Two hours to her outing. A new friend she made, Laila, the youngest of her husband's wives, a socialite, has invited her to some party at one of Abuja's exquisite lounges. She met Laila at a restaurant. The place was so busy that all the seats were occupied. She ordered her meal and searched for a place to eat when she noticed the chair opposite Laila was empty. She walked up to her, greeted her and asked if she could join her since there were no empty seat. Laila accepted whole heartedly. From there, they became friends. Lailah became her tour guide. The lady had ensured she took her around Abuja; visiting five star restaurants and lounges, introducing her to friends in the high society, shopping from exclusive boutiques and stores, attending parties of influential people, weddings that were known to be one of the most expensive in Nigeria where the guest speaks about nothing more than their last trip to Dubai, USA, UK, Germany, amongst the few mentioned countries, the amount of their jewelleries, the carat of their gold, designers of their dresses, shoes and bag, their high prices, and she exposed her to the competitive life of the rich. Almost everyone wanted to be the best of the best, ride the latest car, use the latest gadgets, throw the best and most expensive party, be the talk amongst others and be known as the number one in the high society. It is kind of exhausting yet she liked it. It kept her busy.

Ahmad had not given her the chance to relate with people at those events they attended. He ensured she was always by his side, never out of his reach. Many viewed it as just been in love and with the need of not wanting to be part. Haseenah rolled her eyes. They should have all looked deeper and saw the sham in their acts. They should have all seen the bruises under her caked up face. But then, she crossed her legs, straightening her back, it is all in the past. The future is bright. Her future is. She is still twenty four, young, healthy and energetic so she can still make everything right and live without regrets and she got great plans to do just that.

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Home has become a place Aunty Dammy looks forward to going to. The once gloomy atmosphere is satiated with cheerfulness. There's laughter in the walls. Love immersed in the air. Joy in those who live in it. She has found a place of comfort and safety where her bad day at work is forgotten at the sight of her children's face. Her children? Aunty Dammy grinned, her heart leaping in her chest. Those words had felt foreign on her tongue. Now, she has gotten so used to them that she does not cringe any longer when they leave her lips. Instead, her lips curls into a very wide beam. She can easily slip those words into a sentence while having a conversation with anyone. There's positive energy in everyone including the youngest of her children, Mope. Her eldest, Tumi, a lively child, cheerful and enjoyable to be with. She prays she grows up to be like that. Tumi warms the heart of those she meets. Who would have thought that beneath that quiet personality was a highly spirited child, curious and outspoken?

Tumi is friends with Tunde's youngest child, Dorothy. They attend the same school, are age mates and classmates. The girls are always together at school and Tumi won't stop telling her about their adventures when she gets home. They spend most of their weekends together. Aunty Dammy is more time conscious than she used to be. She wakes early to supervise and help the nanny when she prepares, Tumi and Rawlings, her second child, for schools. She's there when the maid cooks and serves their breakfast and lunch. And when she does not have to be in work early, she drives them to school but they have a driver, along with the nanny who drop them at school. Mope is yet to start school but once in a while when she's less busy, she home school her. At least, she's talking and her words are almost audible.

Every evening during the week, she helps them with their assignments. It is a way to spend time with them, get to know their IQ, where they are lacking and what they are good at and how and where they needed to improve. The only problem was Tumi is not academically bright as she appears to be. So, she hired a lesson teacher who comes thrice in a week and there have been gradual improvement since then. But Rawlings is the brightest of the three. He's doing well in all his subjects and his teacher keep complimenting him. Despite he joined late, he caught up easily. The only time she's not entirely happy is when they call her Aunty. She had complained to Tanwa who told her they needed time. Time is all it takes before they get used to her and start to call her mum and she won't expect it.

What filled her with euphoria was the acceptance of her family members except her mother. Everyone wants to spend the weekend with her children. They come over just to see how they are faring, trying to be the best family the children will ever have and helping them to settle down. Lola who takes her nieces and nephews out came over one weekend along with Michelle to take the kids out. They came back that night with so many stories about how their day went. Her father had requested for the children to visit him soon against her mother's agreement. Everyone has been very supportive and their happiness for her new found love blew her mind.

She had taught, the adoption of the three children would shut people up and finally allow them to mind their own business but some people cannot do without gossip. She had been at a friend's grandchild's birthday party. Ronke, forty-four years of age, is already a grandmother. She birthed her eldest child when she was eighteen. Her eldest child is married and her grandson has just turned three. The party was thrown at his grandmother's multi-million dollar house in Lekki. Married to an affluent politician, Ronke lived an affluent lifestyle.

That was where she met them, Ebun, and Wasilat. She knew them. They were friends to Ronke. The women exchanged pleasantries amidst laughter and few conversation. Ebun, who knew her so well, asked about her children. Wasilat appeared confused as Aunty Dammy replied. Just as she turned to greet the man who called out for her, Wasilat whispered. "When did she put to bed? Was she pregnant?"

"She did not give birth o. She adopted children. I am so happy for her. After all these years, she found a way out. If you see how she treats them eh, like she gave birth to them." Ebun replied.

"Did her husband like the idea?"

"Husband? Which husband?" Ebun hissed. "The one that divorced her. I heard he was sterile but hid it from her and accepted the pregnancies his mistress pinned on him just to save his face from the society. He wasted fifteen years of her precious life. Do you know how many kids she would have had? I think his mother knew."

"Ah! Men! Very wicked souls!" It was all she could eavesdrop before Ronke called her over.

Leke and Anita got married. It was a private event in Tennessee, on a yacht, the latest owned by Leke. It ended up becoming a gift to his new wife. Their pictures flooded instagram and many bloggers reposted it. Leke mother had been there. She had been joyous and smiling in all the pictures and videos that surfaced online. That witch! The customised wedding dress Anita wore had no fitting. She looked like a pregnant hippopotamus in it. Tanwa's words not hers. No negative emotion had rippled through her as she watched every picture and video. It made her realise, she has actually moved on from that life, from Leke and it brought joy to her. Tanwa and she, along with two other loyal friends had sat in her gazebo, flute of champagne in hand as they blethered and laughed. Life, at that moment, has never felt any better.

Then one evening, she came back from a friend's father's seventieth birthday party to find Mope duller than she should have been. The nanny, Madam Tee, complained that the child did nothing more than sleep, barely ate, cried and was cranky all day long. She allowed no one to carry her except Mama. It was the first time Mope called her that. Her joy knew no bound as she cried as she did all she could to make the kid sleep that night, getting little sleep herself. Those tears were tears of joy. By midnight, Mope has gotten worse. She rushed to the hospital with the help of Tanwa's eldest child, Junior, who drove. Just as they waited in the reception for the doctor, a pregnant woman was rolled in on a stretcher. Her screams filled the A and E, alerting everyone and annoying her because her sleeping baby woke up with a cry. She stood, patting Mope back to sleep, her curiosity made her look at the woman. It was Anita who wriggled, groaned from pain and cried in the stretcher. Leke rushed right next to her, his hand held hers. The shirt he wore had a big tear like someone ripped it apart. Can she ever stop crossing path with these people? She exhaled, petting her toddler to sleep. Just as she rolled her eyes then progressed to sit down, Leke's bothered eyes met hers. On impulse, she held her youngest closer to her chest. Just in time, the nurse called out for them.

Anita lost the child. It came out as a stillborn. A part of her celebrated for reasons known to her and another reached out for Anita, mourned for her, felt her pain for she was a woman, a mother. Motherhood, even though it came late, has not been easy. She has not only herself to think about but three little ones who rely solely on her, who trusts her and expects her to protects them. Her thoughts constantly wavers to them each time she's away from them. Most times at night, she checks on them to ensure they slept right, cover them up if they are not and ensure they are alright. There are a lot to learn. These kids, who she has not birthed brought light and laughter into her life. Shamed those who told her she would never be a mother, those who rebuked her and rubbed her misery on her face.

Every woman deserves to be a mother as long as it is a choice she makes. Be it through natural birth, in-vitro fertilization, surrogacy, caesarean section, adoption or whatever good way they can have kids. No woman should be deprived the joy of motherhood. Leke robbed her of it but had not been successful. Someone once said to her "karma, good or bad, will always pay us a visit." Leke cannot escape it. His karma will pay him a grand visit, dressed in the best attire, just to destroy all he has.

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Few hours to Esosa's chemotherapy one Friday afternoon, Osasere met an old school mate, Ayanti Johnson. The sun was glaring, baking her skin. She had rushed into Shoprite at Sangotedo to get some items that were needed at home before their hospital appointment. The Mercedes Benz Coupe parked next to her Range Rover had prevented her from getting into the car from her own side. Angry, mumbling how senseless people can be, she had turned to the other side to get into the car from there.

"Osasere!" A high pitched voice called.

She turned. "Ayanti!"

They screamed, embraced and said their pleasantries amidst laughter telling one another how good they looked. Ayanti left for Ireland immediately they graduated from university. She went looking for greener pasture. Ayanti was from a underprivileged family. Her father was a retired soldier and her mother was a level ten admin officer. They were not financially stable. Things were so hard for them but Ayanti had always wanted to live large, a life more than what she could afford. She wanted a life better than the one her parents had. There was so much hatred for that life where she would have to wait weeks before getting a certain amount she asked from them, that life where they could not pay her school fees, afford what she wanted and give her enough pocket money, where they could barely fend for their five children. She aimed high and went for it. She was one of those girls back at school who lied about who their father really was. They dress up in borrowed clothes or clothes bought on credit to look good and rich. They slayed well in those outfits and lived a fake life. There were sugar daddies funding their lifestyle. The whole thing had gone wrong when Ayanti had borrowed a dress to a party and had wooed the owner's boyfriend in that dress. The guy and Ayanti started talking after that party until things became heated between them. The girlfriend found out and had not taken it easy on her.

Osasere can still remember how the girl and her fellow rich friends had dragged Ayanti on the ground, beat her and tore her clothes until she was naked in the middle of the hostel. They poured a dustbin on her to remind her of where she came from. Osasere had felt pity for poor weeping Ayanti, had taken her into her room and offered her consolation. They became friends since then. Ayanti did not change her ways but she stayed away from her old friends and made new ones.