07/03/2026
If Professor Dumbe had known what would happen between him and the new maid the day his wife travelled, he might have cancelled that trip himself.
“I said no female maid in this house again o!” Professor Dumbe said, tugging on his tie like the conversation was strangling him more than the fabric. “The last one only knew how to sleep and eat chicken like she was on a paid vacation. Not once did that lazy girl wash my car well if I had emergencies and couldn't use the car wash”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, arms folded like a typical African woman raised on palm oil and proverbs. “And who exactly does the maid help in this house, eh? You or me? I’m the one running between lectures and kitchen. I need help. Not a car-washer!”
Prof hissed and slumped into the chair like a defeated man. “So it’s now a crime to want a male maid that can help a brother with car-washing once in a while. These car wash boys dey use spiritual soap. I don’t trust them again. Even my lovely wife don fall for their jazz...mtchew.”
"No problem..." she retorted.
"Just make sure say na ugly girl like the last one o, I do not want a maid that is a husband snatcher o", Prof teased.
“You better trust yourself,” Evelyn fired back with a grin. “Because if they bring one fine girl and you even wink, just small wink, I swear on my PhD certificate, I will cut off that your psychological instrument between your legs.”
“Jesus!” Prof gasped, laughing hard. “Just kill me direct, Evelyn. No need for amputation!”
They both burst into laughter.
“But seriously,” he added, lowering his voice, “tell your sister that looks is not a criteria... do not reject a good girl just because they’re not fine by your standards. I overheard you saying, ‘Haba, sister, I tell you say we dey find masquerade wen we go take act Bollywood movie?’ regarding the girl she brought last week. I saw her and there was nothing wrong with her looks. She looked like a good girl too. And with our food and care, she will glow, please.”
Evelyn snorted. “Did I lie? Did that ugly girl not look like your great-grand-uncle that we attended the burial last weekend?" She bent her mouth to mimic her looks.
“But it’s the ugly ones that are safe,” Prof said, wagging a finger. “Fine girls? Hmm. They’re built to scatter homes o.”
“I trust my husband,” Evelyn said sweetly, drawing close. “Besides, I know where your scissors is.” Then she got close and beat him until Prof took to his heels. "Person no fit play with em wife again?" he teased again when he was off her playful grip.
Their laughter filled the house like music. That was the Dumbe family: secure, happy, full of friendly banter and mutual respect. Prof Dumbe was a world-renowned psychologist, his wife a respected lecturer with her own PhD. Both were from Ukwuani, raising two beautiful daughters, Dumebi and Chiamaka, in peace.
Then… Ugochi came.
Evelyn’s younger sister called one evening. “There’s this girl—very fine, very neat, speaks like Holy Mary. She was in the convent but they expelled her.”
“Why?” Evelyn asked, suspicious.
“She caught some girls… touching themselves.”
“Jesu.”
“Yes o. And instead of being grateful, those ones framed her with a fake love letter. Said she was trying to lure another girl. Wickedness!”
Evelyn didn’t blink. “Bring her. Sharp-sharp.”
Ugochi arrived with nothing but a small bag, sad eyes, and the kind of beauty that would make a bishop call for deliverance. Even Professor Dumbe, who barely noticed anyone not wearing a lab coat, blinked twice.
“That’s the maid? Are you sure your parents didn’t have another girl years after you and you didn't know?” he asked, staring. Ugochi was beautiful like Dr Evelyn and they had a resemblance that fitted family trait. But Ugochi was not related to her. Ugochi's parents are Abians.
Evelyn beamed. “A fine girl that can scrub bathroom like she’s on a mission. I don hammer!”
Ugochi blended into the home like Oron crayfish in Ikwerre native soup. The daughters adored her. Evelyn treated her more like a younger sister than a maid. She was neat, cheerful, prayerful—almost too good to be true.
As for Prof, he hardly saw her. Always flying from Kyoto to Abuja to Port Harcourt for union meetings and international seminars. Sometimes he barely remembered what she looked like. Until…
That evening.
He returned from a surprise seminar abroad. No warning. Just tired, jet-lagged, and needing rest.
That same morning, Evelyn had called.
“Baby, I’ve been invited to Ondo as external examiner for project defence. I’ll be back in three days. Ugochi’s around, don’t worry.”
So it was just him.
And her.
Alone in the house.
Ugochi had just finished folding laundry in the sitting room and was carrying it to Prof’s room. It was raining heavily—thunder shaking the roof like political promises. She wore only a wrapper tied above her chest and an old tank top, thinking she was home alone. The girls were at school. Madam was away.
Just as she rounded the hallway into Prof’s room, lightning flashed—and she cowered in fear andcbumped straight into a hard chest with her own full chest!
Towels scattered. Her wrapper loosened.
“Jesus!” she gasped, stepping back after a brief hesitation.
Prof caught her by the arms, holding her steady.
“Ugochi?” he said, surprised. His voice was low, hoarse from travel. “What… what are you wearing?”
Their eyes locked.
She didn’t speak. Her breath was shallow. His was louder. The rain drummed above like war.
His hands were still on her arms. Her skin~ soft. Cold. Trembling.
“Oga…” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“I just came in. Wanted to rest small…”
Silence.
She bent to pick the towels, but her wrapper slipped more, exposing her shoulder. He turned his face away immediately.
“Ugochi… please cover yourself,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said softly, retying the wrapper. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s not you,” he said, voice rough. “It’s… the moment. I shouldn’t have held you.”
She dropped to her knees suddenly. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He looked at her, kneeling in apology. Head bowed. Face flushed. So young. So beautiful. So close.
“Get up,” he said quietly, unable to meet her eyes.
She rose. Their eyes met one last time~and lingered.
Then she turned and left, heart pounding.
But even as she walked away, she could still feel his breath on her shoulder. How did that strong handsome man become a Prof so soon? Aren't they supposed to be old and weak? She wanted to turn and catch one last glimpse of him, but she had a strong feeling he was still standing there by the door and watching.
And he? Yess, he still stood there motionless for a while and he could still smell her lavender soap.
The rain continued falling, tempting, unrelenting.
Upstairs, Prof sat on the edge of his bed, hands clenched, staring into nothing.
His heartbeat wasn’t slowing down. The urge to sin had never been stronger. His gaze fell on the Bible on the stool he always kept beside his bed. Lord, have mercy...
(To be continued…)
The Episodic Series
"Prof Dumbe's Diaries: Inside Prof's House"
Episode1
Aku, Uche Henry Jr~ The Celebrity Private School Teacher
