27/04/2026
I always thought I was the smartest man in our estate, until a ten-minute car ride proved I was the biggest mumu living and breathing in Lagos.
It was raining heavily that Tuesday morning. I was driving my black Prado out of the estate gates, heading to the island for a board meeting, when I saw a woman standing under the small security canopy, frantically waving for a lift.
I recognized her vaguely. She was the talkative woman who recently moved into Zone C. Feeling generous, I wound down and told her to hop in.
"Ah, God bless you, my brother!" she exclaimed, shaking her wet umbrella before pulling the door shut.
"This Lagos rain does not have respect. Thank you so much."
"No problem, Madam," I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. "Where are you heading?"
"Just drop me at the expressway junction. I will find a cab to Ikeja from there."
For the first five minutes, it was quiet. But you see, talkative people have an allergy to silence.
Before we even hit the main road, she had started complaining about the estate management, the security fee, and eventually, the estate gossip.
"You know, this our estate is full of fake people," she started, laughing out loud. "Especially the married ones. My brother, if you see the things happening behind closed doors, you will fear women!"
"Is that so?" I smiled politely, indulging her.
"Ah! There is this particular one that is sweeting my body to talk about," she slapped her hands together.
"There is this man in Zone B. A very wealthy man, always wearing corporate. He thinks he is a big boy, but his wife has turned him into a complete f00l. A pure bingo!"
I chuckled. "How do you mean?"
"The man's wife is my customer. I supply her those Dubai gold chains she sells online. My brother, this woman is heavily ch.eating on her husband right under his nose!"
"Wow," I shook my head, navigating a pothole.
"Some women are fearless. How is she doing it?"
"That is the mad part!" the woman squealed, adjusting her seatbelt.
"The wife told her husband that her younger brother from the village got admission into UNILAG and needed a place to stay. The husband, being a good Samaritan, cleared out their BQ and furnished it for the 'brother'."
My hands suddenly gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.
"The boy is not her brother o!" she screamed with laughter.
"The boy is her long-time l0ver! A 24-year-old fitness trainer. Every morning, immediately the husband drives out to work, the wife goes straight to the Boys Quarters. They will lock door and be doing their thing while the husband is in traffic!"
My heart stopped beating. I couldn't breathe.
I live in Zone B.
I drive a black Prado.
My wife, Cynthia, sells Dubai gold jewelry online.
And three months ago, I spent two million naira renovating my Boys Quarters so Cynthia’s "younger brother," Chuks, could stay there while attending UNILAG.
My head started spinning. I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead despite the AC blasting in the car.
"Wait," I managed to choke out, trying to keep my voice steady. "Are you sure about this? Maybe it's just a rumor."
"Rumor ke?!" she hissed dismissively.
"Cynthia showed me the boy's picture! Tall, dark, with a wicked tribal mark on his left shoulder. She even bought him a Rolex last week with the husband's money!
She said the husband is a workaholic who doesn't even touch her at night because he is always tired. So the 'brother' is doing the night shift!"
Chuks had a tribal mark on his left shoulder.
Cynthia had asked me for money last week for "business expansion."
I slammed on the brakes so hard the car screeched, throwing the woman forward against her seatbelt.
We were just approaching the expressway.
"Ah! My brother, what is it?!" she panicked.
"Get out," I whispered, my voice trembling with a dark, rage.
"Eh? We have not reached the junction—"
"I SAID GET OUT OF MY CAR!" I thundered, my eyes bl00dshot.
Trembling, the woman practically threw herself out of the vehicle into the rain.
I didn't even wait for her to close the door properly before I slammed my foot on the accelerator, doing a dangerous, illegal U-turn right in the middle of the road.
I didn't care about the board meeting. I didn't care about the traffic.
I drove back to the estate like a madman, my bl00d boiling with a deadly kind of heat.
When I reached my compound, I parked the car two houses away so they wouldn't hear my engine.
I walked through the rain, unlocked my pedestrian gate without a sound, and stepped into the compound.
The main house was quiet.
I walked slowly towards the BQ at the back. As I got closer, I could hear the faint sound of music playing inside.
Then, I heard it. A soft, unmistakable moan coming from my wife.
I stood in the rain, staring at the handle of the BQ door. I reached into my pocket and brought out my licensed gl0ck, completely disabling the safety.
I took a deep breath, kicked the door wide open, and raised the w.eapon, ready to end everything.
But the sight waiting for me on that b.ed instantly paralyzed me, making the g.un slip right out of my hand.
The gossipy woman was wrong. Terribly wrong about everything else.
It wasn't just a 24-year-old fitness trainer.
I saw a large heavy man pomp!NG my wife from b£h!ND, He was Cheif Olabode my Landlord.
Chuks her lover and three other men were also busy with my wife
🔥WHAT DO YOU THINK I SHOULD DO NPW?
🔥IF YOU WERE IN MY SHOES WHAT WILL YOU DO?
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