Doki Doki

Read this story , like what will you do?

Amaka met Tunde on a rainy Lagos evening when her phone died and she needed hotspot.

“Excuse me, please… abeg, can I use your hotspot?” she asked.

Tunde smiled. “For you? I’ll even buy data.”

That was how it started — hotspot turned to late-night calls, calls turned to dates, and dates turned to love that felt like forever.

Tunde was intentional. Good morning texts. Food deliveries. Random transfers.

“Amaka, you’re my wife already,” he’d say.

And she believed him.

When Tunde lost his job, Amaka stood ten toes down. She sent money, paid his rent balance, even sold her gold chain to support his “business comeback.”

Her friends warned her.

“Make you calm down oh. Love no be blind like that.”

But Amaka was in deep.

Six months later, Tunde bounced back. New job. New car. New lifestyle.

But suddenly… new attitude.

Calls reduced. Replies became “busy.” Visits stopped.

One Friday night, Amaka decided to surprise him.

She cooked his favorite — jollof rice and peppered turkey — then went to his apartment unannounced.

She had his spare key.

She opened the door smiling…

…and froze. (Men will what again? )

Women’s heels by the couch.

Laughter from the bedroom.

Her heart started beating like talking drum.

She pushed the door open.

There was Tunde.

On the bed.

With her best friend — Sade oo

The same Sade who held her while she cried about Tunde’s job loss.

Silence filled the room like smoke.

Amaka dropped the food flask. Oil stained the tiles.

“Tunde…? Sade…?”

No one spoke.

Tunde finally said, “It’s not what you think—”

Amaka laughed. A painful, broken laugh.

“Is it hotspot you people are sharing too?”

Tears rolled down, but her voice hardened.

“I fed you when you were hungry. I funded your life. I defended you…”

She looked at Sade.

“And you? You were praying with me about this same man.”

Sade couldn’t lift her head.

Amaka nodded slowly, like someone who finally understood a hard lesson.

“Thank you,” she said.

Both of them looked up, confused.

“For teaching me that loyalty is more expensive than love.”

She removed the promise ring Tunde gave her, placed it on the bedside table, and walked out.

No shouting.

No fighting.

Just dignity.

Outside, rain started falling again — just like the day they met.

But this time, Amaka didn’t need his hotspot.

She had her own data.

And she used it to block both of them everywhere.

Wait for part 2