Lights. Luxury. Rich people everywhere.
Cars that looked like they never greeted potholes.
Ma held her breath.
“Sir.”
“Yes?”
“If I embarrass you, please pretend you don’t know me.”
Anthony glanced at her. “Too late.”
He stepped out, walked to her side, opened the door, and held out his hand.
Ma stared at it. “This hand is official.”
“Take it.”
She placed her hand in his—softly, carefully—and together they stepped into the night.
The moment they entered, heads turned.
Eyes widened.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
“Is that Anthony Olamide?”
“Who is that girl?”
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s not from our circle.”
Ma leaned closer. “Sir, they are talking about me like I stole something.”
Anthony’s voice was calm. “Let them talk.”
She nodded. “Okay. But if they insult me, I will respond.”
He almost smiled. “I know.”
And then she appeared.
Anthony’s ex.
Elegant, tall, dressed like money itself—but her smile sharp, dangerous.
She walked toward them slowly.
“Olamide.”
Anthony’s expression changed slightly. Controlled. Careful.
“Good evening.”
The ex’s eyes shifted to Ma—scanning, judging, dismissing.
“And who is this?”
Before Anthony could speak, Ma stepped forward, smiling brightly.
“Good evening, ma. I am…”
She paused, looked at Anthony, then back at the woman.
“Important.”
Anthony choked on a laugh.
The ex raised an eyebrow. “Important?”
Ma nodded confidently. “Yes. Very important. Even I don’t understand how.”
Anthony turned slightly, hiding his smile.
The ex’s eyes hardened. “I see.”
Throughout the night, it was obvious.
Painfully obvious.
Anthony did not leave Ma’s side.
Not once.
He introduced her to people.
Protected her.
Watched her like she mattered.
Like she belonged.
And that burned.
The ex watched from a distance, glass in hand, eyes cold.
“She will not last,” she muttered.
Ma tried her best, but she was still Ma.
A waiter passed.
She whispered loudly, “Sir, this small food—is it for decoration or for eating?”
Anthony leaned closer. “Eat small.”
She picked one, tasted it, paused.
“Is this food confused?”
He laughed quietly. “Behave.”
“I am behaving. It is the food that is misbehaving.”
Later, drinks were served.
Anthony leaned close. “Don’t drink too much.”
Ma nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Five minutes later, she was holding another glass.
Then another.
Then confidence entered her body.
“Sir, this place is shining too much. My eyes are doing overtime.”
Anthony sighed. “I warned you.”
“I am fine,” she declared.
She stood up dramatically. “I want to greet everybody.”
He grabbed her hand quickly. “Sit down.”
She blinked at him. “You are controlling me.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said immediately.
By the time they left, Ma was fully drunk, happy, and talking nonsense.
“Sir, you are a good man. I approve you.”
Anthony shook his head, smiling helplessly. “You’re unbelievable.”
He carried her into the car gently, carefully, like she was something precious.
He carried her upstairs into his room and laid her gently on the bed.
She mumbled softly, “Sir, don’t sack me.”
His heart tightened. “I won’t.”
She smiled in her sleep. “Good.”
Anthony sat beside her for a moment, watching her.
Quiet. Soft. Real.
Then slowly he lay down beside her—exhausted, peaceful.
And once again, sleep came.
Deep. Easy. Natural.
That night, they slept close, calm, unaware that everything had changed.
Because by morning, nothing would be the same again.
Morning did not come quietly.
It came with drama.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang.
Mama Grace opened it and nearly jumped.
“Doctor?”
The elderly man smiled warmly. “Good morning. I came to check on Anthony.”
Mama Grace nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, come in.”
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