Mercenary Wife – 6


He had been in an accident. Another car had rammed into his own and shoved him—his car—against another car. The car was… Richelle didn’t know what state the car was in and she bloody didn’t care!

She didn’t care, not about the car. Not about the other cars that had been involved in the accident… or about their stupid drivers. She only cared about him. She only cared that he was lying on that too-narrow bed hospitals usually had and that he was breathing and that though he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were open and that they could still see.

He could still see. He could still talk. He was alive. Period. That was all she cared about. Married just ten days and some crazy driver thought they could make a widow out of her? Idiots who shouldn’t be on the highway!

“Are you in pain?” He seemed to be trying to adjust his body and Richelle reached for his right hand. His left hand was immobilised by a splint. He had several cuts and wounds on the hand and it was supposed to heal faster if it was locked from unnecessary movements. It was thankfully the biggest of his injuries. The rest were just minor bruises on his forehead and chin.

“Of course, he’s in pain!” Abigail snapped.

Though she wasn’t the one she was asking, Richelle thought with a glare that was returned with equal animosity.

“How can he not be in pain when he’d just been slammed into another car and is all battered up?” Abigail’s eyes were furious and the glint in them was full of accusation. “My God! He could have died. This could have been an irreversible situation. We could be at the mortuary and not in a hospital ward right now, do you know that?”

“We are not at the mortuary!” Richelle hated that she even voiced the possibility of that. She hated that she was looking at her as if she was the one who’d sent the stupid car crashing into Simon’s. “He’s in the hospital and he is going to be just fine. The doctor said so.”

“He shouldn’t be in the hospital at all.” Abigail snarled. “A doctor shouldn’t be looking him over and telling us he’s going to be fine. He shouldn’t even be in this country right this minute getting slammed into by blind stupid drivers.”

There it was—the reason why it had to be her fault. They were not on their honeymoon. They were not in Paris as they should be and so, if he’d gotten into an accident when he shouldn’t at all be in the country, it was naturally her fault. Her fault—the bad wife’s fault.

“I wasn’t the one driving the car that rammed into his, Abby.” God, it irked that she had to defend herself to the girl… before her parents. They used to get along. She used to be friendly with her. But Richelle guessed that friendliness was tossed out the window when a brother was hurt. “I am as troubled as you are by this accident, if not more so. I am his wife, for heaven’s sake! You think I want him being run over by mad drivers on Port Harcourt highways?”

“Enough of this!” Though his voice was low, the command from Simon was firm. “Abigail, stop with the casting of blame. This was nobody’s fault but mine. It wasn’t Richelle’s fault and it wasn’t the fault of the driver who rammed into my car. I was the one who crossed an intersection when I should have been obeying traffic regulations.”

“You wouldn’t have had to be dealing with traffic regulations if you two were in Paris and not in this city pervaded by careless drivers.” Abigail insisted stubbornly.

“Accidents can happen just about anywhere, Abigail!” Richelle retorted.

“I said, enough of this nonsense!” Simon’s voice was sharper this time.

“Can you two young women shut up?” Papa TJ demanded. “The man is injured and you want to make his pain worse by hounding him with your petty squabbles?”

“I am not squabbling with her, Papa…”

“Quiet!” Her mother shushed her. “We should not be fighting in his hospital ward. We should not be fighting at all. We should only be grateful to God that the accident wasn’t worse than this. That my son is alive not…” Her voice broke and she clasped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, mama.” Simon reached out his good hand to his aunt…

His mother, Richelle amended in her head as she fought back a mix of resentment, jealousy and compassion for the older woman. He hasn’t even spared her one single glance since she’d arrived and met his family there. He was consoling his mother, and that was all right, but shouldn’t he be thinking of his wife too? She was worried and fearful too, wasn’t she?

Well, at least, he wasn’t allowing anyone blame her for this, Richelle soothed her confused emotions.

“I’m all right, mama.” Simon soothed. “I’d be back home now if the doctor wasn’t insisting on keeping me overnight for observation. It’s just minor bumps and cuts, nothing more.” He squeezed her hand. “I should have been more careful, not driving like a lunatic.”

“But how come you were at the Presidential axis?” Paul had a puzzled frown on his face. “You said there was an emergency at the warehouse but you were headed towards…” he broke off and frowned even harder as he asked. “Were you headed home after all?”

There was silence. Simon didn’t immediately respond, and Richelle felt like they all cast her glances of accusation before they refocused on him.

“Yes, I needed to pick up a document from the house, so I was actually going for it first.” Simon finally responded. “I guess I was in too much of a hurry and so wasn’t looking.”

“I see.” Paul lifted his gaze and their eyes locked.

He, like his sister, was blaming her. No surprise there, Richelle thought and swallowed her irritation. Paul had never much cared for her and today’s event was just going to add to his list of disapprovals.

“Well, we thank God that you’re okay.” Papa TJ said. “That is the most important thing. You’re fine and no one else was injured in the accident. Paul will handle the details about the car, so you need not worry.”

“I know, Papa. Thanks.” Simon said with a smile.

The door opened and the doctor walked in. “Well, I do believe the patient has had enough excitement for one day. Visiting hour’s over and it’s time for him to get some rest.” He said.

“That’s fine then. Mama, Papa, Bros Paul, you all head home. I’ll stay with him. I’m sure he’ll be needing someone with him.” Abigail said briskly, lowering into a chair.

“Absolutely not! I am staying with him.” Richelle planted her feet and met everyone’s gaze squarely. “I am his wife and I should be the one taking care of him.”

“Of course, it’s Richelle who should stay with her husband. And she will take good care of him.” Something in Mama’s eyes warned her that to do otherwise would be unacceptable. “Did you get a chance to inform your mother, Richelle?” She asked.

Richelle shook her head. “I didn’t. I was too shocked. I just rushed out of the house.”

Mama nodded. “That’s all right. I’ll give her a call myself. But I will reassure her that all is well and that she can see Simon at home tomorrow.” She turned her gaze to the doctor. “You’re assuring us he’ll be discharged tomorrow, right, doctor?”

“If he continues to do well through the night, that will be the case.” The doctor replied with a genial smile. “Now, let’s give him space, and time, for the rest that will make going home tomorrow possible.” He gestured to the door.

The second they were alone, Richelle blew out a long sigh. “Gosh, I don’t know which was worse, suddenly seeing you on a hospital bed or having your entire family look at me accusingly like I did some abracadabra that caused the accident.”

“I am sure is having my family look at you accusingly since we both know you don’t care half a hoot about me.” Simon’s eyes were scornful as they looked her over.

“Come on, Simon, of course I care about you.” Richelle slumped into the rather comfortable leather armchair with exasperation. “Do you know how I felt getting a call from Paul that you’d been in an accident?”

“Relieved at the prospect of getting rid of your unwanted husband?” He made a tsk and shook his head. “No, let me guess that again because having me dead won’t be in your favour since you’d be quite unsure what your place in my Will would be, wouldn’t you, darling mercenary wife?”

“I haven’t even thought about you having a Will or not.” Richelle frowned at him. “Do you?”

“Where did you come from?”

“Where did I come from?” The strange question puzzled her. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t even want to look at you.” He suddenly ground out and started to turn.

Because he was having difficulty repositioning his body, Richelle rushed up to assist him. “Hold on, Simon, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He jerked off her hand. “Don’t touch me!” He growled.

“What is wrong with you, Simon?” Richelle was bewildered.

He spun his head around. “I don’t want you touching me with those filthy hands of yours.”

Richelle turned up her hands and stared at her palms. “My filthy hands?” She raised her eyes and almost stumbled at the loathing in his eyes. “Simon… what… why are you like this?”

He turned away. “Just leave me. I need to rest.”

He managed to get his body to lie on his good arm and yanked up the blue cotton cover over the length of his body.

Richelle stared at him. Why so much animosity? Was it really her… inadvertently who’d caused his accident? Had it been worries about their situation that had taken his mind of the road and caused him to blow past an intersection without seeing the oncoming vehicle? Was that the reason he was blaming her, because she was the root problem?

She staggered back to the armchair and lowered into it. She didn’t like this—being blamed for his accident. She didn’t like it one bit. His family, they’d all looked at her as if she’d caused it. And now, he too was talking to her, and looking at her with loathing as if he blamed her too.

But she hadn’t done anything, had she?

She had if it’d been about what he’d overheard on their wedding day that he’d been thinking about. Richelle pressed a hand against her chest. Her heartbeat was unsteady. She was never comfortable in hospitals. They always unnerved her. Thank goodness, this was a private clinic and he was in a private ward. But it wasn’t just being here that unnerved her, she knew that. It was him being in an auto accident. It was him being involved in a near-death experience.

It could have been worse. He could have died just as Abigail had pointed out.

She didn’t want him to die. God, she so didn’t want him to die. Richelle raised her eyes and stared at his unmoving form on the bed. Now that she’d realised what an idiot Voke was and what a huge mistake she’d made with him, she more than ever wished he hadn’t overheard her conversation with Uma. Things would be different if he hadn’t heard her. He probably wouldn’t be lying there on that bed if he hadn’t for they would have been somewhere in Paris and not in Port Harcourt as Abigail had also pointed out.

Richelle lifted the hand to rub over her face and then reached for her handbag. She dug out her phone and bent her head over it.

“What are you doing? Updating your IG page with news of your husband’s accident?”

Richelle raised her head. He hadn’t turned but he had his head angled, so he was watching her. “No, reading Psalm 23.” She turned up the screen to him. “Well, I was kind of praying it. I… um, when I’m troubled and uh, confused, praying it kind of soothes me.”

“You should try Psalm 51. It probably will do more for you.” He told her with a sneer.

“I know that one too.” Richelle murmured. “Before mum decided we’d do better as Pentecostals, the Priest used to give it to me as my prayer of penance after confession.”

“And I can just imagine why.”

His caustic tone didn’t surprise her but it hurt her. And it was that perceptible feeling of hurt which surprised her. “Simon, I’m really happy that you’re mostly all right.”

“Sure about that?”

She stared into the mocking eyes. “Yes, I’m sure about that.”

He seemed about to say something but changed his mind and turned his head. “You don’t have to stay, you know. You don’t like hospitals. They make you sick, right? So, go home and sleep on your comfortable bed. I’ll be just fine on my own. And don’t worry, my family won’t be hearing that you didn’t sleep the night here with me.”

“I’m staying, Simon. I said I would, I am supposed to be here, and I will stay and take care of you and continue to do so until you’re better.”

“How dutiful.” He sneered. “I’m going to sleep. You don’t mind if we don’t chitchat anymore, do you?”

“Do you want me to get you anything to eat first?”

“No.” And he yanked the cover over him.

He didn’t want her here. That too somehow twisted the wheel of hurt. Richelle sighed and bent over her phone. If she was going to bank on divine help over anything, it would be over her relationship with Simon. It seemed to be deteriorating, not improving.

And she couldn’t afford to lose him. Not when she stood a bad chance of losing so much along with him.

Richelle considered it a stroke of good luck when everyone, and by that she meant, his parents and scowling-faced Abigail, agreed that only Paul should accompany them home and help her settle Simon in. Not that she required help settling Simon into their home, Richelle privately sulked.

“Let’s take him straight into the bedroom.” Paul suggested once they were home.

“Ah…” How the hell does she explain both of them having separate bedrooms?

“I’ll sit out here for a while.” Simon said and saved the situation. “I am all right, Paul. I’m not really an invalid. I just have a broken hand and a few cuts and bruises.”

“That sounds like a good enough definition for invalid to me.” Paul said. But he didn’t insist on his idea. “Are you hungry? Because you should be since you barely ate the hospital food.”

“I didn’t quite much like the food.” Simon dismissed. “I’m fine, Paul. You can leave me in the good hands of Richelle. She’s bound to nag me worse than you would, so that should settle your mind. Get back to work, dude. I know you’ve got important things to do.”

“I do. But—”

“You don’t have to worry about him, Paul.” Richelle sent him a smile even when she knew he wouldn’t respond. Which he didn’t, the sour face! “Like he rightly assured you, he’s in good hands with me and if it’s further reassurance, I’ll call you straightaway if he shows even the tiniest sign of relapsing.”

“All right.” Paul agreed after a lengthy silence. He lowered to the sofa to plant his hand on his cousin’s back. “You take it easy, big guy. No doing too much. Rest that hand. Heard what the doctor said, didn’t you?”

“I did. Thanks, man.” Simon gave him a smile.

“Yeah.” Paul got up and looked at Richelle. “Could you see me out, Richelle?”

“But of course.” Richelle smiled even as her heart skittered at why he’d made the request.

“You take care of him.” He said to her once they were outside on the porch.

“Of course, I will take care of him.” Richelle spluttered, exasperated that he would ask.

The look in his eyes said he was very much doubtful of that. “Listen, Simon’s a good man. A good man with a solid mind. Nothing like this has ever happened. He’s been driving most of his adult life and never once been in an accident.”

“And now it’s happened, it’s my fault, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I can’t judge.” Paul gave his head a shake. “Look, I’m sorry if we are all making you feel like we blame you for this.”

“You all do.” Richelle cut in and gave a stiff smile. “And I get it. The halted honeymoon and all, everyone’s wondering why and yes, Simon’s a good man, so that leaves Richelle the possible bad wife.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?” But she knew what he asked and it once more shocked her that it hurt.

“Overstepping my boundary.” Paul took a step back as if to indicate his conscious shift in the direction he’d been headed. “Look Richelle, I’m not looking to interfere in your marriage with my brother. None of us are. We’re not that type of family. We’re just worried. I’m just worried about my only brother. We don’t share the same parents but we share same blood and a true bond.”

“I know.” Richelle said in a small voice.

He nodded. “All I’m saying is you take care of him.” His eyes held hers. “Not just his wounded body. His wounded heart too. You’re his wife. Be that. Be that to him. In every way.” He paused, then gave a nod. “I’ll be in to see him tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay.” Richelle blinked her pinching eyes. “Paul?”

He turned at the stairway door. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and left.

Richelle inhaled deeply, forced calm and composure back into herself and then returned to the living room to find Simon leaned back against the sofa.

“Are you all right? Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine.” He answered briefly but frowned. “Paul saying something to you at the door?”

“Yes, but nothing serious.” She sat beside him. “Do you really want to sit out here? Or would you prefer to go lie down in the bedroom?”

“In the bedroom.” He said and started heaving up.

Richelle quickly clasped her hands under his right elbow.

“I don’t need help, Richelle.” He wrenched free his hand.

“Your body’s all battered up, of course you need help.” She clasped his elbow again and gripped hard despite his struggle. “The doctor recommended you take your medications and get some sleep and that is just what you are going to do.”

“And why are you heading that way?” He grunted as she turned in the direction of the foyer.

“You should rest in the master bedroom. It’s rightly your bedroom and much more comfortable than the guestroom.”

“I want to go to my room.”

This is your room, Simon.” Richelle forced back a sigh. “You need to be comfortable. The bed here is bigger and—and I need to be close by to take care of you. Please, just until your hand is out of the splint, okay?”

He stared at her. Richelle was almost giving up on him agreeing when he inclined his head. “Fine. But if I’m sleeping on that bed, then you’d be finding somewhere else to sleep in that room. Don’t want you next to me.”

“I know.” And it hurt. Hurt her pride and hurt… other things too. “Let’s go inside.”

She settled him on the bed. “Should I turn on the AC?”


She did and then returned to perch at the end of the bed. “Simon, what really happened? You’re a good driver. I know that. So how could you blow past an intersection like that? Was your mind preoccupied with something else?”

He looked at her, his expression cold. “A man who’s just heard news of his philandering wife usually has something else in his mind, Richelle.”

“Simon, for heaven’s sake, you need to forget…” Then it struck her ‘just heard news’ and Richelle’s eyes widened with shock as awareness dawned. “Oh my God, you really have someone watching me! I thought… I didn’t think you meant it. That you’d actually do it.”

So he knew, about her meeting with Voke… at the guesthouse? That was why he’d looked at her with such contempt at the hospital and why he hadn’t wanted her touching him. And it was why he’d been in the accident.

“Oh no! No, no, Simon, what you think didn’t happen.” Richelle clutched the cover where his feet were. “I didn’t… we didn’t… nothing happened. I swear it. I swear it on God’s holy name, nothing happened. I didn’t do anything with him.”

She drew closer and crouched beside the bed. “I ended everything with him. I swear that I did. And… and I came back home and blocked him from all my contacts. I’ll show you.”

She sprang up, grabbed her handbag and dug out her phone. “See.” She pushed the phone into his hand. “Go through it. Even my social media accounts: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram… I’ve completely blocked him off. It’s over. I want nothing more to do with him. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have continued seeing him after you and I got together, I know. But I swear to you, on everything that is sacred, that nothing happened between us today and that I ended everything. I’ve cut him off, Simon. Please believe me.”

He didn’t say anything. Not for the longest two minutes, or three, of her life.

Then finally, he held out the phone. “I feel tired and a little hot. I think I should take off my shirt.”

“Oh.” She took the phone from his hand and sprang up. “I’ll help you with it. I should have gone to get some of your things from the guestroom.”

“I can take off my own shirt, Richelle.” He knocked off her hands from the buttons of the shirt. “Just back off.”

“No, I won’t.” She knocked away his own fumbling hand and started unclasping the buttons. “You have only one good hand for now and can’t manage well without it.” Done with the buttons, she gently slid off the shirt, one sleeve at a time. “There, we have it off now.”

As she stepped back, Richelle found herself frowning. She’d never seen him naked… half-naked. Damn, he has some manly body, didn’t he? His chest, stomach, were all taut muscles and faintly ripped. He didn’t work out, Richelle knew. Nature, and hard-work, provided the muscled body.


“Hmm?” She yanked up her eyes and gaped at him. “Ah… no, no problem. I’ll just get you a tank top or… something else without sleeves.”

“I’m hungry.” He announced.

“You are?” Richelle stared. Then swallowed. “Oh. For food. Of course. I… ah, I’ll get you something to eat. Just… relax. I’ll be back. Soon.” She spun around and fled the room with her scattered thoughts.

Simon stared after her. He’d seen the look in her eyes when she’d gotten his shirt off. First time he was seeing that look in her eyes. He’d also seen the look in her eyes while she was denying anything having happened between her and that Voke yesterday.

It had been earnest. Open. Frank.

Did he believe her?

He had. He did. And he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t a fool for doing so. He didn’t want to be her fool anymore. But he’d seen truth in her eyes and… and it had been a relief knowing nothing had happened between them yesterday at that guesthouse.

Simon knuckled his eyes and settled more comfortably into the bed. He’d missed this room, his realised. He’d missed his bed—the soft, familiar feel of it.

He’d thought that they’d be sharing it once they were back from their honeymoon. He’d been looking forward to it—the honeymoon and sharing the bed with her.

Neither was the reality now.

He sighed, shifted his gaze and frowned as his eyes caught his bible on the nightstand. Simon stretched his hand and lifted it. It was opened to Proverbs 31. His frown deepened.

The door burst open and she strode back in with a tray on her hands and his Arsenal jersey tank across one arm.

“I brought you your tank.” She said breezily as she set down the tray on the nightstand. “There was fried chicken, so I cut up some salad. I chopped some fruits too. I think you will enjoy it.”

“You were reading this?” Simon gestured with the bible.

“Ah…” She lifted her shoulders. “Yes, I was. You said I should.”

He hadn’t thought she would. “Learned anything?”

Again, she lifted her shoulders. “I’m sure not the virtuous wife that chapter was talking about.”

Pure honest response. Simon stared at her.

“Ah, you should put on your tank and eat your food.”

She seemed unnerved by his stare. Or was it his naked chest still unnerving her?

“Give me the top.” He held out his hand.

“I’ll help you with it.” She was already pulling the top over his head.

“I can do it myself.” He didn’t her hands on him. She set off desires he didn’t wish to do anything about… yet.

“I’ve got it.” She tugged down the top, her fingers brushing against his chest before she stepped back. “Okay, you’re all set to eat.” She picked the tray and lowered on the bed.

Simon stared at her and at the fork of salad she held out.

“You’re left-handed, you’re hurt on that hand and so, I’m your hand until you’re better.” She told him, interpreting his hesitation.

But it was just too intimate.

“What? Worried I have the food poisoned? God, your faith in me is just deplorable. I am no saint but I don’t kill people, Simon.” She turned the fork into her mouth and chewed. “See? Not poisoned.” She stabbed up another forkful, chewed and arched her brows. “I’m still alive. Why? I’m eating non-poisoned food.”

Simon’s mouth quirked. “I believe you’ve shortened my ration. You’ll have to replace it.”

“Oh. Okay.” She bent her head. “You almost smiled at me.” She murmured. “It’s been so long I saw you smile. Really smile.”

Something tugged in his stomach and Simon realised the next couple of days were going to be a trial. “Are you going to feed me or keep chirping about?”

“Feed you.” She filled the fork and held it out to him. “Simon?”

Simon tried not to like her extra soft tone. “What now?”

“I’m sorry.” She paused before she added. “For what you heard me saying on our wedding day.”

Not just a trial. But a nerve-racking trial. God help him!


Had a good read? Let us hear your feedback then. Cheers.

Dedication: For all December Celebrants. Love, Long-Life & Prosperity.


He-yo, folks. Better late than at-all at-all, abi? *shines 32 teeth*

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57 Responses to Mercenary Wife – 6

  1. jojodia says:

    The healing process commences…….thank God.

    Thanks TM

  2. ogochukwu says:

    I so much enjoyed dis episode,so touchin nd refreshin. Tnx TM

  3. Iyke David says:

    I love this TM. Thanks.

  4. mady says:

    Hmm… M Happy wid d way tins r going

    Tnks TM

  5. favour says:

    I am really rooting Simon forgives Richelle…after she comes to repentance sha

    I enjoyed the Episode….thanks TM

  6. Marnie Jerimiah says:

    Am tearing up.

  7. Mz Tee says:


  8. Zinnie says:

    I saw this coming. Now isn’t love so sweet?
    Thanks TM, I love

  9. Mammy says:

    See gobe. Now things will get more than interesting. TM the don as usual you out did yourself

  10. doughyeen says:


  11. Ella mum says:

    O yea. Richelle is not acting it. She has acted wisely. I knw simon will forgive her n live happily ever after. Wow! Tm, what a twist.

  12. Ella mum says:

    Btw, Tm love I am really grateful for your wonderful stories. U v helped to reduce depression in this recession.. Thank you. I think there should be a way to appreciate u. Abi?

    • There should be, right? *thinking real hard*
      Dunno… e-fam members invite more readers to the blog? More readers buy my eBooks & encourage others to do so?? Talk about TM DW everywhere you go??? Hahaha.

      Dunno my best reward, sweet Ellamum, but any of the above works just fine for me.

      Thanks, lady.

  13. Tosin says:

    This is looking good, Richelle is changing.
    Thanks TM, have a great week ahead

  14. mcsteph says:

    The bible helped her….now Simon is gonna be a sap once more kikikiki

  15. Doyinsola says:

    Awww! Road to bodily and emotional recovery….weldone ma’am

  16. Dhebra says:

    Wow…. so glad things are turning out well

  17. Patience.Bassey says:

    Now she’s repent. Simon should heal both physically and emotionally

  18. Toyenlon says:

    Wow! This is lovely. Richelle is finally changing, good to see that. And luckily for her Simon never stopped loving her. Nice one TM.

  19. Ego says:

    Aww… Richelle has changed for good,.. and Simon it’s high time you forgave her biko. Tanx TM for this wonderful episode

  20. funmi says:

    So so touching

  21. Paula says:

    Finally a real apology

  22. Mystiq says:

    Yaaah nice someone is trying to b good…Sammy its all gonna b fine

  23. frances says:

    Exactly. Yes. Hmmmmm now I feel like the fattened calf or a well fed cat. Love this TM and many tnks for bringing smiles to our faces.

  24. Debbie says:

    Wow…..my best story on life and spices so far…TM thanks a lot for dis wonderful piece. God bless u

  25. Eghogho says:

    this is so so beautiful.

  26. Nancydearie says:

    Thanks TM for this wonderful update, its quite interesting and I hope Richelle’s change remains permanent and not like APC change. GOD bless you immensely TM.

  27. Gift says:

    Awwwww,,the accident turned out to be a blessing in disguise,,thanks TM this is beautiful

  28. Jeffrey Jamez says:

    I love this!

    • You would… that wasn’t sarcasm… just fact…Or maybe not…I mean I don’t know you, do I?…I think I do…. I do, don’t I? #just-crazy-morning… #I’m-idle… okaybye… for now

  29. CHINNY says:

    Richelle, my eyes on you! Simon just keep watching sha, when the change enter her body, we will know.

  30. I love love and thank God for second chances. Your story soothes .

  31. Sophy says:

    Well done TM, always looking forward to your updates..

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