Ana's POV

Aiming to rewrite the author's note and summary of my book 'Self-Love' in which to put on the numerous copies of paperback that is to be printed. I appear unfocused regardless of the fact I have barely three days to get everything ready.

Inhaling a breath to try and suppress my thoughts, I seal my eyes and massage my temples in an attempt to bring my mind back to order.

Hello, it's me.
I was wondering if after all these years you'd like me to-----

I startle at the sound. Noting it's coming from my iPhone 11 I exhale and rest a palm on where my heart should be before I pick up the device.

'Ike'

I'm confused as I gaze at the name flickering on the screen, contemplating if to answer it or not. It's been a week since that day he came with Emily to apologize and since then I haven't brought myself to take his calls.

Still staring at it, the ringing stops, and I drop it, only for it to begin again as he repeats the act of calling me. Groaning, I place my elbow on the desk in my office and run my sharp blue nails in my newly braided gold strands.

It's in this situation that Glory walks in to see me looking bothered and perplexed as I reminisce on the good times Ike and I had together before all the drama.

"Why do I always find you this way?" She asks making her presence known.

"How do you mean?" I investigate, letting down my hands to gape at her as she's covered in a blue jumpsuit that brings out her fair complexion.

"Sad," she tells. "And I hate it. It makes me feel emotional."

"I'm not sad," I refuse, shaking my head.

"Then what are you?" She inquires in a serious look.

"I'm confused yes, but not sad," I sigh in retort.

"Why are you confused then?" She queries, pushing the chair back to recline.

"I don't know," I breathe. "Everything seems to be happening so fast. Take a look at my tummy for example. I'm beginning to show."

"And you haven't told your parents yet?" She interrogates bestowing me a glance.

"Don't remind me," I wail, fear nagging at the back of my brain of what they will think of me.

"They'll find out eventually so why don't you save yourself the misery and do it?" She proposes and I groan.

"You know I'm always honest with you, so I have to tell you the truth no matter how bitter," she continues as I am mute.

"Come on Ana you need to," she proposes, reaching to squeeze my palm. "At least to know you've got that out of your mind. You know, one less thing to think about."

"I see your point Glory but as it is now I'm not on speaking terms with my father after he found out who Ike is and all the baggage that comes with him," I state in defeat.

"I don't understand," she says, coming off as bewildered.

"Oh sorry I didn't inform you," I mutter, realizing she isn't up to date about that.

"Nuel stormed into my house after he saw the news of Emily's postponed wedding, and so we had an argument that resulted in him threatening to notify my parents of my discrepancies," I relay, recounting the ordeal.

"So he did?" She polls, needing confirmation.

"Yep," I nod. "He couldn't even wait a day to do so and they arrived that evening after Ike dropped me home from taking me to antenatal."

"Ooh, that must be bad," she murmurs, her eyes wide.

"It was worse than bad." I affirm, "to cut the long story short, it ensued in an argument between Dad and Ike, prompting him to leave and Dad calling me a disgrace before he too stormed off."

"Shit!" She exclaims. "I see the reason for your worry now."

"Thank you. Since then I haven't spoken to my father and it's almost going to two weeks," I converse, scratching my wrist where the cuffs of the long-sleeved green shirt I'm wearing above a yellow and green flower-designed skirt rubs on.

"It will be fine dear," she provides me a reassuring smile.

"I pray it will," I imply, resting my back on the seat.

"What about Ike?" She interviews in a wink.

"What about him?" I qualm unable to understand her question.

"Oh come on," she snorts.

"I haven't been picking up his calls." I utter, swinging my chair from side to side.

"Why?" She quizzes.

"He's part of my problem," I shrug. "I just need a break from all the wahala."

"Haven't you heard the saying 'wahala no deh finish?" She points, scratching her chin. "You just need to tackle one at a time.".

"That's the problem, it's not one at a time, they are all jam-packed. I can't seem to know which one to handle," I explain, needing to open my brain and place all my problems in my vision as if that's possible.

"I feel you," she acknowledges coming across as understanding.

"So my life isn't a bed of roses," I scoff.

"Yeah, I can see that," she admits, plucking the paper on the desk where I've scribbled a few things down.

"How's this going?" She implores, gazing at it, trying to discern the lines.

"Hell," I chuckle. "What do you think?"

"I think you are making progress. This is good so far." She lets out, putting a twisted pink plait obstructing her view behind her ear.

"For real?" I ask not believing her utterance.

"Yeah, I like it," she discloses. "You just need an extra paragraph of like three to four lines and that will be okay."

"Since when did you become a writer?" I query in a laugh nonetheless watching her reaction as she appears to be rereading the piece.

"Hanging out with you of course," she giggles. "Experience is the best teacher they say."

"You are right." I beam, "but really is it that good?"

"I'm not one to lie and you know it," she shrugs in response.

"Thank you Glory," I gratify, feeling relieved from the incentive.

"No worries," she grins. "I just need you to remember you are good at what you do."

"I love you," I blurt, sensing my emotions getting messed up.

"Hey! I have a boyfriend," she spurns playfully. "But I love you too."

"So how are the preparations for the launching going. Have you contacted 22 events?" I implore, changing the topic before I end up in tears, yeah, the downsides of pregnancy.

"Yes, and they are at work. I just finished a call with them. Everything is under control." She assures.

"What about the invites, who and who are coming?" I question.

"Well the whole pencildecimo group will be there," she giggles and I join her. "You know they never miss an opportunity to get free food."

"Yep," I laugh. "Brian especially."

"And Abdul too. Those two can eat like monsters," she states.

Pencildecimo is an art company I work with. We started it while we were teenagers and people didn't take us seriously because you know, teenagers.

However, we proved them wrong by making it excel in a few years to the extent when we got Google verified and signed partnership deals. That didn't stop us though as we continued to work hard, making it the giant art company it is today.

Pencildecimo is made up of, the CEO himself (Dominion) the assistant (Glory) yeah I met her through Pencildecimo and we clicked and became good friends since then.
Comic artists: include (Charles, Abdul)
Painters (Cyril, who is Charles brother. Glory too, yes she also paints)
Realistic Artists: (Safah, Charles, Henry)
Abstract Artist: (Brian)
Imaginary/Ballpoint Artist: (Dumbo Debeeh)
Writer, art namer, and interpreter:(Me)
Photographer: Toby
Web Designer: Uche
Marketer: Troy
Lastly, our spokesperson (Sandra) is Dominion's girlfriend.

"Also, your family members are all supposed to be present," she explains and after says in a scowl. "With Emily who is to represent her Dad."

"Why!" I sob, gazing at the ceiling. "Why can't that man come himself?"

"He's the governor, he's always busy." She declares and I sigh.

"Any other annoying person I should know of?" I inquire praying for her not to answer.

"Yeah," she scrunches her face. "Ken will be there because you know he's an ass."

"Okay then, I'll finish this up and hand it to you to put together with the rest and send for printing," I notify, collecting the sheet from her.

"Okay boss," she mocks salutes, winking.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," I groan, glaring at her playfully.

"Yep," she confirms. "And that is why I keep doing it."

*****

"You are home early," Oluchi voices the second I walk into the spacious living room of my apartment.

"Yeah, I couldn't focus," I confess, stepping out of the black flats on my feet and tossing it in the corner.

"Did you finish the author's note and summary you are working on?" She asks, standing to her full 5'5 height in a baggy ass t-shirt that looks---

"Olu is that not Joe's?" I inquire, not sure of where my thoughts are leading.

"What is Joe's?" She interviews in confusion.

"That t-shirt," I pronounce, gesturing to her figure.

"Oh, yeah," she utters in a blush. "I borrowed it."

"Okay?" I nod, smirking at her flushed cheeks.

"Now so, about the summary, I asked you something," she recollects.

"Oh, yeah I did," I murmur, resting my feet on the table as I sit. "Glory helped."

"Wait how?" She beseeches.

"I was shocked too," I chuckle. "She made a good point when she said I just needed one last paragraph to sum it up."

"Wow!" She exclaims in awe.

"My reactions exactly," I laugh. "So any food in the kitchen? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, I prepared your favorite, Oha soup," she announces in a wink.

"God," I sigh. "You have no idea how elated I am at that revelation."

"Mmmm," she hums. "Sit tight, I just made some garri. Let me get it for you."

"You are a darling," I smile and obey, waiting patiently for her to return with the meal.

"Here you go," she speaks, positioning it on a wooden side stool thus it's not safe to rest it on the glass table.

"Thank you," I appreciate, unhooking the first two buttons on my cloth and lean forward to devour it.

"Have you been able to pick up Ike's calls?" She queries, lending me a questioning glimpse.

"No," I answer after swallowing a lump of eba.

"Why?" She polls, the same way Glory did.

"I don't know," I respond.

"You'll need to talk to him sooner or later," she states, her tone tough.

"I know Olu," I recite, taking a sip of water.

"You should stop giving the poor guy the cold shoulder. He isn't the one who attacked us, Emily did," she explains as if I wasn't there that day.

"I acknowledge that," I say, swerving to offer her a glimpse. "He brought Emily to apologize though."

"Then be free with him. Don't be so uptight, after all, as you said, he brought her to apologize so the  guy has done enough for you to treat him that way." She advises.

"Since when have I become uptight," I argue, bending my head to peer at her.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Just don't be."

"I've heard you ma," I murmur and shift my attention back to the food, ending our conversation.

(Wahala) means Problem
(Wahala no deh finish) means Problems never stop

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