Kunle, a seemingly ordinary family man, had succumbed to the temptations of a Lagos night. With his wife, Funmi, away at a church vigil, he decided to indulge in a clandestine rendezvous with a lady named Ngozi. Little did he know that what was meant to be a fleeting affair would spiral into a comical catastrophe.
As the dawn’s light threatened to reveal their nocturnal escapade, Kunle found himself caught in a predicament. Ngozi, draped in a sheet and comfortably lounging in Kunle’s living room, seemed to have no intention of making a swift exit. Panicked, Kunle checked his phone and discovered a text from Funmi announcing her return from the vigil earlier than expected. The panic etched on Kunle’s face was as visible as the morning sun filtering through the curtains.
“Hey, um, Ngozi, I think it’s time for you to leave. My wife will be back any minute,” Kunle stammered, attempting to keep his voice low to avoid alerting the neighbors. Ngozi, however, was unfazed. “Oh, relax, Kunle. Your wife won’t mind, will she? We had a good time last night, didn’t we?” As the doorbell chimed, signaling Funmi’s return, Kunle’s anxiety reached a fever pitch. Desperation fueled his attempts to persuade Ngozi to leave, but she remained defiant, lounging on the couch as if it were her own. Funmi entered, tired but unsuspecting. The living room froze into a tableau of awkwardness – Kunle, Ngozi, and a silence pregnant with unspoken truths. With an innocent smile, Funmi greeted Ngozi, assuming she was a friend who had spent the night. Kunle, on the other hand, was a master of silent pleading, urging Ngozi to read between the lines and exit gracefully.
The situation, however, took an unexpected turn when Ngozi confidently declared, “Kunle, darling, I think I left my earrings in your bedroom. Mind if I grab them?”
Funmi’s eyebrows raised in subtle suspicion as Ngozi disappeared into the inner sanctum of their home. Kunle’s frantic attempts to salvage the situation were futile, and he braced himself for the impending storm. Minutes later, Ngozi emerged, holding the imaginary earrings in her hand. With a sly wink, she finally decided to depart, leaving Kunle in a state of bewildered relief and Funmi with a quizzical expression. As the door closed behind Ngozi, Funmi turned to Kunle, her gaze a mix of confusion and suspicion. Kunle, flustered but attempting to maintain composure, muttered, “Well, Lagos has its fair share of surprises, doesn’t it? All of us in Lagos are mad, my love.”
Funmi, still processing the morning’s theatrics, burst into laughter. Little did Kunle know that the unexpected events of that morning would become a tale to be retold with a mix of amusement and incredulity – a chapter in the book of Lagosian madness that they would both cherish and shake their heads at for years to come.