Dearest Gentle Readers🥰🥰
If you’re new here, this is a spin-off from the original story. You can enjoy it on its own, but reading the first story will help you understand Tammy’s character better and make the experience richer.
Read Called Before Us Here
The morning after Shindara’s wedding felt too quiet.
The house still smelled like hairspray, aso-ebi fabric and jollof rice packed in foil. Her gele was hanging loosely on the chair in her room. Her makeup wipes were scattered on her dresser. Her body was tired, but her mind was louder than ever.
Tamilore Adesina sat on her bed and stared at the ceiling fan turning slowly above her.
She inhaled deeply.
A knock came on her door before she could even get up.
“Sister Tee, are you awake?”
“Come in,” she replied.
He walked in without waiting properly, holding a plate of leftover cake and a fork.
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “Shey you are now my guardian?”
“I have always been your guardian,” he shot back. “Especially when those aunties start their nonsense.”
She laughed softly.
He sat beside her. “I didn’t like what Aunty Abike and Aunty Kehinde were saying yesterday oo.”
Tammy exhaled.
Tobi continued, “They were talking like you’re some product on clearance sale.”
She chuckled. “Don’t insult your aunties.”
“I’m serious. Why are they shipping you like export goods? You’re not desperate. You are a good and beautiful woman.”
She looked at him. Really looked at him.
This boy she carried on her back when their parents died. The boy she signed school forms for. The boy she shielded from seeing her cry at night.
He was twenty and growing a beard that didn’t fully connect.
“I’m not desperate,” she said quietly.
“Then don’t act like it.”
He stood up abruptly. “If any of them send you anybody again, just ignore. You’re not the second option. You’re not a leftover.”
Her throat tightened.
“Go and have your bath,” she said softly. “You’ll miss your bus.”
He hesitated, then leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Don’t let them rush you, ko??.”
When he left the room, the silence returned.
Tammy reached for her phone.
As if summoned by the conversation, there it was.
A message from Aunty Abike.
Good morning my dear. There is a very responsible young man that just returned from London. He works in finance and is very serious. I have sent him your number. Be nice oo.
She sighed.
Two minutes later, a WhatsApp notification popped up.
Unknown number.
Good morning, Miss Tamilore. My name is Femi. Aunty Abike gave me your contact.
She stared at it.
London returnee.
She placed the phone down then picked it up again.
Maybe this was how it would happen.
Maybe her husband would not come with sparks or prophecies.
Maybe he would come through an aunt. She had seen similar gists on Bella Naija website.
Her Instagram notifications blinked too.
Two new DMs.
One was from a pastor and the other from a drummer.
The pastor had preached at a conference she attended recently. They exchanged polite greetings after service. He had asked for her number “to pray concerning something he sensed.”
The drummer was popular in another church. Always trending for worship sessions. He had messaged her after she reposted a worship clip.
She opened the pastor’s message first.
Good morning, Sister Tamilore. I trust you rested well after the wedding. I’ve been praying and I would love to take you out for coffee and share what’s in my heart.
She opened the drummer’s.
Heyyy Tammy. So when are you taking me out? 😄 Or should I be the gentleman?
She dropped the phone on her bed. She had several options but it felt like she had none.
London finance man.
Pastor.
Drummer.
She stood up and walked to the mirror.
Her face was bare. Her hair tied in a messy bun. There were faint lines of tiredness under her eyes.
Maybe her husband was not going to be that fine.
Maybe she had prayed too specifically.
Maybe at her age, butterflies were luxury.
She whispered to her reflection, “You’re not sixteen again.”
Her mind whispered back, No fine man will come for you.
She hated that thought immediately.
But it sat there.
Maybe it was time to stop waiting for her “spec.”
Maybe it was time to choose stability over sparks.
Maybe it was okay to just settle for someone who was decent, God-fearing and Available.
Her phone buzzed again.
London Femi:
I’d love to take you to dinner tonight if you’re free.
Her heart didn’t jump.
It didn’t drop either.
It just… stayed.
The pastor sent another message.
I believe God is intentional about this season for you.
The drummer sent a voice note.
She didn’t even open it.
Tammy sat back down on her bed and typed slowly.
To the pastor:
Coffee sounds fine. Let me know a day that works.
To the drummer:
Haha. Let’s plan something soon.
Then she paused over Femi’s message.
After a long moment, she replied.
Dinner tonight is fine.
She dropped the phone again and lay back on the bed.
Her chest felt strange.
She closed her eyes and whispered softly into the quiet room.
“God, if my husband won’t be my spec, at least let him be safe.”
Her heart added silently:
And please, let me not choose wrong because I’m tired.
By evening, Tammy stood in front of her wardrobe longer than necessary.
She had told herself it was just dinner. Nothing deep. Nothing serious. Just food and conversation.
Still, she changed outfits three times.
The first dress felt too intentional. The second one felt like she was trying too hard to look unserious. The third was simple—navy blue, fitted but modest. Soft makeup, nude heels and light perfume.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
“You are just going to eat,” she muttered.
Her baby brother poked his head into her room.
“Who is picking you up?”
“I’m not fifteen,” she replied.
“I didn’t say you were. I just want to know if I should be forming security detail.”
She laughed. “It’s a restaurant in Bodija. Calm down.”
He leaned against the door frame. “Is he fine and rich?”
She paused.
“He’s… okay.”
Tobi narrowed his eyes. “That means no.”
“Go and read your book, bobo. I still don’t know why you didn’t go back to school this morning.” she said, throwing a pillow at him.
But after he left, she looked at herself again and felt that strange neutrality.
No butterflies…..No nerves.
She picked up her bag and left.
The restaurant was quiet and tastefully lit. Soft yellow lights. Calm music playing in the background. The kind of place that felt matured and cute at the same time.
Femi was already seated when she arrived.
He stood immediately when he saw her.
Tammy blinked.
He was fine.
Not average. Not “manageable.”
He was Fine Fine… Like very fine….
Tall, clean fade haircut, well-fitted shirt. Wristwatch that didn’t scream but whispered quality. Calm eyes… Really calm eyes.
He smiled.
“Miss Tamilore.”
She extended her hand politely. “Good evening.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
He pulled out her chair gently before sitting.
He is a gentle man… Points scored.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“It was quiet. I am still recovering from wedding stress.”
He nodded. “You need the rest.”
“Yeahhh.”
“I am sure you felt fulfilled seeing her settle down happily after all you’ve done for them.”
Tammy paused.
“After all I’ve done?”
He smiled. “Aunty Abike talks a lot. I didn’t ask but she gave me all the necessary information. Nothing too deep though”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
They ordered food.
The conversation flowed easily at first. Work, travel, their faith in God. Nigeria versus the UK. He spoke about how London changed his discipline but deepened his appreciation for home.
“I realised I don’t want to build a life abroad permanently,” he said. “I want my children to know their grandparents. I want Sunday rice with my family.”
She watched him carefully.
“And your faith?” she asked.
He leaned back slightly. “Ohhhh it got stronger. Being alone abroad forces you to choose God intentionally. Nobody is dragging you to church. If you go, you go because you want to.”
She liked that answer.
He continued, “I serve in church. Not in front, though. I prefer background systems. I am in the Finance department.”
She nodded slowly.
He was responsible, grounded and stable.
“So,” he said gently, “tell me about you. Not the ‘strong first daughter’ version. You.”
Tammy inhaled.
“Hmm.”
He waited patiently.
“I love deeply,” she said eventually. “Too deeply sometimes.”
“That’s not a weakness.” He assured her.
“It has cost me before.”
He smiled softly. “Depth only scares shallow people and I know you’re not shallow.”
Her heart moved slightly at that.
Just a small tiny weeny shift.
But then something inside her stayed quiet.
The food came and they prayed.
After a few more minutes of conversation, he asked, “What are you truly trusting God for in this season?”
She hesitated.
He didn’t look away.
“Companionship,” she answered honestly. “The right one. Not just marriage but the right one.”
He nodded slowly.
“I understand.”
There was a pause.
“And you?” she asked.
He smiled faintly. “Peace. A wife who is my peace.”
Tammy studied his face.
He was good. His spirit felt steady.
There were no red flags, no confusion, no darkness.
But her spirit was not leaning forward.
It was sitting calmly.
She tried to lean in intentionally and asked him more questions.
“What makes you angry?”
“What’s your worst habit?”
“What do you struggle with spiritually?”
He answered transparently. He talked about pride. About seasons of isolation. About learning to apologise.
He wasn’t pretending to be perfect.
And yet…
As he laughed at one of her jokes, as he leaned forward and listened attentively, she felt it clearly.
He is not him. Not my him.
The realisation didn’t come with drama.
It came like a quiet knowing.
She smiled anyway.
She promised herself she would not dismiss someone just because fireworks didn’t explode immediately.
Maybe love grew. Maybe maturity looked like calm.
Maybe she had romanticised destiny too much.
When dinner ended, he walked her to her car.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said.
She met his eyes. “I’d like that too.”
And she meant it. She would try.
She would not sabotage peace because it didn’t come with intensity.
He hesitated slightly before adding, “You’re easy to talk to.”
She laughed. “You haven’t seen my full volume yet. I am the drama”
“I think I’d like to.”
He didn’t try to hug her immediately. He waited.
She appreciated that and then she extended her hand.
He shook it gently, then surprised her by saying quietly, “You deserve to be chosen intentionally.”
Her breath caught slightly.
“Thank you.”
As she drove home, the streetlights flickered past her windshield.
Her mind replayed the evening.
He was really Good looking, God-fearing, respectful and even Intentional.
But her heart was not racing. It wasn’t even whispering.
It was calm.
And that calm scared her more than red flags ever could.
When she reached home, she sat in the car for a few minutes before stepping out.
“God,” she whispered softly, resting her head on the steering wheel, “if this is wisdom, help me embrace it. If this is settling, please stop me.”
She didn’t want sparks for ego.
But she also didn’t want to marry someone her spirit could not run towards.
She stepped out of the car and locked it.
Inside the house, her brother looked up from the couch.
“How was it?”
She removed her heels slowly.
“He’s a good man.”
Tobi studied her face.
“Ehennnn?”
She forced a small smile.
“I said he’s a good man.”
And that was the problem.
The idea of the park came two days after their first date.
Femi had called her on a Tuesday evening, his voice warm, deliberate as always.
“I was thinking,” he said, “instead of a restaurant again, maybe somewhere more relaxed. There’s a park in Lekki. We can walk, talk. Nothing too serious.”
Tammy stood by her kitchen counter, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder while she rinsed a plate.
“A park?” she repeated, amused.
“Yes. Fresh air. You look like someone who needs fresh air. You work a lot.”
She smiled slightly. “Is that a compliment or an observation?”
“Both.”
She laughed softly. It felt easy with him. Safe and structured. Like a man who would always show up five minutes early and never forget your birthday.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s do the park.”
After the call ended, she sat on her couch for a while, staring at nothing in particular. She reminded herself why she was doing this.
Because she was thirty-two.
Because she was tired of waiting for lightning and fireworks.
Because sometimes love did not arrive loudly.
Because maybe God’s will would look ordinary at first.
The next afternoon she dressed without overthinking. A soft lilac midi dress that rested gently on her skin. Flat sandals with minimal makeup. She left her hair down. She did not want to perform.
When Femi picked her up, he complimented her almost immediately.
“You look peaceful,” he said.
She tilted her head. “Not beautiful?”
“That too. You are gorgeous but also peaceful.”
Something about that made her chest soften.
The park was lively without being chaotic. Children ran across the open field. Couples sat under shaded canopies. Vendors pushed carts of popcorn and coconut water. The air carried the faint scent of grass and sun-warmed earth.
They walked side by side at first. They did not hold hands.
Femi spoke about his week. About meetings at church. About how he had been praying for direction concerning relocation. He asked her questions too. Real ones. About her siblings. About Ibadan. About how she managed at eighteen when her parents died.
She answered him honestly.
“Sometimes I don’t even know how I did it,” she admitted quietly as they walked along the paved path. “I was angry at God for a while. Then I realised anger wouldn’t feed my siblings.”
He looked at her with something close to admiration.
“You’re very strong.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice. I have been their all in all”
They found an open patch of grass and sat. Femi brought out a small mat from his car like he had planned properly.
“You came prepared,” she teased.
He grinned. “I like being prepared.”
They talked for a long time. About how church girls were sometimes judged for being single too long.
“At a particular age,” Femi said gently, “people assume something must be wrong if you’re not married.”
Tammy laughed, but it carried weight. “They don’t even assume. They say it.”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
She appreciated that he said it plainly.
After a while, he stood and stretched out his hand toward her.
“Come. Let’s walk.”
They strolled toward the playground section. A few children were playing with a ball nearby. One of them kicked it too hard and it rolled toward Tammy.
She picked it up and tossed it back. The little boy waved.
“See, you’re already a playground aunty,” Femi joked.
She laughed properly this time.
They ended up sitting on a wooden bench facing the open field. Femi bought two cups of smoothie from a nearby vendor.
“I remembered you like mango,” he said again, handing hers to her.
She took it. “You’re very observant.”
“I try.”
It was comfortable. She would not lie. She felt relaxed. She laughed more than she had expected to. At some point he told a story about his first attempt at cooking jollof rice in London and how he almost set off the fire alarm. She laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.
And that was when she saw him.
At first, it was just a familiar movement in her peripheral vision.
A stroller.
She would have ignored it if not for the way her chest tightened before she consciously registered why.
He was walking slowly along the pathway that curved around the park. One hand on the stroller handle. The other tucked loosely into his pocket.
Simple white T-shirt with dark joggers and sneakers. Nothing loud. Nothing begging for attention.
His locs were tied back neatly this time. The breeze caught a few loose strands around his face.
Tammy’s laughter faded into a softer smile as recognition settled in.
Femi was mid-sentence when the man looked up.
Their eyes met.
There was no confusion. No delay.
He recognised her immediately.
And his expression changed. Not shock. Not surprise. Just that slow, deliberate smile.
He shifted direction slightly and walked toward them.
Tammy’s heartbeat betrayed her. It picked up in a way she did not appreciate.
Femi followed her gaze.
“Do you know him?” he asked lightly.
She cleared her throat. “We’ve met before.”
The stroller stopped in front of them.
“Comfort food lady,” he said.
She covered her face briefly with her hand. “You’re not serious.”
“You had chocolate and ice cream in one basket,” he replied calmly. “It was memorable.”
Femi stood up, extending his hand politely. “Femi.”
They shook hands.
Tammy noticed how firm but unhurried his handshake was. He did not squeeze too hard. He did not linger.
The baby inside the stroller made a small sound.
Tammy’s eyes dropped automatically.
And her breath caught.
The baby was beautiful.
Soft curls that were almost golden in the sun. Skin lighter than she expected, almost like cream. Big greyish-brown eyes that blinked curiously at the world.
Half-caste, she thought immediately.
The baby blinked up at her.
Without thinking, she crouched slightly beside the stroller.
“Hi,” she murmured.
The baby stared at her for a second, then gave a small gurgling sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Her heart melted.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re soooooo fine.”
The man watched her quietly.
“Can I?” she asked softly, gesturing toward the baby’s tiny hand.
He nodded once.
The baby’s fingers wrapped around hers instinctively. Warm and trusting.
Something inside her shifted.
She forgot Femi was standing there.
Forgot the smoothie in her hand.
Forgot the careful balance she had been trying to maintain all afternoon.
The baby kicked slightly, making a soft happy sound.
“She likes you,” he said gently.
“She?” Tammy repeated, smiling wider.
He nodded. “Yes.”
Tammy’s face softened completely.
“You didn’t tell me you had a fine daughter like this,” she said lightly.
He looked down at the stroller for a moment, then back at her.
“We barely spoke. There are many things I didn’t tell you,” he replied calmly.
Something about the way he said that lingered in the air between them.
Femi shifted his weight slightly.
Tammy stood up slowly, smoothing her dress.
“How old is she now?” she asked.
“Six months.”
She nodded. That made sense.
The baby reached out toward her again and she instinctively touched her tiny hand.
“See me smiling like I know you from somewhere,” Tammy murmured.
The man watched her the way someone watches a scene they didn’t know they needed.
“You’re good with babies,” he observed.
She shrugged lightly. “I raised three siblings. It comes with the position.”
His gaze held hers for a fraction longer than necessary.
“I can tell.”
There was something under his tone now. Something softer.
Femi cleared his throat politely.
“We were just about to continue our walk,” he said.
The man nodded.
“Of course. I won’t interrupt.”
He glanced at Tammy again.
“I hope life is lighter now.”
The words were simple. But they landed deeply.
She swallowed. “It’s trying.”
He gave a small nod.
Then he adjusted the stroller and began to move away.
Tammy watched him walk away.
She didn’t even realise Femi had started speaking again until he called her name gently.
“Tammy?”
“Hm?” She blinked.
“I was saying maybe we could check out the other side of the park.”
“Yes. Yes, sure.”
They walked.
She listened.
She responded.
She even laughed again.
But something had shifted.
Femi did not notice.
He spoke about future plans, about possibly starting a relationship intentionally. About how he believed in clarity.
She admired him for it.
But her chest felt strangely divided.
Later that evening, when he dropped her off at home, he hugged her respectfully.
“I had a good time,” he said.
“Me too,” she replied truthfully.
But as she entered her apartment and leaned her back against the door, she closed her eyes.
It wasn’t Femi’s face that came to mind.
It was a calm man with tied-back locs.
A stroller.
A baby with curious eyes.
And a voice that said, I hope life is lighter now.
She sat down slowly on her couch.
“God,” she whispered into the quiet room.
“I don’t understand.”
She wasn’t foolish.
She knew what complications looked like.
He could be married.
He could be a widow.
He could be anything.
She barely knew him.
And yet when he spoke, her heart stilled and raced at the same time.
When he looked at her, she felt seen instead of assessed.
That peace frightened her more than butterflies ever could.
She covered her face with her hands.
“Abba!!! Help me,” she murmured. “I don’t want to like what I’m not meant to like.”
Silence filled the room.
But somewhere deep inside, she knew.
Her heart had noticed something.
And it was not pretending.
Surpriseeeeee🤭🤭
Btw I made a few errors yesterday cause I didn’t proofread. Tammy was 18 when she lost her mom, not 15.
Also the man who approached her at the wedding, was Samson. I used Kunle initially but decided against it being a Yoruba man. As not all Yoruba men are demons 😂😂
Someone noticed that I mixed up the names and called my attention to it.
Thank you so much for that🙏🙏
That being said, new episodes might drop Wednesdays and Saturdays but that’s if we engage more on Soteria and Akila’s story.🤭🤭
Byeee babiessssss…
See you on Friday🥰🥰
Femi, just incase........ I have somebody for you.
Funmilayo in "Heart on Fire" can be a good person for you.
I liked him from the moment we met him in the last story, we still like him and we are here for itttt😌😂 soooo excited for Tammyy