Ep 7- God Said you are my wife
The following week, the heat in Lagos was the kind that made your clothes stick to your back the moment you stepped away from a fan.
Tammy was in the middle of sorting through a mountain of accessories when her phone screen lit up with Valerie’s name.
“Hello, Val! You finally remembered me?” Tammy shouted into the phone, her voice full of that exaggerated energy she used when she was trying to hide her stress.
“Abeg, keep quiet,” Valerie’s voice came through, warm but unusually grounded.
“I am in Lagos. I just got back last night. Come to the house this evening. Purity and I have been talking about you.”
Tammy’s heart did a little somersault. “You’re back? Oh, thank God! I’m coming o. I have so much to tell you about this event. My head is spinning!”
“Just come,” Valerie said, and something in her tone made Tammy’s “drama queen” radar go off.
By 7:00 PM, Tammy was pulling into Valerie’s compound.
She practically ran into the house, screaming as she hugged Valerie.
They stayed locked in a hug for a long time, the kind of hug only best friends who have shared years of secrets can give.
Purity came out of the study, smiling at the chaos.
“Tammy, I could hear you from the gate,” he joked, giving her a hug.
“Oya sit down, let us give you some water before you burst.”
They settled in the living room, and for the first hour, Tammy was in her element.
She talked about the studio, the crazy demand for the Bello event, and how Chioma was almost fainting with excitement over the clients they were seeing.
She was performing, and she was good at it.
But Valerie was just watching her.
She wasn’t laughing at the jokes.
She was leaning back, her eyes fixed on Tammy’s face with a gaze that felt like an X-ray.
“Okay, Tammy, stop,” Valerie said quietly, cutting through a story about a lace merchant.
Tammy blinked. “Stop what? I haven’t even gotten to the part where…”
“Who is he?” Valerie asked.
The room went silent.
Tammy felt the blood drain from her face. “Who is... who? Val, what are you talking about?”
“Tammy, don’t play with me,” Valerie said, her voice soft but piercing.
“I am your best friend, and I know your spirit. Since I was in Benin, I’ve been feeling a weight in my heart when I pray for you. There is a man in your life that you are not talking about. And it’s not Femi. Who is he?”
Tammy opened her mouth to argue, to laugh it off, but the words wouldn’t come.
She looked at Purity, who was just nodding slowly, and then back at Valerie.
The game was up. She deflated, her shoulders dropping as she sank deeper into the sofa.
“His name is Setto,” Tammy whispered, her voice finally cracking.
“Setto Bello.”
For the next thirty minutes, it was like a dam had burst.
Tammy told them everything. The supermarket, the way he looked at her, the truth about his daughter, and that electric dinner where she felt more seen than she had in years.
She also told them about Femi, the guilt, the house hunting, the phone calls she was avoiding, and the pressure she felt to just “settle down” with the good guy.
Valerie sighed, a long, heavy sound.
“I just knew it. I knew something had shifted. Tammy, have you prayed about this man?”
“I have!” Tammy snapped, her stubbornness returning for a second.
“I’ve been praying!”
“And what did you hear?”
Tammy looked at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her dress.
“I didn’t hear anything. It’s just... silence. Or maybe I’m the one making too much noise to hear anything.”
“That is the problem,” Valerie said.
“You are too close to the situation. You might be distracted by the glamour and the feeling of being chased by a man like that. I won’t be the one to tell you who to choose, Tammy. It’s your life and your marriage. But you cannot keep doing this ‘hide and seek’ with God.”
Valerie leaned forward, taking Tammy’s hand.
“Remember Pastor Ade asked to see you? He mentioned it to my husband. He said he hadn’t heard from you.”
Tammy felt a fresh wave of shame.
“I know. He asked to see me, but I was so busy, and then I forgot. When I finally went to church last Sunday, I tried to book an appointment through his secretary, but the man was so busy. He was occupied with meetings all through.”
“Call him,” Valerie insisted.
“If he asked for you, it means there’s a word for you. Don’t wait for the secretary. Call his personal line tonight or tomorrow. You need a father’s counsel right now, not just your friends’ opinions.”
Purity, who had been quiet, finally shifted in his chair.
He looked at Tammy with the kind of brotherly concern that made her feel like a little girl again.
“Tammy, can I tell you the truth?” he asked.
“Please,” she said, her voice small.
“I think you need to take a break,” Purity said firmly.
“From both of them. You cannot hear God clearly when Femi is pulling you this way and Setto is pulling you that way. You are reacting to them, not responding to God. You need to step back so you can hear with a clear heart.”
Tammy’s eyes filled with tears.
“I feel so bad, Purity. Femi is such a good person. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Listen to me,” Purity said, his voice steady.
“Don’t feel bad to the point of paralyzing yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, and the reason you’re taking your time is because you don’t want to make a mess of your life. We know that. But it’s unfair to Femi to keep him in a waiting room while you’re exploring another floor.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“And don’t let anyone pressure you. Not your family, not the church, not society.
“If you marry Femi just because he’s ‘the good guy’ and your heart is with someone else, you will both be miserable. You shouldn’t meet up with what people want. Meet up with what God wants for you. Even if it looks ‘unconventional’ to others.”
Tammy wiped her eyes, feeling a strange mix of sadness and relief.
The secret was out. She wasn’t alone in the confusion anymore.
“I’ll call Pastor Ade,” Tammy promised, her voice sounding more like her old self.
“I’ll call him tomorrow morning. And I’ll take that break. I need to know if what I’m feeling for Setto is real or if I’m just running away from the boredom of being safe.”
“Good,” Valerie said, standing up to bring some food.
“Now, stand up and wash your face. You look like a mess, and I didn’t cook this jollof rice for you to cry into it.”
Tammy laughed, a real one this time.
She was still confused, and the road ahead looked like a Lagos gridlock, but for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could finally breathe.
The next morning, the studio was unusually quiet. The usual hum of the sewing machines felt distant because the only thing loud in the room was Tammy’s thoughts.
She sat at her desk, staring at a set of gold buttons, but her mind was at Valerie’s house, replaying Purity’s words about taking a break.
Chioma walked in with a meat pie and a bottle of cold water, looking at her boss with a side-eye.
“Ma, you’ve been staring at that catalogue for twenty minutes. If it’s the price that is bothering you, we can find a cheaper one o.”
Tammy looked up and forced a small smile.
“It’s not the catalogue, Chioma. Just thinking.”
“Is it that about our man?” Chioma asked, her voice dropping into a whisper.
Before Tammy could reply, her phone buzzed. It was him.
Setto.
She took a deep breath, her heart doing that annoying flip-flop. She knew what she had to do.
“Chioma, please give me a minute,” she said, gesturing toward the back room. Chioma nodded, sensing the shift in the air, and scurried off.
“Hello, Setto,” Tammy said, her voice steady.
“Morning, Tammy,” he replied, and just the sound of his voice made her want to fold.
“I was calling to see how you’re doing. I know you worked late into the night.”
“Setto, I actually wanted to talk to you,” she started, her grip tightening on the phone.
“I’ve been thinking a lot. About us. About everything.”
“You sound serious,” he said, his tone softening.
“Talk to me.”
“I need us to pull back,” she said, the words coming out in a rush.
“For now, I want us to maintain a strictly client-professional relationship. I’m at a stage in my life where I need clarity from God, not more confusion. Between the event, my business, and... other personal things, my head is everywhere. I can’t be ‘getting to know’ you properly when I’m this unsettled.”
There was a pause on the other end. Tammy held her breath, expecting him to be offended or to push back with that “Bello” authority.
But when he spoke, he was incredibly calm.
“I understand, Tammy,” Setto said.
“And I apologize if I came on too strong. I’m a man who knows what he wants, and sometimes I forget that others might need a different pace. I respect you far too much to be a source of stress in your life.”
Tammy felt a huge weight lift off her chest.
“Thank you, Setto. I really appreciate that.”
“But,” he added gently,
“I want to say one thing. I didn’t just walk into your life by accident. I didn’t come after you without praying about it myself. I didn’t want to sound too religious and start telling you ‘God said you are my wife’....
“I know how that sounds. But I have my own convictions. So, take all the time you need. Just... don’t take all the time in the world. Pray about us. Be sure of what you want. I’ll be here.”
“I will,” she whispered, her eyes stinging.
“Thank you for being so understanding.”
“Always. See you at the next fitting, Stylist.”
When she hung up, she felt a strange mix of relief and sadness.
He was so fair in his response that it almost made her want to call him back and say “Never mind.”
But she knew she needed this.
She looked at Femi’s name in her contacts.
Her thumb hovered over the call button, but she froze.
What will I even say to him? she thought.
If I call him now, I’ll just be apologizing again, and it won’t change the fact that I’m still confused.
“No,” she muttered to herself.
“Pastor Ade first.”
She dialed the Pastor’s personal line. He picked up on the second ring.
“Tamilore,” his voice was like a soothing balm.
“I was just thinking about you this morning.”
“Good morning, Daddy,” Tammy said, feeling the respect flow through her.
“I am so sorry for not calling sooner. I’ve been so caught up with work and... life has just been a lot lately. I tried to see you on Sunday, but the office was so crowded.”
“Don’t apologize,” Pastor Ade said with a light chuckle.
“I know the life of a busy CEO. But I have been holding a word for you. Can you come to the office on Thursday afternoon? Around 2:00 PM?”
“Yes, sir. I will be there. I’ll make sure I’m free.”
“Good. Don’t worry, Tammy. The Lord is the author of peace, not confusion. Whatever is tangled, He will straighten it out. Let me pray with you before you start your day.”
He prayed a short, powerful prayer for wisdom and peace.
By the time he said “Amen,” Tammy felt like she could actually stand up straight again.
She walked back out to the main studio floor.
Chioma was pinning a hem, looking up curiously.
“Everything okay, Ma?”
“Everything is going to be fine, Chioma,” Tammy said, picking up her iPad and Apple Pencil.
“Let’s get back to work. We have a dynasty to style.”
She still hadn’t called Femi, and the “break” was officially in motion, but for the first time in a long time, Tammy didn’t feel like she was drowning. She was just waiting for the water to clear.
The rain had just begun to patter against the studio windows, a rhythmic, tapping sound that usually helped Tammy focus. She was hunched over her desk, trying to organize the chaos of her thoughts before the day’s work swallowed her whole.
Her phone vibrated against the wood of the table.
Femi.
She stared at the name for a few seconds. Usually, seeing his name brought a sense of duty, a “let me be nice” feeling.
But today, after the clarity, it brought a heavy sense of necessity. She needed to be fair. She picked up.
“Hello, Femi. Good morning.”
“Morning, Tam,” Femi’s voice was cautious.
Since their last gruff conversation, the easy warmth had been replaced by a careful politeness, like someone walking on eggshells in their own home.
“I just wanted to check in. I know you said the workload was getting intense this week. I hope you’re not letting those clients run you ragged.”
Tammy leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.
“I’m managing, Femi. It’s a lot, but I’m getting through it. How are you? How is the new place coming along?”
“It’s okay. I’m just moving things in slowly. It’s a big house, Tammy. A lot of empty rooms.”
He paused, and the silence was heavy with the implication of what he wanted those rooms to be.
“I was actually calling to see if you needed anything. Or maybe I could drop by later just to see your face for five minutes?”
Tammy took a deep breath. She knew she couldn’t keep doing the dance of “maybe later” or “I’m busy.”
If she was going to hear God clearly, she had to stop the blurred lines.
“Femi,” she said, her voice sounding more grounded than it had in weeks.
“I’d actually like to see you. Soon. Not just for five minutes, but for a real sit-down.”
The line went quiet for a moment.
She could almost hear him bracing himself.
When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. “Is there an issue, Tammy? Did I do something?”
“Not at all,” she said quickly, trying to soothe the immediate anxiety she heard in him.
“There’s no new issue. I just feel like we’ve been talking in circles over the phone, and it’s not fair to either of us. I think we need to have a proper conversation. I need to see you soon.”
“Okay,” he said, the word sounding like a sigh of relief mixed with dread.
“I’m here. You know that. I’ve always been here. Whenever you’re ready, just say the word. Tomorrow? Friday? I’ll clear my schedule. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a board meeting, if you say you’re ready to talk, I’ll be there.”
The sheer weight of his devotion made Tammy’s heart ache. It was so heavy, so certain.
“I appreciate that, Femi. Truly. Let me look at my schedule for the end of the week after I finish a few more things at the studio. I’ll message you tonight and we can pick a time.”
“I’ll be waiting for that message,” Femi said, his voice regaining a bit of its usual softness.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I won’t. I’ll talk to you later.”
When she hung up, she felt a strange mix of pride and fear. She had finally taken the first step toward the “break” Purity suggested.
The step of actually facing the man she was hurting. But as she sat there in the quiet studio, she realized that saying “we need to talk” was often the beginning of the end.
She stared at her phone for a long time after the call ended, feeling the gravity of what was coming.
She didn’t want to lose Femi’s friendship, but she knew she couldn’t keep offering him a version of herself that was half-distracted by a man with locs and a scent of oud.
“God, give me the words,” she whispered to the empty room.
Tammy was deep into a color-matching session, trying to find the exact shade of “midnight velvet” that wouldn’t look black under the gala lights, when the door chimes rang.
Chioma went to the door and came back clutching a sleek, insulated delivery bag that looked far too expensive for a regular canteen.
“Ma, someone sent you lunch oh,” Chioma said, her eyes dancing with mischief.
“The delivery guy said it’s already paid for and I should make sure you eat it while it’s hot.”
Tammy frowned, setting her fabric swatches aside.
“From who? I didn’t order anything. Is it Femi?”
“I don’t think so,” Chioma murmured, pulling out a small, cream-colored card tucked into the handle.
She handed it to Tammy, leaning in close to see the writing.
The note was brief, written in a bold handwriting that Tammy didn’t recognize but could easily imagine:
Don’t stress so much today. Make sure you eat well and take care of yourself. You can’t style the world on an empty stomach. I won’t be reaching out again. Just thought to send this food to let you know I’m rooting for you.
There was no name. No “S.B.” No signature.
Just that short, sweet command. Tammy felt a flush creep up her cheeks.
She knew that “commanding” tone anywhere.
It was Setto, respecting her boundary of “professional distance” but still making his presence felt in the most nurturing way possible.
“God when o!” Chioma suddenly shouted, clapping her hands and doing a small jig.
“See romance! Ma, look at me. Am I a spoon? Am I a fork? Why am I just here watching ‘love in Tokyo’ while my own stomach is doing ‘justice for one’?”
Tammy couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, the tension of the previous day finally snapping.
“Yes o, you are a spoon! In fact, you are a wooden spatula. Get away from here and go back to your sewing machine playfully!”
“Eh! This life no balance!” Chioma grumbled playfully, retreating to her corner but still wearing a wide grin.
“But Ma, whoever he is, the man has taste. That food smells like a five-star hotel.”
Tammy sat down and opened the container.
It was a gourmet spread of grilled croaker fish, stir-fried vegetables, and plantain that looked like it had been sliced by a precision instrument.
She took a bite, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the food.
Setto was playing a very clever game. He was giving her space, but he was also reminding her to take care of herself.
Just as she was finishing the last of the fish, her phone rang.
It was a local number she didn’t recognize. Thinking it might be one of the fabric vendors from Yaba, she wiped her mouth and picked up.
“Hello? Atelier Tami, good afternoon.”
“Tammy? My daughter, is that you?”
The voice was older, laced with a very specific, polished Yoruba accent.
Tammy’s heart skipped. It wasn’t a vendor. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in a while, but one she knew very well.
“Mummy? Mummy Femi?” Tammy asked, her voice dropping into a respectful, slightly worried tone.
“Yes, it’s me, my dear. How are you? I’ve been asking Femi about you, but that boy has just been giving me short answers. I decided I must call you myself.”
“I am fine, Mummy. Just very busy with work. I’m sorry I haven’t called to check on you, ma.”
“Don’t worry about that one. I know how the world is now,” the woman said, though her tone was purposeful.
“Where are you now? Are you at your shop?”
“Yes, ma. I’m at the studio.”
“Okay. Give me the address. The full one. I am in a car coming towards that side now.”
Tammy froze.
Her mind raced.
Femi’s mother was coming to the studio? Now?
“Mummy... is everything okay? You didn’t inform me on time.”
“Hmmmmm.. I was just passing by a thought to see you. Everything is in God’s hands, my daughter. Just send me the address. I will be there in thirty minutes.”
Tammy’s hand trembled as she typed out the address and hit send.
She looked around her studio, the luxurious fabrics, the sketches, the life she was trying to figure out.
“Chioma,” Tammy said, her voice sounding breathless.
“Ma?”
“Start tidying up. I have a guest on her way here.”
Chioma’s eyes went wide. “Today? Without an appointment?”
“Don’t ask me questions, Chioma,” Tammy snapped, though the fear in her chest said otherwise.
She stood at the window, watching the rain hit the glass, wondering if this was the “clarity” she had asked God for, or if the storm was just getting started.
Hi babiessssss🤭🤭🤭
It feels so good to have a friend who is spiritually alert.
Up Valerie oo…
Also, Femi is such a sweet soul🥹. I really do like him. I might just write his own story.
Onto the next.. Why is Femi’s mom coming to see Tammy?!
Please write Femi's story.
A story where he's not just an option.
I feel for him🥲
Ugh this story just reminded me of why I hatee love triangles