You know those fairytales? The ones where you live, fall in love, grow old and live happily ever after. While growing up, I used to think death was for those who lived during the B.C. and A.D. era—I never knew anyone could die—even a day old baby. Maybe when I was 7, I had said by 27, I would be living my dream-life, but it turned out 27 might be my death year. I’m not a pessimist, don’t be so quick to judge—but maybe if you walked in my shoes, you would understand my journey.

Dr Fili just called—a call I’ve been praying against—but no one runs away from reality. I went from hot to sickly cold in a split second. Who would not? I’m not insane but that call is a notification that I have to start a new session of therapy for my terminal illness. For 3 years now, I’ve been battling with…
Why would anyone call at this ungodly hour? I forgot God created Kara.

“Hey girlfriend, I’m at your front door!”
“My fro… front door!? Why…” Kara is the last person I really want to see after my doctor’s call.
“Would you come open the door before someone kidnaps me!” she yelled.
I let out a few ragged breaths, slipped into my night robe, then out to open the door for an uninvited guest.
“I’ll kill this girl,” I muttered.
She threw her arms in the air. “Ta-da!”
“Kara, you ain’t a baby,” I said, closing the door behind me. My eyes travelled down Kara’s radiant face, to her outfit, and the one that made me freak out—HER LUGGAGE!
“So is that how you welcome your guests?” she asked in a sarcastic tone, making her way to my mini parlour. “Hey Keke, it’s Kara, I’m not a ghost—you look like you just saw a beautiful ghost.”
“A ghost would have been better,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And what’s up with the August visit at 10:30 pm coupled with a bag that literally means –‘I’ve come to live here… for forever and a day’ ”
She crashed into a chair. “Well, I got sick of the air at my place. Am I not welcome in my friend’s home?”
Of course, Kara can always come here—but not now… not now. My therapy starts in a few days.
“Oh yes, you are,” I said in a drawl and not too sincere voice.
She shrugged. “By the way, you look like life is squeezing itself out of you. Are you fine?”
I wish I could say otherwise. But is my illness that obvious? I’ve been concealing my illness for 3 years…yes, 3 years, and I’m not ready to let anyone into my secret hole.
I forced a faint smile. “Oh yes, I’m fine… very fine!”
“You’d better be!”
I’m trying to! I wish I had said that too.
“Your room?”
Oh no! I can’t let Kara in my room. My diary…my drugs… my hope paintings…the pieces of my broken life are in that room. I can’t give her a clue that her best friend is dying.
“No way! Sleep in the guest room.” I said firmly.
 I guess she was too tired to argue. She sluggishly stood up from the chair and wheeled her bag to the guest room.

A tear escaped from my eye. I really want to tell you—them; my mum, Kara and Maruwa—but I don’t want them to get hurt. I’ve been suffering in silence since the day my test result came out 3 years ago. Dr Fili was so sweet but firm. I watched as his words fell like the wall of Jericho—I had died a million time before he finally said—‘Keke, you are suffering from-’

“KEKE! HAVE YOU EVER CLEANED UP THIS ROOM!? As much as I know death is real, I don’t want to die of malaria. By the way, get me a cup of water and an insecticide!” she yelled.
I know Kara is crazy but unlike Maruwa—I always have a prepared comeback for her craziness.
“You know, it would be better if you went back to your house. If you are really thirsty, you would get your ass out of that room!”
“Is this how you treat your guest!?”
“Maybe if you were a guest, I would treat you right!”
“I hate you!” She must have been distracted by something—probably a meme on her phone—because she burst into a peal of loud laughter that seemed so far away.
“This lady keeps distracting me. I have to find a way to get her out of here before next week. All thanks to her, I have to tidy up my room, and most importantly—I have to put up a strong face—just like I do every time I’m with people. I hate you, Kara. I hate you,” I cursed under my breath.

But the truth is, I love just three people in my life—my Mum, Kara and Maruwa. I wiped a tear from my cheek, stood up and saw my reflection in the mirror—the one my first boyfriend gifted me. Another tear trickled down my face, I can’t be in a relationship… I can’t dream… I can’t expect… I just have to make every day count because my tomorrow is not certain.

I’m Keke, a 27-year-old fashion designer, content creator and a non-practising lawyer. My dad died in his sleep six years ago, and I’m the second child of my mother. I have two great friends—the crazy one is in my guest room, the other one is somewhere in her husband’s house—probably making love.   I set myself on fire to keep others warm but, I’m slowly burning down into ashes.
I’m dying…

Keke is dying? I can’t be the only one seeing this! What could be the cause of her illness?
Do you think Keke should tell her mother and friends what she has been keeping for 3 years?
How do you welcome an uninvited guest –even your best friend—in your house?

Catch up with the previous episode!

🌸Soaked in love💜


  1. Nice one dear....It's said that a problem shared is half solved, she should definitely tell her dearest especially her mom because she won't see her daughter dieing and not find a swift solution to it. If at the end of the day,that illness gets worse,then even her mom n amazing friends won't forgive her for keeping such huge secret from them..... During our trying times do we need our love ones most...#my thought tho

    And as for,uninvited guest,. Just gonna be nice to the person tho shock will be written all over my face🤣🤣...Tho it's not so nice showing up without informing beforehand😶 what if just what if I was in a foul mood and I could even flare up😏

    Keep it up girl!!....Kudos

  2. I would just let an uninvited guest be on their own... We move with normal vibe the nxt day.


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