There was a season in my life when I was deeply depressed. It became so bad that I became a shadow of myself.

I would wake up around 2:00 a.m. and cry until my eyes were swollen.

I wondered if God was playing cards with my life!

At 32, I was still struggling with my 9-5 job and was not stable financially.  There was no man in the picture and to make matters worse, Mr. Jayeola, my Managing Director, refused to approve my promotion letter because I refused to "pay with my body."

Ah! I questioned my faith in God and every truth I had once believed.

I was a teenage instructor in my church. Besides that, purity had been my watchword right from my teenage years, even before I encountered Jesus, and my conviction only deepened after I gave my life to Christ. Since then, I have passionately pursued purity, teaching it in teenage classes and at retreats.

I don't usually wear glasses, but during that season, I had to buy a pair of lightly tinted glasses just to hide my puffy under-eye bags from my colleagues, who constantly asked if I was okay.

The pressure at work grew worse with each passing day.

Mr. Jayeola would call me into his office and issue queries over matters that were never my fault. Then he would end every conversation by saying,
"You know where to meet me if you want to get yourself out of this mess.”

The incident that finally broke me happened on a Wednesday evening.

I was midway through sorting out some debits and credits when my phone vibrated on the desk. An email notification flashed across the screen. The subject line alone sent a chill through me.

ICAN Examination Results Released.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. My fingers froze above the calculator as the numbers on the spreadsheet blurred before my eyes. I stared at the notification, my heart pounding against my chest.

I desperately needed to pass that examination. Failing it again would mean watching yet another opportunity slip through my fingers. It was one of the reasons I had been unsuccessful in securing the jobs I had applied for.

But the emotional burden wasn't the only thing weighing on me. I had emptied my savings to pay for tuition, study materials, and every other expense. When that wasn't enough, I borrowed money from my mum, promising to repay her bit by bit each month.

Ah, God!

Too much had been invested—financially, emotionally, and mentally—for me to fail. This was the only ticket I had to escape this toxic environment I found myself trapped in.

I was just about to open the email when a sharp tap on my desk jolted me back to reality.

I looked up.

The secretary stood beside me—a fair-skinned woman with a sympathetic smile that couldn't quite hide the urgency in her eyes.

"The MD wants to see you," she said.

My heart ached.

Every time that message came, it rarely meant anything good. I locked my phone without checking the result, drew a slow breath, and rose from my chair.

As I walked toward Mr. Jayeola's office, every step felt heavier than the last. I had no idea that what awaited me behind that door would push me closer to my breaking point than I had ever been before.

The moment I stepped into his office, he slid a thick pile of documents across his desk.

"Tunmise, I need you to type this before the close of work today."

I looked down.

Fifty pages.

Surely, he was joking.

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

3:30 p.m!

Barely an hour and thirty minutes remained before the close of business.

I looked back at him, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Sir... if I had received this assignment at the beginning of the day, I could have completed at least half—if not more—but fifty pages in one and a half hours..."

He slowly leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and stared at me.

"Tunmise," he said coldly, "you know what to do."

"I need this document on my table today. If you have to stay back after work, then stay back.”

In that instant, I knew exactly what he was doing.

This had nothing to do with work.

It was another trap.

No one could accurately type fifty pages within that amount of time—not even the fastest typist.

Before I could plead my case any further, he pointed toward the door.

"You may leave."

I walked out of his office, blinking back tears.

What could a sixty-five-year-old man with five children—two of them already married with children of their own—possibly be looking for in me?

Ah! Sodom and Gomorrah must have been better.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and buried myself in the fifty-page document. One by one, the familiar sounds of the office faded, and the only reminder that anyone else remained in the building was the occasional shuffle of the security guards' boots outside.

Every time I heard Mr. Jayeola's footsteps approaching, my shoulders stiffened.

I could barely concentrate, my heart whispering desperate prayers for an escape. Then, without warning, he stopped behind me. I felt his presence before I saw him. He leaned over my shoulder, close enough for me to feel his breath as his eyes scanned my laptop screen.

I froze.

"Sir..." I murmured, instinctively pulling my chair forward to create some distance.

Before he could say another word—

Knock. Knock.

The sharp rap on the office door shattered the suffocating silence.

"Come in," Mr. Jayeola called, his voice edged with impatience.

To be continued.

#truthinfiction