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Traffic drained me.
Work finished me.
And the electricity had reached its usual evening “on and off” madness.
I dropped my bag and slumped on the chair.
My daughter watched me quietly, unusual for her.
She went into the kitchen and brought water, two Cabin biscuits, and placed them on a tray she got from her tea set.
“Mummy, I don’t have plenty… but I can share with you.”
With all the noise of Lagos buzzing outside,
that tiny moment felt like peace.
She crawled beside me and whispered,
“You’ll be okay. I’m here.”
And somehow…
that was all I needed to believe it.
