Novels by Damian Chiemezie

She sneaked into their room and discovered he had left. Just as she turned to leave, Donald hurried in to take what he left on their cabinet. He bent down and without intending to, threw her eyes on the standing mirror fixed beside him. His new hair spray was gorgeous, and he nodded absentmindedly before he said “You are supposed to leave today, Favour. Aren’t you?” His unfriendly tone was obvious so she would get annoyed but she kept her cool. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Donald said as he searched for the documents. Favour walked to the door and clipped it. “What are you doing?” Donald said, dumbfounded. She came so close to him that her body was almost pressed against his. Donald was speechless when she yanked off her top dress and began to smooch him. But he pushed her away. “Do you realize what you are doing?” Donald said while wiping his lips. “You want to ruin your sister’s marriage. God!” “Have me Don, I can’t stop thinking about you” “Are you okay?”

“What do you want from me?” he shouted.“Marry me; because I have your baby”“You have what?”“Your baby”

Fully back at work after a sweet honeymoon in Gold Coast. She was back with energy and excitement. Obinna had missed her and had tried calling her when they were at Accra; her fans had missed her too. She was going to begin her programme today, and she would tell them how much she had missed them too. Emelda was extremely happy; Donald had treated her like a queen at Accra. He would always be the one to wake her up in the morning and serve her breakfast while she was still in bed. Each time they went out, he guarded her jealously. Some of these men didn’t give a hoot about her marital status. She was embarrassed to see them come up with their advances even when they saw a ring on her hand. When would men respect the sanctity of matrimony? She wondered. It was common knowledge that one should not cross a boundary but not for these guys. They chased anything under the skirt of a woman. Obinna listened with full concentration as she swooned into the deeps. Gesturing as she spoke.

Donald’s mother noticed they had been beefing about each other. She heard Emelda accuse him of cheating on her, and her son had said the same thing. She called them together this Saturday morning and told them that if they were ever going to get married and stay married, they should trust themselves. “None of you have concrete evidence to prove your suspicion true,” she said. “Hence, all accusations are watery” “But mum, I was told she kissed Obinna in public. From a reliable source,” Donald said as he crossed his leg. “Will you shut up and listen?” his Mum howled and stood up. He had been the only one interrupting her and this made it look like he was innocent. “You are such an ingrate, son. And I am disappointed in you,” she was still standing, glaring at him. “Aren’t you tired of fake, worthless women around you?” “You have a real woman right before you, and you can’t appreciate her. All you do is come up with stupid allegations so that she would get tired and leave you…so t

Donald waited until he was sure he had settled in his office.He stepped in at the right time. No client was on his desk and his colleagues were not around, Emelda included.On entering his office, he looked around and saw three portraits. They were unknown to him but he was sure they were public speakers, famous for their achievements in the media industry.He was nodding and pacing around. And yet hadn’t uttered a word. Obinna was speechless and somewhat scared; there was some vibration in his heart. What was he doing? “Please, how may I help you?” he began. He would blame the gatekeeper for allowing him entrance. Didn’t he see how rugged he was dressed?Some musicians dressed like that, anyway, Obinna would have said, afterthought. As numerous of them had trooped in to place an advert for their songs on the radio. Don removed his eyeglasses and sat down without being asked to. “Leave her alone before you get into trouble,” he said in a very low voice. “Who are you?”“I won’t re

Donald was reading a newspaper with his legs straddled on a stool when he saw the call. He contemplated for a moment if he should concentrate on reading or give the call an answer. He picked up the phone, put it on silent, and dropped it. It was a strange number, but he guessed who was calling. “Samson,” he called one of the gardeners. “Sir,” he answered where he was trimming the flowers. “Come and see” Samson was surprised at first because he was at home today, sitting around, and second, because he lowered his voice instead of choosing to shout. “Have you read today’s paper?” “No Sir,” he said. He couldn’t remember the last time he was given the freedom to relax and read anything in the palace. The last time? He didn’t think he had ever done anything like that, not in this palace. His job had always been to cut overgrown flowers and leave. Sometimes sleeping in the boys’ quarter if need be. “Look at what they are saying; go to the advert section instea