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Overflow Books, Lagos (2026)

11/12/2025

ANNOUNCEMENT

I have not posted since the beginning of the week. I am so sorry about the inconsistency. I had to settle some things offline. I will be posting next week.

By the way, an important announcement is coming on this page🤗😊. I have mixed feelings as regards it, but yeah it drops soon.

08/12/2025

UNTAMED
Episode 13

Tamilore was deeply bothered. A restraining order. Her mother had gotten her friends in the court to place a restraining order on her father. No wonder he never reached out. No wonder he was never present. Her father had not abandoned her. Her mum had pushed him away.

A soft relief washed through her chest, but it quickly dissolved into a heavier ache. It felt as though someone had reopened an old wound she had managed to live with. Why had her mother separated their family? Why had she hurt the man she loved so deeply? Why go so far just to wound him?

Her heart was full of questions. Still, she found herself trying to understand her mother, even though the answers were nowhere in sight. What could have driven her to that point?

"Tamilore, I’m back". She heard Lydia’s voice ring from outside. She blinked, jolted out of her thoughts. She opened the door to find Lydia looking like someone who had fought a long battle with hospital stress. She smelled of disinfectant, tiredness, and one stubborn patient’s complaint.

"How was your day?" Tamilore asked as Lydia stepped in and dropped her bag with the kind of dramatic exhaustion only Lydia could pull off.

"How will a doctor’s day in a public hospital be like? Stressful, my dear. Stressful. But today was special. I prayed for one of my patients", Lydia said excited. She sat down on the bare floor.

Tamilore raised a brow and smiled knowingly. Trust Lydia to start a full documentary the moment she crossed the door. It was always surprising to remember that the same girl could act shy outside. Inside, she was a complete talkative.

"So what happened when you prayed for this patient?" She asked her friend.

"He got healed. Instantly." Lydia was still in shock. "I had been sensing for some days that his case was peculiar. Today, I felt the leading to lay hands on him. I did, and God healed him immediately."

"Wow, that’s amazing!" She exclaimed.

"I’m telling you, my sister. When God does a miracle and it shocks even you. When God told me He had a healing ministry for me, I thought He meant healing with medicine, not with holy hands. God is amazing".

"I love what God is doing with you, my sister," Tamilore said, smiling.

As she spoke, she felt a quiet stirring in her spirit. A small hunger. A gentle pull. What would God have her do? As she and Lydia continued talking, she could sense a new burden finding a resting place in her heart.

```

"I got a job, Mama. I got a job," Tamilore screamed happily into the phone. She was sharing the good news with her mentor, barely able to keep from dancing.

"I am so happy for you, Tamilore. I knew God would provide a new job for you", her mentor responded on the call. Her voice sounded like she was laughing. "More big wins in Jesus' name".

"Amen!"

~~~~

"Hello Daddy, this is Tamilore and Oluwaseun. We got your number from Dr Lydia. Please reach out to us if you listen to this."

Daniel Raphael listened to the voice note for the fifth time. His girls. His girls had reached out to him.

For the first time in a long while, something warm broke inside his chest.

© Deborah Oluwasegun

As Inspired By The Revealer of Secrets

Overflow Books

05/12/2025

Untamed

Episode Twelve

Tamilore thought about the conversation she had with her mentor earlier that morning as she sent out job applications. Her mentor had collected the book where she wrote all the offences she felt she had committed against God, looked through it briefly, and burnt it the same way she had burnt the previous one. Watching the book go up in flames felt strangely freeing, like watching emotional baggage turn to ash.

Her mentor had then handed her a scripture from the book of Isaiah.
He blots out our transgressions, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed.

Tamilore held on to that scripture as though it was the last thread tying her sanity together. Healing… she needed that desperately.

```

Later that day, Tamilore attended her sister’s introduction ceremony. The moment she stepped into her mother’s compound, she transformed into a certified firstborn daughter: carrying trays, ensuring the cooler of jollof didn’t mysteriously disappear, settling unnecessary quarrels between aunties, and smiling for pictures she didn’t want to take.

By the end of the ceremony, she was thoroughly exhausted. Her feet were aching, her cheeks hurt from forced smiles, and her head throbbed from the chorus of nosy aunties.

And of course, the famous question came repeatedly like a national anthem.

"When are you bringing your own man home?"

Some said it with genuine concern. Others said it with the kind of curiosity that deserved a fine from the federal government. One aunty even whispered, “You are next in Jesus' name,” the way someone might whisper a curse. Tamilore had simply smiled and nodded, praying internally for strength not to roll her eyes.

Seyi walked up to her later, smiling widely. "Sista mi, thank you for today. I really appreciate all you do for me."

Tamilore smiled back. Her sister looked so happy. Radiant even. Nothing like the nervous bride-to-be she had calmed down that morning when Seyi almost cried because her gele wasn’t sitting properly.

"Today would have been perfect if daddy and Muyiwa were present," Seyi added, her voice dropping into sadness.

Tamilore felt her chest tighten. There was something about the way Seyi said “daddy” that tugged at the part of her heart she kept sealed.

"I actually heard about daddy from my friend," she said slowly. "He is not in Nigeria and was very sick years ago."

Seyi’s eyes widened. "Really? Why did you not tell me?"

Tamilore swallowed. Her tongue suddenly felt heavy. "I wanted you to have your big day without drama," she lied lightly.

The lie tasted bitter.

Lord… forgive me, she prayed in her heart. This lie is small but my conscience is loud.

Seyi nodded thoughtfully, but Tamilore saw the slight confusion in her sister’s eyes. Seyi was forgetful, yes, but she wasn’t foolish. Memories came and went with her like the wind. One minute she remembered their father leaving; the next she could barely recall what caused the quarrel between their parents.

Tamilore’s mind drifted to the little burnt books—pages of anger, accusations, and hurt. She remembered how her mentor had placed the scripture of forgiveness in her hands. She had nodded that day. But forgiveness was easier in theory than in practice. Especially when pain had settled in her bones for twelve years.

"I lied," Tamilore confessed suddenly.

Seyi blinked. "Lied about what?"

"It wasn’t about your big day," she said, biting her lower lip. "I was not ready to let go of the past." She exhaled deeply, as though her heart was finally letting air out after a long time. "Lydia actually offered to give me his contact, but I refused. I even made her promise not to give him mine."

Seyi stared at her for a moment, then sighed. "Oh, sista mi... I know he hurt us, but I think there might be things we don’t know about why daddy left."

Tamilore looked at her sharply. "We both know why daddy left. He left because of mummy."

"Yes, because of mummy," Seyi said softly, twisting the end of her wrapper absentmindedly, "but it was more than the domestic abuse he suffered."

Tamilore’s forehead creased. "What are you talking about?"

Seyi hesitated, looking around as though the walls had ears. She leaned closer and whispered, "There were things mummy hid. Things daddy went through that we didn’t know."

Her voice trembled. Tamilore had never seen her sister look so unsure, almost guilty, as though she knew something she wasn’t sure she was ready to say.

Tamilore felt her heart thump harder. She suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, yet she needed it.

```

Far away, Daniel Raphael stared at the pictures from his daughter’s introduction ceremony on Instagram. He zoomed in on every picture, trying to catch a glimpse of Tamilore’s face—her real face, not the smiling one she put on for cameras. She had grown. Both of them had. Twelve years had changed a lot.

What would he not give to restore the relationship he once shared with his girls?

Twelve long years.

One year of refusing to sign divorce papers.
One year in jail, untried, accused of attempting to kidnap his own daughter.
Six years battling cancer and fighting for his life while thinking of two girls who probably thought he no longer loved them.
Four years rebuilding his life, gathering strength, and gathering wealth by the grace of God.

And now, just a few months to wait before he could finally see them again.

He sighed.

His wife, Eniola… she had hurt him badly. Very badly.
Sometimes he wondered if things would have been different, less broken, if he had simply signed the divorce papers when she asked.

He rested his head against the chair and whispered, "God, help me. Help us. Let me fix what is left of my family."

The pictures on his phone glowed softly, showing the two daughters he had prayed for every day since he left.

He hoped they would forgive him.
He hoped they would understand the truth someday.
He hoped… they would let him be their father again.

© Deborah Oluwasegun

As Inspired By The Revealer of Secrets

Overflow Books

03/12/2025

UNTAMED
Episode 11 (unedited)

"Mr Daniel Raphael was always joyful despite his medical condition. He was always singing songs that glorifies God and light up everyone that listens to him", Lydia said smiling. "He was always radiating joy that when he told me about Jesus, I had no hard time accepting Him".

Yeah! That sounded like her dad alright, Tamilore thought. He is a very good singer. She wondered how God works. Her own father was the same person that told Lydia about Jesus. Her absentee dad who was not even there for her and her sister during trying times was busy preaching Christ in a hospital. Then it dawned on her. A hospital?

Is he fine now? Like has he left the hospital?
Oh yes, he has. He was discharged years ago. Last I heard, he is no longer in the country. Why did you ask?

"I suspect that this Mr Daniel Raphael is my dad who abandoned me and my sister", Tamilore said. She felt the pain of him leaving all over again. He could have stayed. Instead he left with her younger brother. Maybe he felt a son was better than daughters?

Lydia shakes her head. "No, not this Mr Raphael. He would never abandon his kids. He even has a son, Muyiwa".

"Muyiwa is my younger brother", she stated flatly. She slowly remembers the good old days. Everyone had known her as a daddy's girl. Her daughter especially when he lost his job was very attentive to the emotional needs of his children. It had not mattered that he was not wealthy.

"It has been twelve years, Lydia. Twelve solid years without my father and my baby brother", Tamilore said. And to think her father is no longer in the country.
Lydia was not expecting this. The same Mr Raphael who brought her to Christ is the same man who allegedly abandoned his family. "I am so sorry Tamilore, but I am sure there must be a good reason why he has not visited since he left".

"Oh! He called a couple of times after he left and then later, we just did not see him again", Tamilore said. She started to sniffle holding back tears. The memories were painful. Memories of her hoping he would come for her matriculation ceremony as he promised. Memories of her waiting for her father whenever her mother was in a mood to cheer things up as he always did.
Lydia gave her a hug. "All will be well, Tamilore. Remember that all things, good or bad work together for the good of those that serve the Lord. The failures of those we trust is not the failure of God".

Tamilore cried out. How peculiar cases are? One who was abandoned by her father and emotionally abused by her mother and another experiencing another kind of abuse for a man she trusted and called "uncle".
~~~~
After morning devoution the next morning at Mrs Obatale's. They all greeted themselves with hugs as was their culture. "I want to talk to you guys this morning. Lydia, let us see first", Mrs Obatale told her mentees.

"How are you my dear?" She asked Lydia. " Oh! Sit down".

"I am very good mummy", Lydia answered sitting down opposite her mentor. Mrs Obatale was practically her mother and she felt comfortable around her.

"You have spent over six months with me in this house and I have seen you grow from the woman trying to be consistent in her walk with God. I have seen you submit your heart to God for healing. I have seen you cry and I have seen you smile. I have seen you change from that woman who found it difficult to converse with people to this woman who enjoys good communication with others. I love what God has been doing and I am happy for how far you have come".

The mentee was listening attentively and with a smile. She was really grateful to God and for her mentor.

"Now, Lydia. Do you have any male friends?"
Lydia was shocked. Male friends? Why is her mentor asking her that of all questions. "No, I don't ma", she answered. What on earth will she use a male friend for?

"Why?" Mrs Obatale asked.

Her mentor should know why, the younger woman was thinking. "I don't want to marry".

"Explain yourself, Lydia", she urged.

She swallowed as she reflected on how best she could answer the question. "I don't want to keep male friends. Having one of those gender has a friend puts me in a position of saying"no" to relationships. Already, I have guys I have turned down".

She looked at her mentor's face to see her reaction. They had been over this in her early months of mentorship. Not everyone was uncle Tade, they are good men out there, her mentor had said. She knew that in her heart. She no longer hated men as once did because of her best, but the thought of marriage makes her frown at any guy who looks at her in a funny way.

"I knew that was it, but Lydia. You are entering a new season and I want you to commit your heart to God in prayers. Your heart needs to be open to marriage", her mentor counseled.
"Thank you ma. I will do just that ".

"Please do. Of course I will be praying for you too. Go and rest. You need it after your night's shift. Kindly tell Tamilore to come".

© Deborah Oluwasegun

As Inspired By The Revealer of Secrets

Overflow Books

02/12/2025

Chapter eleven is not quite ready. I will send it in tomorrow

01/12/2025

Episode ten

Untamed 💔

"Ma, here is the book," Tamilore said, handing a sixty-leaf notebook to her mentor. Three days earlier, Mrs Obatale had told her to write down the names of everyone who had offended her.

Her mentor was in the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water. She closed it gently, collected the notebook from Tamilore, and flipped through the pages without expression.

"Okay. That's good," she said.

Then, without warning, she brought out a small pan and a lighter from the cabinet. She set the lighter aflame and held the book over the pan. The pages caught fire instantly.

"Mummy, no! Why are you burning it?" Tamilore cried, her heart twisting. She had spent three days pouring her pain into that book. Three days of remembering every wound, every insult, every betrayal. And now it was disappearing in seconds.

"You don’t need it," Mrs Obatale said calmly, watching the flame consume the pages. "That list kept you tied to the past. Now you will make a new one. You will write the things you have done that may have hurt others. And in that same book, you will write everything you have done that hurt God."

Tamilore stared at the ashes in the pan. She had not expected this. She didn’t even know how to process it.

"Are you with me, Tamilore?" her mentor asked, her tone firm but gentle.

"Yes ma… yes ma," Tamilore replied quickly, even though her thoughts were still tangled.

"Good. And how is the job hunt?" Her mentor asked changing the subject.

"Not so well, but I’m still searching," she said, lowering her eyes.

```

Tamilore grew to love staying in her mentor’s home. Mrs Obatale’s warmth filled the atmosphere, and Lydia, the other mentee, was a quiet comfort. Lydia was a practicing medical doctor, yet she carried a softness that made her easy to talk to. She moved with a grace Tamilore admired. Her life seemed so put together, like she knew why she was on earth.

But Tamilore could not tell that Lydia, like her, was rebuilding her life piece by piece.

"Lydia, why are you here?" Tamilore finally asked one evening as they prepared dinner together. "You know part of my story, but you don’t look like someone who needs live-in mentorship."

Lydia smiled. The smile is not the bright kind, but one touched with memory.

"I’ve been here for six months," she said. "So the Lydia you see now is not the Lydia that came here. Mrs Obatale runs a ministry for people who have gone through traum like r*pe, domestic violence, broken homes, emotional wounds."

Tamilore swallowed. She hadn’t known.

Lydia continued, her voice steady but soft. "I was abused by my uncle for ten years."

Tamilore froze.

"My mother was a widow. She couldn’t afford my school fees, and we had no contact with my father’s family. So she sent me to live with her younger brother, Uncle Tade. He used to visit, bringing me gifts and saying the right things. I trusted him. I was even happy to go. But in my first year at the university, he came home drunk one night and took advantage of me."

Lydia paused, breathing slowly.

"I thought it was a mistake. I convinced myself he was drunk. But it happened again. And again. Sometimes he wasn’t drunk at all. Each time, he apologized and took me shopping. That was his pattern. He funded my education, took care of my needs… and violated me. Even after he got married, he continued. I still wonder if his wife ever knew."

Tamilore’s stomach tightened.

"After my induction as a doctor, I got a job here in Abeokuta and finally moved out. That was my freedom. He didn’t like it, but I didn’t care anymore. Then my mother died a few days later. I had no relatives, no friends, no support. I became a recluse. I didn’t know how to relate with people, even at work."

She inhaled, her eyes softening.

"Then came the turning point. I met Jesus in a man. A patient. Mr Daniel Raphael."

Tamilore’s hands went cold.

Mr Daniel Raphael?

Her father.

Time stopped.

© Deborah Oluwasegun

As Inspired By The Revealer of Secrets

Overflow Books

29/11/2025

Untamed 💔

Episode 9

Tamilore stood up from her kneeling position. Praying for Emeka is a lot. The man had no good intentions towards her. Despite her going an extra mile to please him, he had hurt her with his words and actions. She remembered the last time he slapped her when she came to visit him. She had been telling him to show more commitment in church by joining the workforce, but he had gotten angry and slapped her. How can she pray for a man like that? She shook her head.

She sat down on the bed. Really, she had been the fool in that relationship. Taking in every insult and slap and still begging him to forgive her. She realized again that Joseph had endured something close in their relationship. He had been the patient one then. Has he ever thought of praying for me? She thought. Joseph probably did, but she was no Joseph.

```

"Mummy, where is Sista mi? I just entered her room now and she was not there. Her clothes too are not there," Seun told her mother. She had checked the entire house for Tamilore and could not find her. More shocking is the fact that her wardrobe was empty.

Her mother hissed. "She has moved out of the house."

"Moved out? Why?" she asked. Where could she have gone to? Or did she fight with their mother again?

"She now has a new mother," her mother said, unintentionally showing a level of insecurity.

Mrs Obatale, Seun thought. She guessed her sister and her mother must have fought over her mentor, and her mother, in a fit of anger, had sent her packing. She picked up her phone and called her sister.

"Hello, Sista mi," she said as soon as her sister picked up.

"Seun, how are you? How was your business trip?" Tamilore asked on the other end of the call. Her voice sounded off to Seun’s ears.

"It was good. I will give you the gist later. The important thing is, what happened between you and mummy?"

"Mummy sent me packing."

"Why would she do that?" Seun had to ask. Her mother could be harsh and overbearing at times, but she was not unreasonable. It was out of character for her to send her daughter packing.

"We had an issue when she got back from work," she answered vaguely.

"What happened?" Seun asked.

Tamilore started recounting all that happened.

While she was talking, Seun interrupted her. "You and Uche broke things off?" she asked.

"Yes, and then I lost my job," she added.

Seun was shocked. "You lost your job?"

"I did."

"I am so sorry about that. That's terrible. How have you been holding up?"

She heard her sister sigh deeply. "It has not been easy. I'm hurt over how my relationship ended, and then I am jobless and might have been homeless if not for Mrs Obatale. Mummy did not understand me. She has never understood me."

```

"I can't ma, I can't pray for Emeka. He hurt me," Tamilore told her mentor. She had relayed to Mrs Obatale the instruction she received from the Lord, and her mentor was counseling her on it. It had taken her days to tell her mentor her struggle to obey God.

How can she pray for him? Forgive a man who had approached her to hurt her? Forgive a man who demeaned her every chance he got? Forgive a man who had slapped her a couple of times in her relationship? Forgive a man who almost molested her and might have if not for God? She did not want to forgive him.

"Don't you remember the word of Jesus? Pray for those that despitefully use you," Mrs Obatale told her. She knew forgiveness was not something that came easy. Hurt was in fact very real. She sat down close to her.

"That you are finding it repulsive to pray for him shows that you are still carrying hurt in your heart against him. Hurt breeds bitterness, unforgiveness, anger and hatred," she added. "A heart with all of these is not pure and cannot see God. Remember Hebrews 12:14 that says follow peace with all men and holiness without which no man can see the Lord."

Tamilore was listening attentively. Hurt breeds bitterness, unforgiveness and anger. God, please heal my heart completely, she prayed in her heart. Could it be that the restlessness she felt since she received the instruction was because she refused to forgive?

"When I was with my ex husband, he hurt me a lot. He abused me both physically and emotionally. I came out of that marriage a broken and battered woman," her mentor said, recalling her experience with her ex husband. She paused for a bit as she thought of her ex, Obanla Obatale. Oba had broken her. He had wounded her in places she never knew could hurt. He had opened up old scars even. It had taken the Lord to pick up the broken pieces and mend her. "Thank you Jesus for healing," she muttered quietly.

She continued sharing her story. "For a long time I was hurt and hated him. I hated myself too. Later on, I was not just hurt, I was bitter and angry at myself and the world. I got to the point of hurting everyone around me," she said. Even her son... She stopped midway in her thoughts. She was praying in her spirit. She did not say a word.

Tamilore was thinking of herself as she asked this. From hurt to bitter described her childhood. Growing up with her mother had meant bearing the brute of hurtful words. At a point in her life she had hated herself and thought she had to go the extra mile to keep people in her life, just like she had always gone the extra mile to please her mother. All her attempts had failed obviously. She was, no, is a hot tempered person with a mouth that can hurt others. Her childhood had made her so used to hurting people with words. Her anger and bad mouth had become a defense mechanism to protect her wounded heart. Eih, I am wounded. I am hurt.

Then another instruction came to her spirit. Forgive your mother.

That was not possible. Lord, do you know how much she hurt me?

"I just received a word for you, Tamilore. I will give you three days. Get a book. Write down the names of everyone who hurt you and write down everything they did to hurt you. Will you do that?"

"Yes ma," she promised. The instruction seemed easy to obey.

© Deborah Oluwasegun

As Inspired By The Revealer of Secrets

Overflow Books

28/11/2025

Please family Episode 9 of Untamed will be out tomorrow

27/11/2025

Episode 8

Untamed 💔

Tamilore ended up calling her mentor that night. Mrs Obatale drove over immediately. Tamilore begged her mother to allow her to stay, but her mother was unmoved.

"You have taken my daughter from me already. She listens to you more than she listens to me. You have taught her to ignore my instructions. Just take her with you. I do not want to see her anywhere around me," Mrs Raphael raved.

"Please ma, it is not like that. I would never counsel your daughter wrongly or teach her to disobey you," her mentor pleaded gently.

"I have respected you enough, Iya Peter. Take this useless child and leave with her," her mother said, her voice shaking with a bitterness that startled even her.

For a moment, the room went still. Tamilore stood frozen, tears slipping down her face. Mrs Obatale tried again, but it was clear nothing would change her mind. After several minutes of pleading without results, she quietly told her goodnight and led Tamilore out.

On the drive home, Mrs Obatale prayed silently. She had never experienced such drama over a mentee. Mentoring Tamilore already promised to be a heavy assignment, and her mother's posture made it even more complicated. No matter how she had tried, Eniola had never liked her after her divorce. Before the divorce, they had been close friends. Birds of the same feather. Similar temperament. The same sharp, uncontrolled tongue.

A memory flashed. Years ago, both of them laughing in her kitchen while making dinner. Eniola sprinkling pepper carelessly, both of them teasing each other. That was before everything changed. Before God broke her and remade her. Before Eniola pulled away without explanation.

Now she was despised by someone she once called friend. Till date, she still did not understand why Eniola resented her so deeply.

God, why did you instruct me to mentor her daughter? Was this a path toward reconciliation? Or was it simply to mould Tamilore, who desperately needed discipline and structure? The latter seemed more likely. The gap between her and Eniola felt too wide to bridge.

She glanced at Tamilore, who had been sobbing quietly earlier. She had fallen asleep, her face still stained with tears.

God, help me to help her.

The first days in Mrs Obatale’s house were heavy. Tamilore remained withdrawn and fragile, but her mentor was patient. There was another lady living there, a fellow mentee named Lydia. Lydia checked on her often, sometimes offering small smiles or a soft hand on her shoulder. Tamilore would nod, grateful even when she had no strength to speak.

This time, unlike her breakup with Joseph, she was not angry at God. She simply needed clarity about the vision she had seen. When she opened up to her mentor, the counsel was simple.

"Go on a retreat, my dear. No one will disturb you. Take time to seek the face of God concerning this matter. As much as you have questions, God also has much to say."

The next morning she began. Three days passed. In the quiet of the guest room set aside for retreats, the atmosphere felt still, almost heavy. Sometimes she prayed on her knees. Sometimes she lay on the floor and wept without words. What God kept ministering to her was not answers, but healing. Deep healing.

She had not realised how much of Joseph still lingered in her heart. Not to mention Emeka. She had been carrying wounded places she never acknowledged. Now, in the quiet, they surfaced one by one.

My joy does not come from a relationship, but from God.

She whispered it until peace settled over her chest like a warm cloth. Slowly, she began to feel like the woman who loved her Lord again. She was healing. God loved her and that was enough.

Today again she waited on God for understanding. She had fasted throughout the day. As she prayed, her body stilled and her surroundings faded. She slipped into a brief trance.

The same revelation appeared. She saw Emeka again, removing dirt from her eyes. But now the image sharpened. The dirt he removed was only a tiny bit compared to the thick, dark smears covering his own eyes. They looked heavy, almost glued in place. He could barely see.

She gasped and jolted out of the trance.

Oh Lord. She had stepped into a marital journey with someone blinded by specks of his own. The hypocrite in the scripture was not her. It was Emeka.

Then something unexpected happened.

Pray for Emeka, she heard in her spirit.

She froze. A cold resistance rose in her mind.

Pray for Emeka? After everything? After the hurt, the confusion, the emotional whirlwind? Pray for him?

Her heart recoiled.

© Deborah Oluwasegun

As Inspired By The Revealer of Secrets

Overflow Books

26/11/2025

Untamed will be posted on Mondays to Fridays ✅🙏

26/11/2025

Untamed Episode 7💔

The speck in your friend’s eye. Oluwatamilore opened her Bible as that line of scripture dropped into her heart. New Testament. She flipped to Matthew and read from the beginning until she found it. “Here it is. Matthew chapter seven.” She read silently, And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye?

The verses spoke about hypocrisy. Lord, how does this relate to me? she asked quietly. She closed her eyes and began to pray.

```

Tamilore resumed work a little late and caught a sharp glare from HR. She slipped into her seat at the reception desk and whispered a quick prayer.

Then the office door opened. Emeka walked in.

Her body froze.
“Why… are you… here?” she stuttered. She wasn’t a stammerer, but lately her nerves always seemed ready to betray her. Her palms became sweaty. She stood up out of courtesy.

“How dare you call this off!” he bellowed. His anger filled the entire reception area. Heads turned. His anger felt like heat against her skin.

“Again, I’m sorry, but it is for the best. I…”

“Keep your useless apology to yourself. A bad tempered woman like you that I decided to tame.” His eyes flashed. “Oh yes, you think I don’t know you have been pretending to be a good person? You are a hypocrite. A big one.”

Her knees weakened. She gripped the desk and slowly sat down. *Hypocrite?*

“Remember your birthday? When you ordered a ride? I was that driver. The one you insulted. The one who saw you screaming obscenities at other drivers.” He laughed bitterly. “That same day I saw you at a restaurant behaving even worse. You embarrassed that poor waiter. It was then I decided I would teach you a lesson you would never forget.

“And so far, all this while, you have pretended. But I guess today you decided to show your true colors. Fake church girl that cannot keep a man.” He hissed. “Just know, there is no break. The relationship is over.”

He turned sharply and walked out.

Tamilore glanced around. Clients and colleagues were staring. Their faces held questions and judgment. She fled to the restroom and broke down in tears.

By the end of the day, she had lost more than her relationship. She lost her job too. Clients had complained for years about her attitude, and even though she had changed, the consequences of her past came knocking loud and clear.

```
An hour after Emeka walked out, Tamilore received a message from HR asking her to come to Mrs. Badejo’s office. Her palms went damp instantly. She tried to steady her breath as she walked down the hallway, praying she wasn’t about to face what her instincts already sensed.

Mrs. Badejo didn’t smile when Tamilore stepped in. She gestured to the chair opposite her desk.

“Tamilore, please sit.”

The tone was enough. Formal. Stripped of every softness the woman usually carried.

“As you are aware,” the HR manager began, “the organisation has been reviewing several internal concerns. After careful consideration, management has decided to discontinue your employment.”

For a moment, Tamilore felt the words hover in the air like smoke.

Mrs. Badejo slid an envelope across the table. “This is your employment termination letter. Your benefits and final salary will be processed within the next few days. You’re also required to return your ID card and any company property before close of work today.”

Tamilore swallowed, hard. “May I know the reason for this decision?”

Mrs. Badejo drew in a short breath. “The letter states it clearly. It’s a management directive, and my role is to communicate it.”

The events of day had Tamilore lying on the couch in the sitting room. She had been crying.
Saying, she had been stunned was an understatement. She had expected a query not a termination letter. She heard someone knock on the door breaking her reverie. Her mother must be back. She stood up from the couch and opened the door. Her sister, Seyi had gone for a business trip outside the country and would not be at home till weekend.

“Welcome back mummy,” she greeted weakly.

Mrs Eniola Raphael looked her over and frowned. “Tamilore, are you sick?”

“No ma,” she replied, though her pounding headache made her shut her eyes briefly. She prayed her mother would not become dramatic.

“Then why do you look like this? Wait. Don’t tell me you could not keep Emeka too?”

Tamilore’s throat tightened. Tears gathered again.

“He broke up with you.” Her mother scoffed. “That is to be expected. You cannot keep a man. Look at your younger sister, Seun. That good girl. By next week Saturday we will be doing her introduction. But you? Useless.”

Tamilore snapped. “I am not Seun!” she screamed before she could stop herself. As long as she can remember, her mother had always compared her with her younger sister. “Stop comparing me to Seun. Yes, she is getting married. So? Yes, she has a better job. So?”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “You have finally gone mad. You are shouting at me? Me? Tamilore? You are shouting at your own mother. Everybody come and see. This useless girl is shouting at me.” She could not believe her daughter will confront her this way. The same child she laboured over for years. The same child she has been praying for.

“Mummy, please stop shouting. Everyone in the community will hear,” she pleaded.

That made her mother angrier. “In my house? First you shout at me, then you tell me to keep quiet. What next? You will beat me? You want to beat me, abi?”

“Mummy, it is not like that. I am just going through a lot right now.”

“I am not interested in what you are going through. You have grown wings, abi? Following that stupid divorcee around…”

“My mentor is not stupid ma,” Tamilore said sharply.

“That is it!” her mother exploded. “I cannot take this anymore. Go into your room, pack every single thing you bought with your money, and get out of my house.”

“Ah mummy. I am sorry.”

“Jade nile mi!” she shouted in Yoruba.

“Mummy, please…”

“Get out!"

© Deborah Oluwasegun

As Inspired By The Revealer of Secrets

Overflow Books

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