Chapter 1: Hope, Heartbreak, and Oga’s Bed

You transmigrated into the body of a housemaid—a girl whose work na to serve your oga pikin for him private quarters. Because you don hear too many stories for night about men wey dey chase woman and land wey dey burn for love matter, you come get that childish hope say the young oga go only dey look your side.

Inside your heart, e be like say one kind small movie dey play—those tales wey dem dey tell for evening time under the mango tree, where servant fit become madam, or love go suddenly change somebody life. As you dey mop floor for veranda, breeze go just blow make you dey imagine, maybe one day na your own turn go reach.

Na so you carry yourself go him bed, teach that small boy how e dey be for man and woman matter. Everything fresh for am, so e just dey follow you everywhere like say na true love hold am. You come think say na love be this: today love, tomorrow love, even three days love.

You remember the old women for compound talk say, 'first water wey dey touch garri dey sweet pass.' Their laughter still dey echo for your ear, mixed with smell of firewood and palm oil. So when young oga dey smile with you, dey talk sweet things, your heart dey swell, as if say blessing don fall for your head. Every night, your body dey warm, your mind dey dream.

But on the fourth day, before you even fit pretend say you wan advise am make e calm down, another maid don sneak enter him bed.

For your heart, e just choke you. You bite your lip, dey taste salt. You wan cry, but for housemaid, tear dey expensive. You dey remember say, for this world, if soup too sweet, everybody go want taste. Na that day you understand say love for servant get expiry date like Agege bread.

All of una be housemaids. If you fit sleep with am, why the rest no go fit?

Na so dem talk for backyard, "No be one belle all of us dey chop?" Even as your heart dey pain you, you dey reason say, if table turn, you sef for rush.