Chapter 11 - Chapter 2: Daily Struggles and Growing Guilt

Life in Egbeda settled into a harsh rhythm. Mornings started with the loud call to prayer from a nearby mosque, followed by okada horns and street vendors shouting "Pure water! Bread!" Zion left early some days for small editing jobs in Ikeja or Agege, traveling in crowded danfos that drained his energy and pocket. His channel grew slowly to 2,100 subscribers after posting consistent Lagos street montages, but earnings were barely ₦30,000–₦50,000 monthly — not enough for rent renewal, food, and coming baby costs.Naomi's bump began showing slightly by the third month. She wore loose wrappers and Zion's oversized t-shirts to hide it. Fatigue set in; she spent afternoons resting on the mattress while Zion edited nearby. "My back dey pain me," she complained softly one hot afternoon during a long NEPA outage. The fan was off, sweat glistening on her caramel skin. Zion massaged her gently, then kissed her neck. Their touch turned heated. He took her from behind on the mattress — slow, deep thrusts while she moaned into the pillow. "Fuck me… even though it's wrong," she gasped. He gripped her hips, regret and desire mixing as he came inside her. Afterward, they lay panting. "I still regret that first night," Zion admitted. "The way you ground on my lap in the rain. Now look at us — hiding in one room, struggling because of one mistake."Emotional conversations became nightly rituals. They talked about their absent father, the rivalry between their mothers, and the shame Mama would feel if she ever discovered the truth. "Church people go stone us," Naomi said tearfully. "Our child go grow up with people calling am bastard or worse — product of incest." Zion held her, fighting his own tears. "I know. I feel like I failed you as a brother… and as a man. But I choose this life with you."Money stress caused their first real argument. One evening after Zion returned from a failed gig (the client paid half), they snapped at each other over simple indomie. "If we never cross that line, we for still dey for Ikeja with Mama," Naomi cried. Zion stormed out briefly to the corridor, then returned and apologized with a deep, tongue-filled kiss. They made love right there against the wall — urgent, desperate, her legs wrapped around him as he thrust upward. Passion won, but guilt lingered.Aunty Shade grew more curious, bringing small gifts of garri or eggs "for the young couple." "Una belly dey show small o, my sister," she said once to Naomi with a knowing smile. Panic set in. They became more careful, limiting outings together.Zion pushed harder on his channel — trying better SEO, hooks about "real Lagos hustle," and collabs with small creators. One video on Egbeda street food hit 5k views, bringing in a little extra. But antenatal worries mounted. A local clinic quoted ₦80,000+ for proper registration and scans. "How we go pay?" Naomi asked, hand on her bump. Their love deepened through the hardship — tender moments where Zion fed her pieces of fried plantain, or held her during nausea — but regret was a constant shadow.