Chapter 1: Cold Messages and Confusion

Grandma has been acting cold and distant in her recent WhatsApp replies. Before, she used to call me "my good pikin."

It used to sweet me whenever her message came, like cold Fanta for hot afternoon. Her message dey land for my phone like cold Fanta for hot afternoon, sweet my body, make me forget all wahala. Her voice used to carry that warmth, the one that makes you feel like you’re still her small boy, even though school don put small muscle for my body. These days, her replies just dey short—no emojis, no teasing. Sometimes, I go wonder whether na network dey worry am, or she just dey vex for me for something I no even remember.

I thought maybe I should message her first, so she’d return to her usual self.

The thing dey do me like spiritual matter. As I dey think am, I just dey remember how she go always hail me for group chat, dey hype me in front of all her old mama friends. The way things dey now, if I no message her, she no dey even send anything again.

But after one month, Grandma suddenly added me as a contact again.

The thing shock me. As I dey scroll WhatsApp, na so her name pop up for suggested contacts, just like say I be stranger. Before, she even dey send me random voice notes for no reason, but now, she dey act like say we never jam before.

"Nnaa, my good pikin, Grandma send her phone for repairs last month. I just got it back. Did you miss Grandma?"

Her tone change back to normal, like she never leave before. I fit even hear her laughter for my mind. That thing wey dey sweet me for heart just dey scatter everywhere.

I stared at the contact—the same picture of St. Michael wey Grandma dey always use as her WhatsApp DP—totally shocked.

I even blink twice, come rub my eye like person wey dey dream. No be the same profile picture wey I dey always take know say na Grandma? The gold sef dey shine like original!

If this is Grandma, then who have I been chatting with for the past month?

E con be like say spirit don enter my phone. The coldness, the money transfer, the way the chats dey go—omo, wahala dey o.

The next day, the ice queen senior was waiting for me downstairs, holding two cups of coffee.

As I wan leave hostel, na so I see her—Morayo, the one wey no dey ever smile. She hold two takeaway cups, dey look me with face wey be like say she dey try hide something.

"Hi... my good pikin..."

Her voice crack small, but the way she talk am, e be like say she dey try use style. Na so everybody wey waka pass begin look us like say them dey watch film for Africa Magic.