Mr. Johnson woke up in his white pyjamas on his king-size bed with a feeling of youthful excitement. He was a middle-aged structural Engineer with a multinational and his wife was a school proprietress. With Annabel, his wife of 20 years lying right beside him and scantily attired in her silk nightie and well woven brown hair net covering her newly made crochet hairdo, he gently drew her closely to himself and planted a kiss on her forehead.
He was proud of her and the woman she had become. He was always quick to tell all who cared to listen that she complimented him in diverse ways. The family lived in an expansive three bedroom apartment in the heart of Eket, Akwa Ibom State.
Upon sighting the rays of light peeping through the satin window curtains, he grabbed his Samsung phone on the night stand, peered at the screen and 6:15am stared at him. It was a Saturday morning, and waking late on such days was permissible. He slipped out of bed and walked with bare feet on the cold marble tiles into his first daughter’s room, gave it a light tap twice and strolled into the pink room of his first daughter, Favour, who was half awake.