Chinaza Eucharia Ogubueze

My team and I handled this book project from book cover, to editing down to formatting. I specialise in helping people birth phenomenal books. Send me a DM now!

@Timideola Aww! I'm fine. Thank you so much. How are you too?

@CEOcreativehub let me start form you, how are u doing?

Not every quiet person is fine, check on your friends.

Amaka's phone had been buzzing all morning with messages from her sister, each one more frantic than the last, until she finally stepped out of her meeting to call back. Their mother had collapsed at the market, nothing life-threatening according to the doctors, low blood sugar and exhaustion from a heat wave, but it rattled something loose in Amaka she hadn't expected. She drove straight to the hospital, sat by her mother's bed watching her sleep off the sedatives, and found herself thinking about all the years she'd meant to visit more, call more, show up more, always pushed aside by work deadlines that felt urgent until moments like this made them look small. Her mother woke a few hours later, groggy but coherent, the first thing she said wasn't about her health. "Did you eat today?" she asked Amaka, half-joking, half-serious in the way mothers always are. Amaka laughed despite the tears building, "You're the one in a hospital bed and you're asking if I ate." "Old habits," her mother said, "I've been feeding people so long I don't know how to stop, even from here." They sat together quietly for a while, machines beeping softly in the background, until her mother spoke again, more seriously this time. "I've been selling at that market for thirty-one years," she said, "started when your father left, needed something to keep this family fed, never stopped even after all of you grew up and didn't need it anymore." "Why didn't you stop?" Amaka asked, "we've all offered to support you fully." "Because that market became who I am," her mother said, "I didn't know how to be a person without it, until this morning when my body finally forced the question I've been avoiding for years." Amaka reached for her hand, "Maybe it's time to actually answer that question instead of avoiding it." Her mother nodded slowly, exhaustion mixing with something like relief, like she'd needed someone to finally say it out loud. Over the following weeks, the family worked out something none of them had seriously discussed before, her mother would step back from the market gradually, train a longtime assistant to take over daily operations, keep a smaller advisory role instead of standing on her feet twelve hours a day. It wasn't easy, thirty-one years of identity wrapped up in one routine doesn't unwind overnight, some days her mother seemed lost without the noise and rhythm of market life. But slowly she found other rhythms, gardening in the mornings, teaching her grandchildren recipes she'd never had time to pass down properly before, sitting on the porch in the evenings without the bone-deep exhaustion that used to follow her home. Amaka visited more often after that, not out of guilt this time, but because she found herself wanting to, conversations that used to feel like obligations slowly became something she looked forward to. Her mother told her once, months later, that the collapse at the market turned out to be the strange gift she never would have chosen for herself, the thing that finally gave her permission to rest after three decades of refusing to. This story is fiction. Follow for more stories. #LifeLessons #NigerianStories #Family #Storytelling #Motherhood

@martins_jo99015 Exactly!

@CEOcreativehub Not everyone who says “I’m fine” is actually okay. Sometimes people just need someone to notice, not someone to fix everything. A simple check-in can mean a lot.

Saying no is also a complete sentence.

Some doors did not open because you were meant to build your own.

@Proudinheart Thank you so much.

@CEOcreativehub Congratulations

I never believed I would achieve this in 6 months, but it happened in 5 days. Congratulations to me.

@OmaTessx Thank you so much.

@CEOcreativehub Big congratulations girl

@MonisolaAyejoto Clarity always win.

Let me tell you this for free. Clear messaging doesn't chase attention. It attracts it. Because clarity gives people a reason to stop, understand and remember. 💙

God will sometimes strip away the good thing to make room for the right thing, and in that moment the good thing will feel like a loss.

Do not mistake someone's familiarity with you for loyalty, some people know you well and still wish you less.

Some people only miss you when they need you.

Some people did not leave your life, God removed them, and the peace you felt afterwards was the confirmation.

The friend who celebrated you the when you had nothing is worth more than ten who showed up after you became something.

@AnebiPerpetual Absolutely! Some people don't really understand the word modesty.

@CEOcreativehub I have always loved a modest dress. Not like it conceals bad behavior but it gives sense of respect

Modesty is not mourning. They said cover your body, not bury your elegance. I hope you people are happy with the new dress AI gave ma'am Deborah.

The reason some people are uncomfortable with your progress is because your rising is exposing their standing still.

The moment you stopped chasing people who were never running towards you, you finally have energy for the ones who are.