Joy’s eyes softened and she smiled. “Amen, Papa. Thank you.”
Then she added, “Tomorrow morning I will pay your son’s school fees when I get to school, so they won’t send him home again.”
The man’s face shone with even more joy. “What would we have done without you? God bless you, Joy. You just saved a life.”
Joy shook her head gently. “It’s nothing, Papa. Please hurry to the hospital.”
He kept thanking her as he walked away quickly, holding the money like hope itself. Joy watched him go, and for the first time in her life, she saw clearly that her kindness could truly change someone’s story.
Two days later, trouble came to Joy’s house through the person she least expected—Tracy.
That afternoon, Joy’s aunt was outside in the compound doing chores when Tracy entered with a face that looked serious and annoyed.
“Good afternoon, Ma,” Tracy said.
“Good afternoon, Tracy. Where is Joy?”
Tracy lowered her voice immediately and moved closer as if sharing a secret. “Ma, I came because I don’t want problem. Please don’t tell Joy I told you.”
Joy’s aunt frowned. “Told her what?”
Tracy looked around, then whispered, “Ma, haven’t you heard? People are saying Joy is now sharing money in this village like a billionaire. Money for school fees, money for hospital, money for food. Everybody is talking.”
Joy’s aunt froze. “Joy… sharing money?”
Tracy nodded. “Yes, Ma. And people are saying she is sleeping with local village men. That’s where the money is coming from. She is stubborn. I don’t want them to say I’m following a bad girl. That’s why I stopped moving with her.”
Joy’s aunt’s face turned red. “So Joy has money and we are suffering in this house?”
“I don’t know, Ma. I just know what people are saying.”
Joy’s aunt started pacing angrily. “So this girl has been hiding money from me!”
Tracy lifted her hands quickly. “Ma, please. Don’t mention my name. I didn’t tell you anything. I just came as a friend.”
“Friend indeed!” her aunt barked. “Leave! Leave my compound!”
Tracy rushed out immediately.
Joy’s aunt stood there breathing hard. “So this girl has money and she is doing big woman outside. Me, I’m here struggling and she is hiding money. God will not forgive her.”
Just then Joy entered the compound, unaware that her life was about to turn upside down.
Before she could greet, her aunt rushed toward her like a lion.
“Joy! So you are now sharing money in this village like a billionaire!”
Joy stopped suddenly. “Auntie, what are you saying?”
Her aunt’s eyes were full of anger. “Don’t ask me anything. Where are you getting money from? Where? They said you are paying people’s hospital bills, paying school fees. Are you sleeping with men in this village?”
Joy’s heart jumped. “Auntie, I’m not sleeping with anybody.”
Her aunt laughed bitterly. “Then where is the money coming from? Answer me!”
Joy opened her mouth, but no words came. She remembered the old woman’s warning too clearly.
Her silence made her aunt even angrier.
“So you will be hiding money from me. You want to eat money alone while we are suffering?”
Joy held her aunt’s hands gently. “Auntie, please.”
But her aunt pushed her away. “Please what? Useless girl. You will disgrace me in this village. One day you will just disappear and bring shame. Mark my words—you will leave this house soon.”
Joy went to her room and sat down, breathing hard, her eyes full of tears. She felt trapped. She had lost Tracy. She was fighting her aunt. The village was already talking.
A week later, on a quiet evening, someone knocked on Joy’s door.
When she opened it, she saw Tracy standing there with a small smile and a bottle in her hand.
“Joy,” Tracy said softly, “I’m sorry.”
Joy’s face stayed hard.
Tracy stepped closer. “Please, my best friend. I was angry. I talk too much. I miss you. You know you are my only true friend. Forgive me.”
Joy looked at her for a long time. Tracy’s eyes were watery and her voice was sweet. She kept begging, saying nice things, reminding Joy of old times, touching Joy’s hand like she truly cared.
Joy’s heart was soft inside, even when she tried to stay firm. After a while, she sighed and said, “Okay, I forgive you. But don’t ever talk to me like that again.”
Tracy’s face brightened. “Thank you. Thank you. Let’s celebrate with this wine, my best friend.”
Joy hesitated immediately. “Tracy, you know I don’t drink alcohol.”
Tracy waved her hand quickly. “Ah, stop it. It’s not alcoholic. It’s just normal wine. Non-alcoholic. Like juice. I brought it because I know you like sweet things.”
Joy still looked unsure.
Tracy laughed. “Joy, do you think I want to harm you? After I came to beg like this? Come on, just a little.”
Joy finally agreed because she wanted peace and because Tracy was her friend again.
They sat in Joy’s room and Tracy poured the drink into two cups. Joy took small sips at first. It tasted sweet and did not burn like alcohol, so she relaxed.
Tracy kept smiling, acting happy, telling jokes, making Joy laugh a little.
Then she poured again. “Drink more. Today is celebration. Don’t be stingy with yourself.”
Joy shook her head.
“Just small more,” Tracy insisted.
Joy drank again.
After some time, Joy’s head started feeling light. Her eyes blinked slowly. Her body felt warm. She laughed at things that were not even funny.
That was when Tracy leaned closer with a serious face.
“Joy,” she said softly, “please tell me the truth. Where do you get money from?”
Joy smiled foolishly and waved her hand. “It’s God.”
Tracy frowned. “Stop that. Which God will be dropping money in your hand like that? Tell me. I’m your best friend.”
Joy’s head swayed. “God,” she repeated, laughing.
Tracy’s eyes became sharp. She poured more into Joy’s cup. “Drink. Maybe you will feel better.”
Joy drank more.
Her tongue became loose. Her eyes heavy. She started talking carelessly.
Tracy moved even closer, her voice like soft rope. “Joy, that day you followed that old woman with firewood… what happened?”
Joy’s face changed as if remembering something. She giggled and whispered, “Old woman… she gave me a pot.”
Tracy’s heart jumped. “A pot? What kind of pot?”
Joy laughed again. “White pot. If you touch it three times, money will come.”
Tracy’s eyes widened with greed, though she pretended surprise. “Where is the pot?”
Joy pointed lazily. “Under my bed.”
Tracy stood up immediately, trying not to move too fast. She bent down, lifted the bed cover, and saw it.
The white native pot.
Her breath caught. She grabbed it quickly, held it tight, and looked at Joy one last time. Joy was already half asleep, not knowing anything.
Tracy turned, rushed out of the room, and disappeared with the pot.
Joy woke up the next morning with a heavy head and a confused mind. She remembered only two things clearly: Tracy came to apologize, and Tracy brought a drink. After that, everything was blank.
She sat on her mattress for a while trying to force her brain to remember, but nothing came. She felt angry, not because Tracy had apologized, but because she knew something was wrong.
What did she do to me? Why can’t I remember?
She stood up quickly and decided to go straight to Tracy’s house to ask what had happened.
But on the road she met the old woman again.
The same old woman from the firewood day.
“Mama,” Joy said, forcing a small smile. “I’m happy to see you. Where are you going?”
The old woman looked at Joy, and her eyes became deep, like she already knew what was in Joy’s heart.
“My daughter,” the woman said quietly, “there is trouble.”
Joy frowned. “Trouble? What trouble, Mama?”
The old woman moved closer and lowered her voice. “That your friend, Tracy… she has stolen your pot.”
Joy froze.
Her whole body turned cold.
“What?” she whispered. “Mama, what are you saying?”
“I am telling you before you go and waste your time. You are on your way to her house now, thinking you will ask her what happened yesterday. But listen to me. If you go back home now, you will discover the pot is no longer there. Tracy took it.”
Joy’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
“No… Mama, it can’t be Tracy. Tracy is my best friend.”
The old woman’s face stayed calm. “Your friend is evil. Could you believe she is already on her way to the city? Don’t even bother going to her house. You will not meet her.”
Joy’s knees became weak. “The city? So she planned it.”
The old woman nodded.
Joy’s eyes filled with tears immediately. “Mama, what will I do? I’m so sorry for everything. I should not have accepted her apology. I didn’t know she was this evil. Please forgive me.”
The old woman gently held Joy’s hand. “I don’t blame you, my child. You are a good person. You trusted someone you loved. That is not your sin.”
“But Mama, I failed you. I lost what you gave me.”
The old woman’s eyes looked strong. “Don’t worry. Karma will soon deal with her. Evil does not run forever. It always meets its judgment.”
Joy nodded slowly, crying as if her heart were being squeezed.
She turned back and walked home, not even knowing how her feet carried her.
Before she even checked, she already knew the truth.
Her best friend had betrayed her.
Tracy reached the city that same day with her heart beating wildly. She did not go to any friend’s house. She rented a cheap room near a noisy street and locked the door quickly like someone hiding stolen gold.
She brought out the white native pot and placed it on the floor, staring at it with hungry eyes.
“So it’s true,” she whispered with a smile.
She touched the pot three times and said, “Oh, sweet pot, please give me ten million naira.”
Immediately, bundles of money appeared inside the pot.
Tracy screamed and covered her mouth quickly so people outside would not hear. She started laughing, shaking, and crying at the same time.
“Yes! I’m rich!” she whispered loudly. “Money! I love money!”
She spread the cash on the bed, rolled on it like a mad person, and kissed it. Her eyes shone like someone who had been waiting for that moment all her life.
“Joy is foolish,” she muttered. “She doesn’t know what she was holding. Now it’s mine.”
That same day, Tracy entered one of the most expensive boutiques in town. She bought new hair, a new wig, lashes, perfume, shoes that shone like mirrors, and dresses that hugged her body. She walked into a phone shop and pointed like a boss.
“Give me the latest iPhone.”
People started smiling at her, calling her madam, treating her like a big woman. That sweet attention went straight to her head.
By evening, she entered a big salon and did her nails, her brows, everything. She kept checking herself in the mirror and smiling.
Finally she said, “I have arrived.”
That night, Tracy went to a club. Loud music, flashing lights, bottles on tables, people dancing like tomorrow did not matter. Tracy sat in front like a celebrity. She ordered drinks and sprayed money to impress strangers. Men gathered around her quickly, laughing at her jokes, calling her baby, asking for her number.
She enjoyed it like a hungry person eating for the first time. She danced, shouted, and posted pictures like she was living her best life.
In her mind, she had not stolen anything. She told herself it was destiny. She told herself Joy was too slow and too holy.
“Life is for smart people,” she laughed.
Leave a Comment