Yaya Loves Me _ _ #shortstory

Chapter One

I was a palace maid. I didn’t know how I became a slave in Alontan village, but I was sure I was a captive.

The other maids envied me for my beauty. The three princesses hated me for it. Yet with all that beauty, no man ever wooed me. I thought I was unlovable. There was nothing to be happy about, so I wetted my pillow with tears every night.

But one sunny day changed everything.

I was returning from the stream alone—isolated as usual—when Yaya suddenly jumped into my path from the bush. I staggered backward in fright, splashing water from my pot all over him.

“Oh, sorry!” I gasped, realizing it was him.

He chuckled. “I deserve it, my pretty.”

Yaya was one of the king’s guards—brawny, dark-skinned, and handsome. He offered to help with my pot of water.

“Don’t bother,” I said. “What would you say if one of your fellow guards saw you?”

“That’s no problem,” he said with a sly smile. “What I fear is one of your kind seeing me. Men won’t snitch—it’s you girls that gossip.”

I laughed softly. “Where are you going, Yaya?”

“I came here to talk to you.” He paused.

I stopped walking too and adjusted the pot on my head. “To talk to me?”

“I love you.”

I was stunned. “You… you love me?” I stammered.

He nodded. “Yes. And I’m sure no man can love you the way I do.”

A shy smile escaped my lips. “Thank you, Yaya.”

“Let’s meet early tomorrow at the market square. I want to show you how much I love you.”

“Okay,” I said.

He held my hands, locking eyes with me. I saw nothing but tenderness.

“Should I expect you at dawn?” he asked.

I nodded, watching as he hurried away toward the stream. My heart raced. Could it be true? Someone actually loves me?

Yaya loves me!

That day, the other maids kept stealing glances at me. I hummed and worked with unusual joy. That night, I didn’t cry—I slept early. For the first time, my dreams were sweet.

At dawn, I took a thorough bath. I didn’t want to irritate my Yaya, who was always neat and sweet-smelling. Then I went to the market square to wait.

“Yaya?” I called when he arrived. He looked like someone fleeing. He dropped the bags he was carrying and gave me a warm embrace—his lips nearly brushed mine. My body melted like wax.

“We must escape before it’s light,” he said, pulling back.

“Escape? Why? To where?”

He looked serious. “Ewatomi,” he said.

I turned around, thinking he was calling someone else.

“I mean you,” he said.

“Me?” I frowned. “Who is Ewatomi? Have you forgotten my name?”

“I remember—your name is Asake here. But Ewatomi is what our parents named you.”

I blinked in confusion. “You and whose parents?”

“Ewa… I’m Jide. Your blood brother. We were captured together from Jagun, our homeland.”

The shock froze me.

“My Yaya… is my brother?”

He lifted his white top slightly, revealing a birthmark below his navel—the same mark I had. I believed him instantly.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I’ll explain more when we’re out of Alontan.”

I followed him. I thought I had found love—but instead, I found freedom and family.

Back in Jagun, with our parents and my Yaya—my Jide—I realized something: what I needed wasn’t love first.

It was belonging.

---

Chapter Two

Yaya looked as lost as I felt when we entered Jagun. He barely remembered the village. We wandered aimlessly until an old woman sitting in front of a hut beckoned to us. She held a long rod in her right hand.

We approached her.

“Aren’t you the son of Keji, the palm wine tapper who fell from a tree about two years ago?” she asked.

“My… my father fell?” Jide stammered.

A passerby laughed. “You’re talking to Mama Ilu? Don’t you know that insanity has added to her senility? If she stands, she’ll hit you with that rod.”

“But she knows my father’s name.”

“And so? That’s not new. I pity you.”

The young man walked away. We turned to a woman weaving mats nearby, but a young lady ran into us.

“I’m sorry,” she said, then stared at our faces and laughed. “So Jagun is now safe for strangers? Where were you during the war?”

“We’re from Jagun,” Jide said. “We were captured during that war and taken to Alontan.”

Her gaze lingered. “Okay,” she said, turning to leave.

“Please, can you help us find our relatives?” I asked.

“I’m in a hurry, but what clan?”

“Korewa.”

“Korewa? That’s now called Sikeola.”

She called out to an older woman nearby. “Mama Peju, isn’t Korewa now Sikeola?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m heading that way. Come with me.”

We followed.

On the way, a young man saw Jide and frowned, trying to recall his face.

“Keji’s son? Babajide?”

“Yes.”

“You look just like him.”

The woman turned to the man. “You know them? Please help them. I’m off now.”

As people started gathering, another man exclaimed, “Babajide!” Then a familiar voice called out:

“Jide, it’s me, Wale—your friend.”

Jide smiled and embraced him.

“And who is this beauty?” Wale teased.

“She’s Ewa—”

“It’s a lie! Ewatomi?”

We smiled.

A crowd followed us to our house. A voice cried from inside.

“Where are my children?”

A woman ran out in a wrapper and blouse, nearly tripping.

“Babajide!” she cried, embracing him, then me. “Ewatomi, daughter of the fearless one! Oh Almighty, how wondrous are Your works!”

I didn’t recognize her. Not even my mother. But she held me like I had never left.

Later, when our father returned from the farm with our two younger ones, we narrated everything.

“I thought I’d found love,” I confessed, “but I was fooling myself.”

Jide chuckled. “You were loved. But no man dared say so.”

“Why?”

“The most beautiful maid is reserved as chief lady-in-waiting to the prince’s future wife. No man dares touch her—unless someone more beautiful is captured.”

We sighed.

“I couldn’t watch you live like that,” Jide said. “And since the king already found a bride for the prince, I knew it was time to flee.”

“Thank you, Yaya—oh, Jide. I love you.”

They laughed at my slip.

---

Days later, I went to the stream with Remilekun, Wale’s sister. We were fetching water when we heard footsteps. A handsome man in fine robes approached with guards.

“Your Highness, my prince,” Remi greeted.

I bowed. “Your Highness.”

He smiled. My heart fluttered.

“You must be Ewatomi, the beauty who returned from captivity.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Yes, my prince.”

He stretched out his hand. I gave him mine, and he pulled me gently to his chest.

“Be my queen, Ewa. Will you?”

I was speechless.

“I can see you’re surprised. I’ll come to your house later for your answer.”

I nodded, still stunned.

“Wonders!” Remilekun gasped. “The prince wooed you?! You’re lucky!”

“Do you think he truly loves me?”

“He does! He’s sweet—just like his father.”

I smiled. The prince loves me. So I am lovable.

---

That evening, we were helping my mother dye clothes for the market when we heard the sound of hooves.

“War!” a boy yelled as he ran past.

Another confirmed it. Before we could react, my father, Jide, and our brother rushed to us.

“They’re from Alontan,” Jide panted. “They’ve come for us.”

Soon, Prince Dekola of Alontan and his war men arrived. We bowed low.

“You think you can escape your responsibility?” he barked. “You belong to the palace!”

“Please,” we all begged.

“You were sold off. Even your king can’t stop me. You belong to the prince!”

“Enough!” a husky voice cut through the air.

It was Prince Dejumo—Jagun’s heir. I ran to hide behind him.

“Asake is mine,” Prince Dekola said.

“First of all, her name is Ewatomi. Secondly, she’s mine—not your maid, but my queen,” Prince Dejumo retorted.

Jide added, “Maybe he wanted her for more than a maid…”

Dekola looked embarrassed.

Jide explained, “I knew you loved my sister. But if she stayed, you'd endanger yourself, your bride, your kingdom. I had to act—even though I once wished you for her.”

The war commander looked stunned. “Is this true, your Highness?”

Dekola was quiet, then nodded. “But my heart wants what it wants.”

“You have responsibilities,” the commander reminded him. “You must protect your kingdom.”

“Thank you, Jide,” the commander said. “My prince, please, love the woman betrothed to you.”

Dekola turned to Jide. “I can’t lose you. Stay with me. You’re dear to me.”

That’s how Babajide returned to Alontan—not as a slave, but as the prince’s right-hand man.

---

Days later, Remilekun helped me plait my hair.

“Ewa mi,” a familiar voice called.

I turned, smiling at Prince Dejumo.

Remi quickly stepped away, and I wrapped a scarf over my head.

“You grow more beautiful every day,” he said.

“Really?”

“I’m here for your answer.”

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

“You must be joking.”

I laughed as he pulled me into his arms.

That was when I knew I was truly free.
It started with Yaya’s love,
but in the end,
I was surrounded by love from every side.

The End.

All stories

Thanks for reading this story. I'd love to read your thoughts concerning it in the comment section.