The Money Wheel Episode 3 | Luxury Struggles: Kosiso’s Bold Reunion with Baby Daddy Ayo

The new rent was ₦1.5 million for the flats and ₦650,000

for the boys’ quarters; it was previously ₦1.2 million and

₦500,000. When Layo read the letter, she sat down and

did a web search for houses in Ketu. Mrs Durodola had

still not paid her dues, and from the look of things, Layo

would have to find another way to source for her children’s

fees in September. She briefly thought about how their lives

would change because they could no longer afford to live in

Mr Kosoko’s compound and wished that her husband had

allowed them to purchase their own land years ago. “I will

buy my own house in Lekki,” Ken had said.

A few hours later, he found her staring into space, the

letter on her stomach.

“These boys are callous!” he said after reading the letter.

“I found some nice houses in Ketu.”

“Did you try Arepo or Wawa?”


“You must be a joker.”

“We can’t afford to live here, Ken. We haven’t even

finished paying this year’s rent. How are we going to pay

the next one in six months?”

“Madam calculator. So you want us to move to Arepo?”

“I said Ketu…”

“You should have said Redeemed.”

She reminded him of the children’s fees and all the

other expenses before them, but Ken was unmoved.

“I, Ken, will never go back in life. From Surulere, I’ll

move to Lekki. From Lekki, I’ll move to Banana Island

You’re too quick to give up, and that’s my problem with

you. Just watch and see how I will take care of it.”

“Where did you get the fifty thousand you sent them? I

thought you didn’t have money. What’s the point of proving

we have money when we know we don’t?”

Ken didn’t respond.

Saheedat opened her EasyInvest app and checked the status

of her investments. Then she set a new savings goal and called

it Extra on House Rent. For the next six months, ₦30,000

would be deducted from her salary, and at maturity, all her

savings would go to her debit card account. She would pull

another ₦120,000 from her emergency funds to make up

the rent and readjust their savings plan for the next year.

Ibrahim was behind her on their bed, watching. It was

impressive the way she handled their finances so expertly.

He was certain that he would have been bankrupt, had

he not allowed her to structure their finances the way she

did. Saheedat had a spreadsheet that tracked their monthly

income and expenses. From a glance, he could see how

much he was required to set aside every month and how

much they had saved towards their IVF. They had spent

over a million on one cycle without result, and now they

were saving towards a three-cycle package of about two

million naira.

It was a pity that his family did not care for her

shrewdness. She had not conceived in the five years they

had been married, and it was unacceptable to them. For

this reason, she was not welcome at family events or allowed

to speak when she bothered to show up. It didn’t help that

they were of different tribes. He was from Kogi and she

from Osun. He held her when the situation overwhelmed

her and reassured her that she was enough, but it was not


His mother urged him to marry another woman, but he had

never seen himself as the husband of two women. Although

he always firmly opposed the idea, Saheedat knew that time

was running out and her anxiety was slowly eating away at

their marriage. The IVF was all she cared to talk about these


The TV was on, but Kosiso wasn’t watching it. She had upset

Saheedat and she knew it. She tried to justify her outburst,

telling herself that Saheedat really couldn’t understand

because she wasn’t a mother, but deep down, she knew all

her friend had said was true.

You’re all Kene has.

This was what had annoyed Kosiso the most. Saheedat

may not have realised it, but the statement was the reality

Kosiso did not want to face — that she was alone and solely

responsible for Kene. Although she made a decent living

as a copywriter, her current lifestyle was way above her

paycheck. For starters, her daughter’s school cost thousands

of dollars, she shopped often, went on multiple international

trips, and had social commitments that cost a lot of money.

With the increase in rent, Kosiso had an extra burden

to add to her existing pile of responsibilities. September was

coming, and if she did not make up with Ayo, she would

have to enrol Kene in another school. She couldn’t imagine

having to explain to the school that she couldn’t afford the

fees. The way she saw it, she had two choices before her:

make up with Ayo or hustle harder to get more international

clients who could pay higher fees.

Ayo was a disappointment, but she wondered if her

pride was more important than her financial stability. Kosiso

remembered how much her life had changed when her

father died. Two pieces of meat had become one, and even

that eventually became non-existent. Her mother moved

them to a two-bedroom apartment in a shady part of town

and enrolled her and her siblings in a public school eleven

kilometres away. Kosiso remembered weeping profusely

when the English teacher couldn’t pronounce genre.

Do you really want the same thing for Kene?

She picked up her phone and opened her chat with

Ayo. He had sent a voice note, telling her how desperate he

was to see her again.

“We belong together, Kosi. Okay, just let me know

if we’re still going to Paris this summer. I already made

reservations. I need to cancel if you guys aren’t going to

be there.” He paused. “You’re killing me, Kosi. Just say

something, okay?”

Kene was supposed to celebrate her birthday during the

trip, and Kosiso did not have a more appealing alternative.

She sighed and typed: What do you want from me?

He responded: I’ll come over to yours tomorrow afternoon.

We can sort this out.

…. to be continued.