It was 10:47 p.m. in Lagos, and Favour had checked her phone exactly 23 times in the past hour.
Still no alert.
Earlier that day, she’d sent her Zenith account details to one "big plug" on Instagram who had promised to send her ₦200k for “urgent influencing work.”
He said it was “just a quick voice-over for a promo.” Simple.
She'd even voice-noted herself rehearsing it in three different accents: Nigerian, American, and "Baddie from Lekki."
He replied with just:
> “Nice. Check your alert in 5 minutes.”
That was 5 hours ago.
Now she sat on her bed in her oversized T-shirt, fan blowing like NEPA was trying to repent for their sins, and all she could think was:
> “Maybe it’s the bank network... or maybe I’m the network.”
Her best friend, Ebube, had warned her.
> “If I hear 'plug' and 'influencer work' in the same sentence again, I go block you!”
But Favour had seen the guy’s page — verified badge, 60k followers, and a photo of him eating suya beside a Benz. That’s legit, right?
She opened her bank app for the 24th time.
Nothing.
Just the last ₦1,234 from her savings. Enough to buy Gala and Coke. Or just air.
Out of frustration, she posted a story with a cryptic caption:
> “God, I’m tired. Do your thing.”
Immediately, her crush replied:
> “Awww, what’s wrong? You want to talk?”
She rolled her eyes.
Bros, you didn't even check on her when she posted her fine face earlier. But now that she’s "tired," you want to slide in?
Men will embarrass you. But so will poverty.
She put her phone on airplane mode and tossed it across the bed.
Then... it buzzed.
She panicked and rushed to it.
Not an alert. Just GTBank's “Get 10% interest on savings” message.
She hissed so loudly her neighbor's cat meowed in fear.
At 11:11 p.m., she whispered a prayer and went to bed.
But not before texting Ebube:
> “If that guy doesn’t send me money by morning, we riot. 🪓”
Esther
91 days agoIt was 10:47 p.m. in Lagos, and Favour had checked her phone exactly 23 times in the past hour.
Still no alert.
Earlier that day, she’d sent her Zenith account details to one "big plug" on Instagram who had promised to send her ₦200k for “urgent influencing work.”
He said it was “just a quick voice-over for a promo.” Simple.
She'd even voice-noted herself rehearsing it in three different accents: Nigerian, American, and "Baddie from Lekki."
He replied with just:
> “Nice. Check your alert in 5 minutes.”
That was 5 hours ago.
Now she sat on her bed in her oversized T-shirt, fan blowing like NEPA was trying to repent for their sins, and all she could think was:
> “Maybe it’s the bank network... or maybe I’m the network.”
Her best friend, Ebube, had warned her.
> “If I hear 'plug' and 'influencer work' in the same sentence again, I go block you!”
But Favour had seen the guy’s page — verified badge, 60k followers, and a photo of him eating suya beside a Benz. That’s legit, right?
She opened her bank app for the 24th time.
Nothing.
Just the last ₦1,234 from her savings. Enough to buy Gala and Coke. Or just air.
Out of frustration, she posted a story with a cryptic caption:
> “God, I’m tired. Do your thing.”
Immediately, her crush replied:
> “Awww, what’s wrong? You want to talk?”
She rolled her eyes.
Bros, you didn't even check on her when she posted her fine face earlier. But now that she’s "tired," you want to slide in?
Men will embarrass you. But so will poverty.
She put her phone on airplane mode and tossed it across the bed.
Then... it buzzed.
She panicked and rushed to it.
Not an alert. Just GTBank's “Get 10% interest on savings” message.
She hissed so loudly her neighbor's cat meowed in fear.
At 11:11 p.m., she whispered a prayer and went to bed.
But not before texting Ebube:
> “If that guy doesn’t send me money by morning, we riot. 🪓”
Ebube replied instantly:
> “We? Babe, na only you enter one-chance.”
#NaijaUrbanFiction #ModernLagosLife #NoAlertGang #AfricanStoryTime #ThirdPersonFiction #FictionExclusive #KonnectAfrica #RelatableButFiction #SoftLifeChronicles #DigitalStruggleNaija