"Ife!" I yelled as the giggling girl running circles around me escaped the room. She did not understand how difficult chasing her could be. Maybe she did and she liked it that way. I had better calves than most runners these days.
She expected me to follow her as she ran but I sank into a seat, gathering energy for the chase. No one but me caught her when she ran, else she screamed like a child under attack. No one dared touch her for fear of what Mikhail would do to the culprit that made his love cry.
“Where is my mischief maker?” I exhaled in relief when I heard his voice.
"Father!" I smiled, imagining her running into his waiting arms.
Minutes later, the door opened and he walked in carrying her, paying me no mind as he listened to her latest tale. She was a storyteller; my Ife. H
