Betsy_Njeri_9053

Zoe Achieng, a 25-year-old Nairobi-based content creator, suddenly finds herself homeless after a gas explosion leaves her apartment in ruins (along with her dreams of being a Pinterest queen). With nowhere else to go, she moves in with her estranged, drama-loving aunt Pauline, a retired actress who still thinks she’s starring in her own soap opera.

Zoe quickly realizes the real challenge isn't just rebuilding her life—it’s surviving her aunt's outrageous routines, her neighbor's pet goat (who thinks he's a dog), and dodging the well-meaning setups from her aunt who is determined to get her married off to "any man with a job and a neck."

Meanwhile, Zoe is hiding a secret: she was on the verge of launching a major brand collaboration—until the explosion literally blew it up. As she tries to fake perfection online, the chaos in her real life becomes harder to hide.

Through the madness, unexpected friendships, and hilarious confrontations with Pauline’s chaotic church group, Zoe learns that perfection is overrated, and sometimes being knocked off your high horse is the best thing that can happen to you.

RENT-FREE PROBLEMS

"Tea With The Ex (Who Thinks He's Still Relevant)"

It started with a WhatsApp message that should have remained unsent.

Zoe stared at it like it had crawled out of a sewer.

"Stranger? STRANGER?" she yelled. "You ghosted me mid-date and called my editing 'too dramatic,' now you wanna 'hey stranger' me like we shared a childhood blanket?"

Pauline looked up from her crossword. "Is it Malvin?"

Zoe nodded slowly. "The one and only. King of commitment issues and overcooked opinions."

Sir Squawksalot hissed and launched a grape pit at the phone.

Malvin, the ex who once told her to "tone down the personality for brand deals," was back. With intentions.

Zoe was ready to reply with "Sorry, I only drink beverages with people who respect lighting angles," but Pauline stopped her.

"No, go," she said, eyes twinkling. "Let him think he's important. Let him walk into the fire pit that is your upgraded life."

Sir Squawksalot agreed. "Peck him with progress."

But she didn't go in unarmed. No, she wore her viral BerrySkin glow, a power blazer, and eyeliner sharp enough to slice through nonsense.

She arrived five minutes late (on purpose) to a trendy café where the iced teas cost more than her electricity bill.

Malvin was already there, still wearing that one denim jacket that had "I still live with my mother" energy.

He stood up awkwardly. "Zoe! Wow, you look… influencer-ish."

Zoe smiled tightly. "Thanks. You look… like someone who still doesn't understand reels."

He got peppermint tea with oat milk, because he was "dairy-sensitive and spiritually aligned."

She ordered a dirty chai with extra espresso, because she was ready.

"Good," Zoe said. "I recently hit 50K followers. I make people laugh, cry, and buy moisturizers they don't need."

He nodded. "Yeah… I've seen some of your stuff. I like the earlier ones more. You know, before you got… all commercial."

Zoe blinked. "You mean before I got rent money?"

"I've been thinking about starting a channel too. Maybe something motivational. You know—'Malvin Mondays.' Inspiring men to embrace their inner alpha."

Zoe nearly choked on her espresso. "Your inner alpha? You once called your mom to break up with a girl for you."

Malvin waved dismissively. "Growth, babe. Anyway, I figured we could collaborate. You've got the audience. I've got the vibes."

Zoe gave him a long, clinical stare. "So you called me here… to pitch a brand collab? With you?"

He smiled confidently. "We had good chemistry."

She took a sip. "We had food poisoning at Artcaffe and a two-week situationship where you kept using my ring light."

Sir Squawksalot wasn't even there, but Zoe could hear him in her head: "End it. End it with thunder."

So she leaned forward, smiled sweetly, and said:

"You know what, Malvin? You're absolutely right. You should do it. You should start a channel. Just don't call it Malvin Mondays. That name sounds like a stomach bug."

He looked offended. "Wow. I thought you'd be supportive."

"I am," she said. "From a distance. Like… several algorithms away."

She left the café with her head high, her ego fed, and her tea half-finished.

Back at home, she told Pauline and Sir Squawksalot everything.

Pauline clinked a wine glass. "To glowing up in peace."

Sir Squawksalot added, "And to never dating anyone who says 'inner alpha' again."

Tea With The Ex (Who Thinks He’s Still Relevant)”